The Wandering Feather (Rescue Rangers)

[ksharbaugh]

-Chapter Six continued...

“We don’t want to take him from you,” Dee pointed out, “I was just thinking maybe I could introduce you to my friends properly.”

Charity thought for a moment. “Well, I guess,” she finally agreed, turning to follow Dee and Chip back to their table, still toting Monty around.

“If you’re going to be carrying me back,” Monterrey piped up, “Could you at least stop at the buffet so I could pick up some CHEESE?!”

Everyone had only just sat down when Bob, his wife and a third mouse arrived at their table. “See, I told ya I could find her,” Bob said to his companion before he and his wife found a spot to sit.

“Hae’,” the male mouse greeted Dee as he walked up.

“Hae’,” she greeted back, “What’s up?”

“We’ve gotta problem with the set-up for makin’ corn soup,” he pointed out.

“What happened?” Dee inquired further.

“One of the cook’s assistants forgot you shouldn’t add the lye when the water’s boiling,” the mouse elaborated.

“Is he ok?”

“I think he hurt himself worse trying to run from the scene.”

“I guess I’ll go take an inventory of the damage,” Dee stated as she began to get up.

“No, you don’t have to do that now,” the mouse explained, “It’ll take us the rest of the day just to decontaminate the area. Gerry says we haff enough soup already cooked up to last the rest of the Powwow anyhow, so efen when it is*cleaned up it’s not going to be a rush job.”

As the messenger departed and Dee returned to her seat, Gadget voiced what she assumed was a very innocuous question, “Isn’t lye used in rat poison?”

“YOU’RE POISONING THE SOUP!” Dale exclaimed, bits of food spewing from his mouth.

Dee quickly grabbed the screaming chipmunk, clamping a paw over his mouth. “Could you say that louder next time?” she asked sarcastically, “I think there are a couple deaf people in Gowanda who didn’t hear you!” Without bothering to uncover his mouth, Dee began to explain to Dale why there was poison involved in the cooking process, “We use the lye to hull*the kernels of corn, once that’s done the corn is rinsed very thoroughly before it’s diced and added to the soup.” Shaking her head as slowly as she spoke, Dee pointed out, “There is no lye in the soup.” Dale managed to mumble an ‘I understand’ through Dee’s paw, after which she released him.

“Bob’s haffing some of it right now,” his wife pointed out, “and he’s not dropping dead. You can efen try some of mine to see for yourself,” she added, offering Dale her bowl.

Seeing his hesitation, Monterrey blurted out, “C’mon, lad, sometimes ya gotta be daring!” Taking the bowl, he took a few sips. Setting it back down Monterrey declared, “See? Nothin’ to worry about.” Then he started gagging and fell off the bench.

“MONTY!” Dale screamed.

“Just joshin’ ya, lad,” the Aussie reassured his friend, getting back up on the bench, “The soup’s fine, not as spicy as I’d like, but I wouldn’t send it back.”

Dale warily lifted the bowl and took a few sips. “Hm,” he murmured, then took a larger sip... then a gulp.

“Hey-HEY!” shouted Bob’s wife, taking back her bowl, “I said you could try some. If you want more you can get your own.”

“Okey-dokey,” Dale stated, getting up. As he began to walk off, he turned back, “You wanna bowl, Foxy?”

“Sure!” she chirped.

Dale had just returned with two bowls of corn soup for himself and Foxglove when somewhere a cry rang out. “THIEF!” someone shouted, “THIEF! HE STOLE MY... THING!”

“Stole his thing?” Dee and Chip asked each other aloud. As they pondered what thing was stolen a weasel frantically bounded down the table. Once everyone had recovered from the shock, they saw the same weasel leaping to, over, and across other tables.

“Whatever he stole he’s going to hurt someone running like that!” Chip shouted as he watched mice, rats and every other species in the picnic area trying to capture the rampaging renegade.

“Don’t worry there, Chipper!” Monterrey declared, “I’ve got myself an idea!” Racing to the edge of the picnic tent, he gathered up a length of rope form around the support poles. By the time Monterrey returned, however, the weasel was nowhere to be found.

As everyone looked around in confusion, someone noticed something odd, “Hey, this pitcher of water’s starin’ at me!” No sooner had the words left his mouth than the missing weasel exploded forth from the tiny vessel followed by a fine spray of water.

“Ooh!” Dee squeaked, “That’s a neat trick!”

By then, Monterrey, standing atop the table, had fashioned the rope into a makeshift lariat. “Learned this lassoin’ lemmings in Laredo!” he proclaimed, swirling the rope above his head. No one bothered to ask how one finds him or herself lassoing Laredo lemmings, especially considering lemmings are arctic critters and Laredo is in Texas, they were more interested in seeing if Monterrey could actually rope the weasel. As the stampeding weasel made another pass down a neighboring table Monty let loose his lasso, and snared the carnivore. “Ha, I still haAAA!!” he yelled as the momentum of the stampeding weasel yanked him from his footing and down the length of the table.

Righting himself in time, Monterrey was able to hop to the next table, where each foot landed in a plate of mashed beans. With his new footwear he surfed down the table, pulling himself ever forward on the rope, gaining on his target all the while. Hitting a bump hidden by the tablecloth, Monterrey lost his footing once more and took a header into a vat of corn soup. Not that he let go of the rope at any time, and soon was flying along behind the weasel once more.

Swallowing a mouthful of soup, then picking bits of corn, beans and salt pork from his clothes and popping them in his mouth he laughed, “Now that’s*what I call fast food!” With a few more pulls on the rope he managed to get a hold of the weasel’s tail and began climbing up the carnivore’s undulating back. Looping a length of rope around his snout, Monterrey finally had a reign on the issue. The weasel, finally slowing, bucked wildly trying to throw his rider. Holding his rein in one paw, Monterrey removed his leather cap waved it about with a loud, “YEE-HAW!”

“Ride ‘em, Monty!” Dale shouted as the crowd cheered the wild show.

With exhaustion setting in, the weasel’s breath came in gasps. Finally accepting defeat and with a, “Hoo-boy,” the suspect finally flopped to the ground. Hopping off, Monty had him hogtied within seconds... and the crowd went wild.

“Oh, that was so amazing!” Charity shouted as she ran up to Monty. Clutching him to her enormous furry figure she spun about. “You’re better than a movie!” Charity squealed, “And you’re mine!”

Two rats in blue uniforms raced up, the red flags with white emblems on their shoulders signifying their employment by the Tribal Police. Lifting the unconscious suspect off the ground, they prepared to convey him to jail. Just as they were about to depart, Carol Halfshell pushed her way out of the crowd and approached them.

“Good, a couple of our*guys have him,” she stated openly as if to inform the masses. Walking right up to the two officers, she directed them quietly, “Good job, boys, now get this joker to the tribal lock-up.”

The two rats looked at each other before one asked, “Why?”

Carol’s mouth almost hung open. “Why?!” she repeated in obvious annoyance, “Take a look around! He ran rampant through our*festival, obliterated our picnic area... I think this clearly constitutes a crime against our tribe!”

The two rats looked back at each other again before the second pointed out, quoting the local law as clearly as he could remember, “The commission of any offense against the general public at an efent open to all is to be dealt with through the rodent courts of the City of Salamanca.”

“Don’t you go quoting the law to me like I’m some kind of retarded child!” Carol snapped back. Thinking there might be some kind of trouble, Chip motioned the other Rangers to head over. They were unaware that June Redtalon had also motioned to her attendant to wheel her over for the same reason. “I know the law,” Carol continued, “And I also know their law is rigged so people like him can get off! You actually think a jury of his peers is going to find him guilty? That agreement that turns people like him over to his own kind was signed by a bunch of traitors and half-breeds!”

“But enough about yourself, Carol,” June spoke up, “These two boys were just about to cart this trouble maker off to jail. You wouldn’t want them to just stand here while you yell at them, I’m sure that guy isn’t as light as he looks.”

“Got that right,” one of the officers affirmed, then, turning to his partner, stated, “C’mon, let’s get going.”

Carol glared briefly at June, then turned to leave. Nearly running into Dee, who had followed Chip up to the disturbance, she considered shoving her aside but simply mumbled, “Whore,” then walked off.

[ksharbaugh]

-Chapter Six continued...

Dee was about to retaliate when she felt her elbow ensnared by the handle of a cane. “Doohickey,” June stated sternly, “We don’t go around beating up Clan Mothers... no matter how badly they might deserfe it.” Bringing her cane back, she continued, “Besides, you know she’s got it coming one of these days.”

“What do you mean?” Dale asked.

“When someone comes to power through threats and intimidation, like she did,” June began to explain, “You don’t haff many friends, and your supporters only support you if there’s something in it for them... One of these days she’ll find herself backed into a corner with nothing left to offer her thugs for their support, her only hope will be to rely on her friends... and there won’t be any.”

“And everyone she’s threatened and intimidated are gonna come looking for payback,” Chip finished.

As Dee and Chip walked back to the table, she broached a thought that had popped into her mind earlier, “I’d like to see if I could recruit that weasel for my own Ranger team.”

“You want to recruit a possible criminal?” Chip asked in disbelief.

“Suspected*criminal,” Dee corrected, “He hasn’t even been tried yet.”

“Whether or not he stole anything,” Chip replied, “Just look at the devastation he caused here in the picnic area.”

“Didn’t you tell me that when you and Dale met Monty,” Dee countered, “the three of you got into an enormous fight that trashed the cargo hold of a freighter?” Chip shrugged and nodded. “Gonna hafta go downtown later to check when his trial’s gonna be.” The two lovers joined others in trying to clean things up among the tables.

Not long after efforts began to right the tables and dispose of dumped food, the background noise of talking and working was joined with an ever louder croaking sound. “Sounds like those frogs are having their own little get together,” Chip commented.

“Well, they’re not around here anymore, that’s for sure,” Dee added after looking around.

Dale then let out a rather obnoxious belch. “Just because things look like a pig sty doesn’t mean you have to act like one,” Chip scolded his friend.

Bob then let go with an oral expulsion of gas. “Don’t you*get started,” his wife remarked to him. Then she burped. “Sorry!” she commented as she began to blush.

Then Foxglove joined in, followed by Dale again. Soon, just about everyone around was belching repeatedly. Chip and Dee looked around in astonishment. “I know laughing and yawning are supposed to be contagious,” Chip remarked, “but this is ridiculous!”

“Bud,” Bob belched, at least that’s what it sounded like.

Dale couldn’t help himself, “Weis,” he replied with his next burp.

“Er,” Monterrey concluded with his next expulsion.

The three hurriedly lined up... “Bud,” “Weis,” “Er.”

“Bud,” “Weis,” “Er.”

“Bud,” “Weis,” “Er.”

The mice and chipmunk continued their Budweiser frog improv routine to the periodic laugh-belches of others around them. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,” Dee groaned while Chip merely shook his head.

“Golly! What could possibly be causing this?” Gadget asked.

“And why isn’t it affecting us?” Raven asked to the other three.

It was at that point that Fangs flew in. He was dumbstruck by the chorus of belching, which only lasted for another minute. “What the hell was that?” he asked.

As the previously belching crowd looked around in confusion, some starting to laugh at the absurdity of the whole experience, Chip provided the only answer he could think of, “It looks like a case for the Rescue Ranger.”

-to be continued...

[ksharbaugh]

Chapter Seven

“Chip, we’re on vacation,” Dale whined, “Why do we always wind up taking a case in the middle of our vacations?”

“You gotta admit, it’s a good question,” Monterrey pointed out.

“What are you talking about?” Dee broke in, “Just last year you had three weeks off without a case... I should know, I was there.”

“She’s right,” Chip concurred, “Not all our vacations get interrupted with cases. If anything, it adds a little spice to things!” Now that his deductive juices were flowing, Chip got down to business, “Whatever caused that mass belching was undoubtedly caused by what people had eaten, so we should interview as many people as possible to see what they ate and if they experienced that unusual activity... We should try to find out if those who experienced it might have some food or drink they had consumed in common.”

“We should probably start with ourselves,” Gadget offered. One by one everyone recounted what they had eaten and drunk since they had arrived.

“Just from our limited sample it looks like the corn soup is the only thing that might have caused the phenomenon,” Chip gathered, “But we should still get a larger sample just to be sure.”

“We should probably collect samples of the different foods,” Foxglove spoke up, “Before what’s here gets disposed of for the day.”

“Good thinking, Foxglove!” Chip chirped, “Gadget, I want you to be responsible for collecting the samples. Everyone else, start asking questions.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to make a stop over to the city jail to check on that weasel,” Dee interjected.

“I’ll go with you,” Chip jumped in, “Maybe they’ll let me ask him a few questions.”

==

Deep in the walls of the stately former city hall, Chip and Dee arrived at the processing desk of the city’s rodent Police Department. Walking up to a nondescript mouse who was looking over some paperwork, Dee introduced herself. “We’re here about that weasel that should have been brought in by a couple Nation cops,” she explained.

Shuffling through a few papers, the desk sergeant found the relevant document. “Drywall,” he read off the offender’s sheet, “Charged with causing a disturbance at the Powwow and a couple people came in with him and the Nation cops pressing theft charges.”

“That’s the one,” Dee affirmed.

“You here to add to the charges,” the mouse asked, “either for the Nation or yourself?”

“No,” Dee answered, “My friend and I would like to talk to him, if that won’t be a problem.”

