Story FINDING GRACE

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 121

“Yes Sir. I got a fox. Caught him down by the old barn I ran the game call with the ‘wounded rabbit’s call and he came trotting across the field. I need to go back out after dinner and stretch the hide.”

“Oh! You could make a fox skin hat for yourself!” Grace said.

“I don’t think so Momma. There is that old coonskin hat that maybe I could take apart and use it as a pattern and maybe Grandma can help me make Alan a hat.”

“That’s sweet Billy. Of course she would. Now go wash those hands good and we can have dinner.”


Glen took a metal bottle full of cold spring water out of his refrigerator and took a sip. It was a luxury he had sometimes thought about but never thought he would enjoy it again. He took it out on his small porch and arranged the cushions in the chair and sat down. Billy made him a nice chair and Grace got the cushions for him. The tranquility of the breeze fluttering the leaves in the trees hiding his cabin soon had his eyes slowly closing.


“Every time I see you two together, I tell myself that no two people could make a better couple. I knew you both before you two met and now there is an emanation of love from you two that few could miss. Now, have you decided on a date?”

“Well Reverend, we wanted to see when you are available.” Sarah said.

“I’m at the call to all our members at any time of the day, on any day of the week.”

Trace looked at Sarah. “Then you name it.”

“Reverend, I don’t want a showy wedding. Just friends…. and a small get together.”

“Well Sarah, you have at least 96 members of the church who call you a friend. What about them?”

“Oh! Of course they will be invited. But please no gifts. In lieu of gifts I’d like everyone to give what they can to the church maintenance fund.”

“Well, I surely won’t argue with you on that. And don’t worry about sending out invitations, With a call to two of our more, should I say, garrulous members of the church, the whole southern part of Hawkins County will know about it.”

Sarah grinned. She knew just who he was talking about. “Then, would Sunday after next, right after church be okay?” Sarah said, looking at Trace.

“It’s fine with me.” Trace said.

“Then the 18th it is. Would you like the reception to be held in the Fellowship Hall?”

“Yes. I’ll ask Grace and Mollie to put something together.”

“Very well, then I’ll block that date off.”

“Thank you Reverend Jim. Thank you so much.”

“Say nothing of it. Now, you two get out of here. You have planning to do.”

Reverend Jim took them both by the hand and said a short prayer, blessing their upcoming union.


Gil and Billy were in the shop making fire starters out of wood shavings, short pieces of jute string unraveled from a burlap bag, and Gulf paraffin wax.

“Why did Grandma yell at you for using this corn dodger pan for making these?”

“Because it’s old, I found it before she did at the yard sale, and I wouldn’t let her have it.”

“Why not?”

“Because this one doesn’t have those corn cob nubbies in it. It makes taking them out when cooled much easier.”

Billy dumped the batch of fire starters out on the bench and resprayed PAM into the cast iron pan. Gil was picking up the sticks, wiping them down with a paper towel, then placing them in a shoe box size wooden box.

“I spray PAM on it before we fill it with the mixture to keep the wax from sticking to it. I’ll still re-season the pan before I give it back to her. She thinks it’s a sacrilege even though we only do this every six months are so. It keeps her on her toes.

Once they had the box filled, they took the remnants and hand rolled little logs. Gil took the pan back to the house and set the oven to 400 degrees to burn the seasoning off of it.


The container was delivered a couple of days later. The driver easily slid it off where Gil wanted it, but it set him to thinking about a real forklift. He would look into it later.

When Shannon cut the seal, they were expecting just about anything, but not what they found. It was filled with textiles. That is, bolts of cloth some printed with patterns, some plain colored, boxes of men’s and women’s underwear and dozens of boxes of nylon and cotton thread.

Shannon’s eyes lit up.

“What can we do with this stuff? Are we going to be able to get our money back on this?” Gil asked.

Shannon spun around. “ARE YOU SERIOUS? We can easily sell some of this and get the money back but a lot of this I think we should keep.”

“Okay, I’ll leave it in your hands.”

Gil shook his head and went to the house. Grace and Mollie were going over a food list for the reception with Sarah.”

“This seems an awful lot for a small wedding reception.” Sarah said.

“It might be a small wedding but there’s going to be a bunch of people there who like to eat.” Mollie said.

“Okay, but Trace said he’d pay for whatever you set up.”

“No he won’t!” Gil interjected. “I know he can easily afford it, but this is from Grace and me.”

“You guys….”

“Hush. Let’s get through these plans.” Grace said.


Glen slowly moved through the brush; his movements covered by the rustling of the breeze through the trees.

Standing straight up he cradled the Henry rifle in his arms and watched as the guy cleared the tree limbs with the bush axe.

“You’re trespassing!” Glen said in a loud voice.

“WHOA! I’m just going where I am told!”

“Well, I’m telling you and the surveyor to back your asses off my property. You’re almost a hundred feet outside of Cleaver’s property lines. The next time, I’ll consider this an invasion.”

Glen grinned as the guy scrambled up over a rise and disappeared. He turned and went back to his house and locked the rifle away. Taking the hovercraft over to Bluff View, he got into his Suburban and went into town.


The church ladies were in their prime. As soon as Reverend Jim’s sermon was over, they scrambled around while the men and children waited outside while the women tastefully decorated the church before the wedding. By 1:00, everything was ready, and everyone was seated, watching Trace Carter and Sarah Miller become husband and wife. Even Glen showed up in a sportscoat and tie. Mollie had baked a beautiful three-tiered wedding cake that would rival any specialty bakery. When the reception was over, Mollie took Cassie to her house for the week, which suited Cassie just fine. She would get to study with Billy that much more. Trace and Sarah went off for the week.


“Don, do you know of any rough terrain forklifts for sale?” Gil asked.

“You know, it’s funny you should ask. I’ve been eyeing a John Deere 480C Rough Terrain Forklift over at the lumber mill. They have it as excess and I could pick it up pretty cheap. It’s up in hours and needs some work done, but It would still be cheaper than most you’ll find and not as in such good condition. I don’t actually need one that often, but often enough. If you want to go halves, I’m in.”

“Go for it Don. I’ll split it down the middle with you. I don’t need one that often, but it sure would make things easier at times.”

‘I’ll get ‘er done, Gil.”

Gil ended the call. “Well, that makes things easier.” Gil thought.

Glen drove up to the greenhouse where he saw Gil working in the garden.

“Gil, you think Billy would want to help me for a while? I’ll pay him.”

“I imagine he would. What are you doing?”

“Nailing up ‘No Trespassing’ signs along my property line.”

“Nailing? Come on up to the shop.”

They took a Gator up to the shop and Gill pulled out two drills and six spare batteries, and four boxes of one inch wood screws.

“Will this help?”

“They sure would. I’ve got 200 aluminum No Trespassing signs I want to put up.”

Gill got out two more boxes of screws and added them to the lot. Gil called Billy out of the house and Glen and Billy made a deal.

“You know your exact property lines?”

Glen grinned. “I know the exact lines, but when the surveyor ran the lines, I walked with him and put a roofing tack that had been covered with UV Reactive Blacklight Paint in the trees ten feet inside the property line.”

Gil grinned. “Slick!”


Gil relieved Colt on the mandolin vegetable slicer shredding cabbage for the women to mix into the three different kraut mixtures. Mollie, using another mandolin was shredding carrots and radishes, and slicing garlic, onions and the Gochugaru
peppers. Grace, Allie, and Sarah were weighing and mixing salt into the cabbage in separate pots. They usually made three types of kraut. Gil liked the Kimchi type, and they made traditional and a sweet garlic kraut, which was eye-rolling good with smoked venison sausage..

After they had all the ingredients mixed and a good brine had formed, Gil and Colt began packing the Kraut into the crocks with the kraut pounders Gil had made on his wood lathe.

After getting the crocks packed and laying the ceramic weights on top of the mixtures, Gil and Colt carried them down to the basement and set them on a shelf. Grace following with a pitcher of water to fill the water rims. They would let the kraut ferment for two weeks without bothering it except to add water to the seals.

Billy went the next day to help Glen put up the signs. Glen had bought enough signs to put one up every twenty feet. If there wasn’t a tree there (which was seldom) Glen would cut a sapling while Billy dug a hole, and they would mount the sign on the sapling. It took them a couple of days, but Glen paid Billy a dollar for every sign, and he was happy. When Glen took Billy back over late that afternoon, Grace called them on the radio and invited Glen up for dinner.

Trace and Sarah came back the following Sunday afternoon and found everyone gathered at Gil and Grace’s. They were greeted by everyone with the question “Where did you go?!”

Trace and Sarah looked at each other and laughed.

“We had no idea where we were going when we left. That night we stayed at the Marriott next to the airport and discussed where to go and Sarah mentioned she had never been to International Falls, Minnesota, so, we headed there.

“What in the world is in International Falls?” Colt asked.

“Hey! They have the Smokey Bear park. I’ve got pictures!”

“And of course they have the Bronko Nagurski Museum.” Trace grinned. “But the best thing was, we took day trips into Canada and found a little company near Atikokan, Ontario run by Ojibwe Indians that made great moosehide moccasins. We’ve got a little present for everyone.”

Mollie poked Carrie in the ribs. “Is that why you were running around asking everyone their shoe sizes?”

Carrie giggled and twisted away. “Mom didn’t want me to say anything.”

Trace and Sarah sat down and had a glass of wine and mead with them then got up to leave. Carrie just waved bye to them. “I’ll be home after my modules tomorrow. Have fun!” She grinned.

Sarah blushed and they left.

 

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 122

“Billy, when can we go shooting again?”

“If you pass all your test questions tomorrow, I’ll take you for a while before you go home.”

“All right!”


Gil had only told Grace what he was planning, but he had watched all the canning during the summer and decided as much as they did, they needed a place especially for that. He called the General Steel and ordered a 20x30 foot building to do their food preparation in. They crew showed up the day after Trace and Sarah got back and began preparing an area next to the garden for the building.

Once everyone knew what was going on, Grace, Mollie and Allie began looking at the used restaurant equipment stores in Kingsport and Knoxville and gathered up enough tables, shelves, and cabinets. Since it was going to need electricity, Gil would have Drake come up and assess what they needed to upgrade in the greenhouse power shed to accommodate the new building. Back in the Spring, Gil had bought a 1934 Magic Chef gas cookstove at an estate sale. Grace had looked at him sideways but didn’t say anything because he usually had a good reason when he bought something. He also bought a large wood cookstove that they would also hook up, but probably wouldn’t use it until propane was no longer available.

The presents came in that Trace and Sarah had purchased so they had a cookout at their house on Tuesday. They handed out two pairs of moosehide moccasins to everyone, even the twins. One pair lined with sheepskin shearling. Gil loved them and got the company information from Trace so he could buy more pairs.

Don called back later on that week telling Gil they now owned a forklift together. Gil went down to look at it and It looked good. The engine had been gone over; it had new tires and an Earl Scheib paint job.

“That’ll do the trick.” Gil said. “It’s going to be easier using that than the forks on the tractor. The tractor is good for a lot of stuff but occasionally I need something with more capacity.”

“Well, I can keep it down here out of the weather. Any time you need it, just shout.”

“Okay Don. Give me the bill so I can get you paid.”


Gil bottled the last of the watermelon wine and put the corker and the box of corks away in a cabinet. Dating the wooden case, he set it aside to take it down to the house. The cardboard boxes didn’t last very long so Gil had built wooden cases, sectioned, and lined with thin strips of Styrofoam with a lid that allowed the necks of the bottles to stick through. With a couple of simple brass hook latches, the lid was secured, and the case could be stored on a tilt to keep the corks wet. The handholds cut into the ends made the box easier to carry also. He and Billy had made a rack for cases of wine to be stored this way in the storage chamber and was where the cases of strawberry and watermelon wines rested until the ladies burned through what was used at the homes.

Gil cleaned up the equipment he used and turned on the carboy dryer and stuck it in the carboy neck for a few minutes. The dryer was something Billy had come up with. Using an old gun type hair dryer, Billy had soldered a stop on the potentiometer so it wouldn’t go above 125 degrees. A three foot, 2” hose was attached to the dryer and placed in the neck of the carboy. The insides of the carboy were dry in a matter of minutes. Gil liked the setup better than letting the glass jugs air dry. It used a lot of watts but wasn’t run very long.

Setting a case each of strawberry and watermelon wine and a special case of wines and River Bank for Glen in the back of the Gator, Gil slowly drove down to the house. The women were coming over in the morning for a coffee klatch…Grace called it a Command Group meeting… and she could divvy up the wine then. Gil took Glen’s case down to the boat garage and set it in the front seat of Glen’s truck. He left a note on the steering wheel warning Glen not to be hauling the case around in town.


“Mom, is there such a thing as having two dads?”

Sarah looked up from the dough she was kneading to Carrie working on her computer.

“Well, you know, you can have two grandfathers and two grandmothers, so, I think it is possible. Why?”

“Well, I was thinking. I have Dad in Heaven and I….I have a Stepdad here on Earth….would it be okay to call Trace, ‘Dad’ too?”

Sarah’s eyes got a little damp. “I think it would be okay. Why don’t you ask Trace if it’s all right when he comes home?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Sarah only showed a faint smile as she continued kneading the dough, but her heart was soaring.

When Trace came in later, he hung his hat up and gave Sarah a hug and a kiss.

“M-m-m-m-m, fresh bread.” Trace said, reaching for the bread knife.

“One piece. Don’t be ruining your dinner.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Trace cut the heel off the loaf and got the butter out, spreading the soft butter over the warm bread. Carrie came hopping down the stairs and into the kitchen. She came over to Trace and taking his wrist, pulled his hand toward her and took a bite from the slice of bread.

“Hey!” Trace said, grinning.

Carrie grinned and then her face to on a serious look. “I need to talk to you.”

Trace looked over at Sarah, who just shrugged. Trace pulled a chair out from the table and sat down.

“Okay, let’s talk.”

“I don’t feel right when I call you ‘Trace.’”

“Well Honey, you can call me whatever makes you feel right.” Trace said, concerned.

“Well, I asked Mom, and she said it would be okay but that I should ask you…..can I call you ‘Dad’?

Trace looked at a smiling Sarah, then back to Carrie.

“Carrie, I would be proud to have you call me ‘Dad.’”

Carrie grinned and hugged Trace around the neck, kissing him on the cheek.

“Thanks, Dad!”


Glen used the small bow saw and cut the last limb to length and placed it on the stack of wood he had built between two small trees. He tossed the smaller limbs from the deadfall into a depression to provide concealment for wildlife. That made six stacks he had around the area. He needed to start moving wood and getting it to the wood shelter. Going back to the cabin, Glen got his deer cart and started with the stack the farthest from the cabin. After hauling the third load, Glen took a break to sit on his porch and drink some cold water from the Klean Kanteen he kept in his fridge. A noise caused him to lay his hand on the Henry leaning against the porch rail.

“Hey Glen!”

“Come on up Billy!”

Glen watched as Billy made his way up the path and sat down on the steps.

“Want some cold water?” Glen asked.

“No thanks, I’ve got mine.” Billy said, motioning to the water bottle slung around his shoulder.

“That’s a nice canteen carrier. You make that?”

“Yep. Dad had a nylon one, but I made this out of a deer hide I had.”

“You make the buckskins too?”

“Nah. Grandma Mollie made these. I don’t know how to sew that well.”

“It would be a good skill to have around. Women aren’t always around to do things for you sometimes. What are you doing around roaming the ridges?”

“Thinking. I do my best thinking in the woods sometimes.”

“Now what weighs on you that you have to do that much thinking about?”

“I don’t know. It’s just, well…... you know we do all this work and put things aside for when bad times come…. what happens to those people who get caught up in the bad times and didn’t prepare?”

“Well, they’d be in a fix for sure. Out in the country, most people were raised to have things set aside. It’s the city folks that would have it the worst. You can pretty much expect a total upheaval of social relationships, a breakdown of society in the cities first. The people will be faced with panic and starvation. People would kill for food and things you have they want. Up to that point, you help people as much as you can, then you'll have to go into lockdown and preserve what you have. After things calm down, you can begin picking up the pieces and start again, living as normal a life as you can.”

“Are you going to be all right out here?”

“Oh yeah, I’ll be fine. Since I’ve gotten some transportation, I’ve put away a whole bunch of stuff in caches around here. Should someone want to get cute, I’ve got surprises all around here, so I don’t want you roaming my property without me with you. You could get hurt badly.”

“I won’t. Well, I better get back. I’m helping Allie haul the canning up to storage this afternoon.”

“Okay Billy. You be careful and stay on the trail.”

“Okay. See you later, Glen.”


Gil, Colt, Brad, and Trace unboxed the crossbows and checked each over thoroughly. After disassembling one completely, they figured out the parts they couldn’t manufacture and ordered replacement parts along with 1000 extra bolts for each crossbow. This was going to be tedious because they wouldn’t order the parts or bolts from just one supplier.

“What’s left?” Brad asked.

“I’d say that just about does it. Let’s pack the cases back up and get it all stored in the Dungeon.” Gil replied.

“We need to set up a time for training with these things.” Colt said.

“You’re the man.” Gil said. “Set up a schedule for us that doesn’t interfere with the harvests.”

Colt and Brad went down to the forge and began making the wall lamp bases for the alcohol lights in the chambers. Gil and Trace headed to the shop to fabricate reflectors out of sheet metal for the alcohol lamps. It didn’t take long to make 36 of the wall sconces. He would have the ladies pick the locations to hang the lamps. Grace had ordered another bunch of the lamps for spares and he finally had finished filling one of the two 55 gallon drums he had purchased with distilled alcohol. That would give them enough fuel for the lamps for many months.

Gil was cooking with the still as quickly as the mash fermented. Grace was asking him what he was going to do with all that whiskey.

“This isn’t whiskey. I’m making alcohol. Legally, in order for whiskey to be called whiskey, it must be distilled below 90% alcohol. Now Vodka, must be distilled at or above 90%. I’m making this for burning in the alcohol lamps and as a solvent.”

“Is there anything else you can use it for?” Grace asked.

“Sure, you can put it on a mosquito bite for instant relief, treat cold sores, help relieve sore muscles, make your own hand sanitizer….”

“How do you do that?

“I can’t remember the exact recipe, but it is a mixture of aloe vera gel, glycerin, and alcohol. I read something about adding essential oils to make it smell nice. You can look it up online and get the recipe.”

“I was wondering what we could do with those gallon pump jugs we got sanitizer from Sam’s for that I had been saving.”

“You can also use alcohol to remove ticks, kill bedbugs, and sprayed in shoes can eliminate odors, but yours might take some extra work.”

 

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 123

“Shut up! I’ll look up the recipe for the hand sanitizer and we can make some. I like having it handy.”

“You might see about ordering pump jugs and spray bottles. Those jugs go brittle if they have just been setting around.”

“Okay. I’m going back to the house and finish preparing dinner. Mollie is making au gratin potatoes, and I’ll fry up the ham steaks.”

Gil poured the last collector cup in the new drum and capped it. He’d get another batch of corn mash started tomorrow and clean the still.


The men were harvesting the oats when the next container Shannon had bid on came in. This one was coming from the port of Chicago. It was a forty-footer and had cost her $10,000 to win the bid. Shannon was nervous about its contents. It could be nothing more than scrap metal, but the weight indicated it might be something else. When Shannon broke the seal, she looked at the shipping documents on the inside of the door.

Bangladesh! They might just have something good.

“There’s no inventory sheet.” Shannon said.

“Well, I’ll get a trailer, and we can inventory and store it in the conex up top.” Allie said.

Shannon pulled a four-foot-long box out of the top of the container and sat it end up on the ground. She turned the box and looked at each side trying to make sense of the writing on the box but gave up. Taking her multi-tool out, she slit the taped seam and opened the end of the box up. Grabbing the plastic bag, she pulled the package out and looked at the bolt of cloth. She slit the bag and looked at the cloth.

Muslin…. and it’s the good stuff. Shannon thought.

Allie came back with the Gator and trailer and Shannon re-packaged and marked the box with its contents then loaded it into the trailer. The checked the other nine like-size boxes and they contained the same. They began pulling out twenty larger sized boxes of the same size and sat them on the ground, side by side and opened them up.

“Looks like work pants.” Allie said.

“Give me the size, color, and amount.” Shannon said, picking up her clipboard.

“I count twenty-five pair, labeled small, color is dark gray, I guess you’d call it Charcoal.”

“Check. Are they hemmed?”

“Nope.”

“Good.”

At the end of the count there were fifty pairs of charcoal-gray pants each in small, medium, large, and extra-large. They loaded them up and stored them in one of the large, empty shipping containers. They’d only unloaded less than a third of the container when the men came back from the fields.

“What do you have?” Gil asked.

Shannon handed him the inventory list. “So far, ten bolts of fine muslin, two hundred pairs of charcoal gray work pants and shirts in small, medium, large and extra-large, and two hundred pairs of coveralls in small, medium, large and extra-large.”

Gil walked over and looked into the shipping container. “Well, don’t kill yourself doing this. We’ll be through with harvesting the oats in a couple of days. We can all pitch in then. You think you’ll make any money on this?”

“We take it down to Kodak and we’ll make a killing.”

“Okay, let’s all go home.” Gil said, getting into his Gator.

The women only had a half of the shipping container unloaded when the oat harvest was completed. Once they had everyone working, it took them a day to finish the inventory and unloading.

“Well, what does the final inventory look like?” Gil asked.

Shannon peeled back the sheets on the clipboard.

“Well, we’ve got work clothes, including shirts, pants and coveralls, all sorts of towels, bath robes, wash cloths, work gloves, dish cloths, napkins, bed sheets, bed covers, pillowcases, bundles of jute sacks and rolls of jute cord.”

“Clean up the inventory sheets and we’ll all set down and talk about what to keep and what to sell.”

Gil called Jack’s father-in-law and sold him the shipping container sight unseen. Those things were becoming clutter.

The next morning, Gil, Billy, and Brad went down to the equipment barn and pulled maintenance on the combine and changed the cutters to harvest corn. Brad checked out the grain wagons and greased up the grease points. When they finished, Billy went to the house to complete his modules and Gil headed to the shop with Brad.

