The Case of the Seventeens

   Just then the Rodney-mobile gives a rough cough, "Ooooo," Twisty looks at the gauges, "This needle shouldn’t be up in the green-yellow range should it?"
   The Weener-Man leans over to check, "Oh that’s just Rodney’s way of telling us that he needs a hit of murky green pop or radiator fluid, whichever we get to first."
   "Well, there should be plenty of that at my Uncle Heinrich’s," then to Ernie, "Sorry, we’ve got to go."
    Ernie raises a hond, "No problem, I need to get this measuring up down for the Judge."
   Twisty stops, "Before we go, I was wondering if you could point me in the way of my Uncle Heinrich’s?"
   Ernie thinks, "Your Uncle Heinrich?"
   Twisty answers, "The one who made a pile of money selling, get this, from a scalp-tonic, and his other side-line, his own recipe barbecue sauce."
   "Related product-lines, sort of," I observe.
   "You mean the guy who has the signs on fenceposts along on the edge of his corn feilds on either side of the road?" Ernie asks.
   "That’s the one," Twisty confirms.
   "Oh yeah," Ernie remembers, "He lives over in the Seventeenth Grange, can’t miss it, signs all along his corn feilds."
   "That would explain his address being at 17654 Granger Road," Twistine nods.
   "Makes sense," I agree.
   "Matter of fact," Twistine remembers, "Isn’t there a TownShip Record of one of the Weener-man’s people coming through the Seventeenth Grange back in the Seventeenth Century?"
    "Actually,  the Eighteenth Century," WeenerMan says.
   "About 1754," I add, "At least according to Ed Drollinger.
    "They settled the Township in 1754?" Twisty asks.
   "Not really," the Weener-man explains, "And it may have been 1754 or 1756, my old ancestor lost track of time sometimes."
    "So what happened in a time period between 1750 to  1760 that didn’t exacly end up in this Township being settled?" Twisty asks.
    "My ancient acncestor found out where this Township was somewhere about 1755," HM Weenerman explains, "That would have been in the Eightteenth Century."
    The Eighteenth Century was the 1700’s, like the nineteenth century would be the 1800’s," I put in.
    Twisty frowns, "So it was around 1754, 1755, 1756, or something, what happened?"
    Weener-man shrugs, "My ancient ancestor had come out here on a scouting expedition for somebody from Virginia, and looked over the area and made the first notes and maps of it."
   "In the Seventeenth Century," Twisty agrees, "Then what happened to your ancestor the Scout?"
   Weenerman shrugs "He was captured."
   "Captured " Twisty wrinkels her brows, "Some Scout, by who, Native Americans?"
   Weenerman grins a little, "Actually, my ancestor was freed by the aboriginal inhabitants of this area."
    "And so," twisty is flustered, "Who did the Indians free your ancient ancestor, the Scout, from, sometime in the 1750’s."
   "French Fur Trappers," Weenerman says with a smile.
   "French Fur Trappers?" Twisty is surprised.
   "It seems the French Fur Trappers knew they had a good gig going on here, and didn’t want word getting out," HM WeenerMan tells Twisty.
   Twisty tries to make sense of it, "And so your ancestor, the Scout, was held captive by French Fur Trappers back in the 1700’s until he was rescued by friendly Indians back in the 1700’s."
    The Weenerman grimaces and is at a loss for words.
   "Actually, he wasn’t rescued, he was more like traded for," I step in with my recollection of the history, "And the Indians were somewhat friendly, but more like embarassed, like they had gotten the short end of the deal."
   Now Ernie speaks up, "Wasn’t the trade like, two hatchets, a used fry-pan, and seventeen squirrel hides?"
    "The Indians had to be friendly then," Twisty totals, "Two hatchets, a fry-pan, and seventeeen squirrel hides would have been a considerable ransom out here."
   There is a moment of silence between Ernie, WeenerMan and me.
   "What?" Twisty asks, "That’s how it happened, isn’t it?"
   "Not exactly that way," Ernie recounts.
   "It was more like the French Fur Trappers gave the Indians two hatchets, a used frying pan, and seventeen squirrel hides to take the Weener-man’s ancestor off thier hands," I explain.
   "What?" Twistine is astonished.
   Weenerman grins a bit, "After a long week of trapping, the French Trappers liked to spend their evenings doing a sing-a-long, and between my ancient ancestor’s vocalizations, and a couple meals of his famous Flappe Jacques Flambeau, they were more than happy to fnd somebody who would take them off their hands."
   "And so the Native Americans got all that ransom for your ancestor, the Scout?" Twistine is still trying to get her bearings.
   I try to fill her in, "And after a couple meals of Flappe Jaques Flambeau a la CornBread, the Native Americans had sense enough to escort the Scout back to where he could reach the Colonies safely."
   "They had to be friendly," Twisty decides, "If they remained peaceful after two meals of CornBread de Flambeau."
   "One of their desendants told me," Ernie speaks up.
   "You mean from that village down in the next county?" Twisty makes connection, "The one they bought after selling his ancestor," she nods my way, "The crossing through the Too Much where the Water-Bridge is now."
    "Yep, they’re the ones," Ernie grins, "Paid Too Much for it."
    "And so what happened?" Twisty asks.
    "After their second meal of CornBread Flambeau, the resident tribe didn’t feel much like doing much else but lay around and hold onto their stomachs for a couple days, and after a quick-council, decided that the best thing for everybody was to take the Weener-man’s Scout ancestor back to where he’d come from as quick as possible, no questions asked."
   "Necessity is the parent of diplomacy," Twisty decides for herself.
   "Diplomacy? Heck no," Ernie puts in, "The tribe didn’t want it to get out that they had accepted two hatchets, a fry-pan, and seventeen squirrel hides to take in the inventor of CornBread Flambeau.  Every two years they hold a feast of cornbread flambeau to commemorate the event."
    "That’s the one where the Weenerman is the Guest of Honor," Twisty thumbs Weener-man’s general direction.
    "More like the Celebrity Chef," I add.
    "Celebrity Chef?" Twisty is baffles.
    Weenerman wrinkles his brow, "They say I am still able to put an authentic taste into the CornBread Flambeau."
  
   
    
  
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About offroad2084

Work on the Work In Progress, MyDay in HicksTown. A light-hearted look at life in the fictional town of HicksTown in WeenerMan Township.
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