Looking up at a human’s wristwatch mounted on the wall as a clock, the policemouse thought for a second. “You may have to wait till after the trial for that,” he replied, “It’ll be starting in a few minutes.”

“Isn’t that a little sudden?” Chip asked, surprised by the swiftness of local justice.

“It’s just on the theft charges,” the mouse at the desk pointed out, “The person who filed the charges was insistent on things being wrapped up quickly because he was just passing through on his way to Jamestown... Since he brought a witness with him, Brown decided to move it up on the docket. The weasel probably won’t be tried for the ruckus he caused until we get confirmation that the Nation wants to charge him.”

“Down in the basement, right?” Dee asked, referring to the site of the impending trial.

“Yep,” the officer replied.

Thanking the mouse for his assistance, Dee and Chip made their way down to the ‘basement’. In days past, the lowest level of the old city hall had been the Police Headquarters for the humans, but more recently it had been turned over for their use as cheap apartments and storage. The rodents chose the lesser used storage rooms for their short term detention cells and courtrooms.

After arriving at the appropriate courtroom, Dee and Chip took seats among the other spectators, lawyers, and clients. Still awaiting the arrival of the judge, a middle aged male mouse in a stately suit took a seat beside Dee.

“Good afternoon, Ms Hawkfeather,” he greeted Dee pleasantly, “Congratulations on becoming a Clan Mother!”

“Bite me!” Dee snapped at him.

“Dee!” was Chip’s startled response.

“Sorry,” the lady apologized to both. Turning to their new acquaintance, Dee explained, “I’m just not particularly pleased at being a Clan Mother.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the newcomer replied, “I hear that when Washington took the first oath of office he remarked that he felt like ‘a scoundrel being led to his doom’... Guess it comes with having to accept power.”

“Oh, Chip,” Dee started in, “This is Daryl Bentwood, the city’s leading prosecutor. Daryl, this is my fiancé Chip Maplewood.”

“Chip,” Daryl said, almost to himself as two rodents shook paws over Dee’s lap, “You wouldn’t happen to be one of the Rescue Rangers, would you?” Chip replied in the affirmative. “I heard how you all saved Mr Tanner and broke up that gang that had kidnaped him last year, that was some good work!” After Chip thanked him appreciatively, Daryl asked, “You two aren’t here on official business, are you?”

“Well, yes and no,” Dee answered, “I’d like to talk to the weasel coming up for trial here about becoming part of a local Rescue Ranger team... provided he doesn’t get jail time.”

“Everybody please rise for the Honorable Judge Herbert Brown.” one of the bailiffs called out.

A brown mouse in a judicial robe hobbled into the courtroom, his mouth barely visible beneath his bushy grey mustache. “Everybody sit down,” Judge Brown mumbled at the court as he took his seat. “Well, let’s get this thing started,” he declared gruffly, “This is a trial of Highball Weasel...”

“My client’s name is Drywall Weasel, Your Honor,” the public defender replied, motioning to the defendant who was locked in a cage.

“I like Highball better, but what’re ya’ gonna do,” Judge Brown returned, “Now, who’s the Plaintiff here?”

“I am, Your Honor,” the mouse sitting at one of the tables up front stated standing up. “My name is Milton Hemlock, and that thing,” he continued, gesturing accusingly at Drywall, “stole a very valuable crystal rose from me at today’s festivities.”

Chip leaned over to his fiancé and muttered, “You know, he kinda sounds familiar.”

“That rose,” Mr Hemlock continued, “was a family heirloom, handed down from my Great-grandmother Gertrude... It was more than valuable, it was priceless.”

“Says here that nothing, priceless or otherwise, was found on Mr Weasel’s person,” Judge Brown stated, reading off of the hastily written case file. All the while, the defendant stared intently at whoever was speaking, wringing his paws nervously.

“I know, Your Honor,” Mr Hemlock lamented, “That thug probably tossed his ill-gotten booty aside when good law abiding citizens gave chase, and given the absolute catastrophe he caused in his cowardly attempt to flee justice Great-gramma Gertie’s beautiful rose has probably been smashed into tiny pieces.”

Chip once more leaned over. “He sounds just like a con artist from back home,” he whispered, “We kept having run-ins with him and his partner.”

“Are there any witnesses to this crime?” the judge queried.

“Yes, Your Honor,” Mr Hemlock stated with certainty, “I made sure to enlist the help of one of your local citizens who nobly volunteered to do his civic duty and come forward with his eyewitness testimony.” Slightly turning, he motioned his witness to stand. Doing so, Chip got a good look at the plaintiff’s face as well as his companion.

“That’s him!” Chip whispered sharply, “I mean, that’s them!”

“Your Honor,” Dee stated loudly as she stood, “May I approach the bench?”

Looking out into the gallery, Judge Brown recognized the young female. “Ms Hawkfeather,” he addressed her, “You’re not going to cause my bench to explode again, are you?”

“No, sir,” Dee responded politely, “And technically speaking your bench didn’t explode, it caught fire.”

“Whatever,” he replied, “All I remember is there were a lot of flames.” Getting back to the point he declared, “As long as what you have to say has some bearing on this case, you may approach the bench.”

As Dee walked forward, Chip stood and followed. Making eye contact with the plaintiff while walking past, Chip was certain of his identity. It was also clear from the ‘deer in the headlights’ expression that ‘Mr Hemlock’ recognized him as well. Once at the judge’s bench, Dee provided a quick introduction, “Your Honor, this is Chip Maplewood, leader of the Rescue Rangers... and my fiancé.”

“Congratulations,” Judge Brown replied, “Now why are you here?”

“Your Honor,” Chip started, “The other Rescue Rangers and myself have had several encounters with Mr Hemlock and his supposed witness. Their real names are Richard Hertz and Dorf Finton, they’re con artists. We hadn’t heard anything about them in a while and were thinking they might’ve straightened out... Apparently they just moved on to less suspecting communities.”

[ksharbaugh]

-Chapter Seven continued...

The judge digested the information for a moment. Looking over towards the Plaintiff and his ‘witness’ he noticed them having a hushed yet highly animated discussion. “Would the Plaintiff and witness please approach the bench,” Judge Brown ordered.

Looking back at the judge with a mixture of surprise and fear, Mr Hemlock, a.k.a. Richard Hertz, stammered, “I-I don’t think that’s, um, really necessary, Your Honor.”

“You can approach the bench under your own power or I can have the bailiffs drag you up here,” the judge responded, “Either way’s fine with me.” After a moment of deliberation the two cons hesitantly approached the bench. “This young chipmunk here has leveled the charge that the two of you could be a couple scam artists tryin’ to put one over on me,” Judge Brown explained, “What do you have to say for yourselves?”

Sputtering in mock offense, Richard replied indignantly, “I can’t believe this, Your Honor! I have never seen this chipmunk before in my life nor have any idea why he would be making such ludicrous and hurtful accusations! I, Milton Hemlock, have never engaged in the kind of criminal behavior this person is claiming, and I’m certain this fine citizen here...” he trailed off, turning back to his partner. “What was your name again?” he fraudulently asked.

“Oh, uh, Bob Jones,” Dorf answered mechanically.

“And I’m sure Mr Jones here has never engaged in that kind of clearly illegal and immoral behavior either,” Richard finished.

“Hi, Dorf!” Chip waved cheerfully to ‘Mr Jones’.

“Hi, Chip!” came the equally cheerful reply. Richard smacked himself in the forehead in shear frustration.

“Bailiff,” Judge Brown called, “Place these two under arrest for fraud and... whatever it is when they waste my time.”

“Filing false charges?” one of the bailiffs asked as he came forward to escort the two criminals out.

“That’s it.”

“How can you hold us when this bozo doesn’t even know what he’s charging us with?” Richard asked the bailiff in desperation.

“Calling the judge a bozo,” Dee mused aloud, “Isn’t that contempt of court?”

“Sure is,” the judge replied, “That’s two nights in the slammer right there.” With a bang of his gavel Judge Brown made it official. “Now get them out of here,” he ordered to the bailiffs.

“Given the current turn of events,” the Public Defender piped up, “May I assume that the theft charges are dropped and my client is free to go?”

“Theft charges are dropped,” was the judge’s answer, “But there’s still the matter of the near riot he caused at the Powwow.”

“Actually, that’s why I was here, Your Honor,” Dee stepped in, “Chip and I both witnessed the incident and can attest that there was no personal injury and that the damage was actually fairly minor compared to what my brother occasionally causes at the ‘Hole in the Wall’, so I was hoping you might be willing to let him off with some community service.”

Judge Brown looked at her for a moment. “Considering the sales pitch you just gave me,” he responded, “I imagine you already have something in mind.”

“Yes sir,” Dee replied, “After his capture there was a very unusual incident that the Rescue Rangers have decided to investigate and since I’ve been considering establishing a local Ranger team here in town I was thinking we could let Drywall there assist in the investigation. That way he could give back to the community, after a fashion, and could be evaluated for possible inclusion in my team, undoubtedly providing further opportunities to help the community.”

As Dee finished speaking, Chip noticed someone or something removing his fedora. Turning quickly, he found Drywall standing behind him investigating the interior of his hat. “Gimme that!” Chip shouted.

Dee and Judge Brown turned to see what had gotten Chip riled up. “How did you get out?” Dee asked the loose weasel.

“Oh, sorry,” Drywall apologized. He promptly bounced back towards the cage and managed to quickly inter himself there, seemingly without any difficulty or having to use the door.

“How in blazes did you do that?!” Judge Brown shouted at the weasel.

“Do what?” Drywall replied in honest ignorance.

Thinking for a moment, the judge turned to Dee. “I think I just discovered how I can repay you for that incident with my bench,” he stated, “I am formally remanding custody of Drywall Weasel to the Clan Mother Doohickey Hawkfeather for the purpose of performing community service for a duration of time to be determined by Ms Hawkfeather.” With a bang of his gavel Judge Brown’s latest ruling took effect. “Bailiff, release that furry oddity.”

“I guess you can come with us,” Dee told the freed weasel.

As the three small mammals made their way out of the old city hall, Chip had to satisfy his curiosity... there was something he just had to know. “Now that you’re free,” he proceeded to ask Drywall, “Do you suppose you could explain how you got out of that cage back in the courtroom?”

“The bailiff let me out,” the weasel answered simply while looking about nervously.

“No-no,” Chip corrected, “Before that, when you were messing around with my hat.”

“I don’t know,” Drywall replied, “It’s something that happens from time to time.”

“You periodically osmose through cages?” Dee asked.

“I just really wanted to know what was under his hat,” Drywall pointed out, “and the only way I could find out was to get out of the cage. I don’t even know how I do things like that, it just happens.”

“Do you remember doing it?” Dee asked, stopping and looking at her new ‘friend’. Drywall shook his head rapidly. “Then how did you get back into the cage?” Dee inquired further. Drywall merely shrugged, periodically wringing his paws as he had in the courtroom. Dee stared at him, thinking, until something bothered her. “Do you ever blink?” she asked.

“No,” Drywall answered.

“Why not?”

“Might miss something.”

“You are obsessed with curiosity,” Chip concluded, “Right?”

“Uh-huh,” Drywall answered, rapidly nodding his head.

“You have to know what’s inside something,” Chip further posited, “You must find out what’s hidden from your view.” Drywall once more nodded rapidly. “Maybe he enters some kind of altered mental state and in his semi-panic he finds some solution to his problem but would be utterly oblivious to it later,” he speculated openly to his fiancé, “like forgetting a dream.” Turning back to Drywall, he asked a less relevant question. “Are you ever disappointed by what you find, even if there’s nothing inside?”

“Never!” the weasel replied with conviction.

“He’s not obsessed with curiosity,” Dee concluded, “He’s obsessed with discovery.”

“You’re right,” Chip stated to his fiancé, “He could be very useful.”

“We’re not going to get into a fight over who gets to keep him, are we?” Dee asked.

“You heard the judge’s ruling,” Chip replied, “He’s yours.”

“Goodie!” squeaked Dee happily. Turning to Drywall before continuing on the way out she explained, “Just stay out of my drawers.”

“Oh, I never peek in ladies’ clothing,” Drywall commented, “The thrill of discovery never justified the beatings I inevitably got.”

“Those weren’t the drawers I was talking about,” Dee replied, “But it’s nice to know, anyhow.”

Walking out into the narrow strip of ground between the building and the iron and concrete caisson that kept out the river in times of minor flooding, Drywall spotted the Ranger Wing. In moments, he became a blur of motion as he examined every inch, nook and cranny of the aircraft. When finished, he seated himself in the rear and fastened the seat belt. Shortly after Chip and Dee also boarded the aircraft, Chip felt his hat lift once more.

Looking back, Chip once more saw Drywall examining the interior of his hat. “Stop that!” he shouted, retrieving his fedora.

“Why did you have to look in his hat a second time?” Dee asked.

“He might have put something in there since I checked last,” Drywall answered.

==

Gadget was finishing up tabulations of what food was eaten by whom when Foxglove announced that she heard the Ranger Wing approaching. Everyone gathered about to welcome Dee and Chip’s return, and were surprised by the presence of a third passenger.

“Everyone, this is Drywall,” Chip pointed out, “Drywall, this is everyone.” The weasel waved quickly.

“The theft charges were fraudulent and I got the judge to agree to let him pay off the damage he did here through community service,” Dee explained, “Specifically, helping us with the case.”