What are you going to do with this thing?” Brad asked, looking at the mess of iron and rotted wood.

“Thing! Why I paid $10 for this at the sale last Saturday!”

“Well, just what is it?”

“It is a pedal-powered grinder. I’m going to clean it up, repair the wood and get it in working order again. A non-electric grinding wheel with three grinding stones, fine, med., and coarse, plus a water tray for wet grinding. It’s pretty near a hundred years old. I’m going to replace all the wood with oak. It will be around long after we’re gone.”

Gil began measuring and taking pictures of the grinding machine. After reviewing his notes, Gil went and began selecting wood. Brad began to disassemble it, taking pictures as he went along. Soon, he had everything laid out on the floor of the shop. Brad went to the hardware bin and selected replacement bolts rather than try to reuse the original bolts. It was to be a work piece, not a museum piece.

Gil was thinking as he was cutting the wood to size. When he had finished cutting out the side pieces on the bandsaw, he shut it down and leaned up against the saw table.

“What’s up Gil?” Brad asked.

“I was thinking about buying a portable sawmill. It would come in handy. They come with gas engines but maybe I can find someone to convert it to alcohol, if it can be done.”

“You should check the bulletin board up at Tractor Supply. Lots of people put stuff up there for sale.”

“I’ll do that.”

Gil did some sanding on the pieces and put them aside. He began working on the legs and the end pieces. Brad was taking the stones off the shaft and was cleaning the metal of rust. In three or four days they could have that thing like new.

The look of terror was on the clerk’s face when Grace and Mollie walked into the fabric shop. Grace turned to the side and slid her hand in her purse and kept walking. The man jumped out from behind a tall shelf with a knife in his hand and lunged toward her. She put three rounds into him, two in the groin and one in his forehead. Mollie raced over to the clerk to calm her and have her call 911. Grace pulled her phone out and called Gil.

“Gil, I just killed a man.”

“Where are you?”

“Betty’s Fabrics.”

I’ll be right there.”

Gil and Brad raced to the fabric shop. When they arrived, the police were already there. Gil jumped out of his truck and raced inside.

“GIL! GIL CALM DOWN! EVERYTHING IS ALL RIGHT!” Glen Wells shouted, grabbing him by the arm.

Gil turned as Grace came rushing out of a side room. Gil grabbed her and pulled her to him.

“Are you all right?” Gil said into her hair.

“Yes, I’m better now. It all happened so suddenly.”

Gil looked at Glen, who stepped over.

“Grace, I’ll have to take your gun until I get word from the DA. It shouldn’t be a problem getting it back though.”

“What happened?” Gil asked.

“Mollie and I were coming into Betty’s and this man jumped from behind those shelves over there waving a knife and running toward me. I did the ‘Failure to Stop Drill’ and stopped him.”

Gil looked at Glen and Glen nodded.

“Grace, could you step in the office? I need to get your and Mollie’s statements.” Glen asked.

Grace nodded and a female officer led them into the office.

“Glen, is this man known?”

“We’re still checking who he is. He’s not from around here though.”

Gil nodded. “Thanks for calming me down.”

“Don’t mention it. As soon as we get the statements, they are free to go. Damn, Grace is a hell of a shot, but why did she shoot into the groin and not into the chest?”

“Protective vests don’t usually cover the groin area.”

“But he wasn’t wearing a vest!”

“She didn’t know that. She assumed and took action.”

“Okay, I can see that. Still, it was good shooting and a righteous kill.”

“Glen, nothing is going to be righteous until we get these scum progressives out of political offices.”

They tightened the last bolt and Gil looked at Brad.

“Don’t look at me! It’s your contraption!” Brad said.

Gil grinned and took the grinding wheel dresser off the counter and sat in the seat of the grinder. He started peddling and held the dresser to the fine grinding wheel first, dressing it in probably for the first time in 75 years. He did the same to the medium and course stone wheels. When he was finished, Brad handed him an axe and Gill ran it through each stone and sharpened it.

“This works good!” Gil exclaimed.

Brad sat down and sharpened a bush axe and tuned up a pickaxe.

“Yeah, this works well. Where are you going to keep this?”

“Down in the forge building.”

“I’ll go get a trailer.” Brad said.

They lifted the grinder onto the trailer and sat it in its place in the forge building.

Gil looked over the handwritten ads on the bulletin board and wasn’t seeing anything much in which he was interested.

“Lookin’ for something special Gil?”

“Not really Dave. Just checking if someone might have a portable sawmill for sale.”

“Well, those don’t pop up every day.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“Hey, wait! I heard this morning my cousin Josie Cleaver’s husband was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He’s not going to be using the mill he has for a long time, if ever again, and they’re going to need the money for bills. You want I should ask Josie if they want to sell it?”

“Yeah Dave, do that. Here’s my number. If I can do anything else, let me know.”

“Sure thing Gil. Give me a week.”

Glen grinned as he read the computer screen. His new tv and blueray player didn’t make a blip on the charge/discharge process of the battery bank. Of course, it may have been because he had put in a “kill switch” to the outlet the electronics were plugged into to eliminate any “ghost” usage of power. Of course, this meant the satellite tv system had to do its several minute startup when it came on, but he didn’t watch it that much anyway. He had a devil of a time finding a tv small enough that didn’t feel like he was standing in it. The customer service person recommended he try pawn shops. It seemed as though people were trading up to “bigger and better” these days. He finally found a 19” flat screen he could mount on the wall and be out of the way.

The used 15” laptop computer he found at a pawn shop ran Blake’s monitoring program just fine. Grace did order a new battery for it for him. Satisfied, he went outside and cut and split more wood for his cookstove. He had more than enough to last the winter, but he wanted to stay ahead.

 

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 124

Gil walked around the sawmill and looked at it closely. It looked almost new. The bandsaw blades were sharp and there was very little paint rubbed off the bed. Mrs. Cleaver walked out to the shed and handed Gil the manuals. The sawmill had a 14-horsepower gas engine, had a 26” cut and could handle logs up to 21’ long. There were two extra blades also.

“How much are you asking, Mrs. Cleaver?”

“Well, here is the receipt when he bought it back in the Spring. I don’t think he’s used it but a couple of times since.”

“Mrs. Cleaver, I’ll pay you $13,000 for the mill.”

“Well, that’s a better offer than I got over the phone this morning. I need the money as not to get behind on the doctor’s bills.”

“How is Mr. Cleaver doing?”

“Not too good. He’s on drugs to keep the pain manageable but the doctor says he won’t last that long. He was just too far gone when they found the cancer. I don’t want him to suffer so I make sure he has the best medicines available. I had to put him in a care facility near the hospital so they could manage the pain around the clock. It gets mighty expensive.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?”

“Well, you ain’t interested in any land, are you?”

“Well, I don’t know. Where is it located?”

“It’s near the river, but not on it. Wait, Jay has a map in the house. Let me get it.”

“It’s right here on old highway 11 West. It’s got lots of trees. Jay was going to cut some of the hardwoods off and sell the lumber.”

“Well, over in that area, I believe land is going for about $7500 an acre. The legend says this is around 245 acres, I’ll give you $1,862,000 for the parcel. That’s $7600 per acre.”

“Land’s sakes. That should be more than I’ll need to pay bills.”

“Well If you’re agreeable. I can get our lawyers together to draw up the paperwork, if you can give me your lawyer’s information.”

“Yes, I have one of his cards in the drawer.”

Mrs. Cleaver went into the house and returned with the business card.

“This is sure going to help and is a burden lifted from my heart. If you don’t mind I need to go to the care facility and see Jay.”

“No problem. We’ll come back to pick up the mill and I’ll bring you cash if that’s okay.”

“No, that won’t be a problem.

“Good day, Mrs. Cleaver.

Gil got in his truck and headed back toward Rogersville. Pulling over in a layby, He dialed Abe’s number.

“Abe? Gil. Two things. I want the Trust to buy some property across the river owned by Jay Cleaver. Platt number 865443. Price is $1,862,000. His lawyer is Edward McDermott. Second thing…. make sure no more medical bills go to Mrs. Josie Cleaver. Yeah, have the accountant write it up, I guess to charity. Yeah, I’ll talk to you later.”


The corn harvest was non-stop from dawn to dusk. They only hesitated to start some mornings if the dew was heavy. Billy worked every day, taking a turn driving the combine after getting his modules done. Grace made sure she checked his work before releasing him to head for the fields.

The ladies made sure the 5-gallon water cooler was kept filled and an extra one on hand for the grain haulers to take back out to the fields. They filled the silo and still had more corn to harvest so they began using the option of filling the grain sacks directly on the combine. It was a slower operation and required two more people to fill and sew the sacks shut.

“You’re going to have to make a heap of sour-mash to use up all this corn!” Brad said, grinning.

“I’m not making that much. I need to make four or five more runs to get that other 55-gallon drum filled. We’ll up the rations to the hogs and cows a little and I can always use it for deer corn.”


They left the oat and corn fields alone for a couple of weeks to allow wildlife to forage any grain that had been left behind. During this time, Gil managed to ferment more mash and got another 15 gallons of alcohol. He put a spigot on the full drum and attached a Rock-It Drum Dolly to it and tilted the drum to a horizontal position. He positioned the other barrel a little closer to where the condenser normally sat and placed the funnel on top of the drum. It would be a couple of weeks before he’d be able to run another batch.

When Gil went down the ridge to check out the shed that Brad, Colt, and Trace were building for the sawmill, he ran into the women coming back from raking up the pecans that had fallen from the two big trees next to the old home place.

“What did you get?” Gil asked Grace.

“Two tow sacks filled. There’s still more on the trees.”

“Yeah, give ‘em about four more days and they’ll all be off. I’m going down to the sawmill.”

“Okay, I’ll see you at the house.”


When Gil pulled up, they were putting on the last sheets of tin roofing on the shed. Gil walked down the center of the floor, inspecting everything.

“This looks good guys!”

Brad chuckled. “Once we figured out what we were doing, it was easy.”

“Well, it’s a damn fine job. The cambered trusses make it seem bigger, don’t they?”

“I’m glad you had someone else build those things. We’d have been all fall building this thing.”

Gil looked at the floor. They had plowed this area up then set the poles. After the concrete around the poles had set, they dropped a layer of 4” river rock down and compacted and leveled the soil and stones, adding them as needed until the floor was as hard as a cliff face. After that, it was a matter of putting up the plates, braces, trusses and putting the roof tin on. It was nothing but an open sided pole barn, a little fancier than some, but it would do the job.

“All we have left to do is ditching for the roof Gil, Why don’t you go bring the mill down and we can get it set up and leveled.”

Gil went and got his Power Wagon and hooked the portable sawmill up then towed it down to the shed. It was open at both ends so he drove right through, stopping fifteen feet from the open end. They dropped the stabilizers down and got the frame leveled.

“Well, all we need is some logs.” Colt said.

“I’ve got four or five twenty-footers down at the base of the ridge on the other side of the equipment barn. We’ll hook up the skidding arches later and haul them down here. Right now, let’s call it a day. It’s Friday and you deserve getting off early.”


“Gil, you know a Tate Gibson?” Don said when Gil answered the phone.

“The name strikes a bell, but I can’t place it.”

“Says his Daddy was Sergeant Major Burl Gibson.”

“Oh, hell yes! I think I probably met him at Burl’s house at one of his cookouts. He must have been fourteen or fifteen around that time.”

“Well, he applied for a job, and he’s won me over. He wants to meet you.”

“Well, we’re having a cookout tomorrow evening. Why don’t you and Annie come over about 4:00 and bring him with you.”

“We’ll do that. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Gil touched the disconnect icon, ending the call. Burl Gibson. That’s a name from far in the past, Gil thought.


Gil had the kabobs going when Don and Annie arrived, Tate following in his own truck. They walked up onto the deck, Annie heading inside while Don introduced Tate to Gil.

“So, you’re Sergeant Major Gibson’s son. Last I saw you; you were around 13 or 14. I’m sorry about Burl’s passing. What would you like to drink There’s beer, mead, iced tea, and spigot water. We’ll hold off on the whiskey ‘til later.”

“I’ll take a beer for now, Mr. Conner.”

“No mister stuff around here. I like people to call me Gil.” Gil said, handing Tate a cold beer.

“Okay Gil, thanks.”


Gil finished the ritual burning of the meat as the ladies came out with bowls full of roasted vegetables and fresh homemade bread. When they had eaten all they could, the men moved off to the edge of the deck and told war stories, some of them about Burl’s exploits.

“Tate, I’m sorry I couldn’t come to the funeral. By the time I heard, it was too late.”

Tate nodded and got up, then walked out to his truck, coming back with a guitar.

“I wish you could have been at the funeral, so I hope you don’t mind me bringing a little of it to you. Some of the guys from the teams got together and played this, Dad’s favorite song. If you don’t recognize it, it was in the movie, ‘The Unforgiven’ and was written by Clint Eastwood. When I play this song, it does remind me of one of the saddest days of my life, but it also reminds me what a powerful, but gentle man Dad was.”
Brad jumped up “Woah, wait a minute, Gil, may I?”

Gil nodded, “Go ahead.”

Brad ducked into the house and brought Gil’s guitar out.

Tate then began playing ‘Claudia’s Theme’ with Brad playing with him. The women, hearing the guitar music, came back out on the deck. The group was silent as the soulful notes echoed in the night. There was more than one pair of glistening eyes watching the strings being plucked that night on a deck near the Holston River. When the two men finished playing, there were a couple of coughs and Gil stood up and raised his glass and toasted, "To Absent Comrades!” Followed by Brad’s “Bis wir uns in Walhalla treffen!" (Until we meet in Valhalla!) The men rose and raised their glasses in honor.


Since she’d received her pistol back from the police department, Grace practiced at least twice a week, along with Mollie. Mollie also wanted a shotgun to carry but Gil didn’t want her to get charged with inciting so the best he could come up with was one of the Bond derringers he had. The Cowboy Defender would shoot .45 Long Colt bullets or .410-gauge buckshot. Mollie shot it a few times to get the spread of the rounds. It was a little heavy, but she liked it.

It wasn’t just Mollie and Grace. Everyone was spending more time on the range. Even Billy and Carrie were practicing hitting matchheads at 15 meters. Most of the time all the shooting turned into friendly matches between shooters, after they had practiced their defensive shooting. Glen came across one day when they brought out the clay thrower and used the 870s. They offered Glen a turn and he hit every clay then started coaching the other shooters. Billy and Carrie also got into the clay shooting using 20-gauge 870s. They all had a lot of fun that afternoon.

After the shooting was over Gil called Glen over.

“You want a road to your house?”

“What? How?”

“I bought the Cleaver tract behind you. You can now have access to your land.”

“I don’t know Gil, I kind of like the setup I have now. I’m isolated, but I’m not. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

 

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 125

“Well, just to let you know, I’m going to be harvesting some timber out of there but only to make a roadbed. When I get to your property line, I’ll stop.”
“That’s fine. I like the solitude though. Are you going to gate the road?”

“Absolutely! You won’t be able to get through there with an M1 tank.”

“Good.”

Okay. You hear anybody working over there, don’t go shooting.”

Glen grinned. “You got it Gil.”


Grace filled the quart jars three quarters of the way full of the apple spiced mixture as Gill came along and filled the jars with the 140-proof vodka. Once they had the sixteen quart jars filled, Grace set the Tattler lids in place and screwed them down.

“I hope this is worth it.” Grace said.

“Well, we can always dump it and experiment some more.”

“How soon can we drink it?”

“You can drink it right now. It’s not an infusion.”


Gil and Colt were hooking up a log Gil had cut about four months ago, extending the range, when Colt spied something scrambling through the woods, heading for the river.

“What the hell was that! Colt yelled.

Gil chuckled. “Probably a river otter. There’s a couple of dens on this side and they sometimes come up here looking around.”

“But this thing was huge!”

“Well, river otters can grow up to three to four feet long including its tail and weigh between 11 and 30 pounds. The larger ones are usually males. If you look around, you’ll probably find a slide they’ve built to slide into the water when they are playing. I’ve told Billy to leave them alone. They are trapped extensively as it is.”

“Well, as long as it isn’t alligators. What kind of wood is this?”

“Ash. I wanted to get it out of here because if it’s damp or in contact with the ground, ash wood is prone to rotting. That’s why I have it propped up off the ground.”

“What can you use it for, except firewood?”

It’s used for furniture, flooring, doors, cabinetry, architectural moulding and millwork, tool handles, baseball bats, hockey sticks, oars, turnings, any number of things.”

They hauled the log to the sawmill and rolled it up on the bed. After dogging the log in, Gil checked the fuel and oil and started the saw and made the first cut. Taking the slab off, they tossed it in the firewood pile. Flipping the log over, they made the next cut and repeated the process until they had a rough-cut 12”x12” beam 18 feet long. They ripped out ten 1”x12” boards and a thinner board, stacking them with spacers in between each board to let the air circulate around them.

“What are you going to build with this?” Colt asked.

“Nothing, right now. I’ll take this down to the kiln when I get a chance to get it dried out. Chances are, someone will want to buy it before I can haul it away, but I want to try making some furniture pieces out of it. Though I may sell the ash I get from the Cleaver tract if anyone is interested.”

Gil had a family-owned logging business to harvest a 30’ swath on the surveyed area Gil was putting a road in over on the Cleaver tract. They only harvested a few dozen yards at a time. A couple of Don’s men would come in and remove the stumps and placed them between the roadbed and the forest, placing gaps every 50 yards to allow wildlife to pass through. He paid the logging family in cash because normally, they took their pay in wood and sold it to the mills. Mills weren’t buying much because of the economy. Gil could build up a stockpile, by-pass the mills, and sell directly to buyers that couldn’t afford the minimum buys from the mills. He only used the mills to kiln dry the lumber and they were glad to do it, as money wasn’t just rolling in these days.

Brad brought down a banding machine and the three of them banded up three bundles of oak boards they were taking to the mill for drying when Don could free up a lowboy to haul it.

“You going to sell this?” Brad asked.

“One of them. I’m going to keep two bundles and sell one to that guy over in Russellville that makes turnings.”

“I wouldn’t think there was much of a market for turnings right now.” Colt commented.

“Oh, the underground economy is doing just fine. Everything is done on a cash basis without government overwatch. There are a lot of cottage industries making a good living despite the government.”

They scooped and vacuumed the sawdust into burlap bags and hauled it over next to the chicken coop to be used as bedding. The mixed sawdust and chicken manure composted quickly and when the coop was cleaned the sawdust and manure were dumped in its own pile in their composting area to further decompose. The pigs liked to wallow in the clean sawdust also when the weather got cold.

They got everything cleaned up and were headed back to their houses when a nondescript box truck came down the drive, driven by Bill Casey.

Gil watched as Bill pulled to a stop beside them.

“Hey Bill! What’s up?”

“Oh, I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop off a couple of things for you.

Bill went around to the back of the truck and opened up the door. Inside were cases of ammunition.

“What’s all this?” Gil asked.

“Just replacement ammo. Shotgun, a lot of buckshot but also many other loads, plus 5.56, .22 and 9mm. I figure you all would keep up your practice. Oh, there’s three or four boxes of practice arrows and crossbow bolts too.”

“Why?”

“I want to bag at least an 8-point buck this year.”

Gil grinned. “Setting your sights kinda low aren’t you? I think the bucks around here automatically have at least ten points.”

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Season starts next week. Come down on Wednesday and I guarantee you’ll get your buck, all packaged up to take back with you. Hell, stay through the weekend! I can even arrange to have the head mounted, but Billy gets to keep the hide.”

“Deal! Where do you want the ammo?”

“Brad, go get the tractor and the big dump trailer.”


Bill came back and bagged a twelve pointer and was elated. They field dressed it and took it to Mr. Hirschfeld and had it processed and the head was sent to the taxidermist. Of course, Billy got the hide.

“Gil, I really appreciate this. The biggest I’ve ever shot before was a six pointer.”

“Well, it is little compared to what you’ve done for us.”

“Ahhhh, that’s built into the program. Boy, I can’t wait to sink my teeth into some of that venison!”

“Well, it didn’t come from your deer, but Grace is cooking deer sausage with sweet garlic kraut for dinner.”

Gil poured another two fingers of River Bank into Bill’s glass.

“I swear, you could make a fortune selling this stuff.” Bill said, taking another sip.

“Excuse me.” Gil said and went inside, returning with a walnut box and handed it to Bill.

Bill slid the lid open and nestled inside was a bottle of River Bank.

“Thank you Gil. I’m telling you, you could get rich, or richer.”

“Don’t need the money, or the aggravation. I’ve been building a road on some property I acquired on the other side of the river. A family logging company cuts the timber off of it and hauls it here. I pay them in cash. I take the lumber and process it, only having the mill kiln dry it for me. I found a furniture builder over in Limestone that buys lumber from me for his projects. I sell it to him just above breaking even after paying for everything, which is still well below current market prices. The man and his family are making a good living and he’s selling cheaper than he had before. They even come and pick up the lumber. Yes, I could be making a lot of money, but I have enough and it’s keeping a part of the local economy above water.”

“Really, but why?”

"Proverbs 16:27. ‘Idle hands are the devil's workshop.’ And that pertains especially to me and the people here at Bluff View. Hell Bill! I have to turn the radio and TV off so I don’t start making a targeting list of people who should be selectively eliminated.”

Bill chuckled. “I see the Devil is going to have a hard time around you, and as far as targeting lists, looks like someone beat you at the blocks on that one.”

“Yeah, but at least he’s had the right class of people on his list.”


Mountain Creations came for a load of lumber. John Grainger, the owner’s brother, was there to select the lumber.

“Hello Gil! What do you have for us?”

“Take a peek. It’s all rough-cut but I think you’ll like it.”

John went through the stacks and made notes on what he saw.

“God! I’d like to take it all, but we couldn’t afford it.”

“Here’s the price list. Take what you want. Joe and I have a deal. I know he will pay me when he can. Your family is one of the few in this state who are honest.”

