Fluke Family Fortune: Book One in the Saga of Maynerd Dumsted

By Robert Erickson

Fluke Family Fortune sets the stage for the comical misadventures of Maynerd Fluke Dumsted who sets out to find his family fortune hidden somewhere in the cursed kingdom of Gnat in order to win the heart of his shrewish lady love, Sue Tew, but that task proves to be more trouble than he anticipates. A sometimes well-meaning ghost gnome tags alon

• Language: English
• Publisher: URLink Print & Media, LLC
• Release date: Sep 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9781643677866

Robert Erickson

The author grew up in western Montana, a third generation descendant of Swedish immigrants. He is a Navy veteran of the Vietnam Conflict and a retired US Coast Guard enlisted man. He is the author of The Fluke Family series, The Wizor Fair series and other Sci-Fi books.

Book preview

BOOKS IN THIS SERIES:

Fluke Family Fortune

Fluke Family Hero

Fluke Family King

OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR:

The Wizor Fair

Shadow Hunters

The Last King of Eskeling

The Wizard of Seattle

The King of the Whelfs

The Dawn of the Whelfs

Homindroid Far From Heaven

The Waifs of Trove

Fluke Family

Fortune

Book One in the Saga of Maynerd Dumsted

Robert A. G. Erickson

Fluke Family Fortune

Copyright © 2019 by Robert A. G. Erickson. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, descriptions, entities, and incidents included in the story are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, and entities is entirely coincidental.

The opinions expressed by the author are not necessarily those of URLink Print and Media.

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Published in the United States of America

ISBN 978-1-64367-787-3 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64367-786-6 (Digital)

Fiction

22.08.19

Dedication

To my wife Barbara, who inspired many of the characters in this book, and to family and friends who encouraged me to write.

Contents

Chapter 1: Clodhopper Wanted

Chapter 2: Ghost Gnome

Chapter 3: Fool’s Errand

Chapter 4: A Night With the Dire Knight

Chapter 5: Who’s Afraid of Ogre Fen

Chapter 6: Thieves

Chapter 7: Evin the Terrible

Chapter 8: Jailhouse Blues

Chapter 9: The Hung Thief Inn

Chapter 10: Kidnapped

Chapter 11: Brigands

Chapter 12: Demon Pit

Chapter 13: Arm Wrestling Contest

Chapter 14: A Grave Affair

Chapter 15: They Hang Thieves Here

Chapter 16: It Only Hurts at First

Chapter 17: Once a Dimwid Always a Dimwid

Chapter 1

CLODHOPPER WANTED

Locals described Nema as a strong-willed woman of irrepressible temper and strength whose backside would fit snugly in the bed of a hay cart, but a slow shuffle was the best she could do in a straight line. However, no one who thought life dear would willfully complain and venture within arm’s reach.

She only required a cursory examination of the massacre crime scene to deduce the truth. Chicken feathers and heads littered the ground. Half a dozen bloody carcasses still flopped energetically about in the grass.

Where is that dimwid son of his just as useless pa? she grumbled through grimly set lips. Send him to butcher a chicken for dinner, and he tries to kill them all so he won’t have to do it anymore.

Wax white fingers snatched the hatchet from the bloody block. Her sharp eyes focused on the trail of blood and feathers, knowing that she would find her lazy dimwid son, Maynerd Fluke Dumsted, at the end of it.

There’s the aimless dolt! she stormed. She easily spotted him napping in the grassy shade beneath the leafy spread of the giant oak shadowing the family cemetery. That will make it convenient to dispose of the body, Nema said.

I will finally be rid of you, you shiftless dimwid! she threatened through clenched teeth.

Maynerd’s sweaty face twitched as if in reaction to a bad dream. Startled awake by a snapping twig, he fearfully threw up both hands just as the hatchet descended irrepressibly toward his exposed forehead.

The nightmarish hatchet instantly evaporated.