“Heh, for a second there I thought you were going to ask me for a encore of my weasel wrangling routine,” Monterrey laughed.

“I got the results of our survey completed,” Gadget spoke up, “It seems the only food in common among those who experienced that strange belching phenomenon was corn soup.”

“I imagine that’s not a common side effect of eating the soup,” Chip presumed, turning to Dee.

“Our people have been eating the stuff for centuries,” Dee pointed out, “and this is the first time something like this has ever come up.”

“Maybe there was some rat poison left over after the corn was rinsed off,” Dale supposed.

“Any residual lye would more likely have resulted in death,” Gadget responded, “not belching.”

“Yeah, but everyone sure croaked!” Dale joked.

“We should bring some of the soup back to the mill,” Dee suggested, “I’ve got equipment there that can be used to analyze it’s components.”

“Did you get some soup with the other samples?” Chip inquired of Gadget.

“Sure did,” the lady replied, “The doggie bags are all loaded onto the Ranger Plane.”

“Excellent!” Chip declared, “The way things are going we could have this case wrapped up before nightfall!”

-to be continued...

[ksharbaugh]

Chapter Eight

As everyone proceeded to the two Ranger aircraft, something occurred to Gadget concerning the tainted soup. “You know, I could probably do the analysis of the soup more efficiently if I knew what all is supposed to be in it,” she concluded, “Do you know what goes into the corn soup, Dee?”

“I think it’s just water, hulled corn, beans and salt pork,” Dee responded, “But I can’t rule out individual cooks adding a little something extra.” Stopping, she motioned back towards the picnic area, “You all head on back, I’ll check with the cook just to be certain about what he put in this batch.”

“I think I’ll stay behind for awhile myself,” Chip added, “Talk to some of the people involved with preparing and serving the soup, see if they saw anything or anyone unusual.”

“I guess we’ll be taking the Ranger Plane back then,” Gadget replied, “The two of you can take the Ranger Wing back.” Doing the math in her head, she added, “It’ll be a tight fit though.”

“I can fly back on my own,” Fangs pointed out, “So can Foxglove.”

“That leaves Drywall,” Gadget concluded.

“He’s staying with me,” declared Dee, “I don’t want him snooping around my mill without my supervision.” Parting ways with their comrades, Dee and Chip made their way to where the soup was prepared with the curious weasel in tow. “While I’m at it I can take inventory of the equipment that needs repair after that lye induced explosion.”

“The soup’s cooked on site for the Powwow?” Chip inquired.

“Only when lots of it are needed,” Dee answered, “Like the Powwow or other public gatherings... Mom actually built some of the equipment used for it.”

Dee led Chip past the picnic area and towards the camouflaged housing for the soup preparation. Seeing the occasional mouse or rat emerge or return from the site wearing plastic bags tailored to be use as rodent sized hazardous material suits, Chip realized they were still cleaning the area of the lye tainted water.

Looking around, Dee pointed out for her fiancé, “The cook’s staff is over by that sapling, they would’ve noticed anyone out of the place during the cooking, and they can point out who might have helped haul pots to the picnic site. I’ll be around here... y’know, getting the ingredients, checking the equipment.”

After several minutes speaking to numerous volunteers, none of whom were able to provide useful information, Chip became aware of a growing number of rodents talking about ‘that guy with the hat’. Their tone of voice was less than reassuring. Keeping an ear turned toward the crowd, he noticed that some of them seemed to think he had been involved in the bizarre belching incident. Alarmed by some of the more inflammatory accusations, Chip turned to see who it was that was saying such things. As he faced his accusers, he was met by sneers of contempt by a group of mice who looked as if they would otherwise be spending their time shaking someone down. It hardly surprised him to notice his future aunt-in-law hovering in the background, a contented smirk on her face.

Chip was beginning to wonder how much longer it would be before the mob turned ugly... or uglier than it already was, at any rate. His concern was shelved momentarily when a somewhat familiar voice called out, “Mr Maplewood! Chip!” Turning to face someone who would hopefully be a pleasant distraction, he spotted Richard Tanner, dressed in a finely tailored suit, striding towards him. Grabbing his paw and shaking it vigorously, Mr Tanner continued, “I heard you and the other Rescue Rangers were back in town! You here to rescue anyone or are you all here on vacation?”

“That’s a Rescue Ranger?” one of the hecklers asked a comrade. Slowly, some of the foul tempered rodents shied away, not wanting to be seen hurling epithets at a hero who had connections in the city. Then, as Doohickey Hawkfeather bounded up to him and gave him a peck on the cheek, the rest began to melt away. They didn’t want to be seen harassing a hero who happened to be the boyfriend of the tribe’s newest Clan Mother. As Carol Halfshell watched her vengeful mob slink off into the undergrowth she realized turning that day’s unusual occurrence to her advantage would not be as easy as she had estimated. She skulked off, growling to herself.

“I was just talking to Chip,” Mr Tanner stated to Dee after she had arrived, “I was hoping I could treat you and your friends to dinner up at the Red Garter this evening.”

“What do you think?” Chip asked his fiancé, “I was considering taking a rain check and wait til after we’ve wrapped up the case.”

“I don’t see how that’d be necessary,” Dee concluded, “We’d have to break for dinner, case or no case, and besides, this way it’d be free.” After a moment of thought, she added, “Otherwise, dinner comes out of my pantry... Yes, we’re definitely eating out tonight.”

“So we eat out or we don’t eat at all?” inquired the chipmunk.

“Right,” the mouse stated with a smile.

“Then how can we refuse?” Chip accepted, turning to Mr Tanner.

“Great!” the businessmouse replied, “Would seven be ok?”

“Sure,” Dee agreed, “Can we bring guests?”

“Who do you have in mind?”

“My daughter, her boyfriend, Dale’s ‘girlfriend’...” Dee began listing off, “and that weasel whose head is in- Drywall, GET OUT OF THERE!” A startled scream and a crash accompanied the weasel’s latest curiosity inspired indiscretion. Racing from the scene, Drywall managed to hide himself completely behind Doohickey.

“I’ll probably regret this,” Mr Tanner replied, “but ok.”

==

Within a second of the Ranger Wing touching down in Dee’s hanger Drywall was off. In a blur of motion the weasel sped from one side to another in his quest to explore the new locale. As Dee and Chip walked over towards the open living area they occasionally had to dodge the speeding carnivore. “Hope nobody has any other plans,” Chip opened as he approached the others sitting upon the couch and couple chairs, “Mr Tanner, the mouse we rescued here last year, invited us to dinner tonight.”

“Golly, that certainly was nice of him,” Gadget commented, “Will we still have time to do the analysis of the soup before then?”

“I don’t see why not...” Dee would have said more except Drywall raced by, nearly knocking her over, and dove behind the couch. “You done checking the place out?” she asked, irritated.

“Dogs,” Drywall spouted, “big dogs!” His paw poked up over the edge of the couch and pointed towards the stairway leading to the lower levels of the mill and added “Down there!”

“Wolves,” Dee corrected.

“Whatever, they’re big,” Drywall responded, still in hiding, “could eat me.”

“They’re wolves and they’re my friends,” Dee pointed out, lifting the terrified weasel from his hiding place. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you,” she added, pulling Drywall along.

Down in the wolves’ den, Romulus was busy watching reruns while other pack members either slept or played with the pups outside. The commanding canine was too wrapped up in his tv to acknowledge Dee’s first attempt to call him over. Her second attempt, garnering greater success, caused Romulus to look over towards the entrance. “Yeah?”

“AAHHHH!!” Drywall shrieked as the larger carnivore spotted him.

“Stop that!” Dee snapped, smacking the weasel upside the head, “He’s not going to eat you!” As the wolf lumbered over, the mouse introduced the two, “Romulus, this is Drywall. Drywall, Romulus.”

“Hi,” Romulus welcomed the weasel. Drywall quickly waved at the wolf. The two stared at each other for a moment. Romulus twitched an ear, then tilted his head. Drywall continued staring at him intently. Hesitantly, the wolf leaned over towards Dee. “That boy ain’t right,” Romulus drawled.

“No kidding,” Dee responded.

“I’m not sure I trust him,” the wolf pointed out.

“He’s harmless,” the mouse reassured him, “The two of you get acquainted, I’ll be upstairs.”

As Dee left, Romulus motioned towards the rest of the den, “Um, how ‘bout I show you around?”

“Okie-dokie,” Drywall replied, not taking his eyes off the wolf.

When Dee emerged from the lower bowels of her mill, Gadget walked over. “Is it ok if we start the analysis of the soup now?” she asked, “I looked around for the equipment you said you had- of course I wouldn’t start using it without your approval- but couldn’t find it. I know you have other rooms around here that are closed off and would have checked them but I know how territorial you are...”

“Sure,” Dee responded and began to lead her sister to the equipment... until she remembered something important. Smacking her head she explained, “I moved the stuff to my workshop in the city... I thought it would get more use there!” There was an approaching rumble behind the two ladies. When it suddenly stopped, they turned and saw Drywall standing right behind them. “Yes?” Dee asked.

“I heard talking and thought something interesting might be happening,” Drywall explained.

“No,” Dee replied.

“Oh.” In short order, Dale’s constant channel surfing caught the weasel’s attention and he bounded over to watch.

[ksharbaugh]

-Chapter Eight continued...

The Ranger Wing cut a quick path through the afternoon sky as Gadget and Dee, with Chip tagging along, returned to the city to examine the contents of the tainted soup. Over in a far corner of Dee’s workshop was a small mound of parts that would otherwise have been dismissed as just an orderly pile of junk. “Well, here’s my homemade spectrometer,” the inventor proclaimed, motioning to the machine, “All we need is to prepare a sample and feed it into the device.”

“Are you sure it’s gonna work?” Chip asked.

“Both tests I ran came out fine,” Dee explained as she began preparing a sample of the soup, “But there’s always the outside chance of a catastrophic failure.”

“Catastrophic failure?” the chipmunk repeated warily.

“Did I say catastrophic?” Dee replied in a concerned tone. “I meant an outside chance of a minor booboo,” she added with an innocent smile.

“Does that mean we should be behind protective shielding when you fire that thing up?” Chip asked.

Dee looked up, thoughtfully. “Hmm, something to work on in the future,” she muttered.

“I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t bring Monty with us,” Chip mentioned to Gadget... or he tried to, not realizing until afterwards that she’d wondered over to the machine to inspect it.

“He’d make a good blast shield,” Dee muttered as she worked.

“WHAT?!” Chip blurted out in surprise.

“What?” Dee asked, looking up.

“Did you say what I thought you said?” Chip clarified.

“I don’t know,” his fiancé replied, “What’d I say?”

“That Monty would make a good blast shield!” Chip proclaimed.

“Oh, sorry,” Dee remarked, “I have a tendency to ramble when I’m working... doesn’t mean anything. You should talk to Bob about some of the things he’s heard me say, apparently some of them are real pips.” Lifting up the prepared sample, she proclaimed, “We’re ready to go!” After placing the sample into a cavity in the front of the spectrograph, Dee closed it up and set the dials and levers to the proper settings. Picking up a triggering plunger attached a long length of cord, she motioned to the others, “Just to be safe we should probably be in the next room when I set this thing off.”

All three rodents disappeared into a hole in the wall. When all was set, Dee depressed the plunger. A whirring sound commenced, rising in pitch... only to be cut short by a loud pop. The pop was soon followed by a short buzz. Chip could tell by the way Dee’s shoulders drooped that those weren’t desired sound effects. The fact that this was followed by her stomping her feet and swearing reassured him of the accuracy of his deduction. Before Chip could console his love she departed to inspect her malfunctioning device. Both he and Gadget soon followed her.

“That pop had to be a blown fuse,” Dee reasoned as she flung open a panel on the side of the dormant creation revealing an array of brightly colored automotive fuses. Counting them out, she grabbed one of the red 10 Amp fuses and began tugging on it. The stubborn part refused to budge. Grabbing it with both paws Dee pulled harder, placing one foot against the plastic tray into which it was set and pushing... then up went her other foot... then out came the fuse... then mouse and fuse went tumbling across the floor. “Yep,” she stated while laying on her back examining the fuse. Tossing aside the spent article, she stood and walked back, “Now to find out what that buzzing was.”

Throwing open a second panel, Dee examined the interior while standing back away from her creation. Having spotted something of potential importance she leaned in suddenly, reaching a paw forward. A static discharge arced over the gap between the disabled spectrograph and the lady’s paw with a loud ‘snap’. With a, “Yipe!” that was more from being startled than any sensation of pain, Dee jerked back her paw... just before a sheet of flame enveloped her jumpsuit.

Chip reflexively leapt at his fiancé and flung her to the floor and began patting out the flames, the fact that the flames had already dissipated by the time he made contact with her had yet to register. “No, Chip...” Gadget tried to intervene, having realized fairly quickly what had occurred and knowing that her sister was in no real danger... except, maybe, from an over protective lover.

Dee promptly misinterpreted Chip’s actions and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and flipped him onto his back. “You impetuous animal, you!” she squealed as she climbed atop the startled chipmunk. Leaning in nose to nose, she asked, “But don’t you think we should wait till tonight?” then adding, in a voice laden with desire, “When we can be alone?”

“What?” chirped Chip.

“Uh, Dee,” Gadget broke in, “Chip thought you were on fire.”