John and his men began checking what they could carry.

“If you want the whole bundle, we’ll get the forklift and load the whole thing.”

“This might take a few loads Gil.”

“I’ll be here ‘til the meteor strikes.” Gil said, grinning.

John looked at him oddly.

Gil had called Don to see about using the forklift and Don had Tate drive it up. Colt jumped on the forklift and loaded the bundle of Red Oak and one of Maple onto the flatbed truck.

“We’ll be back in an hour or so. I’ll try to scramble up a couple more trucks.”

“No problem John. I’ll see you later.”

They watched the truck drive up the drive.

“How in the world can he sell his furniture around here?” Colt asked.

“He doesn’t. It’s those people from the big cities who have summer homes in the mountains. More money than sense.”


John and his men came back and got what Black Walnut, Hickory, White Oak, White Ash, Pine, and Maple Gil had on hand. He didn’t care, he’d already picked out what he wanted. It cleared out the space he needed to process the other logs stacked near the sawmill, which he would do when they had nothing else to do. He wouldn’t hear from the Grainger brothers for a while.


Gil and Colt rode into town to pick up the meat from the two steers and two hogs they had taken in to get slaughtered and processed. They had just finished loading all the meat when two black Escalades pulled up in the parking lot, the Mayor and another gentleman getting out of the lead vehicle.

“Gil! I’m glad I caught you in town! Let me introduce you to Congressman Simmons, the representative of our district.”

The Congressman held out his hand as they approached Gil. Gil just stood there, a look of contempt plainly showing on his face.

 

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 126

“Oh, another one of those beltway wine and hors d'oeuvre philosophers who postulates to their news lapdogs what great things they have done for the people. The name Simmons rings a bell. Oh! You are one of those esteemed beltway slugs who took money from the budget for the VA, pushing men and women veterans aside to support social programs for those who won’t work. Yeah, I know you. You act so conservative when you’re back here in your home district but as soon as you return to D.C. and cross the 495 beltway, your blood turns blue and your spine turns to rubber. I’m no longer in the business of doing what Congress mandates for their own political and financial gain. As a matter of fact, I plan on helping finance your removal from office or see you dragged so low you’ll have to resign before your term is up. None of you ass-wipes engender confidence in our present administration and I refuse to support the likes of you.”

Gil and Colt turned and got in the Power Wagon and drove out of the parking lot.

“Dang! Why didn’t you just come out and tell him how you felt?” Colt said, grinning.

“Those bottom feeders do nothing but rob the people blind. It makes no matter that they are spending and indebting almost this country’s entire GDP, but they do it while wheeling and dealing to line their own pockets and secure their offices. He’s lucky I didn’t drill him between the running lights.”

The ride back to Bluff View was quiet, but the two reporters who were along with Congressman Simmons both had their recorders running when the spur-of-the-moment meeting took place. They held back expressions of glee until that evening when they sent their stories back to their news organizations.

Gil was coming back from filling the wildlife feeders the next morning when he was met at the equipment barn by a laughing Brad.

“What’s wrong with you?” Gil asked.

“Man, you lobbed that grenade right through the middle hole of that three-seater!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your little run-in with Congressman Simmons yesterday. It’s all over the news and a lot of people in fly-over country have their hackles raised. They’re calling for investigations. But that’s going to be a dead end. That’s like a judge prosecuting himself.”

“Well, the people in Washington will treat it like a bad fart in the bunkhouse. Open up a window and blame it on someone else. It’ll soon enough go away. The press will come up with some other big story to pull the attention away from those criminals.”

“What’s on the agenda today?” Brad asked.

“I thought I’d run a few logs through the mill.”

“Well, let’s do it. Weather’s getting a little chilly.”

Colt and Trace came down to join them and together they only cut the logs into square beams and stacked them by species with spacers to let them air dry. They took the slabs and cut them into firewood size. They were cleaning up the sawdust and bark when Gil’s phone rang.

“Gil, there’s a reporter at the gate wanting to do an interview.” Grace said.

“Tell him I said I have no comment.”

“Okay, but this isn’t going to go away soon. All it’s going to do is build speculation.”

“I don’t care. No Comment.”

They stacked the firewood on pallets and called it a day.


Gil walked into the house to some delicious smells. Walking to the stove, Gil lifted the lid on a cast iron pot and flinched when the hot steam rose up, revealing green beans with pieces of country ham. Setting the lid back on the pot, he cracked the door on the oven and saw a meatloaf cooking.

“CLOSE THAT DOOR!” Grace said, poking him in the side.

“Just checking, seeing if I need to hire a cook.”

“You go right ahead, but I provide other services also.” Grace said, grinning and heading for the stairs.

As Gil watched her going up the stairs, clad in in her jeans, refrains of Johnny Tillotson’s song, ‘Poetry In Motion,’ echoed in his mind.


Tate cleaned the frying pan and wrapped the left-over pork chop in aluminum foil and placed it in the refrigerator. He liked this trailer. It suited him just fine. He had been lucky he had tucked money away in a Credit Union account Betty never knew about. He came out so-so in the divorce, but her lawyer didn’t do his due diligence and check all of Tate’s finances.

Betty had fooled him. She thought she knew he had money, and he’d showered her with gifts, but she didn’t get everything. She had not cared about the marriage or apparently him, only the comfort and security he could provide.

His father had won him over on having more than one job skill. In his earlier years, soldiers could have more than one military occupation specialty and his father had accumulated five. All closely related in combat arms, but he was never without a job in the military. By the time Tate had entered the Army, things had changed. When Tate was in Iraq, they were on a firebase next to an engineer battalion and with a few trades of ‘war mementos’, persuaded the guys over there to train him on how to drive and use most of the heavy equipment. Once the military and civilian politics began leaving a bad taste in his mouth, Tate bailed out. He got a job with a construction company and stayed a few months in his hometown, met Betty, married her, and life was good, for a while. After his father died and Betty wanted to spend up his inheritance, things came to a head. Betty hit him with a divorce, so he gave it to her, and hit the road with his newly purchased Montana fifth wheeler, desolation following him all the way to Missouri. Over the past year his love for her cooled dramatically and he tried not to show the hurt, but sometimes he had to get away, so he’d jack up the stabilizers and hit the road again. When he stumbled on Rogersville, He felt comfortable and after securing a job with Gray Construction, felt at home. Don took him under his wing, allowed Tate to park the fifth-wheel at the edge of the property and ran utilities to the camper. All Tate really needed was water and sewer. Don ran the water line and Tate paid to have a septic system put in. The trailer had its own solar system that provided more than enough power for the setup. After finishing cleaning the kitchen area, he got the folding five foot table out and set it up in front of the theater seating. Getting the ammo box out of the closet, he removed the cleaning mat out of the can and began disassembling his Glock 19.


Gil was taking Grace and Mollie into town to the fabric store to see if they could interest Betty in the muslin fabric. They had just passed the TRW plant when flashing blue lights enveloped the Power Wagon.

“”What did you do?” Grace asked.

“Nothing. Maybe a taillight or something.”

Gil looked in the side mirror at a grinning Glen Wells walking up to his door. Gill rolled down the window.

“Hiz Honor the Mayor is pissed at you.”

“Tough nookies, he should watch who he endorses.”

“Well, you sound good on radio. Just go easy on Merl. He means well and was just trying to dig up grant money for downtown redevelopment.”

“Is he in his office?”

“Should be.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later.”

“Keep a cap on it Gil.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Gil pulled out and headed on down Main Street.

“I’m going to get out and go see the Mayor. You two go ahead a get your business done and meet me at Oh Henry’s for lunch.”

Gil double-parked and Grace slid over and drove on down the street. Gil went into the city office building and went into the mayor’s office. His secretary grinned when she looked up and saw who it was.

“You come to whip his ass, Gill?”

Gil grinned. “No nothing like that, but I would like to talk with him if he is free.”

Shirley picked up the phone and buzzed the mayor.

“Mr. Mayor, Gil Conner is here to see you.”

“Go right in Gil.”

Gil tapped on the door and walked through, closing it behind him.

“Have a seat Gil.”

“Look, I’m sorry about stepping on your toes. I didn’t know you were trying to squeeze money out of the congress critter.”

“Yeah, it is distasteful trying to get money out of Washington.”

How big of a grant were you looking to obtain anyway?”

“Well, I was asking for ten million, hoping for five.”

“Well, to smooth feathers, I want you to call Abe Gates about the grant that the Jim Conner Endowment Foundation is offering the city.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“That’s because it was just founded three minutes ago.”

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. I’ve got to call Abe and get the ball rolling, but you’ll get your ten million.”

“Gil, I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything that has my name in it. This is strictly between the Foundation and you.”

“But what can I say in the press announcement?”

“Talk to Abe. I just don’t want my name mentioned.”

“Okay Gil, you have my word.”

They both got up from their chairs and shook hands. Gil left and winked at Shirley as he left the office and walked the three blocks to Oh Henry’s.

He got a cup of coffee and called Abe and gave him marching orders on the new foundation.

“What else are you looking to fund?” Abe asked.

“I don’t know, we’ll see what comes around, but let’s put the city’s grant on the fast burner.”

Gil was sipping on the cup of coffee when Grace and Mollie walked in.

“Did you make amends with the Mayor?” Mollie asked.

“Yeah. His tail feathers aren’t all ruffled up anymore.”

“What did you do?” Grace asked.

“Arranged a grant for $10,000,000.”

“WHAT!”

“Well, that’s what they said they needed.”

“I’m not even going to ask.” Grace said.

“How did it go with you two?”

“She bought all three bolts.”

“Great. Has Betty calmed down any?”

“She’s now got a .38 under the counter.”

“Well, better than nothing. Mollie, you should have shown her the derringer. Now that would get some attention!”

“Maybe later. I want a BLT right now.” Mollie said, picking up a menu.


After feeling pleasantly fed, Gil paid the bill, left a good tip, and escorted the ladies out the truck to head home. Shirley was walking down the street and walked over to them.

“So, what did you do to the Mayor? He’s walking around on cloud-9.” Shirly said, grinning.

“Well, if you don’t know then he’s good at his word. See you later Shirley.”

They got in the truck and headed home.

“Look, I don’t want it getting around that I had anything to do with getting the Mayor’s his grant. It was a risk, but I hope I can keep my name out of it.”

“Why?”

“It is not the whistle that moves the train. I got them their money. Let them come out heroes or zeros. It’s all on them. I’ve got enough to be proud of at Bluff View.”


MSNBC NEWS ALERT

“The body of Senator Roy Jackson, one of the Democrat Senators from Maryland, was found floating off of Hart Miller Island late this afternoon, his boat nearby. Local authorities have yet to determine the cause of death. Senator Jackson was instrumental in putting together the failed bill to give citizenship to an estimated 12 million undocumented immigrants currently within the United States.”

 

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 127

Colt gently laid the crossbow across the tree sand safety bar and slowly flipped the safety off. Aligning the sights on his target area, he slowly squeezed the trigger as the doe’s tail flipped. The bolt flew true and went all the way through the chest and buried itself into the ground. The doe went about twenty yards and went down.

“Good kill!” Billy said.

Billy shimmied down from a close-by tree and waited for Colt to climb down.

“You got the stuff?” Colt asked.

Billy patted his backpack and started walking beside Colt to the deer. Billy took out the foldable single tree with the block and tackle system and they quickly strung the deer up and field dressed it.

“You find the bolt?” Billy asked.

“Yeah, but the head is shot.”

“ We got plenty more where that one came from. I’ll go get the cart.” Billy said, soon returning with the game cart.

After getting it tied down, they worked their way around the edge of the ridge and along the river until they came to the fields and headed up the east side.

“She’s big.” Billy said.

“Yeah, at first I thought it was an antlerless buck. I want to turn it all into jerky and pemmican.” Colt said.

“You won’t hear me squalling. Dad makes great jerky and pemmican.”

They wheeled the carcass to their cleaning area and finished skinning the deer. Billy slit open a couple of contractor bags and lined the back of the Gator with them, then took the deer carcass up to the storage chamber to cool for a couple of days before cutting it up.

Gil watched as the women headed for the range for crossbow training then turned and headed for the shop. He pulled out one of the rough-cut Walnut boards and ran both sides through the plainer. After trimming it to size, he cut the board to lengths then planed the boards down to ½ inch. He set up the dovetail jig and began cutting the box joints.

“What’s up?” Brad said, walking in.

“Making boxes for whiskey. What have you been up to?”

“I filled the feed silo up. Weatherman is talking cold rain before the weekend.”

“Yeah, I saw it on the report this morning.” Gil said.

“Seems you been replaced on the news by fishing Senators.”

“Good. Hand me that dovetail saw.”

“You ready to do some more smoking? I’ve got a hankering for some pork BBQ.”

“Sure, I’ll get a couple of butts out tonight to thaw and we can do them up before the rain gets here. Now you’ve got my mouth watering.”

Brad chuckled. “Good. I’ll stop by the house and tell Grace you said to pull out a couple of butts.”

“Tell her four, and make sure to pull out the last two from the Spring.”

“Roger that.”

After Gil had finished cutting the dovetails he left everything on the bench and went to the house.

“Oh No! Not pork roast, fried potatoes, turnip greens and cornbread again!”

“Shut up! You know you love this meal, you big goof. You smell like sawdust. Go get cleaned up.”

“Yes Ma’am.”


For some reason, Alan loved turnip greens and Alana hated them, but she loved spinach, so Grace always had her a small serving when she cooked greens. Of course, the promise of strawberry shortcake made cleaning their plate more desirable. When they had finished, Billy took the twins into the Great Room while Gil and Grace cleaned up the kitchen.

“I want to make a run to Knoxville.” Grace said.

“What do we need?”

“Just the usual rotational things plus vinegar, reading glasses, I think we need more spare sets of rain gear, baby wipes, oils, waterless & Antibacterial soap, sewing and medical scissors, and if we can find them, some of those surplus wool Army blankets.”

“You got some Idea in your head?”

“We’ve got several bolts of denim. Mollie and I want to try making blanket lined denim ranch coats for everyone.”

“Okay. Who’s going?”

“Just you Mollie and me. Sarah’s going to watch the twins.”

“Okay. We’re going in the morning?”

“Yep.”

Then we’d better turn in early and get a good night’s sleep.” Gil said, wagging his eyebrows.”

“Maybe, but you might be too tired to drive in the morning.”

Gil reached to grab her she giggled and ran for the Great Room to get the twins ready for bed.

Tate and the crew were digging out the roadbed on a section of 344 that had developed low spots and potholes. They were removing old roadbed material and packing new in. A flash to his left caught his attention and turning his head, saw a car racing toward them with several police cars chasing it. Checking to his right to see if any traffic was coming, he backed the excavator up to block the clear lane. The car came speeding up. It broke through the orange barriers in the closed section and dove into the slight depression he had dug, slamming against the two-foot wall of the excavation. He waited while the police screamed up and then LE were swarming around the depression. Four officers jumped down and checked the driver and passengers of the car.

“Two are alive. Call a bus!”

Tate shut down the engine and just sat there next to the three-ring circus, watching. The ambulances arrived and took the three occupants away, escorted by the police. Glen Wells walked over to the excavator.

“Can you get that car out Tate?”

“You care how I get it out?

“Not especially.”

“Watch out then.”

Tate swivel the excavator around and moved to the front of the car. Rotating the breaking spike down, he pushed it through the windshield to its fullest extent and lifted the car, causing a considerable crease in the roof. He moved forward and dropped the car in the closed lane.”

“That okay Glen”

Glen chuckled. “That’s fine Tate.”

“What dd they do?”

“Home invasion up in Price Heights.”

Tate nodded.

A flatbed came and hauled the car away as Tate got back to work. Tate rubbed his hand across the holster on his hip before starting the engine.


Gil laid the stencil on the wood lid and scorched the River Bank label onto the wood with a propane torch. A guy in Knoxville had cut the stainless steel stencil on his laser cutting machine. Gil did the six box lids and set them aside. He’d give them a fine sanding and finish them with tung oil later.

“Dad, your satphone is ringing.”

“Okay Billy. I’ll be right in.”

Gil went to the house and picked up the satphone. The text message indicator was illuminated.

C U Sunday PM

“Well, I guess I better be home.” Gil thought.

“Can you ride to town with us this afternoon?” Grace asked.

“Who’s us?”

“Mollie, I, and the twins.”

“What’s happening?”

“Betty is interested in a couple of bolts of cloth we have excess of.”

“And you want me to babysit for you while you are wheeling and dealing?”

“Oh no!. Betty wants to see them. You can piddle around, or something can’t you?”

“Yeah sure, but…”

“Please? I….I feel a little safer if I know you are nearby.”

“Okay, I can kill time in Oh Henry’s and make some phone calls.”


Gil parked at Betty’s and walked the three blocks to Oh Henry’s and sat at a table.

He was erasing junk messages when the Mayor sat down in the seat across from him.

“Gil, isn’t there anything we can do in appreciation of you getting the grant put through? Maybe a nice write-up in the Rogersville Review?”

“Nope. Ecclesiastes 11:1.”

“Uh…I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“You go to church Mayor?”

“Well, yes. But I don’t have the verses memorized.”

“Well, I guess you could interpret that verse to say, ‘Cast thy bread upon the water, and after a time, thou shalt receive it back, and more along with it.’ I expect you to do great things for the town, Mayor. Don’t let me down.”

“Oh No! Of course not! We will be worthy stewards.”

“I’m sure you will be.”

“”Again Gil, thank you from all the citizens of Rogersville.”

“Don’t mention it. And I mean that.”

“Yes, yes! Mum’s the word.”

The Mayor scrambled off and Gil shook his head, going back to deleting junk mail.


Gil heard the plane before he caught sight of it. It came from the direction of Rogersville then suddenly the long cowling of a Porter-Pilatus broke through the misty fog and few over the chicken coop, banking slightly to the left and flying on down the river. He soon heard it return and slow as it lined up on the runway. The big tires touched down and the plane reversed prop and stopped within 100 feet. It slowly taxied up in front of the hanger and shut down.

“I never figured you’d fly a plane in here Bill.”

Bill stuck out his hand and grinned. “Any chance I get to play with the big-boy toys, I do it.”

“Want to go up to the house?”

“No. This won’t take long. I’m sending you a twenty-foot sealed shipping container. I want you to bury it if you can, but accessible. It has been sprayed with a rubberized coating but there’s a big pond liner you can further protect it with also. This is one of those ‘Break Glass In Case Of Emergency’ things. There is a resupply for a light infantry company inside it to cover 30 days of combat. Just keep it safe for us.”

“When is it coming?”

“Wednesday.”

“Okay, I’ll arrange for an excavator to put it in.”

“Well, I wish I had more time, but I have another stop to make.”

“Okay Bill. I’ll take care of it.”

Gil watched as Bill started the engine and taxied down to the turn-around, locked his brakes and revved the engine. When the tail lifted off the ground, he released the brakes, and the plane shot down the runway. Like one of the Ospreys he’d seen along the river, the plane soared up and over the ridge, turning towards Kingsport, disappearing into the mist..


Gil gazed around, trying to think about where to place the container. An idea struck him. Jumping into the Gator, he headed over to the sawmill. About 40 feet beyond the shelter was slope heavily covered with Wait-A-Minute vines. They stayed green all year round so they’d help with concealment. They could dig back into the slope and bury the container, throw a shed in front of it….concealed.

Gil drove down to the Home Depot in Morristown to pick up two five-gallon buckets of foundation sealer and a roll of perforated drainpipe with the sock. He had Billy paint four 8x8 8-foot oak beams with the foundation sealer to set the container on. He had gravel, so all he needed was the container and the hole dug. He’d wait until after the container was delivered before digging.

Gil contacted Don and negotiated for Tate to come over and dig the emplacement and set the shipping container in. Tate came the next day and dug a level space back into the bottom of the ridge and Gil, Brad and Colt hauled gravel, leveled the bottom of the shallow excavation, and cut drainage pipe to be laid once they had the container in place and covered with the pond liner. The men then prefabricated the base for an 8x8 shed that would but up against the front of the container. They had the floor and walls ready to put up quickly once the container was buried and in place. They hauled various lengths of the lap siding from the old house and had it ready to cut to length. Everything was ready, they just needed the shipping container.

 

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 128

When the container arrived the next day, Tate lifted the container off the flat bed with the excavator and let the driver leave. With a couple of guys on guy ropes steading the load, they moved the container to the emplacement site. After setting the container on the timbers and making sure it was level, they covered the container with the pond liner that had been strapped to the top of the container. They laid the drainage pipe and covered that with two feet of gravel, finishing filling around the container with soil. After tamping the soil in around the container, Billy and Carrie brought leaves from the surrounding forest and covered the exposed soil. They quickly moved the shed floor in front of the container and erected the walls. Two men were measuring and cutting siding while two were nailing it on. The wall siding was cut to contour the slope of the land, concealing the front edges of the container. Billy went into the woods and dug up even more roots from the Wait-A-Minute vines and buried them around the container. They had the roof all done before dark and left the excavator where it was for the night. Tate would take it back in the morning.


Gil had gone into town to do some banking business and decided to stop for a cup of coffee. He had just pulled out his phone when a woman walked up to his table.

“Mr. Conner, I’m Debra Gibbons with the Rogersville Review. I like to work up human interest stories on prominent citizens in the area for the paper. I’ve had several people suggest they would like to know more about you.”

“Well, first of all, I’m not a very interesting person, except maybe to my wife and kids. Then there’s the fact I have an aversion to the media, ALL media, and I am a private person who likes to be left alone.”

“Mr. Conner, there’s still the fact that rumors and stories are floating around about you. I just want to set the record straight.”

“And what, pray tell, are those rumors and stories?”

“Well, theories about the strange planes flying in and out of your property, weird watercraft, some that even fly, gunshots heard at odd times, a secured compound with a security gate, and I could probably go on. When I ask law enforcement about you they clam up faster than a televangelist can say ‘send money.’”

