home. Her mother, Opal, with great concern for her daughter, followed her but paused at the door, holding the screen ajar with her arm.
“Now don't go gallivantin' all over the countryside with this city slicker. Ya can't trust ‘um. More’un one country gal's had her heart broke by ‘um,” warned Opal.
“Momma, I'm not a girl anymore. I'm a grown-up woman,” Tina protested.
“I know ya are child, that's what worries me so,” Opal muttered almost to herself as she glanced away with a momentary far-away gaze, as if painfully remembering long ago events. Then, shaking her head, she forced a smile and tried to be cheerful as she spoke again, “Oh, don’t mind me. You go on and have a good time.”
Tina threw her backpack over her shoulder and bounded off the front porch headed for her canary yellow Jeep Wrangler parked in front of the home. Opal remained at the screen door peering worriedly after her.
*
The morning mist was just beginning to rise as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the mountain ridge and began filtering down through the trees at Clayton’s Jack’s Fork River Campsite. It wouldn’t take long for the morning dew to burn off.
Tina’s Jeep pulled to a stop as she parked in a stall in the campground’s common parking area. The top of the Jeep was down, exposing its black padded roll bars. Tina stepped out of the Jeep and sauntered over to Clayton’s campsite.
Clayton and Larry were seated at a camp table with their backs toward the common parking area, reviewing various charts and data tables. They were deeply engrossed in discussing the statistical findings of their recent field work and did not hear Tina approaching. When just a few feet away, Tina changed her pace, straightened her back and assumed a very business-like demeanor.
“Good morning. Tina’s Ozark Tour Guide Service . . . at your service,” she jovially announced.
“Well!” said Larry looking up from his work and turning to see her, a little surprised. “And a very good morning to you. I was hoping you’d show up.”
Tina continued rather formally and somewhat aloof, “Unfortunately, on such short notice I couldn’t get any of the regular guides, they were all booked, sooo . . .” She tilted her head to the side and flashed Larry a wide flirtatious smile while shrugging her shoulders. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
“Then this must be my lucky day,” replied Larry.” He turned to Clayton, who was trying to conceal a smirk, and said with a broad smile and a wink, “Don’t wait up. I have a feeling I won’t be back till late.”
“Oh, but I will. We have work to do after dark,” Clayton reminded him. “Be back by dusk.”
*
Fifteen minutes later Tina and Larry had joined a group of ten tourists standing on the back porch of the red Mill House at the basin of Alley Spring. The group was clustered around a lady Park Ranger who was giving a lecture. The porch extended out over a portion of the mill pond, allowing tourists to look down at the spillway gates and to see the water turbine that powered the mill in years past.
Unlike most Ozark mills which had used water wheels, chutes and flumes to harness water-power to drive their equipment, the grist mill at Alley Spring had used a totally submerged turbine that was driven by the river that exited the spring. It also used steel rollers rather than stone grist mills to grind its various grains. The state-of-the-art system had been the most advanced technology in its day when it was originally installed in 1893.
The mill operators became quite wealthy in a short period of time because of the increased efficiency of this new technology. At the height of its production period, the turbine powered eight roller mills, allowing it to produce over ten tons of flour daily. However, the mill had not been in service since electricity was brought into the valley in the 1940s. Its only purpose now was to serve as a tourist attraction and historical
“Now don't go gallivantin' all over the countryside with this city slicker. Ya can't trust ‘um. More’un one country gal's had her heart broke by ‘um,” warned Opal.
“Momma, I'm not a girl anymore. I'm a grown-up woman,” Tina protested.
“I know ya are child, that's what worries me so,” Opal muttered almost to herself as she glanced away with a momentary far-away gaze, as if painfully remembering long ago events. Then, shaking her head, she forced a smile and tried to be cheerful as she spoke again, “Oh, don’t mind me. You go on and have a good time.”
Tina threw her backpack over her shoulder and bounded off the front porch headed for her canary yellow Jeep Wrangler parked in front of the home. Opal remained at the screen door peering worriedly after her.
*
The morning mist was just beginning to rise as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the mountain ridge and began filtering down through the trees at Clayton’s Jack’s Fork River Campsite. It wouldn’t take long for the morning dew to burn off.
Tina’s Jeep pulled to a stop as she parked in a stall in the campground’s common parking area. The top of the Jeep was down, exposing its black padded roll bars. Tina stepped out of the Jeep and sauntered over to Clayton’s campsite.
Clayton and Larry were seated at a camp table with their backs toward the common parking area, reviewing various charts and data tables. They were deeply engrossed in discussing the statistical findings of their recent field work and did not hear Tina approaching. When just a few feet away, Tina changed her pace, straightened her back and assumed a very business-like demeanor.
“Good morning. Tina’s Ozark Tour Guide Service . . . at your service,” she jovially announced.
“Well!” said Larry looking up from his work and turning to see her, a little surprised. “And a very good morning to you. I was hoping you’d show up.”
Tina continued rather formally and somewhat aloof, “Unfortunately, on such short notice I couldn’t get any of the regular guides, they were all booked, sooo . . .” She tilted her head to the side and flashed Larry a wide flirtatious smile while shrugging her shoulders. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
“Then this must be my lucky day,” replied Larry.” He turned to Clayton, who was trying to conceal a smirk, and said with a broad smile and a wink, “Don’t wait up. I have a feeling I won’t be back till late.”
“Oh, but I will. We have work to do after dark,” Clayton reminded him. “Be back by dusk.”
*
Fifteen minutes later Tina and Larry had joined a group of ten tourists standing on the back porch of the red Mill House at the basin of Alley Spring. The group was clustered around a lady Park Ranger who was giving a lecture. The porch extended out over a portion of the mill pond, allowing tourists to look down at the spillway gates and to see the water turbine that powered the mill in years past.
Unlike most Ozark mills which had used water wheels, chutes and flumes to harness water-power to drive their equipment, the grist mill at Alley Spring had used a totally submerged turbine that was driven by the river that exited the spring. It also used steel rollers rather than stone grist mills to grind its various grains. The state-of-the-art system had been the most advanced technology in its day when it was originally installed in 1893.
The mill operators became quite wealthy in a short period of time because of the increased efficiency of this new technology. At the height of its production period, the turbine powered eight roller mills, allowing it to produce over ten tons of flour daily. However, the mill had not been in service since electricity was brought into the valley in the 1940s. Its only purpose now was to serve as a tourist attraction and historical
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