Dixie's Greens 5: The Purchase

>"I'm home!" you called out, swinging open the door and strolling in
>Dropping your backpack by the staircase, its common resting spot, the house seemed unusually quiet
>"Dad? Dixie? Anyone here?"
>No answer
>You shrugged and entered the living room, believing your gal must be somewhere in town
>Casually glancing around the room, you saw there was something on the coffee table
>Six light brown squares on a plate with a note beside it
>In neat cursive writing, it read: "Went out to buy a musket with Cousin Dave. Was bored earlier and made some hardtack for the first time in years. Enjoy!"
>That's what those squares were; crackers, or "hardtack"
>She told you about them years ago, mentioning how they were one of the most common rations during the war
>You had never seen them before, but apparently, they were infamous for being hard to chew
>Sitting down on the couch opposite the table, you picked up one of the crackers and tapped it against the plate
>It didn't sound TOO hard, and it certainly was tempting to try, seeing as you didn't pack enough lunch for yourself that morning
>With much confidence, you held it up to the corner of your mouth and bit down hard
>CRACK!
>You knew right away that more broke than just the cracker...

>"If theah's one thing I hate more than anything else on Earth, it's the fackin' Yankees!"
>"Ha! Amen to that, hon! I couldn't've said it better myself!"
>Dave held open the door and let her enter the store before him
>It was the fourth gun/pawn shop they went to, as they had no luck with the other three
>Specifically, she wanted an 1861 Springfield rifled musket, whether it be a genuine antique or just a reproduction
>"Y'know," he added, "the Sahx woulda won the World Series if not for them!"
>"...Oh, THOSE Yankees," she mumbled, disappointed
>Behind the counter, a large old clean-shaven man looked up from his magazine
>His eyes widened upon recognizing one of the two customers
>"My God!" he said with an excited smile, "Miss Sergeant Dixie just walked into MY store of all places!"
>She chuckled at his reaction, but felt she needed to politely correct him
>"Well, it's Sergeant MAJOR Dixie, but I appreciate the recognition, mister."
>Retaining his grin, the man blinked and gave a nod, admitting his minor mistake
>"Okay then, what brings you here today," he gave a chipper salute, addressing with the correct rank, "Miss Sergeant Major?"
>"We're looking for a Civil War-era musket, buddy," Dave impatiently chimed in, "specifically, an 1861 Springfie-"
>Before he could finish, the clerk bent down under the counter and came back up holding that exact model
>"This'un?"
>"...Yeah, that one," Dixie answered, astonished at how quickly he found it
>"Heh heh, I got dozens of these damn things in the back," he said, chuckling, "speaking of which,"
>He placed the rifle on the wooden counter and motioned for the duo to come towards him
>"You might be interested in what I've been working on back here, Sergeant Major!"
>He opened the door behind him and stood in its frame, waiting for the two to join him
>Dixie glanced back at Dave, shooting him a confused look
>He only shrugged and stepped around the display cases, following the clerk into the back room

>Dropping the hardtack back on the plate, you started to panic after a metallic taste manifested in your mouth
>With the slightest prod from your tongue, you realized one of your upper teeth was very loose
>"Shit!" you blurted out, standing up and sprinting to the kitchen sink to spit out the blood
>You quickly switched on the faucet and cupped your hands under the flowing water
>Swishing it around in your mouth and spitting, you didn't expect the tooth to come shooting out with the rest of the liquid
>Luckily, you managed to grab it before it could go down the drain
>Before you could trudge to the bathroom to examine the damage, you spotted something on the dining table
>A lukewarm mug of coffee with a note beside it, reading: "Don't forget to dunk them in something hot to soften them up first!"

>What was sprawled out on a long metal workbench was surely the object of interest
>It took her a second to realize that she was looking at the remains of an antique nandroid; a model very similar to her own
>Its wooden body had mostly rotted away, each limb was detached from the torso, and what remained of its wig was blackened and unkempt
>Seeing its unmoving blue eyes and agape toothless mouth clearly put Dave on edge
>Answering Dixie's question before she could ask it, the clerk spoke:
>"Yeah, some construction company in Idaho found her while digging to install water pipes or somethin'. I bought her dirt cheap at an auction last month, hoping I could restore her, but it's been a Hell of a lot harder than I thought!"
>"Looks like you replaced the eyes well enough," she commented, "what exactly are you havin' trouble with?"
>"The cogs! I was prodding around her insides with a screwdriver when I realized that I don't know for the life of me how they work! I'm *this* close to just paying a fella to do it for me!"
>The clerk sighed at his personal failure, and the room then fell silent
>"...Y'know, I could take her to this little shop in Prahvedince when I leave next week," Dave optimistically suggested, "they're real good at fixing stuff like this."
>"I was thinkin' something like that," he quietly replied
>"The thing is, uh, I won't be back in South Carolina until October or so. You wouldn't mind waiting until then to see her, would ya?"
>The clerk fixed his posture with a hard crack and turned around to face him
>"Tell you what," he offered with a returning grin, "if you buy that musket at the counter, not only will I throw her in for free, but you'll get to keep her! How's that sound?"
>"Oh, that's a mighty good deal, mister," Dixie said as she pulled out her wallet and rummaged through it, "how much for the gun?"
>"700 dollars, Sergeant Major."
>She shuddered as she could only retrieve 2 twenties and three tens
>With a sigh, Dave removed his own wallet and began rifling through the bills
>"I thawght you had more cash on ya," he muttered
>"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm lighter than I thought, hon! Anon gave me 65 more bucks, but I spent it on... uh..."

>After carefully placing the rifle and dismembered bot into his station wagon's backseat, Dave rubbed his temples to try to ease his mild headache
>He must have bargained and argued with that clerk for over an hour, and all that time and effort only lowered the item's price by $150
>The sun wasn't setting yet, but it was definitely late in the afternoon
>With the gun acquired and Dixie already in the passenger seat, there was no reason to stay any longer
>"At least we got it," he half-heartedly said as he sat down and shut his door
>"I-it'll take me a bit, but I can pay you back for-"
>"Don't worry about it," he politely interrupted, "you pitched in what you could. Now that you got both your gun and unifawm squared away, I'll introduce you to the reenactor boys of the 12th tomahrrah!"
>"Sounds like a plan!"
>As the engine came to life, her mind drifted towards Anon, wondering if her shooting skills were still sharp enough to impress him, despite being years out of practice
>"With that said, if you get me a beah from the fridge when we get back to yaw place, I'll consider us even," Dave jokingly added
>"Ha ha! I'll see what I can arrange!" she replied with a smile
>The last thought that entered her mind before they left the parking lot was: "I hope I remembered to put the coffee over by the couch."