Gil smiled weakly. “Well, I hate to bust everyone’s bubble, but my story is simple. I came to this area with a lot of bad times and memories from the war and other things. I wanted solitude. I found it on the land my grandfather, Jim Connor, left me. I live there quietly with my family and some friends, or at least try. Yes there are some strange planes there. They are STOL aircraft. Short Takeoff and Landing. I don’t have enough runway space for a bigger aircraft, and I like to fly. The watercraft are hovercraft, and yes, one is able to fly a few feet above the water. The gunshots are from a range I built for recreation. We are hunters too. As far as a ‘secured compound, my inheritance brought me a bit of money, along with the woes. I’m sure you are aware that the rate of robberies and home invasions in the area have risen dramatically.

I settled here to harness my demons. Each of us have our own demons to bear. Hardly ever are they the same. I can’t begin to understand other people’s demons and they damn sure wouldn’t be able to understand mine, so writing about them wouldn’t do anyone any good except feed the intrusive minds of the busy-bodies. But I will say this, time and distance will heal most scars, whether it’s from warfare or women.”

“So, there is a mystery woman out there somewhere?”

Gil chuckled. “No, and don’t ever say anything like that around my wife. She’d be all over you like white on rice if she were to hear you impune my integrity.”

“So then, what is the mystery behind Gil Conner?”

“Ms. Gibbons, I’m sure you could go all the way up Highway 11 to Bristol, asking every man the same question, and you’d get the same answer. “Why the hell is it any of your business’?”

“Touché ,Mr. Conner, but there are many men willing to talk about their lives.”

“Yeah, it's a shame that those with less to boast about do it the most.”

“Ouch! The rapier pierces again. But your statement is telling. Well, I tried. I’ll buy the coffee next time.”

“Nice talking with you Ms. Gibbons.” Gil grinned, turning the voice recorder mode off on his phone.


Gil walked into the Great Room where Grace had “Pete’s Dragon” playing on the TV for the twins. Gil handed her his phone and said, “Press play.”

Grace listened to the conversation, smiling.

“Well, you answered her questions without fully answering much of anything. Now, what about this ‘Mystery Woman’?”

“You, My Dear, are the mystery woman. Sneaking into my domain in the middle of the night, capturing my heart and giving me a family I don’t deserve.”

“Come here you silver-tongued devil and give me a kiss.”


Gil got a call from Steve informing him that he and a crew would be there to evaluate and update the sensor system within the next couple of days. Gil thanked him and made sure one of the E-Gators would be available for their use.

Billy had just passed his evaluations for the 9th grade, a full year ahead of his age group, so Grace gave him a month off his studies. Actually, it would be more than 45 days because he wouldn’t start studies until after the 1st of January. Billy was excited to have the free time and was anxious to help out wherever he could.

Gil had decided to do a little re-arranging and studied burying another shipping container underground to store all the aging whiskey. Picking an area between Mollie’s cabin and the equipment barn, Gil ordered another rubber paint coated container with doors on one end from Jack’s father-in-law and had Tate dig him out a hole for it. Tate carefully skimmed the first ten inches of soil, which the locals called “leaf mold,” which was nothing more than rich decayed leaves and forest debris and set it aside to mix in with the compost. While Tate was excavating, Brad and Trace ran eight cedar logs through the mill, turning seven of them into square beams and one into planks. Gil’s idea was to put an overhang over the container to keep the rain off and to provide shade to keep the sun off the doors to maintain the coolness in the container. Liberal amounts of foundation sealer was applied to the foundation logs and the non-exposed portions of the rot resistant overhang logs. The steel in the container would rust out before the cedar would rot.

As they were putting the pond liner over the container, Steve and his crew arrived. Billy had been delegated to accompany them around, so he jumped into a Gator and headed to the airfield as the helicopter was landing, Gil shortly following. As the blades shut down, Steve got out and walked toward Gil.

“Hi, we’re here to talk to you about your vehicle's extended warranty.” Steve said.

Gil chuckled. “My ass! How’s it going buddy?”

“Couldn’t be better!”

“I thought you were getting out from under that company.”

“Edging my way there. I still own the major portion, but by March, they can have it all. That’s why we’re here….getting you a good deal on some new stuff while the getting’ is good.”

“Billy is going to accompany your crew around. He has the location of every sensor and rabbit path in the area memorized, so I thought he might be some help.”

“Thanks, I’ve got a couple of guys who weren’t out here before. What are you building over there?”

“An aging cellar for my finest.”

“Great! I hope there will be samples.”

“There will be. I’ll let you get to your work. I want to finish this up today. Y’all be back in for lunch.”

“Okay Gill. I’ll see you later.”

Gil cut cedar planks and framed in the ends and sides of the overhang to make a planter box and fill it with dirt. Going up the hillside, he spotted the dead stems of Ostrich Ferns and dug them up, planting them in the box. These grew long fronds that would droop over the sides of the overhang.

Grace and Mollie had pulled pork sandwiches and Freedom Fries when everyone came in for lunch. Allie, Shannon and Sarah, under Mollie’s tutelage, had made an apple cobbler with whip cream made from powder out of the LTS foods.

“I almost don’t want to go back out.” Steve said, patting his belly.

“Don’t.” Gil replied.

“Nah. We’ve got a little more to do on the survey. We’ll fly back this afternoon. There’s some equipment we need to pick up, then we’ll be back in the morning.”

“Okay. We’ll be busy moving kegs and barrels.” Gil said.


That afternoon, Gil, Trace, Brad, and Colt moved eight twenty-gallon kegs and ten two-gallon kegs to their “Aging Cellar,” which freed up a lot of room in the storage chamber. When they had everything moved, Gil took a used open-ended keg and set it in the “cellar” and filled it with water.

“What’s that for?” Brad asked.

“Humidity.” Gil answered.

“So, that’s why you had the insides painted with the rubber paint too?”

“Yep.”

“When’s it going to be time to ‘sample’ it again?” Colt asked.”

“Two weeks. I’ll let you guys know.”


Gil smiled as Billy the house with Sandy and his 20 gauge. They had discussed the quail and pheasant populations and decided they needed a little thinning. Gil gave Billy the go-ahead and told him to bring back six quail and two pheasants, total. They would go out a couple of days before Thanksgiving and bag a couple of turkeys together.

While he was thinking about it, Gil called and ordered a breeding pair of pheasants to get some new blood. He wanted to keep the population going and had even swapped some of the acreage in order to have better habitat for them and the quail.

“Gil, have you been listening to the news?” Grace asked.

“There is little that the agitprop media puts out that interests me.”

“Well, it seems as though several Democrat congress critters are resigning to ‘spend more time with their families.’”

Gil chuckled. “More likely they are starting to hear the blade dropping on the guillotine. Wasn’t there something the other day about several members receiving bouquets of tulips or something?”

“I thought you didn’t pay attention to the news!”

“”I think I heard it on the truck radio.”

Gil’s phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hello Mr. Mystery man.”

Gill waved frantically at Grace and put the phone on speaker mode.

“Ms. Gibbons, how can I help you?”

“Good. You’re already offering to help. I need to talk to you and your wife.”

Grace grinned and nodded.”

“Of course, but I don’t know when we’ll be back in town.”

“That’s okay. I can come to you. When would you and your wife be available?”

Gil looked at Grace. She mouthed ‘Thursday evening.’

“I think Thursday evening is open, say around 8:00?”

“That’s fine. I’m looking forward to it.”

Gil pressed the end call icon and looked at a laughing Grace.

“You are scared to death of her, aren’t you?”

“No, I just don’t trust her. People like her write what they want to climb the next rung on the ladder.”

“Well, it won’t hurt to see what she wants.”

“I guess.”

 

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 129

Shannon won another bid for a cargo container. She wasn’t expecting much but at least she won. She figured she could at least get back scrap prices for it. When it arrived from Delaware, the container was unloaded, and she signed for the shipment. Breaking the seal, she pulled the shipping documents and read them over, then called Gil.

“Gil, I got a container in. I think you should see this.”

“I’ll be right down.”

Gil locked up the Chamber and drove the Gator down to the bottom of the ridge.

Gil read the documents and grinned.

“”Well, we won’t be selling these. This has been on my mind for a little while.”

“What is it?”

“What we have here are two disassembled windmill water pumping systems, you know, like you see out west.”

“What are you going to do with them?”

“With these things, we might be able to use river water to irrigate the garden and greenhouse instead of well water. I’ll have to dig in here and get the manuals out and see what the max head is.”

Gil went and got the tractor and put the fork blades on the bucket to pull the pallets out of the container. He set the pallet on the ground they walked around and finally found the manuals under the plastic on the back of the pallet. Cutting the plastic wrap with his multi-tool, he loaded the pallet back into the container and closed the doors.

“Okay, you owe me $2586.00 then.”

“Come up to the house and I’ll pay you.”

They rode the Gator back to the house and while Shannon gabbed with Grace, Gil went to his office and got the money and went back downstairs.

“Shannon says you have some windmills.” Grace said.

“Yep, two of ‘em. I’m going to read through the manual. I might be able to irrigate the garden and greenhouse with river water instead of aquifer water. If the windmill has enough power, We might be able to pump it to a raised water tank, giving us enough pressure to use the sprinklers. Exciting isn’t it?”

Grace rolled her eyes.


Debra Gibbons arrived at 1955 Thursday evening. Grace buzzed her through the gate and Gil met her at the door. The twins had just gone to bed and Billy was in his room, so it was just Grace Gil, and Ms. Gibbons in the Great Room.

Ms. Gibbons started. “I’ll come right out. This has nothing to do with a story….per se. Even though no one is talking, I can read between the lines. I know you had a great deal to do with the city getting the grant. I’d like you to become a Secret Santa, sort of, if you’re willing.”

Gil sat there looking at her, hand rubbing his chin. “I’m listening.”

“There are a few families in this town that need help. They’ve come through hard times though through no fault of their own and are too proud to accept help. I’d like them to receive some help in a way they couldn’t refuse it. I will not be keeping any notes nor writing any stories about this.”

“How long is this to last?” Gil asked.

“Through Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

“And you have the families identified?”

Ms. Gibbons opened up the briefcase she carried and pulled out a handful of manila folders. She picked up the first one and opened it, handing it to Gil.

Gil looked at the first page. The first page detailed the difficulties the family of three was having. Stapled to it were biographies of each family member. Their height, weight, and even clothing sizes were listed.

“Were you ever in the military?” Gil asked her.

“Ms. Gibbons smiled. “407th Military Intelligence detachment.”

“Some of this information is not supposed to be releasable due to the Privacy Act.”

“Santa has a lot of helpers.”

“So, what do you need from me, besides financing?”

Ms. Gibbons reached into her purse and pulled out five $100 bills. “I’m willing to chip in. We have a few other donors but with the economy the way it is, I don’t know if we can cover the five families I’ve selected.”

“I assume you have a list of needs for each family?”

“It’s in the folder.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’ll be transferring funds as donations come in.”

“What is in this for you?”

She paused for a second. “Every day I see people trying their hardest to make a good life for their families. I want to help, but I can’t do it on my own. A lot of civic and religious organizations are doing the best they can, but it isn’t going to be enough. These five families stuck out because they aren’t giving up. In the folder that you’re holding, the father is working a low-paying day job at the Speedway down in Bulls Gap while his wife works as a maid at the Super 8 across the street. He is a highly regarded diesel mechanic but got laid off.”

“Okay, I’ll go through these files and see what we can do.”

“Thank you Mr. Conner.” Ms. Gibbons said, her eyes watering.

She closed her briefcase and stood up.

“Don’t go.” Grace said. “Stay and have some coffee or perhaps some tea.”

“No, I really must be going but thank you.”

They walked her out the door and to her car. Just drive up to the gate slowly and it will automatically open.” Grace said.

“Thank you.”

They watched as she went down the drive.

“She seemed sincere.” Grace said.

“Yes, she did. Well, want to do it?”

Grace grinned. “Yes, let’s do it!”


Grace call for a coffee klatch with all the other women. After she told them what was going on, they each read the files in turn and took notes. Their next step was to come up with an items list for them to put together a Thanksgiving meal box. They didn’t have much time so some of the items would come out of their storage. Items to prepare a complete meal, to include a turkey and a ham were assembled for each of the five families. Gil figured out the cubic footage and made plywood boxes and Carrie painted them in a Thanksgiving theme and the lid was topped with a muscadine vine wreath with holly leaves on the lid. Two days before Thanksgiving, each family received a box at their front door in the night, announced only by a knock. When the knock was answered, no one was there, just the box.

Colt surreptitiously took videos of the doors being answered for later viewing.

Thanksgiving was even more meaningful this year. Everyone had taken part in the secret project and a sense of pride was felt by everyone. As they held hands around the table, each felt blessed and gave thanks for what they had.

“What did you do Billy? Shoot the big tom?” Brad asked.

“Dad told me to. He said it was time some young tom moved up in the pecking order, no pun intended.”

After dinner, the food was placed in the warming oven or refrigerator, dishes were cleaned and the men sat in the Great Room lazily sipping whiskey and watching the football games while the women excitedly planned Christmas for the five families.

“Don, Tate mentioned Ben was getting behind on the repairs at the shop.”

“Yeah, Ben is good, but he’s getting on in years. We had a differential go out in one of the trucks the other day that’s going to put him even more behind.”

“Could you use a good mechanic to help him out?”

“I wish I could find one.”

Gil handed Don a slip of paper. “Call this guy and check him out….don’t bring my name up.”

“When are you going to do the windmill, Gil?” Trace asked.

“Ahhh….not until the Spring. We’ll run things as usual. It’ll give me the time to figure out the concrete for the base and the amount of pieces and parts we’ll need. Man, Alabama is eating them alive!”


Gil walked out on the deck with his cup of coffee and breathed in the crisp air, Looking at the ridges bathed in colors of the deciduous and coniferous trees on the slopes, blending to make a natural colorscape, he sighed. If only the rest of the world was as peaceful as what I see at this moment. Gil thought.

Gil turned and walked back inside to the smell of ham frying.

“You want to make the pancakes?” Grace asked.

“Sure,” said Gil, setting his cup on the counter. Taking out the canister of Pancake mix, he measured enough for them….and maybe a couple of more and added the reconstituted powdered milk. Getting out another fry pan, he let it heat up and added bacon grease. Once the pan was hot enough, he ladled the batter into the pan.

“What do you have on your agenda today?” Gil asked.

“Finishing up the Secret Santa gifts. Are you going to make the boxes for us?”

“They’re finished. Is Carrie going to paint them?”

“Just the food boxes. We’ll wrap the present boxes with foil wrapping paper and put a big bow on it.”

“Those are going to be hard to sneak around.”

“Oh, I’m sure you sneaky Pete soldier-boys will figure out a way to get them delivered.”

Gil just gave a grunt.

“What are you doing today?”

“I need to go pick up pipe and pieces and parts at the Co-op for the windmill project this morning. This afternoon, I promised the guys they could help me test the aged whiskey.”

“Uh oh! Is this going to get nasty?”

“No. They’ll only have a little sip from each barrel so I can get their thoughts.”

“Well, I’m sure all of you will come back a wee glassy-eyed.”

“Maybe so….but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Where’s the platter?”


After breakfast, Gil headed into town. The weather, well, was just there. A front had moved in and had turned into one of those dreary, greyish, misty days when you could barely see the tops of the ridges. Almost, but not quite, like looking through frosted glass. It was a little clearer next to the ground. It was one of those days that made you want to go back home and huddle next to the fire and read a book. But Gil had his schedule to keep so he kept the nose of the truck between the white lines and waved when he was waved at and took the irregular turns (according to Grace) to get to the Farmer’s Co-op. There, he bought four 100' rolls of 1" polyethylene pipe and assorted polyethylene pipe fittings. He needed about twice that much, but he didn’t bring a trailer with him. He would have a lot of pipe to bury but if he put the windmill next to the river along with a 3000-gallon water tank on a 20-foot platform, which would put the water flowing with a drop of almost 75 feet. Heck, that was enough to power an undershot water wheel….he’d keep that in the back of his mind for later. As he was loading everything in the back of the Power Wagon, Chief Ray Dalton pulled up in front of him, effectively blocking him in.

“Something wrong Ray?”

“Now why would you ask that, Gil?”

“You’ve got me blocked in.”

“Oh, That’s so you can’t leave until Will Tatum can get here.”

“What’s the Sheriff want?”

“We’ll tell you when he gets here. He’s on his way.”

Gil continued to load the truck.

A couple of minutes later Sheriff Tatum pulled in and got out of his car.

“Morning Gil.”

“Morning Sheriff. What’s going on?”

“Gil, Ray and I want to ask you to be a reserve law enforcement officer.”

“For which department?”

“Both.”

“Now, how is that going to work and why?”

 

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 130

Oh, you won’t be directing traffic or writing tickets and such, you’ll be kind of our on-call militia.”

“Now there’s a name that could get me put on a watch list.” Gil said, frowning.

“Okay, okay. We won’t call it that. You’re our reserve. You are highly trained; you hold a federal carry license…”

“I’m not the only one around here that has a lot of training and carries a fed. Palmer, Carter, and Bennigan do too.”

“We know, and we want them in also.

“So, what will be our responsibilities?”

“”Back us when needed, you see something, do something about it….legally, of course.”

“I’ll talk to the other guys, but we’ll see.”

“We appreciate it, and we need a couple of bottles of that River Bank too Gil.”

“Now Sheriff, you know I can’t be making that except for personal consumption,”

“I know, but for the public’s safety, we’ll need a couple of samples to test to see that it doesn’t contain any chemicals and such of a danger to the body and soul.”

“Well, I can’t attest to the soul part but it’s as pure as the purest spring water.”

“We’ll have to judge that ourselves.”

Gil grinned. “I’ll make sure you get a couple of samples then.”

“We’ll see you later Gil.”

“Gil watched them drive off, shook his head, and drove back home.


Gil pulled up next to a shipping container and unloaded everything, the Chief’s, and Sheriff’s request swirling through his mind. He’d talk to the guys this afternoon. When he went into the house, he went to his office and set aside two of the walnut display boxes of the River Bank to take with him the next time he went to town.

He went down to where Mollie and Grace were working on what looked like lists in the kitchen nook.

“Getting it together?”

“We’re done. We just need to wrap the big boxes and they’ll be ready to go tomorrow night.”

“What about trees?”

“Actually, there will be three boxes you guys will be delivering to each family. One for food, one of presents, and one with a 4-foot free and ornaments.”

“We’re going to need more manpower.”

“Well, I kinda clued Tate in on this and he’s willing to help and there’s Billy too.”

“Okay, sounds doable.”

“The girls will be here after lunch to start wrapping everything.”

“You need me for anything?”

“No, you guys do your hairy-chested whiskey testing, and we’ll finish this up.”

Gil chuckled. “You mean ‘stay out of our hair’?”

“I didn’t say that, you did.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Gil went out to his shop and checked his equipment list for the windmill installation and checked numbers off. He’d still have to buy more parts and pieces, but he had plenty of time. He looked around and made a couple of notes in his notebook. A trip to Knoxville was needed after Christmas to pick up more steel and welding supplies. If he could buy enough, they would deliver the steel themselves. He could add some rebar to the order. There was always a use for rebar.


After lunch, Gil drove down to the Aging Cellar and Brad, Colt, Trace and Tate were waiting on him. As Gil got out of the Gator, he looked at Tate.

“Don said for me to come down and be a witness.”

Gil chuckled. He unlocked the doors, and they went in. Taking an auto-siphon and a tube of red plastic shot cups out of a box, he set up five cups and pulled the bung from the first barrel. He drew the whiskey into the siphon tube and placed ½ ounce into each cup and they all tasted it. He wrote down their comments. By the time they had finished the eighteen various size kegs, there were five placid, slightly red-eyed individuals seated on stump seats around the outside of the cellar.

“Tate, you don’t hold a federal firearms carry license, do you?” Gil asked.

“No just state.”

“Colt, Brad, and Trace. The Sheriff and Police Chief want those of you with feds to be reserve officers.”

“Now you’re making me feel like Barney Fife.” Brad said. “Do we get one bullet too?”

Gil chuckled. “No, nothing like that. If you see something, do something, but legally. You’ll have arrest powers and basically back up the town and county law enforcement.”

“Okay. I could do that. We do that anyway. Do we get to handle school crossings too?” Colt asked.

“No. Nothing like that. Just keep eyes and ears open and be prepared to assist.”

Tate looked a little dejected. Gil made a mental note to see if Bill could do something.


Gil felt like they were playing cops and robbers, sneaking around people’s houses late at night. Except instead of taking, they were dropping of boxes of Christmas cheer. When the last parcels had been delivered, they made their way back to Bluff View and the impromptu celebration party Grace and the ladies had put together. As they raised a toast to those who care, Tate said. “This is special, for once in my life during Christmas, I feel like I’ve really done something to bring cheer into the lives’ of people we don’t even know. I hope we can do this next year.”

They all looked at one another and nodded.

That night, Sheriff Will Tatum and Chief Ray Dalton were both aggravated, at first, when they answered the doorbell late at night and no one was there. But their frowns magically turned into smiles when they saw the walnut box sitting by their door.


All the families were up early Christmas morning to do their family things, but all congregated back at the Conner’s for an afternoon dinner and enjoying everyone’s company. Gil handed out to each man presentation boxes of River Bank, which they sipped, while the ladies imbibed Strawberry Wine.


Gil came downstairs to find Grace standing in the kitchen door looking into the dining area. Gil walked up behind her and wrapped her in his arms.

“What are you thinking?”

“Is there some way we can extend the dining area out more, like onto the deck or something? We really need a longer table when we have everyone here for dinner.”

“I’m sure there is. I’ll call Boyd Haskell and see if he has any free time to come up and take a look. One way or another, we’ll have you a bigger dining room before our next big gathering. How long of a table do you want to put in here?”

“Can you build a twelve-foot table?”

“Wow! Yeah, I suppose I can, and the same width?”

“Yes, the width is just right.”

“Oak okay?”

“Yes, the same stain and all.”

“Okay. I know what I’m doing on my snow days now.”