The dream repeated altogether too often now. Because he made one dimwiddy mistake and slaughtered too many chickens, his mother vowed to kill him in the same way. Although he noted no furtive movement to augment the threat, he still kept a vigilant eye out. Since his mother could be lurking about in ambush, it might be safer at the home of his fiancée, Sue Tew. At least he could freeload a meal there to satisfy his grumbling stomach.

Maynerd and the town of Gnats Neck held inconsequence and complacency in common, but it never occurred to him to yearn for any other life. Whistling tunelessly, he merrily greeted passersby who usually tilted their chins and ignored him. Maynerd failed to notice.

Others of his ilk cheerfully asked, Hi, dimwid, how’s your liver today?

Maynerd blithely replied, Fine and so is the big toe I stubbed yesterday.

Marching expectantly through the door of Sue’s dingy limestone home, he brightly declared, Sue, it’s me! However, his heart instantly froze stone cold.

You worm! Sue screeched. Snatching a fiery log from the hearth, she expertly bounced it off Maynerd’s firm forehead. Take that, you good for nothing except bashing. You better get a job fast or I will never marry you.

Maynerd reeled to the floor nearly unconscious from the blow. Groggily daydreaming, he reflected on her fine beauty. As a child, he had tugged on her carrot-tinted braids like reins on a horse. She had always slapped him hard and complained. He knew they were destined for each other even then.

Wipe that dimwid grin off your face, she cried, and put that fire out before the house burns down! I had hoped you would have sense enough for that.

Recovering from the blow, he just managed to stomp the crackling flames out but not before the heat had scorched the hardwood floor black. It never occurred to him to flip the rug over onto itself to smother the blaze.

The fire singed the hem of his trousers leaving a stylishly ragged edge, but he could not ignore the smarting third degree burns on this legs.

Then an unseen right punch literally spun him on his heels.

Get out of this house and don’t come back until you have a job! Sue cried. I won’t live in poverty like your dimwid family. You’ll be lucky if I don’t marry someone else first.

Too stunned to stand, Maynerd crawled spider fashion to the front door. She assisted his backside through the door with one dainty foot and slammed it closed behind him. A loose slate rattled from the roof to shatter across his already bruised pate, which increased the injury and the pain.

A moment later a familiar set of dirt brown boots stomped into view.

Do you need help getting up, son? asked Sue’s father, Harbut Tew. You don’t look so good.

Although as nondescript as any middle-aged man in town, his ownership of the only horse stable permitted him to dress his family somewhat better than most. That alone classified him among the town’s rich and affluent even though most of the horses belonged to a few farmers, merchants, and occasional travelers. Most folks did not stay long.

Oh, I’m fine, replied Maynerd, sorely gaining his feet. Sue really loves me, Mr. Tew. I can’t wait for the honeymoon.

Tew scratched a three-day thatch of dark whiskers and wryly commented, I doubt if you’ll live through it, Maynerd. You know what they say about black widows eating their mates.

Slapping the dirt from his grubby trousers, he replied, No, what?

I haven’t made up my mind whether you are just deaf or a complete fool, Maynerd. It’s beyond me how you can take such a beating and live through it as it is.

It only hurts for a little while, Maynerd said, grinning foolishly. I can’t explain it, but I heal up really fast.

Take my advice, lad. There are more fish in the sea. I suggest you keep looking. My daughter is the image of her mother. I’ve been miserable from the day I said I would to her twenty years ago. My two sons were smart and ran off as soon as they came of age.

Maynerd rubbed his throbbing forehead and replied, I don’t like fish much, Mr. Tew.

Harbut Tew viewed Maynerd out of one eye and then the other much like a hawk would its prey. It did not help. The boy was just slow to catch on. Nothing but time would change that.

Look, Maynerd, why don’t you take a long journey and think this marriage idea over for a few years. The Kingdom of Gnat is not very large, but there are three other much larger kingdoms to explore.

The other kingdoms were no better for hospitality, he reflected, but at least Maynerd would have a decent chance of finding a better marriage choice.

It would give me time to look for a job, Maynerd said, but I don’t have that long. Sue told me to find a fast job.