Dee rolled the thought around in her head for a moment, then let out a little giggle. “Aww, you were trying to save my life,” she cooed to her fiancé, “you handsome, heroic hunk of ‘munk, you!” Dee then proceeded to thank her future husband by means of a long lingering kiss. Gadget hoped that the kiss would be the extent of it, she was feeling awkward enough as it was. Dee, having adequately expressed her gratitude, rose from the floor. Helping Chip up, she explained what had precipitated the whole experience, “Whenever I fuel up the Banshee my jumpsuit will absorb some of the fumes... If I come into contact with a spark before I’ve washed the residue out it gets ignited, fortunately I absorb so little fuel that it all burns off in the initial flash. The flames never last long enough to actually do any physical damage.”

“Psychological damage on the other hand...” Chip began to comment.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Dee responded, “I really shoulda’ warned ya’.”

As the other two were rising from the floor, Gadget had wandered over to the equipment to look matters over. Sticking her head into the open hatch her sister had been at, she spotted something important. “I think I found the source of that buzzing,” she commented, “It looks like the circuits are fried... or at least I think that’s what they were, though it’s possible they were something else, but then again it’s entirely possible that’s what it’s supposed to look like in there...”

As Gadget speculated, Dee investigated. “Yeah, those were circuits,” she confirmed, “once. It’ll take some doing to replace them.”

“How long?” Chip inquired.

“Depends,” Dee sighed, “If I go for replacing them with ‘real’ circuits I can keep things compact and more reliable but will need a week to track down the right parts. Or, I could cobble together makeshift circuits out of readily available parts, it wold take a couple days but the reliability will drop significantly while the potential for a catastrophic failure rises inversely.”

“There’s that word again,” Chip smirked.

“What? Potential? Inversely?” Dee asked playfully.

“Catastrophic,” Chip intoned with a smile, “Last seen in the presence of a word identified as ‘failure’.”

“Hmm,” Dee thought, drawing closer to Chip, “I might have heard of him, but I hear a lot of words.”

“Well, maybe this will help refresh your memory,” Chip drawled as he took the raven haired mouse in his arms, leaning in to bribe her with a kiss.

Gadget loudly cleared her throat, interrupting the ‘interrogation’. “Um, guys, what are we doing with the soup sample?”

“Actually, we could have Verne take a look at it,” Dee suggested, “If he doesn’t have any clue what’s in it I can get to work repairing the spectrometer.”

“Who’s Verne?” Chip asked.

“He’s a Japanese Beetle,” Dee clarified, “‘Verne Weber Beetle’, the guy’s practically a walking chemistry set.”

Chip proceeded to store the name in his mental notebook. That’s when something dawned on him, “His name is ‘V.W. Beetle’? Isn’t that a car?”

“Yeah, it’s a car and the guy’s nickname,” Dee nodded, “But since no one can pronounce his real name... well, no one that isn’t an insect... people just referred to him as ‘Beetle’, somewhere along the line someone added the ‘VW’ part as a joke, then it kind of evolved into an actual name.”

“Know where we can find him this time of day?” Chip inquired further.

“Unless he’s next door, maybe we should hold off until tomorrow,” Gadget suggested, “We do have a dinner date, remember, and it’s getting late.”

Chip checked the watch that was hung on the wall nearby. “Ok, we’ll head back to the mill and meet with Verne tomorrow.” While en route back to Dee’s residence, Chip gave some thought to the assemblage of persons they were bringing along for dinner. Thinking of one in particular brought up a concerned thought, “Do you think it was ok to have left Drywall alone at the mill?”

“He’s not exactly alone,” Dee replied, “I’m sure Dale and Monty can keep him preoccupied. Besides, how much trouble can they all cause out in the middle of the woods?”

[ksharbaugh]

-Chapter Eight continued...

==

“Willyoucutthatoutalready?!” Dale yelled as he shoed Drywall away form the television controls, “AndhwosaidyoucouldgochangingcahnnelswhileIwasgett ingasnack?”

Drywall stared at Dale for a moment, trying to decipher what had been said, though finally settling on, “What?”

“I think he means he’s never seen anyone change channels that quickly before,” Monty joined in, “I think.”

“Yeah,” Dale confirmed, “Channel surfing is one of the finest things a guy can do, if he’s good at it... It’s like you’ve never been around a TV before.”

“Well, I haven’t,” Drywall admitted.

“There is much for you to learn, young grasshopper,” Dale proclaimed sagely as he led Drywall over to the couch.

“But,” the carnivore responded, “I’m a weasel.”

Dale’s attempt to teach Drywall the zen of channel surfing was put on hold as the Ranger Wing returned with it’s three passengers. As Chip and the two ladies disembarked, Foxglove walked up. “What did you find out?” she inquired concerning the group’s outing.

“Not much,” Chip replied dejectedly.

“Except that my spectrometer needs an overhaul,” Dee added, sounding every bit as disappointed as her future mate.

“Then where do we go now?” the chiropterid asked.

“I know someone in town who’s an expert in all things chemical,” Dee replied, “We’ll get in touch with him tomorrow.”

“But for this evening we have to get ready for dinner,” Chip pointed out.

Dale couldn’t help but contemplate an issue that often led to contention between Chip and himself. “We don’t have to get dressed up, do we?” he asked.

“Nah,” Dee replied, to Dale’s relief, “The Red Garter’s not that exclusive... well, not for nonhuman patrons at least. Besides, considering who’s treating us I don’t think the management would put up too much flack about his guests being a little... colorful?” After looking around for a moment, she asked, “Anybody seen Raven and Fangs?”

Monterrey gave an amused grunt before answering, “The two lovebirds are up on the roof... enjoying the view.”

Foxglove followed up, “When they said that’s where they were going I almost suggested to Dale that we go up for the view too,” and sounded a little sheepish when she added, “but it looked like they wanted to be alone.”

Dee gave a little snicker before she walked off towards the balcony. Chip quickly caught up with her. “You’re not going to go bursting in on them, are you?” he asked, concerned how such an intrusion might affect the fledgling mother-daughter relationship.

“It’s not like I’m going to find them doing anything I wasn’t doing at their age,” Dee responded with a smirk.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Chip countered.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to go bursting in on them,” she confided before heading out. All the way along the walk to the rooftop Dee pondered how best to handle informing the two that it was time to prepare for a night out. Stopping at the door that opened onto the moss covered patio she listened carefully, out of a certain measure of curiosity. Then it occurred to her, noticing the absolute silence, that Fangs could easily have heard her coming. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything!” she declared after knocking on the door. Getting no response, she hesitantly opened the door and peered in. There was no one to be seen. It wasn’t until she walked out onto the moss laden floor that Dee spotted something a little off to the side and airborne. She soon realized it was Fangs carrying Raven by her arms with his feet. I’ll be, they are doing something I wasn’t doing at their age, she thought, No, actually there was that time I got into a fight with a crow and he took me up seventy-some feet and threatened to drop me.

“Um, hi!” Raven stated nervously once Fangs had set her down and fluttered to a landing beside her. “I’ve never really been anywhere where there weren’t buildings everywhere...” she began to explain, not quite sure how her mother would react to finding her only daughter allowing herself to be dangled above the treetops without anything resembling a safety device.

“And you wanted to get a good view of things,” Dee presumed with a reassuring smile.

“Well, yeah,” Raven answered, “It’s just such a change to get used to... being so isolated and all. And you don’t have to worry about Fangs carrying me, he’s more than strong enough and I know he’d never drop me.”

“That’s ok,” the mother responded in a polite tone that took her daughter completely off guard, “I did worse when I was younger... Now you’re gonna hafta get ready, we’re heading out to dinner soon.”

==

As the sun drew closer to the hilltops in the west, two rodent piloted aircraft crested South Mountain. Doohickey, piloting the Ranger Wing, led the small formation towards the small cluster of buildings that rested halfway up the northwest slope of the hill adjoining South Mountain. The two craft landed behind the largest of the buildings out front of which stood, slightly down the slope in large white block letters not unlike the famous ‘Hollywood’ sign, the name RED GARTER. The saloon of the former frontier themed amusement park had in recent years been renovated and turned into a restaurant and bar featuring an incredible view of the city nestled below in the river valley. Disembarking from their transport, the diminutive patrons of the rodent run section of the establishment met up with their host and adjourned within. Dinner progressed without incident and much of the talk centered around the Rangers’ most recent adventure, that being the recovery of the Delronne Diamond and the resulting reunion of Doohickey with her daughter.

“If you’re ever on a case around here and need any kind of assistance, just let me know,” Mr Tanner mentioned, “I’ve got all kinds of connections around the city that might be useful.”

“Thanks for the offer,” Chip responded, “We’ll keep that in mind, we may not need it on our current case but it’s good to know we have extra support if we need it.”

“Current case?” the host inquired.

“We’re investigating that belching incident that occurred at the Powwow today,” Gadget responded.

“Ah. That was strange,” Mr Tanner commented.

“Know what else is strange?” Raven piped up. Everyone at the table turned to face the young mouse. “All day I have noticed older guys giving me this strange look. Must’ve been seven of them so far.”

“Who?” Doohickey asked protectively, “Anybody here at the restaurant?”

“Yeah,” Raven replied, “One of em just sat down over there.” Both her mother and Chip peered over towards where Raven motioned as the rest joined in out of sheer curiosity. As luck would have it, the older mouse in question just happened to glance back towards their table giving everyone a good look at his face. Upon making eye contact with Doohickey he quickly turned away, as if there were something on the table before him that demanded his immediate and undivided attention.

As everyone, except Drywall, turned back towards their own table, Doohickey let out a long sigh. “I should’ve known this was going to happen,” she stated, more to herself than to the others. Though not everyone had heard what she said, her general bearing made it somewhat clear that she knew what was going on. “He, and probably those other guys, are all people I used to be... popular with when I was younger,” she explained to Raven, “They’re probably looking at you strange because they’re trying to see if you have any of their features.”

Though everyone knew what Doohickey had meant (except, of course, Drywall, who was still trying to figure out what the mouse thought was so fascinating at his own table), Raven couldn’t help but clarify the issue further, “You mean they’re wondering if I’m their daughter.”

“Yeah,” Dee nodded solemnly.

Before anything further could be discussed on the matter, they were all alarmed by a startled shout emanating from the older mouse’s table. This was soon followed by a loud screaming, and as they turned to see the cause of the commotion they witnessed Drywall bounding back towards them in a panic. The screaming weasel then dove under the table to hide.

“Um,” Mr Tanner began, “Where did you get him?”

“We got him in a box of Puffy-Wuffies,” Dale replied lightheartedly, “The box said ‘A surprise in every box!’ and boy was he a surprise!”

“Achully,” Gadget answered seriously, “He’s supposed to be helping us investigate the cause of that incident at the Powwow as a form of community service.”

We can’t keep having things like that happen, Chip thought to himself. After a moment of thought, he motioned a waiter over. Chip quickly whispered something to the waiter, who gave an odd look to the chipmunk, rolled his eyes and began to leave. Grabbing the waiter by the arm and pulling him back, he whispered to him again. The waiter looked confused, nodded and walked off. Before too long the same waiter returned and handed Chip a small paper bag... on the side was scrawled the words ‘Bag-O-Mystery’. “Drywall,” Chip called in a sing-song voice, “I’ve got something for you.” Drywall’s head suddenly popped out form under the table right into the chipmunk’s lap. With a startled yelp, Chip nearly fell backwards in his chair but was caught by both Dale and Doohickey. “Look!” he addressed the weasel, presenting the bag, “A ‘Bag-O-Mystery’!”

[ksharbaugh]

-Chapter Eight continued...

“Ooh!” Drywall cooed as he shoved his head into the bag. “There’s nothing in there,” he pointed out.

“Not now,” Chip responded, “but it’s a ‘Bag-O-Mystery’, who knows what might show up in there?”

Drywall emitted an amused little ‘hmm’ as he walked back to his seat, peering into the bag all the while. Once seated, he looked away for a moment, just in the off chance something was going on elsewhere... and in that moment, Dee tossed a piece of her venison steak into the open bag. Drywall quickly shoved his head back into his ‘Bag-O-Mystery’ and discovered the magical meat munchie and quickly devoured it.

Just as peace had been restored at their table, the manager arrived. “Excuse me, but we’ve had some complaints about your party,” he stated, then looking specifically at Dee, “Miss Hawkfeather.”

“Why are you lookin’ at me?” Doohickey asked, a little insulted. “It was ‘General Nuisance’ over here that was doing the screaming,” she pointed out, motioning to Drywall. The manager shifted his focus to the weasel who kept periodically shoving his head into a paper sack labeled ‘Bag-O-Mystery’. It was then that he began to walk away, hoping desperately to avoid getting involved in whatever it was that the patrons at that table were doing.

As Dale watched the manager walk off he spied a pool table through one of the doors leading to the adjoining bar. “Hot doggies!” the chipmunk declared. “Hey, can I be excused?” Dale asked, not bothering to look back to his comrades, “I ate all my veggies!”

“Well, you didn’t,” Chip pointed out needlessly, “But go ahead, just don’t...” But before he could finish his warning, Dale was gone. “...get hustled, again,” Chip finished in a subdued tone.

“I’ll see if I can keep him out of trouble,” Foxglove offered as she got up to join Dale.

The rest continued with their meal and conversation, with different people periodically tossing a munchie into Drywall’s bag to keep him preoccupied. Everyone had just about forgotten about Dale’s absence, until he wandered back without his shirt and a bewildered look on his face.