And for Gil, the snow days started early. On New Years Day, they awoke to six inches of snow covering Bluff View.


Billy was combing the Beggar Lice out of Sandy’s fur when Gil walked into the Great Room.

“Man, she really got into them!” Gil said.

“Yeah, she went and stirred up the quail down near the southern feed plot.” Billy replied.

Gil chuckled and continued to the kitchen and got a Klean Kanteen out of the fridge and took a long drink.

“Debra is stopping by in a bit.” Grace said, coming in from the dining room.

Puzzled, Gil looked at Grace and recapped the bottle.

“Your uncomprehensible Ms. Gibbons, Sweety.”

“Gil grunted, opened the fridge and got a smoked venison meat stick out and sat down at the dinette.”

“What does she want?”

“She wants to give you the rest of the funds collected from the Secret Santa Project.”

The gate buzzer sounded on the control panel.

“Speak of the devil.” Gil muttered.

Grace walked over and buzzed her in. A few minutes later Grace guided her into the dining room where Gil had remained seated.

“Meat stick?” Gil offered.

“Yes, I believe I would. Thank you.”

Surprised, Gil got up and took the container of meat sticks out of the fridge and set it on the table. Grace brought Debra a cup of coffee with cream and sat it before her. Debra reached into the container for a meat stick and bit the end off of it.

“Gil, can I show her the video?” Grace asked.

“Sure.”

Grace brought her laptop to the table and showed Debra a compilation of the filmed Secret Santa visits to the five families at Thanksgiving and Christmas. A tear formed in the corner of Debra’s eye.

“I can only imagine how they felt when they opened those boxes. Oh, and it seems three of the men have suddenly found good paying jobs in the area.”

Gil drank his water, otherwise he kept his mouth shut.

“Grace your husband is the most inscrutable man I have ever met.”

Grace leaned back from the table in mock surprise. “I don’t know how you can say that! He warms right up when I rub his tummy.”

Both women started giggling as Gil blushed.

Debra stopped giggling and looked at Gil.

“I’m not the bad boogeyman you seem to think I am. Yes, I’m a media writer, reporter, whatever you want to call me. I’m also a stringer for the Tennessee Star. I don’t report the news, I do human interest stories where I can write emotions in. If I were reporting the news, my emotions and opinions would have no business in a news report.”

“Okay, maybe you aren’t so bad after all.” Gil said with a glint in his eyes.

Debra reached into her purse and brought out a thick envelope and laid it in front of Gil.

“As promised, there are the rest of the donations for Operation Secret Santa.”

“Operation Secret Santa? I didn’t know you were calling it that.” Gil said, sliding the envelope over to Grace.

Let’s start an account at Community Bank. Tell Gerald we want an interest bearing checking account and if they don’t offer it, we’ll move our accounts to somewhere else. Match whatever’s there for next year.”

“You’re going to do this again next year?” Debra asked.

“Of course, and you are going to be the bird dog who finds us worthy people, that is, unless you win a Pulitzer and run off to New York or somewhere.”

“Oh no, my roots are too deep here. But Operation Secret Santa would have been a good story the Star would have bought in a heartbeat.”

“Then write it.” Gil said. Just no names and I want to read it before you send it in.”

“Of course! I did write up a kind of draft…just for practice. I’ll polish it up and bring it over.”

“Great, we’re having a cookout Saturday afternoon. Bring it over and eat with us.” Grace said.

“Absolutely!” Gil said. “I’m cooking chitlins. You like yours stump-slung and fried or spigot-washed and boiled?”

Debra’s face turned pale.

“Gil! Stop it! Debra, he’s doing kabobs and veggies. Please come.”

Debra glared at Gil. “I’ll be here.”

Gil chuckled and took a bite off another meat stick.

“Gotcha.” He said, grinning.


Boyd Haskell called and said he had some free time on Saturday to come up and see what Gil wanted to do. Gil persuaded him to come up in the afternoon and stay for the cookout also. Billy and the men helped set out the patio heaters and a few more chairs under the retractable deck awnings. Grace asked they put out three of the foldable 36” patio tables and their chairs also. Carrie brought out plastic tablecloths to put on the tables with Billy’s help. While the women were inside cutting up vegetables to be grilled and making fresh baguettes, Gil slipped quietly to the basement with Billy and brought back bottles of mead and the horn mugs. Billy filled the mugs for the men and poured a soda in another one.

 

[Mr Bill]

Thanks for the updates

 

[feralferret]

Thank you!

 

[artjs]

Thank you!!!! Love the stories

 

[wvstuck]

Thank you. As always I can’t wait to continue this journey.

 

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 131

Gil raised his mug, "An abwesende Genossen! Gruß!" <("To Absent Comrades! Salute!")

<“Gruß!"

Grace poked her head out of the door and announced Boyd’s arrival. Gil went through and guided Boyd back to the deck and poured him a mug of mead.

“This place turned out really nice Gil. What did you want to do?”

Gil walked him over and explained what Grace wanted.

“You see that’s going to take about five feet off your deck. Do you want us to extend the deck out also?”

“That would be great, as long as it doesn’t look like a patch job.”

“No problem. What about the covered outdoor kitchen?”

“Leave it like it is, if you can make the deck extension kind of blend in.”

“No problem.”

“Gil, start the grill!” Grace shouted.

“Happiness, and the duties my wife gives me, are inseparably connected.” Gil grinned.

Grace and Mollie brought out the kabob skewers and the vegetables and Billy began tossing the vegetables in the grill basket while Gil handled the kabobs. The men stood around and made rude and socially unacceptable comments about Gil’s grilling abilities, which Gil replied with a covertly offered single-finger salute. The ladies came out with plates, silverware holders, napkins, and baskets of warm baguettes. Mollie and Shannon came over with large serving bowls and the vegetables were put in one and Gil stripped the meat off the skewers into the other. When everyone was seated and the blessing said, it was elbows and appetites after that, along with cheerful commentary. Debra looked around and was amazed at the familial atmosphere
displayed. This must be heavenly being around these people daily.

When everyone had left, Gil, Grace and Debra were sitting at the dining table. Grace slid a file folder holding Debra’s article over to Gil. He opened it up and started reading the two pages. Reading down the page, his eyes locked on the last paragraph...

“Where once these stealthy warriors used their skills to protect this nation, this night, they used their techniques to bring happiness to a few in need. Where we once paid these brave people to risk their lives in service of their country, this night, their payment was the joy they saw in a child’s eyes when they saw what their Secret Santas had left.”

Gil laid down the paper and cleared his throat. Getting up, he went to the fridge and got out his water bottle and took a long drink. He walked over to the Berkey and refilled the bottle, replacing it back on the door of the fridge then turned back toward the table.

“That’s good.”

A surprised Debra looked at a grinning Grace.

“See? I told you he was a big Teddy Bear!” Grace said giggling.

“Hush women, or you’ll be put to the stocks!”

Debra grinned. “So, I have your permission to send this in?”

“Yes, you really did a good job. Thank you.”

Debra gave a sigh of relief. “Well, I need to get going. I want to send this out to the Star editor tonight.”

“Thank you for coming Debra, and don’t be a stranger.” Grace said.

They walked her out to her Jeep and watched as she drove down the drive.

“See? She did pretty good on that article.” Grace said, climbing the steps.

“Yeah, it was nice.” Gil agreed.


The Farmer’s Almanac said it was going to be a hard winter. January 20th brought another four inches of snow, which brought them to one inch over normal for the year. It didn’t last long but it gave him a little bit of time in the shop to work on the dining table. He had planed several boards before he was able to get the quality woods he wanted. He started on the top first, planing and cutting the boards to get them ready for gluing. Once he had the top glued and clamped, he and Brad milled oak logs until he found a couple that would make good legs. He had cut the beams into four-foot lengths to be turned on the lathe and had them kiln dried. Gil let Grace pick out the turning style and he made a pattern. Taking a whole day to sharpen his lathe knives, Gil made sure everything was ready before he even tried to start. He didn’t like to stop and start when doing turnings.

Brad picked up one of the six table legs Gil was getting ready to stain.

“Dang Hoss! This table is going to weight a ton!”

“Eight hundred and seventy-eight pounds, more or less.” Gil said, grinning. “That’s why I made it to be taken apart.”

Brad picked up a rag and helped Gil finish staining the wood.

“I’ll let this sit the rest of the day and start applying the finish tomorrow afternoon.” Gil said.

“I’ll help. When are they going to start on the dining room extension?”

“Boyd says Monday if the weather holds. If it doesn’t, well, Grace will just have to pout.”

They bagged the rags and set them outside and went to the house. Grace and Allie were sitting in the Great Room talking.

“Well, your table is almost done. I just need to put the finish on.” Gil said.

“I’ll wait to see it when it is finished, so I’ll be surprised.” Grace said.

“What’s for dinner, Allie?” Brad asked.

“I’ve got a pot roast in the slow cooker.”

“Let’s go, I’m starving.”

Gil followed Grace into the kitchen and got a drink of water while Grace stirred the beef stew.

“I’ll plate this while you get the kids.”

“Yes Ma’am.”


Gil was thankful that since they had been sworn in as Reserve LE no one had been in the position to use their authority. The Sheriff’s Department was keeping more patrols out on roads to the interstate and the Highway patrol was keeping a watch at the interchanges, so things were quiet for now.


Gil stayed out of the way and watched as the workmen put the final touches on the extension and managed to get the logs stained to the exact color of the house. They had sloped the roof over the extension and added a skylight, giving more light to the dining area. Grace was excited as she watched everything they did. The other half of the crew had finished the deck and were just about done with the steps. This was going to be nice. He needed to check to see if there were powered awnings that would extend the extra five feet to cover the new part of the deck. He’d call that afternoon.

Gil called and yes, they could custom build and install the awnings. They would even buy the used awnings off of him. They had been selling as much used equipment as they were new these days.


On the first of February, Grace wanted to have a house warming meal to reveal the new extension, not that everyone hadn’t already seen it. The women decided to make homemade pizza to eat. The men were detailed to get the new dining table in and set up and with more than a number of grunts got it put together. Gil had bought furniture slides and glued them to the bottom of the table legs, so it was easy to move the table to the exact place Grace wanted it, and without scratching the floor. The men went off to celebrate in the Great Room while the women continued preps for the pizza. They would actually use the outside wood-fired pizza oven that Grace had begged for and had used only a half-dozen times.

Gil went out and checked the pizza oven, adding a little more wood to it. The men followed him out to get some fresh air.

“Smells like snow.” Brad said.

“Yeah.: Gil agreed. “I was looking at the NOAA weather site and if the jet stream dips any lower we’re going to be in for some cold weather. With moisture drifting out of the Gulf, we could be in for a few inches.”

“I thought it felt different too, so I fed the stock a little more feed.” Billy said.

“Good thinking. What’s that thermometer read, Colt?”

Colt looked on the wall. “Twenty-nine degrees.”

“Well, looks like I’ll be checking my guns tomorrow for carbon residue.”

“I’ll probably clip my toenails.” Brad said.

“Be ready for snow removal on the driveway when, and if, it stops snowing.” Gil added.

It was getting colder, so they went back in to wait for the women to start putting the pizzas together.


Trace woke with a start. He didn’t hear any ‘night noises.’ Sliding the pistol out of its holster on the night table, he slowly got up and crept to the window in the kitchen, staying in the shadows.

Snow. There was a good bit of snow, and it was still falling. He looked at the clock and it showed 0400. Crap! He wouldn’t get back to sleep now. He turned on lights and put on a sweat suit. Going to the stove, he put on a tea kettle full of water and set up his coffee pod coffee maker used by high-end campers. It was pretty neat. You put one of those coffee pods like you use in a Keurig machine , placed the water container on top, pour boiling water in, place a cup under the outlet hole then press down on the plunger. It even sounded like a Keurig machine as the water squirted through the pod. Best of all, it didn’t use electricity. Tate selected a pod of hot chocolate and put the water tank in place and waited for the kettle to start whistling. Picking up the TV remote, he turned on the TV to a Kingsport channel to see what was going on with the weather. It didn’t look too bad, but it didn’t look all that good either. He’d probably receive a call from Don around 0600 telling him not to come in.

The pot whistled and Tate made his hot chocolate, taking it over to his chair and picked up his book. Jacking up the footrest, he changed the channel on the satellite receiver to some mood music and opened his book.

Don called at 0615 and told Tate they weren’t going out that day. Tate told him when the snow stopped he’d go down and use a Bobcat to clear around the buildings and equipment. Don told him he’d meet him there.


Gil woke up at his normal time and something was different. He pulled on his pants, moccasins and sweatshirt and slipped downstairs. He turned on the deck light and saw the snow, then glanced at the snow gauge. Ten inches. A few flakes were still falling. He turned the light back out and made his way into the kitchen and set the percolator up and turned on the TV. He tuned in to the weather channel and they talked like it was a snowmageddon, but he didn’t see anything about I-40 or I-81 being closed so it wasn’t that bad. People should just keep their butts at home and stay warm by the fire. That thought drew Gil over the fireplace and he uncovered the glowing coals and with a little kindling, got the fire going. He flipped the switch on the heat-a-lator, and soon warm air was blowing through the vents into the room. Hearing the coffee perked, he went back into the kitchen and turned the burner off and poured the coffee into a carafe then started another pot. It was going to be a two-pot morning.

 

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 132

Tate glanced up from his book and looked at his watch. 0530. He slipped a bookmark in his book, stretched, and got up. He put the kettle back on and rinsed the coffee maker off and selected a k-cup of Columbian. He turned on an induction burner on and set the cast iron frying pan on it then set the convection to 375 degrees. Getting a package of country ham and the eggs out of the refrigerator and two frozen biscuits out of the freezer, he began making breakfast.

Thirty minutes later, taking the last bite of the buttered biscuit smeared with strawberry preserves into his mouth, Tate read about the snowstorm on his tablet. The interstates were open so it was going to be the local roads most effected by the snow. He got up and looked out at the snow and there were only a few flakes still falling. After cleaning up his dishes and wiping everything down, he went and took a shower, pulling out fleece-lined jeans, thermal underwear and his heavy boots and socks, he then took a hot shower and dressed. Pulling on a flannel shirt, he got everything tucked in and put his gun in the waistband holster. Putting on his trapper’s hat and the RefrigiWear parka and gloves, he headed for the construction yard. His truck had no problem making it and he parked it out of the way. Going into the building, he checked the fuel and oil in the Bobcat and started it, letting it warm up while he raised the garage door. Clearing out from in front of the door, he shut it and started moving the snow to the southwest corner of the lot.


Grace came down the stairs yawning.

“How much snow did we get?”

“Ten inches, maybe a little more. I’m going to check the furnaces.”

“Okay, I’ll wait ‘til you get back to start breakfast. Oh! Can you bring back a dozen eggs from the canning house?”

“Yes Dear.”

Gil put on his winter wear and got the Gator out of the garage and drove around to the house furnace. He added wood and made a note to remove the ashes today. The greenhouse furnace was in good shape, and he added as much wood as he could and set the damper. He quickly checked for varmint tracks around the chicken coop and made sure they had food and water before going back to the house. After putting the Gator back in the garage, he carried a snow shovel back to the deck and cleared it and the steps before stomping the snow off of his boots and going inside. Grace had already laid the “snow blanket” on the backdoor floor so he took his boots off and placed them in the drip pan. Billy came downstairs with his cold gear on and started putting on his trapper’s hat and parka.

“Where are you going?” Gil asked.

“To clear out Grandma Mollie’s place then go check the stock.”

“Go ahead to Mollie’s but come back here for breakfast before you check the livestock. You fed them extra last evening. They can wait a little while.”

“Yes Sir.”

Gil walked into the kitchen, set the eggs on the counter, and poured a cup of coffee from the carafe.


By 0900, all the males had gathered at the equipment barn to attach snow blades to the Gators and tractor. They left out in their usual formation and quickly had the driveway cleared. When they got to the pasture, they spread out and made one big swath and entered the pasture and cleared that. When they reached the main road, no traffic had travel on it nor no snowplows or trucks so they cleared all the way across the highway so when they did plow it, snow wouldn’t be thrown back into the driveway.

On the way back they cleared Trace’s drive and down to Colt’s house and from around the greenhouse area. They quit and cleaned up the equipment before lunch.


The partially melting snow quickly froze at night forming ice on the melt runoffs. For the next week, the conditions stayed the same, melting during the day and freezing at night. Some of the shaded areas on the highways never melted during that week and caused numerous wrecks until the highway department put down enough salt and sand. The people at Bluff View stayed at home and did small chores to keep busy.


Since the highways were clear, Gil decided to do a run into Knoxville, with Brad riding with him, to pick up steel blanks and stock up on welding supplies. There were a couple of icy patches near Bull Gap, but the roads were pretty good.

“We need to schedule another day of weapons familiarization before Spring plowing.” Gil said.

“I’ll check everything out. Just give me a time.” Brad replied.

“What do you think about including Tate?”

“Sure, he’s’ got a good head.”

I think there’s more to him than meets the eye.”

They got the steel Gil wanted and went by Holston Gas and picked up nozzles, gasses, wire, and rods and were home and unloaded by lunch.

When he walked in the house, Debra Gibbons was sitting with the twins while they ate their lunch.

“Ms. Gibbons, what a pleasant surprise. Writing any new stories?”

“I’d like to write an article but I’m afraid your answers would be too ambiguous for me to have a presentable piece.”

“Come now, I am an open book.”

“Yes, but many of the words in that book have been redacted.”

Gil picked up a sandwich off of his plate and walked up to his office.

“Debra don’t mind him. He’ll come around. When he first met you he generalized you as just another of the media pukes that were more concerned with a Pulitzer than informing their readers of the truth.

The subconscious mind is the storehouse of everything that has ever happened in a person’s life. It is a history book. It records information, details and makes associations so the conscious mind can access these at a later time. The subconscious also stores your perceptions, beliefs, patterns, habits, and emotions. It took me a while to figure it out, but Gil has been through a lot of things in his life, more than anyone in his age should have, I’d guess. At first, I thought he could read minds, but soon I realized that all his actions and thoughts were governed by his instincts fed by his subconscious. He's seen the way reporters have been both while he was in the military and in civilian life. His aversion to you was pre-programmed. Once he gets to know you and see the real you, all his assumptions will melt away.”

“I hope so. I would like to know you both as friends and not as an adversary.”

“Well, you’re halfway there. I consider you a friend. So, how did the others out in the reader world like your article?”

“Oh, the Star editor loved it and wants more. I have a couple of ideas that include Bluff View, but I don’t know how Gil would take it.”

“How would I take what?” Gil said, walking in in his moccasins.

Debra jumped, a look of panic in her eyes.”

Grace laid a hand on Debra’s arm.

“She’s got a couple of story ideas and I’m thinking we would be a part of that story.” Grace said.

Gil got his water bottle out of the fridge and sat down at the table. Taking a drink of water, he looked at Debra.
“Well? What’s your story line?”

Debra fidgeted with the teaspoon next to her cup. Well, I was thinking of writing about the day-to-day activities of a subsistence life. You grow most of your own food, you live a quiet life, and you do things together. The things you don’t see in nuclear families today.”

“Well, I probably wouldn’t buy the book. Sounds kind of boring but give it a shot. You really turned a sow’s ear into a silk purse on the last story.”

“Gil! That was a beautiful endeavor, and she wrote a beautiful story!” Grace said.

“Well, you two work out how you’d do this. Same rules though. We get to review it before you release it.”
“Debra nodded. “Agreed.”

Gil nodded, got up, and went into the Great Room while Grace and Debra conspired in the kitchen.

Gil greased the grease points on the bottom plows and the disc harrow as Colt and Brad changed the engine oil and filters in the tractors.

“What do you want to do with the oil Gil?”

“Pour it in that drum over there. When it’s full I’ll take it to the recycle center.”

It was one of those “nasty” days. Misty, so misty it was almost like a drizzle, with the temperature around 45 degrees. They had a portable propane forced air heater, but the building was so big it was only good for warming their hands occasionally. They had finished up and turned the heater off, Gil walked over to the Aging Cellar and opened the door and turned on the lights. Earlier in the winter he had glued 2” foam insulation sheets to the door to see if it would help regulate the temperature. Checking the thermometer, he was pleased the temperature was staying a constant 59 degrees. Using a flashlight, he inspected each keg and paid particular attention to one keg he had marked previously. Getting the siphon and a shot cup, he sampled the keg. It could be left for another week and checked again. He dropped a few more charred spirals into the keg before replacing the bung. It was almost ready. Locking the doors back up, Gil went over to the outdoor furnace, cleaned out the ash box and added more wood. As he continued his rounds to the greenhouse, Debra went by in her Jeep, headed toward the house. He checked the temperature in the greenhouse, and it was fine. As a matter of fact, he took his time walking around and just looking to take the chill out of his bones. He finally left and went back to the house.

Gil took off his coat and hung up his hat when he entered the house, then headed for the kitchen, picked up the carafe, and gave it a slight shake.

“I just made a fresh pot.” Grace called from the Great Room.

Gil poured a mug and joined Grace.

“Deb is in the guest cabin getting her things arranged.” Grace said.

“Arranged for what?”

“She’s going to be staying there while she writes her article.”

“Humph!”

“Now don’t be that way. She’ll get a better perspective. Anyway, you told us to work out how we would do this.”
”Me and my big mouth!” Gil thought.

Grace walked over and hugged him. Be nice. She’s going to do it up right.

As in nature, stupid things either die, or they don’t last very long and kind of fade from existence. In this case the stupid things were three thugs who thought knocking over a local hick town bank would be easy.

 

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 133

Throughout its history, the city planners of Rogersville weren’t planning very well when it came to streets. Some of them were laid out haphazardly. Occasionally, a politician, as a political favor, would get a “street” paved and if you weren’t a local resident, you didn’t know where in the devil it went to. With no rhyme or reason, some of the streets made parts of the town like a corn maze. This, in itself, helped the Rogersville police officer quickly catch up with the three would be bad men as they were looking for a way out to Highway 11 in their attempt to get away. Also, the not-so-savvy bad men didn’t consider other hazards of a small town, like Gil Conner and Brad Palmer on their way home from Tractor Supply.