You mean a job fast, Tew said, knowing that he was no smarter about jobs than about women.

What’s the difference? I still have to get one.

I just know I’ll regret this, Tew muttered. Check out the town newspaper. There aren’t many jobs in Gnats Neck in these lean times, but I think I heard a job advertised that will suit you perfectly.

Oh, thanks, Mr. Tew. I didn’t think of that.

Hurrying to locate the town newspaper, he stumbled over an exposed tree root and sprawled face down in the dust.

I swear they’re growing them thicker all the time, Tew mumbled in disbelief as he stepped into the house.

The door had no more than closed behind him when a shrewish female voice shrieked, Harbut, you moron, how dare you come home this time of day!

The clatter of a frying pan striking the floor soon followed. Tew’s pained voice replied, I’m sorry, wife dear. What was I thinking?

Quickly retreating from the house, he slumped lugubriously onto the flagstone step, to reflect on his transgression. He saw no point in such harsh treatment simply because her lover was still there. After all, he could sit by the hearth and enjoy the warmth until they were finished. What harm could there be in that? Maybe he should take his own advice and take a long walk for a few years to give her time to see reason.

Maynerd strolled through town absently kicking at the tall grass and briars growing amongst the trash in the streets. With the exception of crime, there was little else to do for entertainment. Even the town square resembled an overgrown briar patch more than the social center of town. Even the rats had their run of it. As merchants moved out, vagabonds and roughnecks moved in. Without a town sheriff to keep the peace, even the stone jail became a home to vagrants until the roof collapsed. Now only vermin sheltered there.

Shambling by the only shops that remained open, he admired the unaffordable items displayed in the windows and waved to proprietors and patrons whether or not he knew them.

A chance encounter with a rude stranger forced him into a collision course with a leaning ladder. A loud, delayed thump and clatter quickly followed after he angrily kicked it out of the way. As something wet splashed him, he wondered if rain was in the weather forecast again for today.

The fallen sign painter tossed the heavy ladder aside and cried, Dimwid, get on with you!

Clumsy oaf, Maynerd replied, he doesn’t know it’s bad luck to walk beneath a ladder. What an ignoramus!

He soon found the town newspaper crying only a few blocks away in front of the Scrawny Peasant Tavern, which was the only inn in town. The crier commenced to announce the lucrative job offer the instant Maynerd shambled into view.

Clodhopper wanted, minimum wage with benefits! Come one. Come all! Sign up at the horse farm just south of town.

Clodhopper of Gnats Neck, Maynerd tested. Now that has a ring to it.

He had not ventured beyond the environs of Gnats Neck before now, but the walk proved scenic if not a bit muddy from the recent rain. The deeply rutted wagon road skirted fallow farmland and meadows beneath twin ridges of limestone cliffs lined with juniper and tulip trees. A shallow wine-colored stream meandered through the center of the valley marked by a path of bushy willows and quaking aspen. Feeling hungry, he tried some red and green chokecherries growing along the roadside, but they were too bitter to enjoy.

The way seemed interminable, but an hour’s walk brought him to the gate of the horse farm, where another young man of Maynerd’s age vacillated. The dark haired youth seemed too well dressed and groomed for Maynerd’s taste, but who was he to complain?

Maynerd sociably introduced himself.

I’m Rob Burr, the newcomer replied. Are you going for the job?

Sure, it sounds like fun, Maynerd confessed. I’ve never had a job before.

No, I’m sure you’re too stupid to do it! Rob Burr declared. Deeply annoyed, he balled his fists and growled menacingly. Why don’t you keep walking, dimwid? There’s probably a job you can do better further down the road.

Ignoring Rob Burr’s threat, Maynerd shook his head. My feet hurt too much to go any further. They are sure to hire us both, though. The ad said for everyone to come.

Relenting, the young man sullenly marched two steps behind Maynerd with a baleful eye on his back.

The overseer, a rotund man with wide lips, loomed tower-like over them. Consistently concentrating his interrogation on Maynerd, he intentionally ignored Rob Burr’s attempts to attract his attention.