“They got everything,” Dale moaned, “My shirt, my chocolate bar, and my Captain Spiffo #67.” Foxglove, who had followed Dale back, merely shrugged as if to say ‘sorry, I tried’.

“Dale, you...!” Chip proceeded to yell, but caught himself and just growled out the rest of his anger. Then, keeping his voice at a tolerable level, “I tried to warn you not to let yourself get hustled... again!”

“But- I- they-,” Dale stuttered in a vain attempt to explain away his mistake.

“Monty,” Chip groaned, “Could you go win back Dale’s shirt... again?”

“I’d love to mate,” Monty began, “But I left me Linda back home.”

“Linda?” Fangs asked.

“His lucky pool cue,” Gadget pointed out.

“I’d do it,” Dee offered, “But I’ve been banned from playing pool here... and a few other places.”

“Why would you be banned?” Foxglove inquired.

“Having a mind-bashingly high IQ gave me an unfair advantage, being able to do all the calculations in my head and all,” Dee explained, “Well, that and I had a tendency to carom balls off the skulls of people I didn’t like.”

“Mind-bashingly high IQ you say,” Chip said as he looked over towards Gadget.

“What? Me?” Gadget asked, “But I don’t know how to play pool.”

“Don’t worry, luv,” Monterrey replied, “I’ll tell you all you need to know.”

“And don’t tell them you’re Dee’s sister,” Chip advised as Monty, Gadget, Chip and Foxglove left for the bar.

“I’m also not allowed to participate in Snow Snake competitions either,” Dee lamented.

“What’s ‘Snow Snake’?” Chip asked.

“It’s a Seneca winter sport,” Mr Tanner answered.

“Yeah, you build up this ridge of snow about waist high,” Dee proceeded to explain, “and then you pull a long cylindrical thing along the top to make a nice smooth trough. The players then take a pole, run up to one end of the ridge and toss their pole onto the trough. Whoever’s ‘snake’ slides the farthest wins.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Chip began, “But how can you get banned from playing something like that?”

“Players are allowed to treat their poles with a resin to help minimize resistance, and some people use recipes handed down through the generations of their families,” Dee prefaced, “But I decided to come up with my own.”

“And it went the farthest,” Raven guessed.

“All the way down the trough,” Dee clarified, “Off the far end, sailed through the air and lodged into a tree... at which point it caught fire. That’s when it was decided I couldn’t play anymore, and was forbidden to tell anyone what recipe I used for the resin.”

==

“There’s no way she can make that shot,” one rat muttered to his companion, “Doohickey couldn’t make that shot.”

His companion, fiddling with his cue, watched Gadget closely as she examined the position of the marbles on the improvised pool table. Much to his dismay, he was actually losing to her. He’s right, he thought, there’s no possibility she can make that shot. “How about this,” he broached to his beautiful opponent, “Since you probably have better things to be doing with your time, we settle things with this one shot. You make this, and your friend gets his shirt, candy bar and comic book back... and if you miss-”

“I buy you dinner,” Gadget replied, assuming the original deal still stood.

“I was thinking,” the rat countered, “Since I’m offering to shorten the game, something I obviously don’t have to do, just for you, I think it would only be fair for you to offer something extra.”

“Now wait right there!” Monty began to intervene.

“Excuse me sir,” the rat replied to Monty, “You’re not the one I’m playing against. Unless you think this lady isn’t enough of an adult to be making her own decisions, you think she is somehow incompetent... Do you really think so little of her?”

“What do you have in mind?” Gadget asked of her opponent.

“Well, that instead of you buying me dinner,” he proceeded before leaning in to whisper into Gadget’s ear.

The young lady’s eyes widened considerably before she blurted out, “That’s disgusting!”

“But if you’re not confident you can make the shot then we can just go with the original deal,” the rat quickly responded, “and play out the rest of the game. I wouldn’t blame you, half the people I play against could never make that shot... There’s no shame in admitting you lack the skill, that you’re simply incapable.” He looked Gadget over, trying to judge her frame of mind. “All in all you’ve played about as well as the other girls I’ve played against,” he added with a dismissive air, “You can at least be proud of that.”

Gadget was about to reject the offer, but Monty wasn’t sure and gave her a gentle coax towards the side of caution, “It ain’t worth it, luv.”

“Yeah, Gadget, that shot’s impossible!” Dale pointed out.

“Nothing’s impossible, Dale,” Gadget replied, “Only improbable.”

“Then prove it,” the rat declared, “Prove to me that you can make this shot.”

“I don’t-” Gadget started.

“Think you can make the shot?” the rat butted in, “Then you admit that it really is impossible... and that you lied to your friend, there.”

“I didn’t lie!” Gadget shot back.

“Then make the shot,” the rat demanded, “or admit you’re a liar.”

Gadget glared at her opponent. “You’re on!” she declared.

“Gadget!” Monty pushed in, “You don’t have to do this, you know you’re not a liar, we know you’re not a liar...”

“Quiet, Monty,” Gadget stopped him, “I need to think.” The rat regarded his opponent with supreme contentment, not only had he duped her into going along with him, he got her unsettled enough that she was almost certain to fail. As Gadget examined the table from different angles, she caught his gaze. She looked back to the table. Then to her opponent. Then the table. “Y’know,” she stated, “You might get hurt standing there.” Gadget pulled the rat over to a different position. “If I miscalculated the trajectory or the amount of force required I could break your nose or something... and that would probably make your victory rather hard to enjoy.”

“Well, ok,” the rat agreed, letting Gadget reposition him.

Gadget returned to the table and prepared for her shot.

==

“How many other games aren’t you allowed to compete in?” Chip asked his fiancé after she had explained why no one would allow her to join in a lacrosse match. Dee was just about to reply...

KOOK

FLUMPF

Everyone turned towards the bar, from whence the odd noises had come. As they looked there was a small round of cheers. Most of the patrons in the restaurant simply returned to their meals, whereas Dee turned to Chip, “That sounded somewhat familiar.”

Drywall had just raced over to the door to the bar when it flew open. Out strode Monterrey, carrying Gadget triumphantly on his shoulder. “Great shot, luv!” he declared.

“Yeah, that was one in a million!” Dale joined in as he finished putting his shirt back on.

“Achully one in five thousand, three hundred and twenty-nine,” Gadget replied as Monty set her back down on the floor.

“Was that sound what I thought it was?” Dee asked her sister with a smile.

“If you’re referring to the sound of a marble ricocheting off an arrogant and disgusting rat’s head,” Gadget began, “Then, yes. Yes it was.”

-to be continued...

[ksharbaugh]

Chapter Nine

When dinner was well and truly done, Mr Tanner settled up the bill and proceeded to part company with the Rangers and his other guests. While farewells were being exchanged, the sound of a struggling car engine brought Doohickey and Gadget’s attention to the side of the roof overlooking a section of the parking lot. Once they had spotted the vehicle, the two mechanically inclined ladies began discussing between themselves the likely cause of the engine’s distress. Chip meandered over to them just as the driver managed to get his vehicle to function (more or less).

“I was wondering where you two had gotten to,” the chipmunk addressed the mice.

“Just diagnosing engine problems for fun,” Dee explained lightly.

As Chip and her sister talked, Gadget spotted something shiny in an empty parking space. “I wonder if that fell off a car?” she asked herself aloud. “There’s something I want to check out,” Gadget stated to anyone listening, “I’ll be right back.”

After seeing his future sister-in-law depart, Chip returned his attention to his wife-to-be. He detailed the malevolent crowd that had rallied around the apparent assumption that he had something to do with that day’s unusual occurrence, including the fact that her aunt seemed to be responsible for goading them on.

“Wouldn’t put it past her,” Dee commented, “It isn’t the first time she’s tried to instigate a brawl. At least this time it didn’t work.”

“I think your showing up was the reason one didn’t materialize,” Chip pointed out, “They probably didn’t want trouble with a Clan Mother.”

“I really have to talk to June about that,” Dee followed, “I have no intention of staying a Clan Mother.”

After a moment, Chip replied, “I thought you meant you were going to talk to her about your Aunt Carol trying to cause trouble.”

“No, she knows about what Carol’s been up to,” Dee explained, “Might even know a few things the rest of us don’t... But unless someone can tie Aunt Carol to any kind of wrongdoing there’s not much we can do but put up with her crap.”

“Everybody knew Al Capone was behind all those murders but couldn’t find the evidence,” Chip correlated. “Your Aunt Carol and her goons might be the reason you were chosen to be a Clan Mother. Who in their right mind would harass someone in your Clan knowing you’re in good with a pack of wolves?” he inquired rhetorically.

“That’s one of the reasons I don’t like this!” Dee stated in obvious irritation, “Ever since it became public knowledge that I live with wolves it’s been as if people are afraid to get on my bad side because they’re afraid I’ll send the wolves after them.” There was a slight pause before she continued, “I mean, it’s not so much that they’re afraid I’ll do something unpleasant to them as it’s they’re afraid I’ll send some thugs to do my bidding. I want people to fear me for me, not for who I hang around with.”

Chip couldn’t help but laugh. Then, realizing his fiancé was staring at him in an exceedingly unpleasant manner, he explained himself. “No, I wasn’t laughing at you!” he quickly stated, “It’s just that, all the times I fantasized or postulated about the girl I’d marry, I never in my wildest dreams imagined she’d honestly proclaim: I want people to fear me for me.”

Dee then realized how disturbingly ludicrous it was. “It’s like the moral of an after school special for Klingons!” she laughed as Chip joined in. As their laughter subsided they noticed Gadget walking over to them lugging a cellular phone.

“Let me guess,” Chip started, “It followed you home and you want to keep it.”

“Well it can’t exactly follow me and we’re not exactly home and keeping it wasn’t originally what I had in mind,” Gadget proceeded to respond, “When I first realized it was a cell phone I thought we could try to return it to it’s owner, but I discovered it didn’t work... I think it got run over in the parking lot... so even if we did return it to it’s owner it’d probably just get thrown out anyway.”

“So you do want to keep it,” Dee postulated.

“Assuming I can find out what’s wrong,” Gadget answered, “It could be put to all kinds of uses, and even if I can’t get it working again it’s components could be useful in other inventions... maybe even scavenging some of the circuits for your spectrometer.”

“Well, it’d be cruel not to give it a good home,” Dee joked, “We’ve got room in the planes to bring it back and I can set aside room in the mill for you to play with it.”

After Gadget had stowed her prize, everyone was more or less ready to return to the mill for the night. However, before anyone could begin boarding, the party was spotted by two winged mammals out on their early evening breakfast flight. Swooping in, Bert and Bernie came to a landing near the group.

“Hey, Foxglove!” Bert called out, “Funny meeting you here. Me and Bernie were just finishing up an early meal and were going to head over to the mill to look for you.”

“What’s up?” Foxglove inquired.

“Felanna, the best singer in our colony, is going to be giving a performance at Sweet Water Spring,” Bernie explained, “We were wondering if you’d like to join me- I mean us.”

Foxglove considered turning down the offer, not having had much of a chance to spend time with Dale after nightfall. However, the way he kept casually sending her off without so much as a hint of jealousy or concern about not spending time with her bothered her. Foxglove decided to put Dale to a bit of a test. “Sure,” she replied to the two other bats, then turning to her favorite chipmunk, “Dale, I’m gonna go with Bert and Bernie to hear a performance by someone from their colony, I’ll meet up with you back at the mill later. Bye!” It actually hurt a little to so abruptly leave Dale behind, but she hoped it would pay off later.

“Uh, sure, ok,” Dale responded as Foxglove flew off with her two escorts. Something about how quickly she left bothered him, but he had trouble placing it.

On the flight back to the mill, Chip brought up something that had entered his mind after talking to his fiancé about her aunt’s propensity to instigate trouble. “I was thinking,” he began to Dee, “Even though we don’t yet know what it is that caused the belching at the Powwow, it’s a pretty safe bet it isn’t something that’s supposed to be in there... or something that would naturally fall into the mix.”

“Someone spiked the soup?” Dee presumed.

“Yeah, and I was thinking about who the most likely suspects might be,” Chip continued, “Given the circumstances, your Aunt Carol is right near the top of a really short list.”

Dee actually laughed at the assumption. “I think that’s a little beyond her means,” she countered, “Unless ‘belching mix’ is something you can pick up at a store, I seriously doubt she has the smarts to create it on her own.”

“That’s assuming belching was the intended outcome,” Chip pointed out, “Maybe she created a ‘belching mix’ thinking it would have a different effect.”

“I still think it’s unlikely,” Dee responded, “You’ve seen what she’s like, she’s a little too ‘direct’ in her behavior to do something sneaky like lacing the soup with something... That frog on the other hand, I can see him doing something like that.”

“Which one?” Chip asked, “There were quite a few there.”

“I mean Philippe,” Dee clarified, “The rat-frog.” Chip rolled his eyes. “The way he just oozed insincerity, just rubs me the wrong way... And the thought of him actually rubbing me just turns my stomach.”

“No one I spoke to saw him anywhere near the soup, though,” Chip pointed out.

“Coulda’ got someone to do it for him,” Dee posited.

“That’s reaching,” Chip countered. Then something occurred to him. “Unless his insincere flattery turned the head of a young local lady that no one would give a second thought to.”