Gil and Brad first heard the siren then glimpsed the flashing blue lights of the police car right on the bumper of a car racing through the intersection just ahead of Gil without stopping and trying to turn left toward Mooresburg. In milliseconds, Gil saw what was happening, downshifted, and stomped the accelerator, catching the fishtailing car with his big push bumper, the type you normally see on wreckers. Heavy steel collided with cheap Detroit fiberglass and the car was propelled down the road, spinning like a pencil twirled on a tabletop until it caught the soft dirt at the edge of the pavement, flipping the car several times; pieces and parts flying and what looked like paper money fluttering to the ground.. One of the occupants was ejected like a walnut fired from a slingshot, landing a few dozen feet from where the car finally came to a rest.

Gil slammed on the brakes, both he and Brad jumping out of the truck, guns drawn. Brad ran over to a pistol laying in the road and stood over it, while keeping a watch on the smoking car. Gil went directly to the car and checked the two unconscious people inside and stood by, keeping an eye on the car and the still body in the underbrush. Glen Wells came running up to Gil as Gil kept watch on the scene.

“Ambulance on the way.” Glen said, breathing heavily.

They could hear the sirens approaching from both the town side of the highway and from down highway 11W. A quick glance revealed it was the Highway Patrol.

Gil walked over to the occupant that was ejected from the car and immediately saw he was no threat. During his sudden trip through the air, his impact with a 2” sapling snapped his neck.

EMTs were quickly surrounding the body, then seeing the man was dead, went to assist with the car’s occupants.
“Damn! That happened quick!” Glen said, walking up to Gil.

“Yeah, what the heck was this all about?”

“These three robbed the New Horizon Bank.” Glen answered.

“Crap! I’m going to have to write a report!” Gil muttered.

Gil called Grace and told her what happened and that they would be delayed for a couple of hours. There were reports to be filed.

Three hours later, Gil and Brad pulled up to the equipment barn at Bluff View and unloaded their purchases. Brad headed to his house and Gil drove on up to his.

“So, tell me what happened.” Grace said.

“Nothing much. Brad and I had left Tractor Supply and took Shalmar Street to catch 11W instead of coming through the center of town. I notice a city cop chasing a car that pulled out in front of me at a high rate of speed. While he was fishtailing, I tapped him in a PIT maneuver, and he spun around a few times and flipped. One guy was killed and two were injured. They had held up the New Horizon Bank.”

“They from this area?”

“I’m not sure but the car had Pennsylvania plates.”

“Are you okay?”

“Me? Sure. Three less low-life punks off the street.”

“Take a break for the rest of the afternoon.” Grace said.

When she next checked on him he was sitting in his lounger reading “The Little Engine That Could” to the twins.

“Hello?”

“Gil, this is Ray Dalton. I’m calling to thank you for helping out today.”

“I got lucky,” Gil said, rolling his eyes.

“That seems to be your MO,” Ray chuckled. “I’ll write you and Brad a Letter of Commendation for your files here. If you want a framed copy, let me know.”

“No thanks. How are the other two?”

“They’ll live. Get this, all three are wanted for murder in Pittsburg. We’re working on extradition for them back to PA. I’d rather them spend their money than ours. The bank got its money back or will.”

“I hear you.”

“Anyway, good job. You did exactly what Will and I wanted from you guys.”

“Thanks for calling Ray.”

Gil watched as Brad and Colt turned the cover crop under with the bottom plows. They had already plowed the southern fields and would finish these fields up tomorrow. They would be planting only corn in the northern fields this year. All the oats would be planted on the other side of the ridge in the southern fields. He cranked the Gator and went around and filled the wildlife feeders and the feeder for the guineas and to look over the food plots. Those would be planted in another week. While he was out, he rode up to the deer spring to add a couple of mineral blocks and raked leaves out of the spring. Finishing that little project, he went down to the shop to put together the drying screens for the grain smoker. Gil was going to experiment with making a batch of River Bank with a slight hickory smoke flavor. He’d cold smoke the grains, crush them and ferment the mash. If he could taste the smoke flavor when it was distilled, he might be on to something. He was even making hickory infusion spirals for the experiment; It might be a bust, but he wanted to try.

When he had finished stapling the screen wire to the racks, he slid the racks into the smoker and shut the door. It should work well. He just needed to set up a firebox and test everything to make sure the grain wasn’t heated too much. Calling it quits for now; Gil went to the house.

Grace was reading something at the dinette table when Gil walked in.

“Whatcha got?”

“Just looking over the list Allie gave me of things we need to order.” Grace said, handing him the list.

Gil looked it over.

6 cases of White Rice
8 cases of Quick Oats
6 cases of Macaroni
10 cases of Nonfat Dry Milk
3 cases of Powdered Butter
4 cases of Freeze-Dried Cheddar Cheese
6 cases of Freeze-Dried Mozzarella Cheese
2 cases of Chocolate Milk

“We can get most of this at the LDS Home Storage Center in Knoxville. Why don’t we check there first before we order anything? It’s cheaper.” Gil commented.

“Well, can we make our resupply trek a little earlier then. I’ve got another list of personnel hygiene items we need to get, and if they have them, a case of chickens at Sam’s. We’re going to freeze dry them.”

“Okay. What about Thursday? We’re finishing up with the plowing tomorrow.”

“Good. I’ll tell Allie.”

When they returned from Knoxville, everyone pitched in to help unload the trailer. Gil took the two cases of chickens down to the canning house and put them in the refrigerator to finish thawing while everyone continued unloading.

Most of the things were transferred to Gators and the trailers they were pulling to transfer up to the Chamber. Grace pulled Gil to the side when he came back.

“Gil, can we show Deb the Chamber?”

Frowning, Gil stared at Grace. “That seems a little dangerous to me.”

“I don’t think so, but if she writes about it, it will give us a chance to see how she addresses it.”

Gil sighed. “Okay. We’ll see.”

Debra had been sitting on the cabin porch, watching the activity until Grace waved to her and motioned for her to come down. The Gators convoyed up to the shelf and Gil opened the doors. Billy retrieved the forklift, slid a pallet on the forks and took it out to the tunnel opening where the items were stacked and wrapped on the pallet. When the last pallet was loaded, Billy moved it inside and Grace took an awed Deb in. This wasn’t anything like she had ever seen before. Brad, Colt, Billy, Gil, and Allie inventoried and stacked the items on the shelf while Grace gave Deb a tour. When everything was put away, everyone went back to their homes except for Gil, Grace, Billy, and Deb. Billy stored the forklift and took a Gator to feed the livestock. Grace and Deb sat down by the fire pit.

“I can’t believe this! Deb said. It’s like another world. So, you are really survivalist?”

Gil sat down on a bench. “People, especially left-wing A-holes have given those who prepare for calamities a bad name. Their misrepresentations have been told and retold so many times that a lot of folks don’t know what is true and what isn’t. So honest, honorable people begin to believe the lie. We prefer not to call ourselves anything. We’re just a group of families and friends that have bonded together to try to live through an uncertain future.”

“I need to think about this. Would you mind if I sat down with you and asked some questions later on?”

“Sure. I have no problem with that.” Gil said. “Grace don’t forget I’m picking up the meat tomorrow. You and the women need to produce a divvy plan.”

“Okay.”

“You two ready to go?”

“Yeah. I need to check the chili. Come one Deb, you can help stir while I watch.” Grace grinned.


Gil and Billy stood on the ridgeline, looking northeast, looking at a group of rocks. The trees were just beginning their springtime greening, the steady breeze causing the branches to sway, occasionally disturbing the fallen leaves on the forest floor. They could feel the difference in temperature from down lower.

“This is where I noticed the smoke, Dad.”

“Well, that’s one vent, but I know there are vents in the other chambers too. The best way to find them all is to turn on the filtration system, pop a different colored smoke grenade for each chamber and have someone up here watching. Right now, it’s getting late. Let’s get back to the gate.”

They followed the faint game trail until it turned down the slope, then kept along the ridge another two hundred meters to where they had parked the Gator.

They pulled out their water bottles and took a long drink.

“Are you planting the food fields tomorrow?” Billy asked. “Can I help?”

Gil looked at him and smiled. ”Sure. I’ll wait until you finish your modules. I’ve already disced the fields so all you have to do is spread the seed and I’ll pull a harrow over them.”

Gil drove the Gator into its garage and got out, refilling the tank from a can of diesel. They walked back to the house together to get ready for range time after lunch.

“Billy has gotten really good.” Brad commented.”

“Yeah, well, fumbled a little on the mag change, but that could have been an aftermarket mag. When he gets through I’ll check them.” Gil replied.

When everyone had finished their familiarization, Brass and used targets were collected after all the bragging had stopped.

“Are we still planting corn tomorrow?” Colt asked.

 

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 134

“Yeah.” Gil said. We’ll do the corn this week and the oats next week. The drill is ready to go. We’ll need someone to disk, someone to harrow, Then we’ll take turns on the drill. Weather is supposed to be clear for the next week, knock on wood, and we can disk and harrow the oat field and just have the drilling to do.”

Everyone nodded and went their ways. Gil went on to the house where Billy came out and set the buckets with the sorted brass in the basement to be tumbled and reloaded.

“Dad, I can start tumbling the brass in the morning after breakfast.’ Billy said.

“Let’s wait a couple of days. We’ll be through planting corn by then. Some of the cases have been reloaded before and we need to inspect each one. We can punch the primers and clean the holes while we are at it.”

“Okay Dad.”

They went back upstairs and washed up.


Both Gil and Billy were looking at the last Salmon Patty left on the plate. They finally caught each other looking and Gil said, “I’ll split it with you.”

Billy grinned and cut the patty in half and took a half, Gil stabbing his half with his fork.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to beef up that recipe!” Grace said.”

“Mom, you could double the recipe. I like ‘em cold as a late-night snack.”

“We’d better pick up another case of salmon next time we’re at Sam’s.”

“I won’t complain.” Gil said, wiping his mouth.

Grace got up and brought dishes of Flan from the refrigerator.

“Mom, can we have soft tacos tomorrow night?” Billy asked.

“If you will help me make the shells.” Grace replied.

“I will! I’ll even get the lettuce, tomatoes, and the green onions from the greenhouse.”

“I’ll get those. We’re working there in the morning anyway. I should have time to make up a batch of pico de gallo.”

Gil and Billy helped with the dishes then helped Grace round up the little hellions for their baths. Gil went up and read to them and luckily, they soon drifted off to sleep. He’d learned to read to them in a droning voice and they soon had heavy eyes.

“Make sure you take your water bottle with you tomorrow. It’s supposed to get up in the low seventies.”

“’l’ll fill it before I go to bed. What are you doing in the greenhouse tomorrow?”

“We need to thin the carrots and spring onions and pick strawberries. The girls want to turn this first picking of berries into preserves.”

“I got an email about the soil test for the pecan trees. As soon as we finish planting the oats, I’ll go in and have the fertilizer mixed. Those four, three-year-old saplings should have some nuts on them this fall.”

“Good. I’d like to put enough in the freezer to make some pecan flour when I need it..”

“We’ll see.”


Brad was helping Gil get the mash squeezed out and strained. They turned the filtration system on that pushed the smell out of the Chamber, which was much better than the conditions Gil had worked in before. As each bucket of the mash was filled, Brad took them over and sat them near the door in the tunnel. The door was difficult to open when the positive pressure system was on.

“Is that it?” Brad asked?

“Yeah. I just need to pour this in the still and fire it up.” Gil answered.

Brad helped Gil pour the “squeezings” into the still, put the head on and connected the condenser.

“Why don’t you feed the heads to the pigs too.?” Brad asked.

“And have them drunker than skunks? No. I don’t even know if it wouldn’t poison them. No, I’ll burn the heads and tails off. Go ahead and turn the filtration system off and let’s get the buckets of mash into the Gator while the still is heating up.”

They opened the blast and wooden doors and placed the buckets in the back of the Gator. Billy could feed it to the hogs this evening. They closed the doors and turned the filtration system back on and listened as the still heated up. Gil got a couple of flippies out of the fridge and they sipped mead while waiting.

“Did you notice the other day only the Highway Patrolman was wearing a vest?”

“It did cross my mind. I need to ask Ray if they have PPE for all the officers. A lot of belligerent a-holes are flowing through the area lately that want to wave guns around.”

“It would be the neighborly thing to do.” Brad grinned.

“They heard the noise in the still change so Brad put the ice in the condenser and Gil began catching the first of the heads. He carefully measured the drippings then switched to saving them into an 8-liter prepared keg.

“What do you want to do with the heads.” Brad asked.

“Pour them in that old pot and place them in the firepit and start a fire. They’ll soon catch fire and burn off.” Gil answered.

Gil checked the proof, and it was coming out right on 190 proof. Taking a small taste, yes, he could taste the hickory smoke taste. Before pounding in the bung, he inserted three of the hickory infusion spirals and inserted the bung and gave it a couple of hard taps with a hammer.

“Well, I’ll check it in six weeks and see what we have.”

“And if it is to your liking?” Brad asked.

“I’ll run off twenty gallons instead of two.” Gil grinned.

They emptied the still and burned the tailings off. After doing the cleaning up, they locked up and drove back down the ridge.


Gil waited as Colt ran the rest of the grain out of the drill, then drove the tractor over to where Gil was seated in the Gator.”

“That’s it Gil.”

“Go ahead and take it back to the equipment barn. I’ve got the pressure washer ready.”

Colt gave a loose salute and headed for the driveway. Gil sat and looked around. It was so peaceful. But his experience had shown him things could turn ugly in a heartbeat. Cranking the Gator, he headed down the drive to get ahead of Colt and open the gate for him.


Gil had called Ray and Will a couple of days before and set up an appointment to meet with him in Ray’s office. This was where Gil headed to now.

“Ray, Will, thanks for meeting with me. I’ll get to the subject quickly. The other day when we had the incident on Highway 11, Brad and I noticed that none of your people, with the exception of the Highway Patrol, were wearing protective vests. Is there a reason for that?”

“Well Gil, uh…there hasn’t been enough money in the town and county budgets for much.” Ray said and Will nodded.

Gil pulled out a business card. “I want you to contact Able Gates at this number and apply for a grant to upgrade your departments’ equipment, starting with protective vests. Make a list of essential equipment that the grant could cover. There is a better than even chance you’ll get it.”

“And you’re sure this would go through?” Will asked.

“I’m a member of the Foundation Board.” Gil grinned.

Ray looked at Will. “Okay, we’ll give it a shot.”

“Well, I need to get going. I’ve got to pick up fertilizer for my pecan trees.”

“Okay Gil, thanks.”


“Are you ready to check out the vents in the chambers? Gil asked.

Billy jumped up and shut his computer cover and grabbed his radio off the charger. They went out to the shop and Gil picked up the galvanized bucket with three smoke grenades and set them in the back of the Gator.

“I’m going to run you up to the gate and you walk up the ridgeline to where you spotted the smoke. I’m going to use a red grenade for the main chamber, a green for the storage chamber and purple for the dungeon. When you see the smoke, give me a call on the radio and take the spray paint and mark where the smoke is coming out. Give me a call when you’re in position at the main chamber area.”

“Okay Dad.”

Gil dropped him off and went back to the chamber. Taking the smoke grenades out of the bucket, he turned the filtration system on and waited for Billy’s call. When Billy called, Gil pulled the pin on the red smoke grenade and dropped it into the bucket. Less than ten minutes later, Billy called and said he had the vents marked. They did the same to the other chambers and got the vents marked. Gil threw the burned-out grenades into the bucket, turned the filtration system off and locked up. After picking up Billy, they returned to the house for dinner.

“Why did you want to mark the vents, Dad?”

“I just like to know where things are. I’ll take a look at the vents tomorrow and see if any ideas pop up. I may never need to use the information, but I’ll have the information tucked away for future use.


Gil stood upright, stretched, then leaned on the hoe. He looked at the hills of watermelons he’d just planted, then looked at the other people finishing planting the first week of the rows of vegetables. The rows were divided into four 60-foot sections, one section was planted each week to stagger the harvests.

“Are you ready to do the potatoes? Gil asked Grace.

“Yes, can you bring them over?”

“Sure,” Gil said, leaning the hoe against the fence.

They finished the two long rows of potatoes, redskins and Russets and put their tools away. Gil walked over to Colt and asked him if he had anything planned after lunch.

“No, what’s up?”

“I could use a little help picking up the shoats.”

“Sure. Call me on the radio and I’ll meet you at the equipment barn.”


After lunch, Colt helped Gil hook up the livestock trailer and they left Bluff view. The farmer they were getting the pigs from was a ways out in the country in the southeastern part of the county. On the way back, Colt asked Gil to pull in at a country store and farm supply to get a pack of gum. Gil pulled in and they both got out. Walking up to the building, Gil saw something that didn’t look right and motioned for Colt to move right and take up a position. They could see the two men moving around in the convenience store, then they heard a shot. Colt slipped closer to the dumpster where he had more cover while Gil squatted next to a pallet of potting soil. The two men came running out and headed for their car as Gil drew his pistol and stood up in a crouch yelling for them to stop. The man trailing turned slightly and aimed his pistol at Gil who immediately planted two 125 grain Jacketed Hollow points through the idiot’s chest, dropping him. The guy Colt was covering aimed across the top of the car and fired two rounds at Gil, the bullets passed worryingly close to Gil’s’ head, the compression of the air as it passed his ear was definitely noticeable. Colt quickly fired, skipping his shot across the roof of the car, the bullet slamming the gunman in the temple. Colt ran forward and checked his guy while Gil checked the guy he’d taken down. Colt nodded to Gil, who turned and ran into the store to check the clerk out. Gil found the clerk with a wound to her shoulder and quickly searched around and finally snatched a package of Maxi Pads off the shelf and ripped it open, pressing a pad against the wound. He got her comfortable and called 911.

 

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 135

They said they had already received a call, and an ambulance and officers were on the way. The clerk was responsive, so he got a bottle of water out of the cooler and had her sipping it, talking to her. The wound was in the upper part of her shoulder and didn’t look like it had hit any bones bur he had her stay in place and made her as comfortable as possible. Fifteen minutes later, the Sheriff’s deputies and the ambulance showed up. Behind them by less than a minute was Sheriff Tatum. Gil walked outside as the EMTs were loading the woman onto a gurney and watched as the crime scene people started taping off the area.

“You know, sometimes I wonder if it would be better if you left one or two suspects alive.” Sheriff Tatum said.

“I feared for my life and took immediate action.” Gil said, glancing at Will.

“Good. It just makes less paperwork for me and more for you. What happened?”

“Colt wanted to stop and get a pack of gum. We saw strange activity through the windows and took cover. When they came out, I shouted at them to stop and that guy there turned and tried to shoot at me. I put paid to his bill before he could collect on mine. The other guy on the other side of the car tried to nail me and Colt took him out. That’s about it.”

Will nodded. The EMTs wheeled out the gurney with the store clerk and loaded it into the ambulance. A deputy walked over to the Sheriff.

“She’ll be fine. The EMTs say she’s stable and said she shouldn’t have any problems except running the cash register with one arm for a while.”

“Ben, give Gil and Colt a couple of blank reports to fill out. There’s no reason they need to go all the way back into Rogersville to do the paperwork.”

Gil felt relieved. The deputy gave them both clipboards and they sat on the pallet of potting soil to fill out the paperwork.

They finished and handed the clipboards back to the deputy then walked over to Sheriff Tatum.

“Will, you need us for anything else?”

“Nah, go ahead and go. If we need anything, we’ll call you.”

As they drove down the road, Colt commented, “Well, this turned out to be a weird day.”

“Yeah, let’s hope they are few and far between.”

They unloaded the shoats and made sure there was feed and clean bedding for them.

“Let’s go home. Maybe this will be better once we’re home.” Gil said.

When Gil walked into the house, Grace noticed the look on Gil’s face.

“Problems?”

Gil got his water bottle out of the fridge and sat down at the dinette and proceeded to tell her what happened.

“Where are these people coming from!”

“Their license plates were from Kentucky, but the car could have been stolen. Probably, just a couple of ne'er-do-wells too lazy to work and too stupid not to come into Hawkins County. They won the Darwin Award.”

Grace stood there and slowly shook her head. “Are you a magnet for bad guys?”

“It seems like that at times. What’s for dinner?”

“Saucy meatloaf. Billy has a math question that was beyond me and the twins need someone to beat up on.”

Gil chuckled. “Okay.”


Gil got together with Brad, Trace and Colt the next morning to talk about what went down.

“We got lucky.” Colt said.’

“Yeah, a situation like that can turn south in a heartbeat.” Brad said.

“Brad, get with Allie to get sizes and order Level II-A vests for all the adults….include Billy in that. Go ahead and get tactical plate carriers and plates also. No use waiting. We’ve got ballistic helmets to go around and NVGs. We definitely need to stay with the two-man rule and I want to make sure we have a shooter with anyone who leaves Bluff View. That covers all the way to Melinda Ferry Road.”

The men then left to do springtime maintenance on the outdoor furnaces.

Glen stopped by that afternoon on the way to town.

“What’s up, Glen?” Gil asked.

“Oh, I had a hankering for a boiled dinner and was going in to Food City to pick stuff up. Other than that, I was just antsy to get out and about. I hadn’t heard any equipment running up from me and wondered what was going on.”

“Oh, we shut down the clearing for a couple of months. I had too many logs piled up and the weather was iffy anyway. The Haigers were happy to shut down for a while. They were in good shape financially, with the work I’ve been giving them, so they were happy to get a break to hunt and such.”

Gil relayed to Glen what had happened the day before as Glen grunted in surprise.

“Man, this place is gettin’ to be like the Wild West!”

“Yeah, keep your eyes and ears open. We’ve got all kinds of crud passing through here.”

“I’ll stop and get some more ammo on the way home. It’s been a while since I shot my pistol.”

“Don’t buy ammo. We’ve got more ball ammo than you could ever shoot, and I’ve got several thousand 9mm reloads with 147 grain jacketed hollow points.” Gil said.