You look like an ideal dimwid to me, Master Dumsted, the overseer said. Are you any relationship to Slo Jo Dumsted? He was a fine dimwid and clodhopper who worked here years ago.

He’s my father, Maynerd beamed with pride. By the way, what’s a dimwid? I’ve been hearing that word more often than usual lately.

Oh, I’m sure you qualify, the overseer said. Good clodhoppers are often dimwids. Just do the same as everyone else. It’s easy, but you have to have a good eye and a poor sense of taste and smell.

Oh, I do and I do, Maynerd agreed. He had always been good at seeing things even when others insisted they were not there. Moreover, he swore that Sue Tew’s meals were tasteless. However, the smell qualification seemed discordant. Something certainly smelled badly around here.

Shoving Maynerd aside, Rob Burr complained, What about me?

The overseer frowned deeply. Look, son, you seem overqualified. Perhaps if you forget to take a bath and come back next week, I’ll reconsider.

Rob Burr sulked all the way to the gate in disbelief. Where did I go wrong? he asked. I really need to find a job!

With a rare flash of business sense Maynerd replied, Wait, I heard the town newspaper cry something about pay and benefits.

The overseer grinned. Not many dimwids would think to ask! This is how it works. You get to keep as many clods as you can carry in your hands at the end of the workday. What better pay and benefits can you ask for?

That sounds fair, Maynerd agreed. If you don’t mind, I would like to think about it a little first. I’ve never had a real job before.

Do you want the job or not? the overseer asked. You can’t get a better deal anywhere around Gnats Neck.

Since it was no doubt true, Maynerd instantly accepted. Sue would flail his hide for sure if he refused the job.

The overseer pointed out a pole-fenced field in which other ragtag men labored. In another field, a multitude of horses pressed their noses to the ground snipping the tonsured grass. Impressed with their virile flatulence, Maynerd knew immediately that he would fit in.

Join those men down there, the overseer said, pointing the way. Just do what they do until sunset, and then you can take your pay and benefits for the day and leave.

Before Maynerd took two steps, the overseer said, Since it’s so late in the day, you get your choice of only one clod. You better make it a good one.

That sounds fair, Maynerd said. Grinning broadly, he joined the others. Everyone seemed unusually tattered. Some limped lamely.

Taking pity, an old clodhopper named Sam Simple made it his responsibility to look after the newcomer. He seemed like an honest sort in a scrubby sort of way. Maynerd took an instant liking to him.

I’ll give you some advice, Maynerd. I got this limp because a horse stomped me when I reached for some fresh clods, and I got too close, but I was young and didn’t know better. You have to go for the dry ones. It’s easier to get them into the wagon anyway.

Focusing his attention on a steaming pile of biscuit shaped clods, Maynerd gave a tentative hop over it, but he tripped and sprawled on the ground, which mashed a second freshly grouped pile of clods beneath him. He hastily scrambled out of the way of the passing team and wagon to avoid being run down.

Spotting a well-proportioned clod, he secreted it into his jerkin before anyone else could notice. Gathered up an armload of clods, he raced for the retreating wagon only to lose them all on the way.

I don’t know if I can get the knack of clodhopping, Maynerd said, spitting out a stringy mass of filth. The flies don’t taste too good either.

No, you’re doing it wrong, Maynerd, Sam Simple explained. You need to fetch a scoop shovel from the tool shed yonder and load the clods into the hopper as the wagon passes by. You have to scoop fast because the wagon never stops, but you have to stay out of the way or be run over.

Maynerd stared in awe as the horses unerringly followed the track without the attention of a driver. Eager to begin, he obtained a shovel from the shed and made a few tentative scoops. Most of the clods missed the wagon and fell in a dirty shower to the ground behind it.

You’ve got to do it in rhythm, Sam advised him. Watch the others.

Maynerd marveled as each clodhopper took turns at scooping clods into the passing wagon and hurrying ahead to ready another.