“We get to interrogate him then?” Dee asked, almost gleefully.

“I’ll talk to him,” Chip clarified, “You’re taking that sample to Mr Beetle... Since we don’t know how long it’ll take to find that rat I want to make sure someone’s getting that done.” After a short pause, he explained, “Besides, I’m not sure I want to find out how you’d interrogate him.”

No sooner had the aircraft landed in the mill’s hanger than Monterrey hopped out. “I’ll be down in the wolves’ den, filling them in on the activities tonight,” he stated, “I think they’ll get a kick out of how Gadget won that game of pool!” Not being one to turn down one of Monty’s stories, even if he had just experienced the real thing, Dale followed along as did Zipper. They were followed in turn by Drywall, still periodically sticking his head into his ‘Bag-O-Mystery’. Raven and Fangs soon departed for the observation deck to be alone. Once Dee had helped Gadget set aside room to tinker with her cell phone, she joined Chip on the couch.

[ksharbaugh]

-Chapter Nine continued...

“If I’m going to be speaking to this Philippe character, it’d help if I knew where to find him,” Chip opened, then, turning to his love, “Any ideas where an out-of-towner, possibly low on funds, would stay around here?”

Dee thought for a moment. “Several places,” she answered, “There’s a rodent section to most of the rest spots in town, several small bed-and-breakfasts, the Dudley Motor Lodge downtown, the new Holiday Inn in the west end, a dinky little place near the Nation Museum...”

“Gonna hafta narrow this down then,” Chip interrupted, “Which are the cheapest of those places?”

“The bed-and-breakfasts scattered through town and that spot near the museum,” Dee responded.

“Wait!” Chip spouted, “He said he’s an artist...”

“I think it comes with the accent,” Dee laughed.

Chip continued, oblivious to his fiancé’s joke, “That means he might need supplies...”

“Like wine, snails, cheese and a white flag,” Dee lightly pointed out.

“Could you lay off the French bashing for awhile,” Chip gently chastised his sweetheart. However, the idea that popped into his head reeked of the same ethnic stereotyping he had just ridiculed... and he certainly didn’t want to have to admit he was seriously considering it. But with nothing else to talk about, an awkward silence soon prevailed between the chipmunk and mouse.

“You’re going to check with Rick Tanner about anyone local who might’ve started buying lots of wine, aren’t you,” Dee stated calmly.

“Yes,” Chip sighed, then quickly added to justify his decision, “But only because someone like Philippe would probably make his own art supplies.”

Before Chip could continue to explain why his decision was based more on reason than ethnic stereotyping, a low yet plaintive whining arose from the wolves’ den, “Dee, your creepy weasel is staring at me again!”

As Dee hung her head, Chip remarked, “Maybe if you told Romulus to stop being so interesting?”

Dee and Chip eventually wandered into the den where Monterrey, Zipper and Dale were enjoying the spectacle of a wolf being intimidated by a lowly weasel. “Stop that you strange creepy thing, you!” Romulus moaned at Drywall.

“He’s probably only staring at you because he’s never seen a real wolf before,” Dee tried to reassure her predatory pal.

“But he’s already seen me!” Romulus protested, “Why does he have to keep it up?”

“I just noticed something,” Chip remarked, after having watched the wolf’s movements, “Even when Dee was talking to you, you kept shifting your eyes back and forth between her and Drywall,” then, motioning with his paws to illustrate the second point, “and each time your eyebrows shifted position... the right was up, then the left, then back.”

“I have eyebrows?” the wolf asked as he tried to see them himself.

“Chip’s right,” Dee added, “You have a very expressive face, and the more agitated you got the more fascinating the show must have become!”

“Besides,” Monty joined in, “he’s not looking at you now.”

Romulus looked back at the weasel and realized he was staring at the Australian. “Well, I guess you’re- AHH!” No sooner had he started speaking than Drywall returned his unsettling gaze to the leader of the pack.

“Will you knock it off,” Dee pleaded, “What threat could a weasel possibly be to a hundred-thirty pound wolf when he’s surrounded by the rest of his pack?”

Starting to feel a little foolish, Romulus lowered his ears a little and looked back towards Drywall. Then Drywall, still staring intently at the wolf, quickly licked his lips. “He’s planning to eat me!” Romulus screamed in terror.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Dee hollered, “He should be afraid of you eating him! Hell, we should all be afraid of you eating us!”

“Then why was he licking his lips?” Romulus queried.

Dee looked to Drywall. “I remembered I had a bit of peanut butter stuck to my whiskers from dinner,” he explained.

“There, see?” Doohickey pointed out to the wolf, “He’s not planning to eat you.”

“Well ok,” Romulus grumbled, “But I still think he’s up to something.”

“I guess this is what I get for surrounding myself with carnivorous animals,” Dee sighed, “I’m depressed, I need a cookie.”

As Doohickey departed the den, the other rodents and Zipper proceeded to leave as well. “C’mon lad,” Monty drawled as he patted Drywall on the shoulder, “Let’s see if we can find you an interesting sitcom on tv.”

“Good luck,” Chip called back with a laugh, “I don’t think they make those anymore.”

Once upstairs, Dee went to retrieve a snack from her pantry as Chip and the other males set themselves down before the tv. With his fiancé’s return, Chip suggested they take their discussion of the case somewhere quieter while Monty and Dale kept Drywall entertained with prime-time programming. As the remaining males scanned the channels for anything of interest, it occurred to Dale to ask Foxglove if they could try to find something to her liking (which he assumed would most likely would have been something romantic). He turned to ask her, only to be reminded by her absence that she had left earlier with her two chiropteran contacts.

At first, Dale felt a little slighted that Foxglove hadn’t stayed glued to his side, but he eventually felt somewhat foolish about that. After all, they weren’t ‘officially’ dating or anything. Still, it felt like something was missing and he couldn’t quite place it. The thought of asking Chip to come watch tv crossed his mind, but he was busy with Dee. What about Gadget? Dale thought, What’s she doing? However, hanging around with Gadget just didn’t seem to have the appeal it always used to. Foxy’s always up to doing things with me, he concluded... only to realize he had just thought himself around in a circle.

“What’s the matter, lad?” Monty asked, “I thought you liked watching people you don’t know pretend to be rodeo clowns for fifty thousands smackers each... after all, it’s ‘reality tv’.”

“It’s not that, I don’t think,” Dale responded. Eventually, he was able to articulate his dilemma, “How could Foxy just up and leave with Bert and Ernie like that?”

“Bernie,” Monterrey corrected.

“Yeah, right,” Dale acknowledged, “She didn’t even ask if it was alright with me... I thought I was the only guy for her, at least that’s how she always made it seem.”

“Well, maybe the lass is starting to get the feeling you don’t appreciate her,” Monty offered, “Those two local bats, on the other hand, have been paying all kinds of attention to her since they met... even went out of their way to invite her out.”

“You don’t think she’s falling for one of them, do ya?” Dale asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.

“I wouldn’t go and presume to know what’s in her head, or heart for that matter. But I have noticed something about relationships in my time,” Monty responded sagely, “You know how you and Chip always doted on our little Gadget? Suppose she actually enjoyed all that attention and got to thinking that she’d always have it, so she just went about her business as usual, inventin’ and all, as if your giving her flowers was as commonplace as the sun rising. But you both wanted more of a reaction from her, maybe getting something like that back once in a while.” Dale listened intently, knowing that it certainly seemed that way. “Then along comes a young lady who shows an interest in Chip,” Monty continued, his point highlighted by a burst of giggles from Chip and Dee off in the hanger, “Now she starts showing him all that attention he had been hoping to get from Gadget. Next thing you know, he’s not giving flowers to Gadget anymore, he’s giving them to his new lady friend, and she responds with the occasional kiss or cuddle.” Deciding to wrap things up as clearly as possible, he added, “It’s like an exercise, lad, you get out of it what you put into it.”

Dale digested the information. He originally considered Foxglove’s advances somewhat embarrassing, especially since he considered himself ‘Gadget’s munk’. But did Gadget even want him, at least, in that way? If she had a preference, wouldn’t she have made it known after Chip became involved with Dee? Her behavior towards him didn’t change at all after Chip was ‘out of the way’. But Foxy was always right there waiting for him. ‘Was’ being the operative word... Now that he was actually thinking about taking things further with her, she was out with some other guy, two other guys in fact. Dale wanted her back... if he could get her back, if he hadn’t missed his chance. “You’re right, Monty,” he stated, “I’m gonna go think of things I could do with Foxy when she gets back!”

Monterrey sat back in his seat, pleased that he could help nudge things along between Dale and Foxglove. As he tried to return his attention to the television he noticed Drywall staring at him... just staring. He couldn’t help but agree with Romulus, it was a little creepy. “Anything I could help you with?” Monty offered, “While I’m in the business of offering advice, that is.”

Drywall actually blinked. “Yeah, actually, yes,” the weasel replied, “Do you have any ideas how I could get that wolf to like me?”

[ksharbaugh]

-Chapter Nine continued...

“You mean Romulus?” Monterrey asked rhetorically, “You could start by letting him know that you like him, or at the very least that you don’t mean him any harm. You could get to know him, maybe compliment him... y’know, butter him up!” Drywall quickly shifted his gaze to the kitchen and departed. Monty soon found something interesting on the National Geographic Channel. “Those look like the jungles o’ New Guinea,” he remarked to Zipper, “And if I’m not mistaken, that’s near where I came upon a koala... of course, koala’s aren’t native to New Guinea, it happens this lad got himself sucked up in a typhoon and needed a little help gettin’ home...”

Down in the wolves’ den, Romulus was watching television... specifically, a program where humans freely sacrificed their dignity for just a hint of money. While his attention remained on the flickering box before him, he felt something on his tail. Thinking it was likely a pup trying to get him to play, he waved it about a little, never prying his eyes from the screen. Romulus then felt something grab his tail and hold it still, this was soon followed by a stroking sensation... it almost felt like one of the pups was licking it. That’s odd, he thought, I’ve never had a pup lick my tail before. As a commercial came on, he looked back towards his tail. No pup. Just a weasel standing next to a plate slathering butter on his tail with a knife.

The wolf’s terrified scream caused everyone to jump, but before anyone could ask the inevitable, their attention was grabbed by a different screaming. Not as loud, but longer, it got closer as it rose up from the wolves’ den. Everyone’s attention was drawn to the stairs that led the way down. Drywall came flying through the opening at top speed. Racing around in a tight circle, still screaming, he soon shot off and disappeared into the Banshee’s air intake, where the screaming subsequently ended.

“Dee!,” Romulus called up from the den, “You said the creepy weasel wasn’t planning to eat me... But I just caught him spreading butter on my tail!”

“I see more cookies in my future,” Dee muttered as she departed for the wolves’ den.

Chip looked towards the living room. Striding in authoritatively, he glared at both Monterrey and Dale. “All right, which one of you put Drywall up to this?” he demanded.

“Chip, I’m offended!” Dale intoned, filled with indignation, “I’ve been sitting here, peacefully, trying to compose love poetry for Foxy.” He held up a sheet covered with his distinctive chicken scratch.

When Chip shifted his gaze to Monty, the big mouse seemed to shrink a little bit. “I guess I’m the guilty party,” he confessed sheepishly, “I told Drywall that he could get Romulus to like him more if he would... butter him up.” Quickly, he added, “Now if I’d known the lad would take that literally...”

Before Monty could finish his sentence, Dee entered the room looking as belligerent as a storm cloud. In one paw she held a plate on which was a remnant of butter, in the other she brandished a butter knife bristling with wolf hair. “A beating will commence in ten seconds!” she declared, looking back and forth between Dale and Monty as she spoke, having made the same conclusion as Chip, “Now who’s the lucky recipient?”

“It was a misunderstanding,” Chip stated quickly, taking the knife and plate from his sweetheart. Holding the plate and knife in one paw, he led Dee into the kitchen with the other as he explained why nobody needed to be beaten.

-to be continued...

[ksharbaugh]

Chapter Ten

Foxglove was quite anxious as she returned from the concert. The singing was beautiful, but it was difficult to properly appreciate it, the way she had ducked out on Dale earlier hadn’t set well with her. The uncertainty evident in Dale’s voice when she left caused her to worry... What if the effort to elicit more affection from her chipmunk had actually pushed him away? Part of Foxglove wanted to return to the mill as swiftly as possible in hopes of finding that her plan had succeeded... but another was terrified that it may have backfired and wanted to put off that discovery as long as possible.

“Well, here we are,” Bert proclaimed as they arrived within sight of the mill, “See ya’ later, Foxglove!”

“Yeah, maybe we can spend more time together tomorrow night!” Bernie tacked on as the three parted.

“Yeah, see ya’,” Foxglove responded blandly. Hopefully I won’t have time to spend with you both tomorrow night, she thought. Landing in the hanger she cautiously looked about. Chip and Dee were off on their own in one corner of the spacious room, Monty was seated in the chair facing the television with Zipper perched atop the seat back... but no Dale. However, the rear of two furry ears appeared over the back of the couch and quickly disappeared. Foxglove wondered what he was doing, she couldn’t hear anything really distinctive. As she slowly approached she overheard Dale make a disappointed grunt followed by what sounded like scratching. Oh, I hope he’s not mad at me, she fretted.

Zipper was the first to notice her and piped up with a cheery, “Hi, Foxy!” and waved.

Monterrey then took note of her arrival with a hearty, “Welcome back, luv!”