“Well, I’ll certainly take you up on that! I’ll stop by on my way back.”

“Good deal. Be safe.”

Glen bought a four pound corned beef, a bottle of twenty-five beef bouillon cubes, potatoes, carrots and parsnips at Food City. He picked up a few more things then headed to Tractor Supply to get four gallons of wood preservative and some hooks and eye bolts. Next stop was the building supply place to pick up four bags of mortar mix. Loading everything into the truck he headed back to Bluff View.

He pulled up beside the hovercraft garage and drove his hovercraft out, loading his purchases in. Gil came over from the hangar and helped him.

“Doing a little building Glen?”

“Yeah. That mortar is for foundation pillars for a storage shed. I’ve already got the logs peeled and initially notched.”

“How big is it going to be?”

“Just 8x10 inside dimensions. It won’t take me but a few days to put ‘er up.”

“We’re between plantings right now. Why don’t the guys and I come over and give you a hand? We could have it up in a day or two.”

“Well now, I’ll not turn down any help. Give me a day to mortar up the pillars and I’ll give you a shout.”

“Billy is pretty good at mortaring up things. You want him to come over and help you get that done?”

“Sure, I’d enjoy having him over.”

They finished loading everything and Gil watched him head across the river and out of sight. Gil finished up in the hangar and went back to the house. He was getting his water bottle out of the fridge when Billy came down the stairs to pour himself a glass of orange drink.

“How are your studies going?” Gil asked.

“I’m three days ahead. The trigonometry is getting easier since you show me that stuff the other night.”

“Glen could use a little help mortaring some support pillars. You want to help?”

“Sure! Can I take the hovercraft over?”

“Yes, but no wings.” Gil grinned.

“Awwwww. Okay. What is he building?”

“A storage building.”

“Okay, I’ll leave early in the morning.”

“Wait. I said you could take the hovercraft over, but I’m riding with you because I need to bring it back.”

“I could bring you back over.”

“We’ll see. I want to see what Glen is doing.”

The next morning around 0800, Gil watched as Billy prepared the hovercraft. Billy drove it out of the hangar and waited until Gil got in. They headed down the slight slope and entered the river, Billy increasing power and soon traveled the 4500-foot route to Glen’s landing site. When they shut down the engines, Gil heard a hoot, which Billy returned. They traveled up the path to Glen’s cabin to see Glen with his mortar pan and trowels next to a cleared area marked with stakes and strings.

“Morning Glen.”

“Morning Gil, Billy. You ready to work some Billy?”

“Yes sir. What do you want to do?”

Glen walked them around and explained what he was going to do.”

“Glen, I noticed you’re using poplar logs. I’ve got a bunch of 8x8 squared oak beams over at the sawmill you are welcomed to for sills. It would be better to have oak for that than poplar. I don’t know what you were going to do about floorboards, but I’ve got stacks of those and lumber for ledgers also.”

“Well, yeah, that would make it better.”

“Get Billy started, and you and I will go over and pick out the lumber. The guys and I can start transporting the lumber over here.”

Glen got Billy cleaning out the post holes while Gil and Glen drove his hovercraft directly to the sawmill. They picked out the lumber they needed and set it aside in a stack.

“How are we going to get all this over there?” Glen asked.

Gil grinned. “I’ve got that extra-wide Jon boat leaning up on the other wall of the boat garage. My hovercraft can easily pull it. We can be hauling the wood over while you and Billy finish the pillars.”

“Sounds good. Let’s get back.”

True to his word, Gil dropped Glen off then headed back to the sawmill. Once he had the hovercraft parked, he called the rest of the guys and had them meet him at the sawmill. Walking to the equipment barn, he hooked up the big dump trailer to the tractor and drove it down to the sawmill, parking it next to the lumber he and Glen had stacked.

“Guys, Glen needs some help building a storage shed. I want to move this lumber across the river and help him knock it out.”

They quickly loaded the lumber and drove it down to the boat garage, loading the big Jon boat on top of the load. Gil drove the hovercraft down into the water and beached it, then helped put the boat into the water. After attaching tow lines, they pulled the Jon boat close to the water’s edge and loaded the lumber.
“Let’s get this across and transported up to the building site. The support pillars will have to set three or four days. We’ll bring back our battery powered tools to get this thing done.”

Gil called Glen on the radio and had him come down and pick up the other guys while he started towing the boat to Glen’s landing.

Gil and Glen drove in the last screws on the ridge cap and grinned at each other.

“Well, that’s a lot better than spending a week putting this thing up by myself!” Glen said. “Thanks for the roofing materials and the linoleum.”

“We keep a little extra around for small projects. Come over tomorrow and we can mill a couple of pine logs for you to make shelves. Guys, let’s get our stuff up in the Jon boat and head home.”

“Well guys, I sure do appreciate your help.” Glen said.

“That’s what neighbors are for, Glen.” Trace replied.

“Glen, someone must have thought this was a box of nails and put it in the Jon boat.” Gil said, handing him a boxed bottle of River Bank.

Glen grinned. “Well, I can always use it over here.”

Glen watched as they all loaded into the boat and hovercraft and returned to Bluff View.

 

[Mr Bill]

Thanks for the updates

 

[wvstuck]

What can I say other than thank you.

 

[sssarawolf]

Well! I came to the end. Thank you, will look forward to moar.

 

[larry_minn]

Well! I came to the end. Thank you, will look forward to moar.

PLEASE be careful with the wording. I saw “I came to the END”. I thought the story had ended. Please don’t do that to us. I was recalling past stories where an issue come up. Author quickly ended multi part story with multiple inner stories, characters in under three sentences. I started to panic.

 

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 136

The next day, Trace and Sarah came out of Mountain Star, to Trace’s relief, after following Sarah around in the store looking at antiques and items Trace had no interest in whatsoever. They walked around the block to the parking lot and were almost to the truck when Trace saw and heard a commotion a couple of rows toward the back of the lot. A woman in a car was screaming at a man with dreadlocks who was grasping her arm. Trace yelled and ran at the man pulling the woman out of the car. The man released the woman’s arm, drew a pistol out of the front of his pants, and turned toward Trace. His pistol already out and his left hand cradling the grip under his primary hand, Trace fired two quick rounds. The man never even had the chance to pull the trigger before the two rounds slammed into his chest, only having the opportunity to look shocked before he dropped, sliding down the side of the car, leaving a visible red streak on the white paint. Trace holstered his pistol and checked the man for a pulse while Sarah led the lady over to their truck and sat her in the passenger seat, giving her a bottle of spring water, then called 911. In less than five minutes police cars came screaming into the parking lot. Trace saw Glen Wells and waved him over, noticing Glen was wearing a vest.
“What happened Trace?”

Trace told him what he’d observed and his actions. The woman then told Glen what had happened when she was getting into her car.

“Damn! Now it’s carjacking. Okay, let me get your statements. Ma’am, is there someone we can call? Your car will be here for a while until they can get the crime scene processed.”

“My husband is a truck driver and on a haul to Nashville.”

“Glen, Sarah and I can take her wherever she needs to go.” Trace offered.

“Okay, let me get the forms and a couple of clipboards.”

Trace and Sarah picked up Carrie and went over to Gil’s when they returned to Bluff View. After hearing their story, Gil slowly shook his head.
“This is getting out of hand, but there is little we can do but stay vigilant.”
“We should put up billboards or something telling criminals committing crimes here will get them a one-way ticket to the morgue.” Grace said.
“Then we’d have every do-gooder and Democrat down on this town for its ‘lawlessness.’ It’s best if the word is spread among the criminals that this town is a one-way street.” Gil replied.
Trace, Sarah and Carrie stayed for a dinner of pork chops, fresh mustard greens and pan-fried potatoes, followed later with strawberry wine and mead.
“This mess is coming slowly, but surely to us.” Trace said.
“Well, we’ve shown them the deterrent, now it is up to them to either keep coming like lemmings or bypass us.”

Excerpt from Greg Richards, WTNZ, Fox 43

“Want to know the safest place in America to live? Well, this small town in east Tennessee just may be the number one spot. Talking with the police chief of Rogersville, Tennessee, they rarely see any crime from the residents, but people from outside their county bring crime to their quiet small town. In the last year, there has been a purse snatching, a bank robbery and an attempted car-jacking. In all cases the suspects drew weapons and three of the suspects won a trip to the morgue. The people of east Tennessee believe in the Second Amendment. These people believe in protecting the lives and property of their families and neighbors.”

“Gil, I just got a call from Chief Dalton. There’s a news crew in town that wants to interview me.” Trace said.
“Well, go on in and give them one if you want. Just be careful what you say. They can twist your words around and make you the bad guy.”

“Gil, I don’t want Sarah to have to deal with this, can you come in with me.”

“Sure, when is this?”

“Tomorrow morning at 10;00.”

“Okay, I’ll pick you up.”

The next morning, they arrived to find the briefing room in the Police Station filled with reporters and cameras. Gil walked over and talked to Ray.

“I thought this was just an interview.”

“Sorry Gil. It kind of escalated. Is Trace ready?”

“Yeah, but don’t be surprised what comes out of his mouth.”

“Well, I guess I need to get this circus on the road.” Ray said, walking up to the podium.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, or whatever. Last week, we had an attempted carjacking in one of our town’s parking lots. A lady was accosted by a Da'wan Jévon Chalmers, age 26, of Cleveland, Ohio who was physically attempting to remove the 58-year-old woman from her car. Upon entering the parking lot with his wife, a local citizen of the county, Trace J. Carter, intervened and stopped the assault. Mr. Carter will now answer your questions.
Trace walked up to the podium and the shouting began. Trace stood there and listened to the shouting and finally raised his hands until the voices settled down.

“Now, I know you all have questions, but you won’t get any statements from me if I have to deal with this pandemonium. Now, If you will raise your hands and ask your question, when I acknowledge you, you will get your questions answered. Otherwise, I swear I will walk out of here and you will have nothing.”

Hands shot up and Trace selected a reporter.

“Mr. Carter, Diane Wadsworth, WATE-TV. What brought you to the point of becoming a vigilante, preying on people of color visiting Rogersville?”

“First, Ms. Wadsworth, I believe the definition of a vigilante is someone who is a self-appointed doer of justice. I’m an appointed and sworn Reserve Police officer for the town of Rogersville. Second, it would be a stretch to say I was ‘preying’ on someone who is physically assaulting a 58-year-old woman. Color isn’t even a factor. If I had seen you doing the same thing, the consequences would have been the same. Next question.”

“Mr. Carter, Jim Collins, WCYB. How did it feel to take a young man’s life while he was in his prime?”

“It is a burden on the soul to take another human being’s life. However, when they point a weapon at me with the intention of doing bodily harm, in my mind, they have ceased to be a human being and have just become a target. What did I feel? A little recoil, but I controlled it enough to get another round off. Next question.”

“Mr Carter, Lannie Sharp, WRCB. There have been several crime bills, both at state and national levels, which would help in the reduction of crime, but have been blocked by right-wing politicians. What are your feelings on this?”

“Well, I’ve found most politicians to be one-dimensional and worthless. Their modus operandi is maintaining power and conducting political machinations. If they were to try to do their jobs, they should first address the crimes committed within the Capitol Building. Yes, the government is supposed to protect the citizens of the United States and except times of war, they do a pretty lousy job of it. When it comes to deterring crime within the borders of the 50 states, they are not very successful. The Justice Department and the Judicial system are filled with corruption and you people are the water carriers for them. The politicians offer up all kinds of crime fighting programs, programs paid with the money they slip out of your pockets every payday. The problem is , you don’t ever get back as much as you put into the pot. It’s better if we get a rebate and fight our own problems without the so-called ‘help’ from the government. Our local lines of defense are the Hawkins County Sheriff’s Department and the Rogersville Police Department. The citizens are the last line of defense with their Second Amendment rights. Too many people want to take away the right of the people to defend themselves which only exacerbates the crime problem. If someone is stupid enough to come into our county to commit a violent crime, we can surely educate them.”

“Thank you for your time.”

Trace walked away from the podium and through a side door, to the annoyance of the reporters. Gil went through the same door as the reporters began leaving through another door. He found Trace in Ray’s office.

“Good job. I like the political jab.”

“Trace grinned. “Well, they are part of the problem.”

“Well, let’s go. I need to take the long way home in case one of these reporters want’s to tail us.”


Gil drank the rest of the coffee in his cup.

“Billy and I are going flying this morning.”

Billy looked up from his breakfast. ”ALL RIGHT!”

“You brush your teeth before you go.” Grace said. “Where are you flying to?”

“I think we’ll fly down to Asheville, have lunch, and fly back.”

Billy cleaned his plate, rinsed it in the sink and ran upstairs.

“What brought this up?” Grace asked.

“I think it’s time to teach him to fly. I can’t do that officially, but I’ll see how he manages the STOL and if he’s interested, he can practice with me and when he’s of age, in another year, get him a student license and he can attend training down at Knoxville Flight Training Academy.”

“Well, be careful.”

“I’ll call you when we get to Asheville and when we leave from there.”

Gil and Billy pulled the plane out on the apron and Gil did the walk-around inspection, explaining to Billy everything he did and explaining why he was doing it. When they got in, he explained the instruments and what they should read in normal operations. Then Gil cranked the engine and taxied to the turnaround at the southern end of the runway and checked the instruments. Everything was in the green, so he locked the brakes and brought up the power. When the tail lifted he released the brakes, quickly moving down the runway and leaping into the air. Gil banked over the ridge and climbed to 2000 feet and call Knoxville Center.

“Tango Yankee Sierra this is November Niner Zero Seven Alpha Tango in route VFR to Alpha Victor Lima.”

“Roger Zero Seven Alpha Tango. Switch to 155.1875 and contact Alpha Victor Lima. Have a good flight.”

“Roger, 155.1875.”

Gil kept the speed to 120 knots and let Billy get a feel of the pedals and the stick as Gil kept the plane on course. It wasn’t that long of a flight, just a little over sixty nautical miles so Gil called to get clearance for local VFR diversions and flew through the valleys on the way. Gil finally brought the plane back up to 2000 AGL and requested landing clearance in Asheville. Once on the ground at the General Aviation section, Gil had the plane refueled, only to show Billy what entailed getting refueled at a Flight Service Center. They had barely used any fuel and could have easily returned home without refueling. Getting a taxi, they went to the Brasilia Churrasco Steakhouse where they pigged out on the all-you-can-eat ‘Churrascaria.’ After that, They went to the Mast Store to walk their meal off and for Billy to buy some gifts. He picked up a Lodge Cabin Combo Cooker for Glen, a Montana Fedora hat for his Mom and a couple of plush toys for the twins. They went back to the airport and again, Billy followed Gil around on his walk-around. After they had cleared the airspace around Asheville, Gil let Billy take the stick and let him fly until they were about twenty miles from Bluff View and Gil showed Billy a normal approach into the landing strip.

 

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 137

When they shut down, Billy’s eyes were bright with excitement. They put the plane back in the hangar and loaded Billy’s presents in the Gator and headed for the house but saw activity in the greenhouse and stopped there first.. They found Grace, Allie and Shannon picking strawberries.

“Grace grinned when she saw her two men. “How was your flight Billy?”

“It was great Momma! Dad even let me fly a little.”

Grace gave Gil a jaundiced eye, but Gil pretended not to notice her.

“You canning these?” Gil asked.

“We’re going to freeze these. Mollie has the twins over in the canning house preparing things for us. I’ll save some out to make a Strawberry Cake for Sunday.”

“Need any help?”

“No, we’ve got this.”

Gil and Billy left and went over to the canning house where Billy gave Alana and Alan their toys.

“Dad, can I go give Glen his cooker?”

“Sure. Give me the bag with the hat and I’ll take one of the E-Gators to the house. Oh, and no wings.”

“Yes Sir.”

Gil smiled as he watched Billy head for the boat garage.”


Glen, sitting on his porch, heard the hovercraft as it came across the river and parked next to his hovercraft shelter. In a few minutes, Bill came up the path carrying a box.

“Hey Glen!”

“Hey Billy. Whatcha got there?”

“Dad and I flew down to Asheville today. I saw this in the Mast Store and thought you could use it.”

Billy handed the box to Glen, who immediately opened it.

“Cast Iron Cabin Combo Cooker.” Glen read on the box. “Yep. This will definitely come in handy. I’ll fire up the oven and season it tonight.”

“It comes seasoned already.” Billy said.

“Yeah, it says that, but I’ve got my own way to season the cast iron. Brings out the flavors more in the food. How was your flight?”

“It was great! Dad even let me fly for a while on the way back. He’s going to practice with me and when I’m old enough, let me take pilot training.”

“Well, that’s great! When can you start taking the training?”

“Next summer, when I turn sixteen.”

“Well, when you get qualified, I expect you to take me up.”

“I sure will.”


That evening Gil was reading account statements, shaking his head.

“Keeping money in the bank isn’t worth it. I need to spend it as it comes in.”

“Well, go out and buy me a Mercedes!” Grace said. “Just kidding! I love my Jeep.”

“Grace. I think I’ll let Billy have my plane when he reaches seventeen. The Trust will own it but, for all intents and purposes, it will be his. I think I’ll buy another plane.”

“The same kind?”

“Kinda, sorta. It will be a STOL, but I think I’ll look at the new Maule aircraft. They have four- and five-seater versions. The whole family could fly together. Maybe Brad and I will fly down to Moultrie, Georgia next week and talk to the folks there.”


Gil and Brad flew down to Moultrie on Wednesday, with an appointment to speak with a sales rep at 1300. Gil had done his homework and had written down exactly what he wanted. With negotiations quickly concluded, Gil left Spence Field a few dollars poorer, but with a smile on his face. The plane would be completed in four weeks.


“Hello, the house!”

Gil stepped out on the deck and saw it was Glen.

“Come on in Glen. Want some iced tea?”

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

“What brings you around?”

“I was wondering when you all were going on one of your resupply runs. Now that I’ve got a secure place to put them, I want to keep a little more in stock.”

“I think Grace wanted to go Friday. GRACE!”

“You don’t have to shout. Grace said, coming through the basement door.

‘Glen wants to go with us when we make our Sam’s and COSTCO run.

“Sure! That’s no problem. We’d love to have you along. But I have an idea. Why don’t you select items out of our storage to fill, or partially fill out what you need, and still come with us. That might leave you less to carry over on run day. You might see something when you go with us you might want. It would fit in with our rotation plan and we’ll replace what you take. As far as cost, the price we paid for an item is right there on the inventory.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Gil said.

“Sounds good to me.” Replied Glen.

Grace brought her laptop to the dinette table and Glen sat down and made a list of the things he wanted.

Gil poured coffee for the two as they worked on Glen’s list. Finally, Glen leaned back in his chair.

“That should do it.” Glen said.

“Glen, some of these things need a cool, dry place to keep for any length of time. Is the storage building going to be enough?”

“Oh no. I’ve got a cool storage area accessible through a trap door in the kitchen.”

Gil looked down at the list, then went and got a Gator and trailer to haul everything in.

Gil, Glen, Allie, and Grace all went up to the chambers and filled out Glen’s list.

Glen looked at the stack of goods in the trailer.

“You know, I never used to use paper towels and did without because of how hard it was to get them to the cabin. Now, it’s nice to have them around.”

“Do you have everything?” Gil asked.

“Most everything. I figured up for six months’ worth of supplies.” On the way back, would it be putting you out too much to stop by the Bass Pro Shop? I want to get some more outdoor clothing.”

“Not at all. Let’s get this stuff hauled over to your place.”

On the way down to Glen’s hovercraft, Gil stopped by the equipment barn and put a deer cart, straps, and a small cargo net onto the load. They got the load strapped down on the hovercraft and quickly traveled to the other side of the river and began unloading the supplies onto the deer cart.

“They sell these carts at Bass Pro?” Glen asked.

“Sure do.”

“Well, one of these is going on my list. Sure beats a wheelbarrow for hauling supplies up to the cabin.”

They got everything put away then Glen ran Gil back across the river.

“”We’ll leave at 0800 Friday and have breakfast at Yoder’s on the way. If you think of anywhere else you’d like to go besides BPS, let me know.”

“Will do, Gil, and thanks.”


Glen found a few more “comfort” things at Sam’s and COSTCO but he replaced a lot of his clothing at Bass Pro. Gil also led him to a place where he could pick up four clean 55-gallon plastic drums with ring-lock lids to store things in the storage shed that would protect the contents from bugs and varmints. Glen was feeling better and better about his little piece of the world.


Tate loaded the groceries in his truck and drove from Food City over to their GAS N’ Go to fill his tank. A woman was trying to jack a car up there in the parking lot so he pulled into a parking space to see if he could offer a hand.

“Need some help?” Tate asked.

Debra looked up and brushed the hair away from her eyes.

“You’re….Tate, right?”

“Yes Ma’am. Here let me have that. I’ll have this changed for you in a minute.”

Tate got the car jacked up and the flat tire replaced.

“You need to get that flat fixed as soon as you can. You don’t want to be depending on those skinny flats.”

“I will. I’ll stop by the tire shop on the way back out to Bluff View.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Tate put the tire changing tools back into their places and shut the rear hatch, said goodbye, then drove his truck over to the diesel pump.


Gil got the call that his plane was ready, so he and Brad took off the next morning for Moultrie.

The Maule MX-7 was beautiful! The white registration number, N7714B, stood out in contrast to the midnight blue body. Gil had the custom instrument package installed, a 235 HP carbureted engine, leather interior and the Backcountry Gear Set. He took a couple of hours with a Maule instructor pilot to do touch and go landings and finally, he and Brad took off, Brad leading, and flew back to Tennessee. As far as landing back at Bluff View, his approach was no different than when landing with the SuperSTOL. They folded the wings up on the other two STOLs so all three planes would fit into the hanger.