Time your swings with the meter of the song, Sam said. Now listen.

There once was a merchant of power, Sam said, heaving a shovel full of horse clods into the wagon.

"Who preferred his meals sweater than sour," the next clodhopper continued with the same result. Each shovel of clods landed neatly in the hopper.

"But he came to sad grief." Another shovel full of clods plopped into the hopper.

"In his bath when a thief." Plop.

"Enjoyed the last laugh and glower!" Plop, plop!

Maynerd paused for a moment, but then he roared, Oh, I get it!

Calm down, Maynerd, Sam said, or else the overseer will hear you. Clodhoppers are serious people. We earn our clods. You’ll have to remember that if you’re going to be a successful clodhopper.

Oh, I’m sorry, he said. Blindly swatting at a cloud of biting flies stirred up by the scooping, he said, I’m sure I’ll get the knack with a little practice.

Learn the songs, son. It’s the rhythm and not the words. It’ll keep your mind off the smell and guide your shovel.

Maynerd received a full education of clodhopper songs that evening. In the end, he even composed a few of his own much to the dismay of the others, but he thought they were good for a beginner.

He could not have been more relieved when the shift finished. Even long after stowing the shovel away, his arms sorely continued to make scoop and release motions.

Don’t forget to collect your pay, Sam said, filling his arms to overflowing. Quick to approve his load, the overseer allowed him passage through the gate.

Maynerd squinted to see in the growing darkness. He could not distinguish one clod from another now, but a clod with a golden cast on the top attracted his attention. Tentatively examining it with one eye closed to sharpen the vision of the other, he decided that it was as good as any.

The overseer grinned and asked, How’s the first day on the job, son? Do you think you comprehend the business now?

Yes, sir, I think I have it down pat.

Good, now let me see what you have.

Maynerd revealed the golden horse biscuit with some pride. It was his first pay clod and well deserved.

It’s a beauty all right, the overseer said, but what’s that bulge in your jerkin there. I don’t recall seeing that before.

Maynerd withdrew the hidden clod and apologized. I forgot it was in there, honest! he cried.

That is what they all say! the overseer snapped. I’m sorry, young man, but we have strict rules around here. I won’t call the authorities this time, but don’t come back until I’ve forgotten who you are. It shouldn’t take too long.

Maynerd turned away downhearted, but the overseer tossed him the gold topped clod. Here, you’ve earned that one, he said.

Thanks, Maynerd said. At least there would be something to show Sue for his efforts.

Poor lad, the overseer commented, and he’s such a fine clodhopper too. I hope he thinks to come back.

The stars twinkled in a very black, moonless sky by the time Maynerd wearily stumbled into Gnats Neck.

A lean woman somewhat older than Maynerd stepped from the shadows of an open doorway and chastised him with a smile. You can’t say hello to your friends? She pulled her thin wrap closer about her shoulders as proof against the late evening chill.

Maynerd instinctively ducked, but it was only Cindee, the tavern mistress. A pleasant smile rapidly creased his face.

Hi, Cindee, am I beat. I didn’t think clodhopping would be such hard work.

Well, I could have told you it wasn’t worth the taking, she said. Clodhopping, I swear! Look at you, Maynerd. You’re filthy beyond description.

But I got this nifty clod for it, Maynerd said, eagerly displaying it.

Grimacing, Cindee pushed it back at him. Do me a favor and keep that thing down wind, will you? You might as well come inside and have a beer on me. Someone has to drink it.

Maynerd thought about it but not twice. Thanks, Cindee, but business certainly looks slow today. I’m the only customer in here.

And you aren’t paying, Cindee said. She drew a tankard of warm beer for him and slid daintily onto a stool near him.

Experimentally drawing up a tattered brown skirt, she crossed her legs in the opposite direction and measured his reaction. Having glimpsed an unmentionable, he politely diverted his gaze.

Giving up, Cindee leaned against the bar and said, Maynerd, I think you are the nicest boy in town. You’re a bit naïve but very nice. I need to know one thing. She asked, Maynerd, do you like me?