Foxglove noticed Dale’s head pop up, then sharply pivot about. The way that only his large startled eyes appeared over the back of the couch caused her to giggle in spite of her anxiety. His head quickly turned back around and, for a moment, Foxglove feared he was planing to give her the silent treatment. Though, as she heard the hurried ruffling of paper, he finally greeted her. “Hey, Foxy!” she declared, still looking forward as he tried to hide his attempt at poetry, “I, uh I mean we didn’t expect you back this early!”

“Well, considering everything that’s happened today, I wasn’t up to staying around for the rest of the show,” Foxglove explained. “Were you writing something when I came in?” she asked, noticing the pencil laying nearby and connecting it to the rustling paper she’d heard.

“No, I mean yes, I mean-” Dale stammered, not quite sure how to explain that he had been trying to write poetry and certainly not wanting to admit that he wasn’t having an easy time of it. His response, coupled with his blushing, was all Foxglove needed to assuage her fears of damaging their relationship. “Y’know, I was thinking that I haven’t been spending enough time with you,” Dale eventually decided on, much to the lady’s unbounded delight, “How ‘bout we go up to the roof and look at the stars? Oh wait, Raven and Fangs are up there...”

“There’s a little pond next to the mill,” Foxglove suggested, “That might be a nice place to spend some time alone together.”

“Um, sure, that sounds ok,” Dale agreed.

Leaving the mill at ground level, Dale and Foxglove strolled down to what was left of the old log pond. All around were trees that stood like columns of an ancient shrine. The darkness beyond created a wall that seemed to be made of sensuous veils... their shadows both intimidating and inviting, as if beckoning one to venture further into the night forest’s all concealing embrace. The traffic from the interstate far to the north was nothing but a ghostly whisper, only occasionally audible over the soft serenade of rustling leaves and trickle of the stream that flowed into, then out of, the artificial pond.

For Foxglove, the calm of the forest seemed more alive than it would for most mammals, but still possessed a surreal silence compared to the city. But for Dale, the sylvan enclosure evoked feelings of home... not home as a Rescue Ranger, but the home he and Chip had left many years before. A stroll by the water’s edge brought back fond memories of his first crush, the first girl he and Chip fought over, sly and shapely Colette. The fact that the teenage squirrel had a couple years more than either chipmunk had no effect on their attempts to gain her attention. They both knew that the only reason she agreed to go for moonlit walks with them was to infuriate her parents, but they didn’t care. “I wonder what she’s doing these days,” Dale idly wondered aloud.

“Who?” Foxglove asked, not sure whether this ‘she’ was someone to worry about or not.

“Just a girl Chip and I had a crush on when we were kids,” Dale responded, “back when we still lived in the woods... the surroundings got me thinking about things back then.”

“I don’t think you ever told me about what you and Chip did back then,” Foxglove pointed out, “For that matter, I thought you both grew up in the city.”

“Nah, we grew up about seventy-some miles away, in a little tiny state park,” Dale explained.

“And you moved to the city for the excitement?” Foxglove assumed.

“Um, no, actually we wanted to be musicians,” Dale pointed out, “Well, professional musicians, so we could go on the road with Clarice.”

“That girl you were both nuts for?” the bat giggled.

“Yeah, no, well,” the chipmunk stammered as he tried to sort out the various love interests from his youth, “We were nuts for her, but Clarice wasn’t that first girl Chip and I had a crush on. Clarice was a local girl who got famous as a singer. We got to perform with her when she came back around to sing at a local club... Chip and I wanted to go on the road with her, and we were good too, but her manager thought we didn’t have the experience.”

“So you went to the city to get discovered,” Foxglove supposed.

“Sure, that’s how it happened for Clarice,” Dale confirmed, “But it was a lot harder than we expected... well, Chip said from the start it was going to be hard work, but I could tell even he was a little disappointed things weren’t going as well as he hoped.”

“So you gave up on your dream?” the young lady asked softly.

“Didn’t really give up on it,” Dale replied, “just got... distracted. With everything going on in a big city we started looking for more exciting things to do when we weren’t rehearsing an’ stuff... and with a police station right across the street there was always the chance we could tag along on a case and maybe get in a car chase or something. That’s how we met Plato and Detective Drake.”

“And things went from there,” Foxglove finished with a smile, knowing that it was the munks’ interest in ‘protecting and serving’ that eventually led their paths to cross with hers.

“Yep,” Dale intoned laconically.

“What instrument did you play?” Foxglove asked.

“Bass guitar,” Dale answered, “Y’know, the kind that goes-,” he continued as he strummed out a tune on an imaginary instrument.

“Do you still play it?” the lady inquired further, realizing she’d never seen him actually play a real musical instrument before. Air guitar along with a rock video, yes; real instrument, no.

“Well, no,” Dale responded sheepishly, “been kinda busy as a Rescue Ranger and all.”

“Oh,” Foxglove replied out of default. But then she got an idea. “I always thought it would be so romantic to have a gentlemunk caller show up at my roost and serenade me, the kind of thing Chip might do for Doohickey... but if you’re out of practice I’d understand if you couldn’t-”

“Who said I was out of practice?” Dale piped up, “Chip might be out of practice, but not me! He barely even listens to music anymore... always has his nose in a book. I bet I could out serenade him any day!”

“You could?!” Foxglove asked excitedly, “That would be wonderful!”

Wait, she actually expects me to? Dale asked himself. “Well, I’d need to get my stuff out of storage... tuned up... and stuff. Then you’ll see some real serenading!” Gotta remember to find out what ‘serenade’ is, he added to his expanding to-do list.

As much as she loved him, Foxglove had to admit Dale did have at least one annoying fault, that being his tendency to forget things from time to time. After she and her sweetie had returned to the mill for the night, she managed to get Dee alone and broached an idea she’d had. The mouse was quite receptive to her plan. In short order, she did her part to get things rolling while everyone more or less congregated in the living room.

“Chip,” Dee addressed her fiancé, “I remember you telling me you used to play the piano.”

“That’s right,” he affirmed, “Back before Dale and I became Rescue Rangers.”

“I’ve always loved piano by candlelight,” Dee cooed, “Maybe we can find you a piano one of these days. Hm?”

“That is a wonderful idea,” Chip agreed, his attempt to sound as interested as his fiancé betrayed by the uncertainty in his voice, “I haven’t played in a while though.”

“Don’t tell me you let yourself get rusty,” Dee prodded playfully, “Foxglove said Dale was going to give her a sampling of his musical talents as a demonstration of his affection for her. But if you’re too rusty to do something like that for me I’ll understand.”

“Me? Got rusty?” Chip responded, “That’s absurd! I could understand Dale having to get back into practice...”

“Oh yeah?!” Dale cut in. Within a few moments both chipmunks had blustered themselves into having to perform for their respective ladies. Doohickey and Foxglove later settled in for the night assured that their loves’ competitive natures would guarantee them a good show.

-to be continued...

[ksharbaugh]

Chapter Eleven

After breakfast was out of the way, that morning’s activities were plotted out. Doohickey, Monterrey and Drywall would get in touch with V. W. Beetle while Chip and Gadget met with Mr Tanner in an effort to locate the artist Philippe. Though, as the two parties prepared to take respective transports into town, Dale broached upon a matter of interest to him.

“I hope some of you get back soon, I’d like to take Foxy to town to do some sightseeing,” he pointed out, “y’know, just the two of us.”

Chip stopped to ponder the matter for a moment. He soon seized upon it as a reason to bring up something that had crossed his mind the previous night. Motioning his fiancé over, he brought forward a suggestion. After some discussion, she agreed with the idea of moving their operations to her workshop in town, at least during the day, to save time during investigations and allow those not actively engaged to find something interesting to do in town without being stranded at the mill. In short order, everyone else soon prepared to depart for Doohickey’s workshop from whence they could move on to whatever it is they chose or needed to do. Once at her workshop, Doohickey set her assistant, William, to work setting up space for her guests.

==

Outside a small abandoned train depot, with the lettering for East Salamanca still visible after years of weathering, the Ranger Wing set down behind some bushes. Two mice and a weasel soon disembarked and approached a cluster of rocks abutting the structure’s stone foundation. The party stopped at an small opening between a couple of the rocks.

Kneeling down near the aperture, Doohickey shouted in, “Verne, are you in? It’s me, Doohickey!”

“Maybe he’s not in,” Monterrey conjectured after some waiting, “Do you know where he might be off to, if he were so motivated?”

“Might be at the ‘Hole in the Wall’,” Doohickey ventured, standing up, “Though he usually doesn’t stop by there till later in the afternoon.”

As the two rodents conversed about the insect’s whereabouts, Drywall was becoming ever more intrigued by the possibility of something being behind all those stones. He ventured closer and closer.

Doohickey eventually took note of the weasel’s encroachment upon the residence, and was startled to see that he was preparing stick his snout right into the hole. “Drywall! Don’t!”

But before the mustelid could heed the hurried warning, his nose brushed one of the stones, shifting it slightly. Suddenly, a cloud of greenish fumes spewed out from the pile of rocks. Having foreseen this scenario, Doohickey leapt back and grabbed a cloth from her jumpsuit to cover her nose. Monterrey wasn’t as quick and caught a whiff of the putrid stench. “GAACH!!” he belched out in disgust as he hiked his turtleneck over his snout. Drywall, unfortunately, got some of it right up his nose. Squealing in aromatic agony, he wheeled about pawing frantically at his nose trying to beat the scent out.

“Strike me starkers!” Monterrey gasped, “What was that?!”

“Verne’s home security system,” Doohickey mumbled from beneath her cloth, “I designed the release mechanism, he came up with the stench.” As she heard Drywall lose his breakfast into a pile of dead leaves, she remarked with disturbing cheeriness, “It’s always so much more gratifying to see your invention perform as expected in the real world than during a trial run, it provides such a sense of accomplishment!”

“That stench reminds me of Zozo the Stink Beetle. Why, that invertebrate cold secrete an odor that could actually melt steel!” Monterrey proceeded to recount, oblivious to the fact that Drywall had not only recovered from his encounter but had begun to wander off, “He helped me an’ Geegaw out of a bind in Java when we were captured by a tribe of-”

Monterrey’s story was cut short as Drywall bolted screaming between Doohickey and himself, knocking both onto their backsides. The screaming weasel was immediately followed by a small swarm of angry hornets.

Doohickey remarked in obvious annoyance, “How much you wanna bet he stuck his nose in their nest.”

“Makes ya’ wonder how the lad’s survived this long,” Monterrey commented.

==

The Ranger Plane, with Chip and Gadget aboard, stealthily maneuvered through the foliage of an elm standing near the warehouse of a beer distributor. Landing on a branch close to the trunk, the two rodents disembarked and made their way down. After reaching the ground they proceeded to the rodents’ entry, which was concealed by a pile of discarded bricks, near the base of the humans’ structure. Once inside, they found an employee and were promptly directed to Richard Tanner’s office.

Maneuvering their way along the passages, occasionally having to stand aside to let porters by with their wheel barrows of wine or bags of seed or nuts, Chip and Gadget located the slip of cloth that constituted the door to the office. “Mr Tanner?” Chip asked politely, pulling aside makeshift curtain. Within, the businessmouse was seated at a miniature desk looking over some papers, the wall behind almost completely made up of a blackboard covered with various symbols and slashes whose meaning were known only to their creator.

“Oh, Chip, Gadget,” Tanner spoke up cheerily after looking up from his work, “Come in!”

Just as Chip and Gadget entered the office, a young female mouse burst in and quickly got around them. “Mr Tanner,” she piped urgently, “I was double checking inventory in storage annex B-1 and noticed some of the seed packets have gone bad.”

“How many?” Tanner asked.

“Four.”

“Ok, have Jerry take them out to the burn-pit to be disposed of and tell Herb to get in touch with the squirrels over on Academy about getting some fresh seed,” Tanner ordered promptly.

“Standard offer?” the young lady inquired, to which her employer replied with a nod.

“You have to excuse her,” Tanner stated once the youth had flown from his office, “Della takes her work very seriously and seems to run on double espressos... either she’ll end up running this place in a few years or exploding. Now how can I help you?”

“We were wondering if you’ve had any contact with a French rat named Philippe Marie-Suzon,” Chip queried.

“Yes, I have. In fact, he did this painting for me as payment for some wine,” Tanner replied, motioning to a portrait of the Greek god of wine hung on the wall to his right. “Do you suspect him of some kind of wrongdoing?”

“Oh, no,” Chip replied, “Not yet at least. We’re hoping he might have some information that has some bearing on the investigation we’re doing... unfortunately we don’t know where to find him.”

“I wish I could help you out in that respect,” Tanner responded, “He has a couple frogs come by here to drop off his payment, artwork usually, and pick up his wine.”

“Could you-” Chip started before being cut off by Della who stormed into the office and pushed past him. Not one to let someone interrupt him so rudely, he pulled her out of the way to continue the dialogue, at which point he learned Della wasn’t one to let someone prevent her from performing her job as swiftly and efficiently as possible. Throwing her full weight into the effort, the relatively diminutive mouse shoved the grown chipmunk out of the office, his hat toppling off as he flew.

“Della!” Mr Tanner scolded, “That could have been a very important business contact you just threw out of my office!”

