I’d gotten an extremely good deal on the boat. That was the envy-laden consensus, far better than any of them would have. It was also the consensus that I needed a captain, because, as a Marine, I was even worse than a farmer when it came to things that float. Apparently, some of them had been naval sailors at some point. Truthfully, I had to agree with them. Jarheads were as known for bad seamanship as they were for their ferocity in battle. Hell, it was even enshrined in their emblem the ‘Eagle, Globe and (tangled) Anchor.’

However, I was in luck, they said. The original captain and owner was still here in town. Right now, he was down on his luck and doing labor to feed his family. It was felt that I could hire this good man for a song and he would definitely do me right. The only catch was: the man’s wife was Creole and that caused a problem with a lot of people, Henry Leavenworth in particular.

I asked them to send him by my camp this afternoon and gave up a dollar to pay him for his time. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was a lot more than he would make doing labor for a day.

With that bit done and out of the way, we talked of my plans to set up a trading post and inn down the river in Rulo. I was met with promises of visits, once they saw a working pier in place. I promised to fly a flag when we were open for business.

I made my farewells and took leave, making my way back down to the boat to update the crew before retrieving my horse to head to camp. I had some job interviews to do.

**** ****

Interviewing potential new hires is definitely not one of my favorite things in life. Evaluating an individual and deciding their and your future, in a short bit of time, is stressful and difficult. The hardest part came when the person really needed that opportunity, but they figured out you were going to tell them, "No." The hope would drain from their eyes and the enthusiasm from their voice. It was always saddening to watch. I ended up telling two people, ‘No,’ that afternoon. Mainly because I had stopped in Camp Town and hired a black couple to do some ‘work’ for me that day. Their work was to sit around and make white folks uncomfortable. This had been an afterthought and I had to double back into town to find them; finding a couple was pure luck. The four bits I offered drew them in, like moths to a flame. They looked youngish but they were definitely underfed and it was hard to guess their ages all that well.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Afternoons in late May tend to get hot in Nebraska and I was dearly hoping something cool was available to drink. Ice cold beer wasn’t going to happen but a cool tea wouldn’t hurt. The ladies didn’t disappoint, and after a quick update on the incoming visitors, they began to arrange the camp to accommodate. My plan was to meet with all of the workers, initially as a group, to describe what I proposed. Then I would interview each separately in the teepee. My black team was tasked with sitting around the campfire and enjoying the food and drink offered. They were instructed to make friendly talk with anyone who came around. I specifically said, “Don’t act like a scared nigger who’s full of fear. Act like a person.”

Yep, I was making this up on the fly. But if they pulled off their part, I promised them a nice bonus payment at the end of the day. Just act like equals to everyone in the camp and be sure to call them by their name, just their name. They looked dubious, but they followed along after I upped their upfront payment to a full dollar.

That’s me, manipulative and rude. No sense in hiding myself from myself.

**** ****

As the afternoon crested, my applicants began to show up. They all knew each other to varying degrees and had met up on the way, so they showed up in a group of two and then three, talking amongst themselves as they came in. I introduced myself and invited them to sit, so I could have a word with the group before I spoke with each of them individually.

We had three logs set up around our fire and dead in the middle of each log sat either a member of my black team or Pete. I watched their reactions and noticed where they sat; I’d never had to include racism in my candidate evaluations before.

Mary was our server and she was under strict instructions to serve Petalesharo and the Black team first. The black man was instructed to demand coffee and not to be polite about it. He wasn’t sure about that, but Mary smiled sweetly and said, "Please," to him. He melted and agreed to do it.

I let Mary start serving tea and then went into my sales pitch when the black guy stood up and said “No, woman! I said coffee." And he emptied his cup on the ground. He then looked at me for a moment and when I smiled, he sat back down. Mary got him some coffee. I watched the looks on the other guys' faces and then continued my spiel like nothing had happened.

I was offering a lot for any family man recently mustered out and stuck on the wrong side of the Missouri and Mississippi rivers. The army would return them home, but that might be six months away and they had to wait for the slow mule train to show up first. I offered a home on the frontier and guaranteed food for at least the first winter. They had to work, but they also got a full share of the reward and they got land. They all wanted in.

It was time to start the interviews.