Exhaling hard, Maynerd bathed Cindee in a fine froth of beer.

Eek! she cried, brushing the froth from her bodice with her apron.

Although plain compared to Sue, straight dark hair to Sue’s red curls, Cindee was good company and practically one of the guys.

Sure I do, Cindee. The beer is very good.

Well, I guess that’s the best compliment I’m going to get in this town, she said. I shouldn’t have let old man Stemrole talk me into buying this tavern when I moved here from Gnats Head. He told me he made a lot of money, but he forgot to mention it was on the sale of the tavern to me and not from the business. Now I’m too poor to leave.

You aren’t originally from Gnats Neck?

No, I should have kept on going like everyone else does. I’ll just have to take my chances elsewhere if I don’t get some paying customers soon.

Wait here, Maynerd said. He leaned out the tavern doorway and shouted, Tom, Bill, get your friends and come in here.

A half dozen ragged denizens of the streets of Gnats Neck soon filed into the tavern. What’s this about, Maynerd? Tom sniggered. Nudging Bill with a dirty elbow, he said, The night’s still young, and we have important things to do.

Sit down and listen to this, Maynerd said. Ignoring Cindee’s stern protests, he clambered atop the bar and eloquently recited a clodhopper song.

"There was an ogress of Ogre Fen,

Who wrestled to win over men.

For the growth of a beard,

She was described as weird,

And so woe to what might have been."

Tom pounded the table and shouted, That’s a hooter, ain’t it boys? They all laughed and agreed. Cindee, start the beers coming all around. Maynerd, do you have any more of those?

Certain that Maynerd had left his senses at the horse farm, Cindee moaned, Better ones, I hope.

I want to hear more Grissel the Ogress songs, Bill said, sitting down at a table. They’re a riot.

Maynerd did too, but he only heard a couple of ogress songs from the clodhoppers. The tavern soon filled beyond capacity as the word passed. It was all Cindee could do to keep up with the beer orders as Maynerd entertained.

Fight! someone small hollowly cried.

Fists rapidly connected to jaws, cheeks or any other convenient body part no matter the owner. The brawling became so intense at one point that half a dozen men found themselves sprawled face down in the muddy street outside.

Discordantly, the customers eagerly stuffed Cindee’s purse with coins, but she had to fend off posterior pinches and adventurous hands aggressively. She would not object to a pinch or two from Maynerd, but he was too polite to try.

Cindee began to view Maynerd in a new light as the evening progressed. Considering his filthy appearance and smell, it was necessary. Once married, she could always make changes. Meanwhile tonight’s performance ranked him accordingly as a first rate entertainer. She even accompanied him with a skirt slapping high heel number of her own that brought loud hoots, howls, and beer orders that paid real cash.

Then Cindee did a double take as a furtive image slipped beneath a table. She could not imagine anything that ugly fitting into a body so diminutive. She glimpsed the apparition several more times out of the corner of an eye, but she never saw it directly. Perhaps she was more fatigued than she thought.

At one point, she personally interfered in a brawl between two patrons who insisted on slugging it out with chairs. Although she had become quite adept at furniture repair, it was also costly. After beating the offending pair into the street with the business end of a broom, she discovered a trampled doll on the floor where they had fought.

Upon peeling the sticky object from the floor, a heavy turpentine odor assailed her nostrils. Now who on earth brought this awful thing in here? Holding her nose against the smell, she wasted little time on chucking it into the street after the brawlers. Keep your kinky toys to yourselves! she cried. This is a respectable, almost everything optional establishment!

The effects of the warm beer soon forced patrons to satisfy a more personal need. Those who ventured to urinate in the alley usually passed out there while Harry went through their pockets. It would be their turn next time.

Still other revelers slumbered over tables but Cindee immediately evicted them into the street to make room for more paying customers. Since Maynerd drank more than his share of beer, he eventually passed out prone on the bar. In the absence of entertainment, the fights and the crowd radically diminished.

Time to go home, Maynerd, Cindee said. "It’s almost