Her expression of seriousness being replaced by one of utter shock, Della dove out of the office and promptly shoved Chip back in. For his part, Chip still wasn’t quite sure what was happening. Picking up the chipmunk’s hat from the floor, Della brushed it off and returned it to it’s rightful place atop his head. She then politely stood aside.

“Chip,” Tanner stated, “You were saying...”

“Right,” Chip started as his train of thought returned to it’s previous track, “Could you ask the frogs where they’re taking Philippe’s deliveries?”

“I did when they brought up the offer, so that I could have my own people make the delivery,” Tanner answered, “But they were adamant that ‘the master’ didn’t want to be disturbed by ‘the incompetence of other’s flunkies’. I didn’t press the matter at the time.”

“Perhaps we could just follow them after they come for the next pick-up,” Gadget suggested.

Chip thought it over. “No,” he decided, “If they’re really all that intent on their boss not being disturbed they might get a little concerned if they notice anyone tailing them.”

“What about sending someone from here with the delivery, as an escort,” Della spoke up eagerly, “Just as an added guarantee that the product arrives safely, thus limiting the possibility of customer dissatisfaction.”

Tanner digested the suggestion for a moment. “It might wash easier if it sounded more urgent, less of an ‘add-on’ and more of a business necessity,” he postulated.

“Someone had made threats against your interests and may target you shipments to hurt your business,” Chip suggested.

“Recently received complaints from other recipients about receiving damaged goods,” Tanner brought up, “We’re sending observers with all non-employed couriers to verify proper handling of the goods in transit.”

“That sounds plausible,” Chip agreed.

“I’ll have Bob go along with them when they come by in a few hours,” Tanner explained, “Della, I want you to explain this to them, it’ll seem less suspicious coming from someone further down the business ladder, sound more like a new general policy.”

“What if they disagree?” Della inquired, hoping to work out any problems ahead of time.

“Tell Bob to convince them,” Tanner suggested, “gently.”

[ksharbaugh]

-Chapter Eleven continued...

==

When Chip and Gadget returned to Doohickey’s workshop from their meeting with Mr Tanner they were greeted by the sight of Monterrey Jack plastering Drywall with pink goop. Noticing how their attention was focused on the scene, Doohickey explained, “Stuck his head in a hornets’ nest.”

“Yeah, but this salve my mum always used should get the swelling down in no time!” Monterrey declared.

“Found out anything about that compound?” Chip inquired.

“Nah,” Doohickey replied as she gathered some parts together at a workbench, “Verne wasn’t home, we’ll check for him at his favorite watering hole as soon as Drywall doesn’t look so much like a pile of welts,” then added, after looking up at the pink plastered weasel, “or a blob of sentient bubble gum.”

“We’re waiting to hear back from Bob about where Philippe is having his wine delivered,” Gadget pointed out, reciprocating the case critical information.

Doohickey had started constructing something, whose purpose was not readily apparent to anyone watching, from the parts she had gathered when Dale wandered over to her. “Dee?” he asked politely.

Dee made a noise that roughly amounted to, “Uh-huh?” without looking up.

“Do you know anyplace romantic that I might be able to take Foxy?” Dale inquired.

“Armories can be romantic,” Dee mumbled, “Aren’t any in town, though.”

“Huh?” Dale replied, not entirely sure if she knew what he had asked.

“What?” Dee replied in turn, finally looking up from her project.

“Where can I take Foxy that’s romantic?” Dale asked again.

“Oh, um,” Dee blurted as she thought, “I think there’s a park out behind St Pat’s church just south of here, near the river. Just look for a red brick church.”

Once Dale had thanked her and sped off, Chip, who had observed the whole exchange, asked his fiancé in an amused tone, “You think armories are romantic?”

“Yeah,” Dee shrugged as she tried to return her focus to her work, “especially if they’re the older kind.” She then looked up and added, in a detached and dreamy way, “You know, with swords and armor... antique cannons...”

“Maybe for our honeymoon we can go on a tour of European castles,” Chip suggested lightly.

“Oooooh!!” Dee cooed, clasping her paws together excitedly.

Before Dee’s enthusiasm for an eventual honeymoon could lead her to engaging in inappropriate behavior with her future husband in front of others, there came a knock at the door. “Ms Hawkfeather, are you in?” the visitor called out through the closed entrance.

“Come on in,” Dee ordered, “It’s open.” Two male mice entered her workshop. As she looked them over they appeared slightly familiar, but she couldn’t quite place them. “Need something built or repaired?” Dee asked.

“Actually,” one of the males started, before motioning to himself and his companion, “We’fe got a disagreement between us and we were hoping you could help resolfe it, being our Clan Mother and all.” Dee’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the speaker. Then, as the other began to gruffly rattle off his version of what the disagreement was about, she shifted her gaze his way... his narrative slowly shuddered to a halt as he realized her obvious displeasure.

“I didn’t ask to be a Clan Mother,” Dee began to respond to the two visitors, “I don’t want to be a Clan Mother,” then finished through clenched teeth, “and I will not act as a Clan Mother!”

Seeing the stunned, and rather offended, faces of the two visitors, Chip decided to jump in. “Don’t go anywhere,” he advised to the two mice before taking hold of his fiancé and hustling her aside, stating, “We need to talk.”

Before Chip had gotten her very far, Dee grabbed his jacket and pulled him around so they were face to face. “What?!” she demanded in a growl.

“Regardless of your feelings about whether or not you’re a Clan Mother,” Chip started, hoping to avoid making Doohickey any angrier than she already was, “These two people, members of the community, just came here with a problem and have asked you to help them. You had given me the impression that you were interested in being a Rescue Ranger, and you wouldn’t be acting much like a Rescue Ranger if you blow them off as if they and their problem are so far beneath you that they deserve your outright contempt.”

Dee glared at him. She was considering Chip’s point, but didn’t want to show it. She simply couldn’t allow herself to make it appear that she might give ground. Regardless of how trivial the point might be, once Dee’s ire was up, any disagreement was a challenge- a fight to be won. When her lips curled back, Chip expected the worst. “Fine!” Dee hissed, finally conceding defeat. She hated doing so, but did not want to hurt the relationship with the chipmunk she loved. As Dee turned to address her fellow Clan members, doing her best to wipe the expression of anger form her face, Chip let out a sigh of relief.

Once Dee had motioned the two visitors aside to discuss the bone of contention between them, Chip went off to discuss a different matter to himself. He was having trouble grasping his love’s aversion to accepting her new found status within her tribe. The fact that the situation had been foisted on her out of the blue without her views on the matter even being considered might have had something to do with it; Chip tried to consider what his response would have been had his being a Rescue Ranger been pushed on him without his input or consent. But he presumed that Dee hadn’t been asked about whether or not she wanted to be adopted into a wolf pack, yet she not only got the pack a tv but also a cable hook-up out in the middle of nowhere. The possibility that there might be matters of tribal politics that may have soured his fiancé’s view of the matter that he would be utterly unaware of crossed his mind.

Chip had a couple hours, at least, until he heard from Bob about Philippe’s whereabouts. It appeared increasingly more worthwhile to meet with June Redtalon in the meantime. Hopefully she could help him get a grip on why Doohickey would get so belligerent over people regarding her as a Clan Mother.

-to be continued...

[ksharbaugh]

Chapter Twelve

“William, could you hand me the needle-nosed pliers?” Gadget requested as she hovered over a project.

“Of course,” Dee’s assistant responded, handing over the proper tinkering implement.

Gadget only half-heartedly glanced at the tool in her paw before stating, “No, I mean the pl-” Quickly looking back at the pliers, she realized she was, indeed, holding what she had asked for. “Golly, these really are needle-nosed pliers!” she remarked.

“Those were what you requested,” William replied in his typically nonchalant manner.

“Oh I know,” Gadget responded, “It’s just that whenever I let Chip or Dale help out on a project I get so accustomed to having to correct them when they hand me the wrong tool or part that I guess it’s become a conditioned reflex.” William was about to point out that there was no offense when Gadget continued, “I didn’t mean to imply that you wouldn’t know what you were doing, although I was assuming that I would be handed the wrong tool, but since the assumption was purely subconscious it couldn’t be considered intentional, after all, if you didn’t know what you were doing you wouldn’t be Doohickey’s assistant, although not all assistants are fully skilled in their craft...”

“It’s quite all right,” William assured her, hoping to prevent the rest of the explanation, “The reason Ms Hawkfeather consented to take me on as her assistant was because of my mechanical competence.”

“Come to think of it, why are you her assistant?” Gadget inquired, “Have you considered having your own workshop? Not that I’m saying you should...”

“It’s a time honored tradition to study under the tutelage of a master in one’s chosen field before going off on one’s own, and your sister is the most skilled engineer I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.” Then, with a smile and a nod towards Gadget, “Well, one of the most.”

“Golly, thanks!” Gadget replied with a slight blush, after having realized William had meant her.

Before William could get any further in his polite flirtations, Chip intervened. “Gadget,” he began, “I’m going to be gone for awhile, I have to ask Ms Redtalon a few things.”

“Ok, Chip,” Gadget replied, “But why are you telling me?”

“Dee’s preoccupied with tribal affairs,” Chip proceeded to explain, “I figured I should let somebody know where I was going.”

“That makes sense,” Gadget nodded as she returned to her work. Ms Redtalon, she thought to herself, Oh, one of the Clan Mothers. Mother... wish I’d had a chance to get to know my mother, why she never got back in touch with Dad, or exactly what had happened that she had to leave her home in the first place so that she met Dad. Waitaminute... this is where Mom lived, maybe there are people here who might have some answers... like Ms Redtalon! “William, make sure no one does anything with this,” Gadget stated as she began to head off after Chip, “Oh, and let Dee and everyone know where I went... and Chip... well, both of us achally. Bye!”

==

“Come in,” the elder mouse stated clearly in response to Chip’s knocking. As the chipmunk entered he was soon greeted by, “Why, hello handsome!”

“Uh, hi,” Chip responded somewhat self-consciously.

“Hello, Ms Redtalon!” Gadget greeted as she followed Chip into the residence.

“Hello, Gadget!” was the cheery response, “And you can call me June... both of you.” Patting the couch on which she sat, she added, “Sajë:h.” Chip didn’t need the impromptu lesson Dee had given him in the language to understand the word. Neither did Gadget as they both took seats on the couch and a chair. “Now, what brings you two here?”

“We were hoping you could help us answer a couple questions,” Chip replied simply.

“Well I’ll do my best,” June assured her guests.

After a short back and forth between the two guests, it was decided that Chip should proceed first. “My question has to do with Doohickey,” he began.

“I have a question about her myself,” June interrupted, “If you don’t mind.”

“I... guess not,” Chip replied, a little surprised.

“Effer since it became public knowledge that she liffs with a pack of wolfes, there haff been all kinds of rumors floating about,” began the elder, “Anyhow, I’fe been wondering just how close her relationship is with them... any predator/prey romance or anything like that?” Chip just looked at June for a moment, not quite sure how he should answer such a question. “After all, this isn’t the kind of thing you want to walk up to someone and ask,” the matriarch clarified.

“Generally, she’s treated like part of the pack,” Chip opened, “and she... almost had a relationship with the pack leader, like a romantic relationship.” June seemed genuinely surprised by the fact. “But they never let it get too far,” Chip continued, “they felt it would interfere with their responsibilities in the pack.”

June merely nodded as she digested the information. “Not quite as salacious as some of the rumors... some of which I’m sure Carol started,” she eventually commented. “Now, what was your question?”

“Ever since hearing that she was chosen as a Clan Mother, Dee’s been more than a little reluctant to accept the position,” Chip explained, “I was hoping you might have some insight into why she would be so hostile to the idea.”

As June thought for a moment, Gadget added a question, “What exactly does a Clan Mother do, anyway?”

“Well,” June began, “We’re responsible for electing the Chief, we are responsible for approving adoption of outsiders into the tribe and our clan, we preside over various ceremonies, and we’re responsible for resolving disputes between members of our clans.” There was a brief pause before she turned to Chip with a slightly different subject, “That reminds me, you neffer told me what a Rescue Ranger does.”

“Well, let’s see... ” Chip began.

“We’re a small but efficient battalion or do-gooders dedicated to helping those in trouble,” Gadget sprightly railed off.

“Actually, what we do covers a wide variety of matters,” Chip began, “Our first case was to clear the name of a human police detective and stop the criminal that framed him from stealing the city’s gold reserve, we traveled to England to prevent a feline crime lord from stealing the Crown Jewels...”

“We recovered a kid’s model train set after it was stolen... and in doing so foiled a bank robbery,” Gadget added, “Coincidentally, one being carried out by that same feline crime lord who was after the Crown Jewels.”

“We rescued a booby egg after it had been stolen from it’s nest by a poacher,” Chip continued, “We went to the South Seas to rescue the animal passengers of the Lucitania when it sank, we also traveled to Paris to find the cause behind a strange whining noise that was driving out the city’s dogs.”

“You certainly get around, don’t you?” June marveled.

“We have to be ready to go at a moment’s notice,” Chip stated proudly, “wherever we’re needed, whenever we’re needed.”

“Maybe that’s her problem,” Gadget piped up, “Dee is afraid that her responsibilities to her tribe as a Clan Mother would interfere with her relationship with Chip!”

“Just as her responsibility to her pack prefented a relationship with her wolf,” June agreed.

“And her interest in creating a Rescue Rangers branch here,” Chip speculated further, “She thinks she has to choose between her duty or her desires.”