Gil took the buckets of waste from the canning house over to the compost pits and dumped them in, covering it all with dirt so the worms could start working on the debris. The women had blanched and flash-frozen the Brussel Sprouts and since it was all they were going to process for the year, pulled the plants up to run through the chopper to add to the compost. After preparing the soil, collard plants were set . Next were the cabbages. Some were prepared for root cellar storage and the rest were turned into Kraut. Even Glen came over to help with the harvest for a part of the canning. He really loved the krauts. When they had wrapped up the canning for the day, Glen went over to Gil.

“Gil, do you have any scrap lumber I can use to make more shelves? I’ve dug out the cellar more under the cabin and need extra shelves.”

“We burn all our scrap in the furnaces, but I’ve got plenty of logs. Come back over when you’re ready and we can cut what you need.”

Gil headed for the house and walked in on Mollie dishing out pot roast onto a serving platter while Grace was making a thick gravy out of the juice. Gil quickly washed up and got, with Billy’s help, the twins into their chairs.

"This smells good, Grandma," Billy said as he took his seat.

After a brief blessing, Grace filled plates from the heavy platter and passed around the gravy boat.

“We got a lot done today.” Grace said.

“I can‘t wait to have some of those Brussel Sprouts with the hickory smoked bacon.” Gil said.

“Looks like at least two nests of turkeys hatched out.” Billy said.

“You’d better keep an eye out for foxes and coyotes . They’ll be sneaking around.” Gil commented.

“I will Dad. I’ll start using the Rokon to patrol and look for signs.”

“Make sure you use a controller. Don’t be scaring your Mother setting off alarms.”


After dinner, Billy watched as Gil carefully measured the powder and poured it into the casing. Sitting the case in the Lee loader, he added the 405 grain, semi-jacketed hollow point bullet and pulled down on the lever, seating the bullet.

“What’s the difference between these bullets and the ones you loaded a little while ago?”

“These are semi-jacketed hollow points I use for hunting. The other bullets are for practice. They have a round nose flat point bullet. Those you use for target practice. I like to keep 500 rounds of hunting and 500 rounds of practice around. The powder loads are the same, which is just a titch more than a cowboy load.”

“Why is that?”

 

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 138

“If you went and bought .45-70 hunting loads at the gun shop, if you could find any, you would fire a couple of rounds and be ready to call it a day. These will be lighter on the shoulder. Besides, we don’t have any 800–1000-pound elk or bull moose wandering around here. This round will take down any deer, bear, or boar you’ll run across in Tennessee. Go bring me the rifle over here.”

Billy went over to the table and picked up the black rifle and brought it over to Gil.

“I don’t think you’ll ever see another .45-70 like this. This looks like a Marlin 1895 Dark, but it is a customized version, I guess. The Dark model normally comes with a sixteen-and-a-half-inch barrel and has a set of ghost ring sights and a picatinny rail. I’ve got one of those in the gun safe upstairs. This one has the same parkerized finish, but the barrel is twenty-two inches and has a Lyman type adjustable tang sight, good for longer distances than the brush gun.”

“Why do you have both versions?”

Gil grinned. Well, I guess I’m one of those guys who sometimes buys guns they don’t really need, and occasionally I’ll plead guilty. But in this case, I caught this guy in the parking lot bringing the two guns in to a show to sell. He had fired them a couple of times and they hurt him. I made him a ridiculously low offer for them, and he accepted. Of course, I had to maintain my honor and gave him the cash.”

Billy grinned. “Yeah, I bet.”

“We’ll take them to the range one day. The brush gun version 1895 Dark would take down any boar you’ll find around here, no matter where you hit it. It will give you a chance to appreciate the recoil.”

“Billy placed the gunpowder and primers back into their cabinets while Gil cleaned off the reloading bench. Gil grabbed the rifle, shut the basement lights off, and they went back upstairs together.


The next day, Gil took Grace on an orientation flight in the Maule. It was hot on the ground, but she loved flying around in the cooler air. She complimented Gil on the interior of the plane and got a thrill when Gil swooped into the narrow valleys and flew low over the lake. When they got back home, Billy met them at the airfield and of course, Gil had to take him up for a bit. Gil did, basically, the same maneuvers he had with Grace but then took the plane up to a higher altitude and let Billy fly for a while. That really hooked Billy and from that point on he studied the flying manuals even more and took practice knowledge tests online.


Glen came out of Tractor Supply after buying bow saw blades and walked around the front of his truck. Sitting next to the driver’s door was a brown and white dog; it looked like a Rat terrier.

“Well, hello boy! Are you waiting for someone?”

Glen opened the door and the dog wheeled and jumped into the cab of the truck.

“Whoa! You need a ride somewhere?”

The dog stepped forward on the bench seat, placed his paw on the steering wheel and yapped.

“So, you want to go for a ride?”

The dog yapped again.

Glen grinned and got in the truck. Glancing over, he noticed the dog had no collar.

“Well, I know you must have a home somewhere. We’ll have to ask around and see who’s missing their owner.”

Glen started the truck, put it into gear, and headed out onto highway 11.

“What’s your name fella? You look like a Jack to me. What if I called you Jack?”

Jack snapped a look at Glen and yapped.

“Well, Jack it is, I guess.”

When Glen got to Bluff View, he drove straight to the boat garage and parked the truck, taking out his purchases. Jack got out, sniffed around, and peed on a post of the overhang shelter. Glen loaded his things on the hovercraft and pointed to the passenger seat. Jack ran and jumped up in the seat and sat down, like it was an everyday occurrence. Glen put on his headset and watched Jack as he started the engines. Jack just sat there and squinted, looking around. As Glen started moving, Jack stood up with his feet on the back of the seat and looked around as they headed for the river. Jack took it all in stride, tongue hanging out, his head swiveling. Glen reached over and swiveled the seat around so Jack could stand facing forward as they entered the water. Jack seemed he was in his element as they skimmed across the water to the landing site. When they reached the shore and moved under the boat shelter, Jack waited until the engines shut down, then jumped out and ran over to water a tree. Glen just laughed. Retrieving his bags from the hovercraft, he called Jack, and they walked up the trail side-by-side.


Glen put his things away and poured a glass of iced tea, then got out a plastic bowl and filled it with water for Jack. Taking both back out on the porch, Glen sat down in his chair and placed the bowl next to the cabin wall. Jack took a drink and laid down, his legs stretched out in front of him, at the top of the steps. They sat there quietly, enjoying the quietness when Jack spotted a skunk poking around in the edge of the underbrush about twenty-five yards away. Immediately, Jack alerted and let out a low growl.

“Jack, you’d best leave that skunk alone. He has just as much right to this forest as we do. But you do what you want. Most times, never rely on what other people tell you what is best for you. You’ll learn by your own mistakes. A lot of times, it’s either what they wish they had done for themselves, or they plan on making some profit off you. Now I know there’s no profit in fooling with a skunk, and if you do, and get sprayed, your little butt will be sleeping outside for the foreseeable future.”

Jack settled down but kept a vigilant eye on the forest intruder.

Glen picked up the radio and called Gil, coordinating the cutting of the lumber for his shelves. When he was through, Glen laid the radio in his lap.

“Jack, I guess we’d better get some supper laid on. You feel like eating?”

Jack yapped, jumped up, and ran through the area cleared of the underbrush. He must have had a hang-up about pooping out in the open because he sniffed around the bushes, chose an area, then backed his butt into the bush and squatted, his eyes squinting almost closed as he took a poop. Finishing, he came out of the bush, his hind paws kicking up leaves and dirt, his head lifted, seemingly proud of what he had done. He trotted over to the door and stood for Glen to open it.

“Boy, you’d better be checking those bushes good, or a snake will bite you in the ass!”


Glen drove the hovercraft over the next morning and walked over to the sawmill. Gil and Brad were checking equipment while Trace and Colt were rolling a log onto the mill bed.

Gil turned, wiping his hands on a rag, when Glen walked up.

“I figured we’d use the oak for the main supports and use the pine boards for the shelf bottoms. The shelves will last for generations.”

“Glen nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Who is this?” Gil asked, looking down at Jack sitting next to Glen.

“This is Jack. He decided to move out of the big city and enjoy the country air.”

“Well, welcome to Bluff View, Jack!”

Jack looked up and yapped.

“We’re ready Gil.” Trace said.

Brad started the engine, and they guided the saw through the first cut. After getting the log squared, they began cutting out four by fours. Using Glen’s materials list, they worked through the morning cutting the lumber. Glen jumped in and helped Colt on the chop saw cut the slabs into firewood-size pieces, tossing the cut pieces onto a pallet.

When everything was cut per Glen’s list, Gil kept cutting planks out of the last pine log and added them to the stack on the trailer. They all followed the tractor and trailer driven by Brad down to the river and loaded the Jon boat with the lumber.

“You have everything else, Glen?” Gil asked.

“Yep. I just need to do a little notching and pre-drilling and put them together at my own pace.”

“Okay. Well, let’s get over and we’ll help you unload.”

It took a little longer to unload and re-stack the lumber by size up at the cabin, but they got it done. Glen ran them back across the river and First Mate Jack insured everything was done correctly.


“Deb, this is wonderful! This story could have taken place anywhere, not just here at Bluff View. It has all the personalities, emotions and actions that take place without divulging individual identities. Are you ready to submit it to the paper?”

“Only after you and Gil have reviewed it and given your blessing.” Debra said.

“Okay. Gil loves Saucy Meatloaf with garlic mashed potatoes, corn, green beans cooked with country ham pieces and homemade yeast rolls. We’ll make that for dinner and have carrot cake with ice cream for dessert. That will put him in a good mood. Then after dinner, we’ll show him the article.”

“I’ll start making the iced tea.” Debra said.


Gil and Colt banded up the scrap pallet and moved it over to the greenhouse furnace. The wood would be dried out sufficiently by the time they started using the furnace again. Trace and Brad cleaned up the sawdust, bagging it and stored under the overhang at the chicken coop to be used for bedding. Gil brought the compressor down and blew all the dust off the sawmill and they called it done. It was time to evaluate the aging results in the cellar, so Gil made that their last duty of the day.


“Saucy Meatloaf”! Gil thought, as he caught the aroma walking into the house. Walking straight to the kitchen, he found Grace stirring a pot of green beans, yeast rolls were rising on the counter, and Debra was draining boiled potatoes.

“My favorite meal!” Gil said, kissing Grace on the cheek.

“You’ve got sawdust in your hair! Go take a shower and kick the kids around a little. Dinner will be done soon.”

“Yes Ma’am.

Gil got his shower and put on a pair of UDT shorts, his “Kill A Commie For Christ” t-shirt and slipped on a pair of the moosehide moccasins. He found the twins in the Great Room watching Tom and Jerry cartoons and sat on the couch with them. The two fought to see who could snuggle closer to him. Gil leaned his head back on the cool leather and closed his eyes, visualizing the things he wanted to do the next day. The next thing he knew, Grace was gently rubbing her hand through his hair waking him up.

“Dinner’s ready. Let’s get these two washed up.”

Gil and Billy got the twins washed up and seated at the table. Gil looked at the feast spread before him and gave the blessing. He buttered two hot rolls as Grace placed a thick slice of meatloaf and his plate and ladled sauce over it. Gil added the mashed potatoes, green beans and corn.

Twenty minutes later, Gil mopped up the little bit of gravy left in his plate with the last of his roll and popped it into his mouth.

 

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 139

“Now that was a meal fit for a king!” Gil exclaimed.

“This is great Mom!” Billy said.

“I hope you’ve left room for dessert. Deb made a carrot cake and I have homemade vanilla ice cream to go with it.”


Glen raked the Pan Fries with smoked sausage into a bowl and set it on the counter to cool. Adding ice cubes to a 32-ounce mug, he poured it full of sun tea. He scraped the frying pan out in his plate and set it on the table, then set Jack’s bowl on the floor.

“Jack! Come on and eat!”

“Jack’s nails tapped across the floor, and he took a piece of sausage out of the bowl and chewed it as much as a dog does. In fact, it was almost as if he inhaled it. Before Glen had taken his third bite of his food, Jack was sitting there staring at him, his bowl licked clean.

Glen looked down at Jack. “You need to eat slower, Jack. Eatin’ too fast will give you gas bad enough to wake yourself up. ‘Sides, we need to get you to the vet and get you some proper food.


Gil sat there sipping on a cup of coffee as Grace and Debra cleaned up the kitchen. Billy had taken the twins into the Great Room and were watching an animal show on the National Geographic channel. The ladies finished wiping down the counters and came over with their cups of coffee and sat down. Grace slid a folder across the table to Gil.

Gil looked at her, then looked at the folder. Opening up the folder, Gil read the contents. When he finished, he got up and poured another cup of coffee and sat back down.

“First, I want you to know that wonderful meal had no bearing on my impression of what I just read. The article stands on its own. It is very good Debra. You should think about writing a book.”

Grace and Deb smiled at each other.

“That’s what I told her!” Grace said.


Jack Dickson’s father-in-law called and asked if Gil was interested in a forty-foot insulated shipping container that had the cooling unit removed. He’d sell it to him for cost of delivery. Gil thought about it and told him he’d give him a call back. Gil drove the Gator down to the garden and looked around. Gil found a likely area and called Harry back, telling him he’d take the container. He then called up Trace, Colt and Brad and had them meet him at the greenhouse.

“Guys, I want to put in a root cellar to keep more root crops in rather than storing them up in the chambers. Harry Davis is sending an insulated shipping container minus the cooling unit. The doors are on the end, but I want to cut a doorway in the side, wide enough for a wheelbarrow to go through. I’ll build an insulated oak door for it. I want to set it over there, cover it with pond lining, then bury it like a bunker. I want to build two, door-high, ten foot long retaining walls coming out at an angle from the door and recess the door under an overhang. We’ll put two vents in the top with automatic fans that come on when the air temperature is cooler on the outside but will shut down when the inside temperature reaches forty-five degrees. Brad, you and Trace work on the timbers for the wall and overhang. Colt, you and I will do the door and the vents. The container will be delivered on Thursday so I’m going to Morristown today to get the pond liner and adhesive plus the below ground wood preservative. Brad, I’m going to need about four, eight foot oak posts to use for anchors for the retainer walls. We’ve got cable so I’ll pick up eye bolts and cable clamps. Colt you come with me and we can get the vents too.”

“Where are you getting the dirt to cover this thing?” Brad asked.

“I’m going to get Don to come in and clean out that old spring pond and deepen it. I think that spring may bust open again.”


Glen took Jack to the Veterinarian Clinic, got his shots, got him microchipped and picked up his food. The vet techs let Jack taste the different kinds of dog foods they sold, and Glen picked up two fifty-pound bags of the food he liked the most. They went over to Tractor Supply and Glen picked out a collar for Jack and got him a set of elevated food and water bowls, a big box of medium dog biscuits and they headed home. As they came out of the trees at the bottom of the ridge, Glen saw the activity over near the garden.

“Whatcha doing?” Glen asked Gil.

“I’m going to bury a forty-foot insulated shipping container and build a root cellar. We’re getting everything prepped for the container delivery tomorrow. We’re just getting everything over here to build a doorway and retaining walls once we’ve cut a doorway in the side of the container.”

“Well, if you could use the help, I’ll be over in the morning then.” Glen said.

“We could use you and would appreciate it.”

“Then I’ll see you in the mornin.’”


By 0900 the next morning the men were laying out and leveling the concrete block supports for the container. Don turned Tate loose with the Cat 395 and two dump trucks with drivers. Tate started working as soon as he got there and began working on the pond on the side away from the spring and began digging out old debris and removing dirt, which was hauled next to where the root cellar would sit. As soon as the container arrived it was off-loaded and Tate came up and lifted it in place, then returned to the pond. Gil, using his demolition saw, cut out the door Trace had marked out on the side of the container. After attaching L-shaped brackets, an 6x8 door frame was bolted in and sealed, then the overhang and retaining wall construction began. The six-foot walls went up quickly with long lag bolts to bolt the beams together and construction glue. Angled anchor posts were concreted in and cables attached between the posts and the eyebolts in the walls. They were half finished with the walls when the men were called to lunch under the oak trees next to Mollie’s cabin. The women had laid out sawhorse tables loaded with fried chicken, potato salad, Cole slaw, yeast rolls, pickled watermelon rind and a five-gallon igloo water container filled with iced tea. Billy had hauled down folding chairs for everyone. The men washed up at the water spigot next to the cabin and lined up, filling their paper plates with the delicious foods.

“I need to run up after lunch and cut some stopples on the lathe for the anchor bolt holes.” Gil said. “Won’t take me long.”

“Trace, if you, Brad, and Glen can finish putting the last of the walls up, I’ll get started putting the wood preservative on.” Colt said.

“Y’all are building something your great-great-grandchildren will be able to use.” Glen commented.

“We should be able to finish this today. We won’t get to back-filling and covering it until tomorrow. Colt, we’ll cut the holes and weld on the vent tubes this afternoon.” Gil said.

“I’m just about ready to start cleaning out the spring head. The pond is around 7 feet deep right now. If that spring is still good, it shouldn’t overflow. There is a layer of gravel about two feet down that will provide natural drainage. Whatever is on the downside is going to be greening up pretty good.” Tate said.

“Good, that’s one of our wildlife food plots.” Gil replied.

“Aren’t you going to get a lot of water run-off from the berm?” Glen asked.

“Yeah, we will.” Gil said. “I’ll take the bottom plow and build a swale toward the firing range to catch anything headed toward the garden. We can later plant blueberry bushes along the swale.”

“I know just the kind to get.” Grace said. “I’ll order some after lunch. How long are you going to make the swale?”

“Oh, let’s figure on 250 feet. I’m starting to see some run-off into the garden in the northwest corner.”

They rested for about thirty minutes after lunch then got back to work. Gil went and turned out the stopples on the lathe and brough back a long, fine-tooth handsaw. After spreading glue on the stopple, Gil pushed it into the countersunk anchor bolt hole and drove it in with a 2-pound hammer. Using the handsaw, he cut the plug flush with the wall, then Colt painted over it with wood preservative. By late afternoon, they were ready to start back filling the walls, but that could wait until the next day.

Saturday morning, Gil drove down to the spring pond, and it was filled with clear, chilly water. He walked around to check if it was overflowing in any area and just as Tate had predicted, the gravel layer was letting the water drain underground. He drove back up to the equipment shed and got the tractors ready to start back filling. Brad came in and checked the plate compactor out to get it ready. When the rest of the men arrived, they lifted the compactor into one of the tractor buckets and moved everything down to the root cellar. Next came the job of getting the pond liner on and gluing the overlapping pieces. It took a couple of hours to do this and then they were ready to start back filling. Using the tractor bucket loaders, Gil and Brad began putting the first loads behind the retaining walls and Colt used the plate compactor to pack the soil down. Glen kept a check with the level to make sure they weren’t bowing the wall out. Tate arrived and added buckets of dirt along the back wall of the container, carefully packing the soil with the excavator bucket. The soon had it high enough to begin putting soil on the top and added a two-foot layer of soil while Sarah, Allie and Shannon came down and started contouring with rakes. Right on time, Grace and Mollie arrived towing a trailer loaded with biodegradable grass seed rolls they had gone to Morristown to pick up. These were laid down and secured with landscaping spikes. Billy set out sprinklers to cover the area and all had a feeling of satisfaction when they were finally turned on. Don and another worker stopped by to check out their work and to drive the work truck back.

“You all did a hell of a job!” Don said.

“It was challenging work, but I think it will be worth it.” Gil replied.

Grace and Deb had put together boxes of cold fried chicken, potato salad for Tate, Glen, and the two single drivers and everyone watched as the construction people convoyed up the drive.

“Billy, let the sprinklers run for two hours or until you start seeing run-off. We’ll need to water them each day for a couple of weeks. The wind will dry the mats out quickly.”

“Okay Dad.”


Glen and Jack returned home. Pouring a glass of sun tea, Glen got Jack a dog biscuit and they went out onto the porch to enjoy the rest of the late afternoon.

“Well, what do you think Jack. We build some more shelves tomorrow?”

Jack stopped chewing on the biscuit and looked at Glen, then returned to his biscuit.

“I guess it doesn’t make any difference to you. You only supervise anyway. Not that you don’t do an outstanding job of it.”

 

[ncsfsgm]

Chapter 140

Glen took a sip of tea. He will finish the shelves tomorrow and start filling them. He needed to store more lamp oil for the Aladdin lamps. He’d used them a couple of times during the winter when they had that week of snow, and it was too overcast to recharge the batteries. He wondered if he should put in a wind generator like Gil used to help keep the battery bank charged. He’d ask him about that. The only thing was, he didn’t like the idea of that thing sticking up like a flag showing everyone where he lived.

They both went inside to enjoy their fried chicken dinner. Glen watched as Jack cracked and ate the bones. Good. Any dog that couldn’t eat chicken bones was far too removed from his ancestors to be worth a damn. Jack was smart though. He carefully cracked and chewed the bones with relish. He didn’t care for the Cole slaw, but the potato salad was tasty. Glen stripped down and took a bath, then listened to an old Dragnet radio show that played on a station out of Kentucky. When the show was over, Jack was already asleep at the foot of Glen’s bed, so Glen decided to turn in too.


“How many watermelons do you have?” Grace asked.

After everyone gets a couple, there will be fifteen.” Gil replied.

“That’s enough to make the pickled and candied rind. I’ll get the girls together on Monday and we’ll do some canning. Please say you are going to make wine too.”

“I will if you want.”

“Yes, I like the watermelon and strawberry wines.”

“Your wish is my command. While you all are cutting up the watermelon, I’ll sterilize the carboys and get everything ready.”


Sunday, at church, Gil slipped Reverend Jim a deerskin pouch with six 1863 Double-Eagles.

“Closing up on Winter, Reverend.” Gil whispered.

“Gil…”

“Don’t feel belittled Reverend. I sent a dozen to St. Jude, but they are a bit bigger organization than you have here.”

“Thank you Gil. This will be a big help with the Thanksgiving boxes this Fall.”

“Well, don’t go buying vegetables before checking with Grace. We probably can provide most of it except celery. But we’ll have sweet potatoes out the ying-yang.”

Grace walked over and wrapped her arm through Gil’s.

“What’s Gil doing now, Reverend?”

“He was just telling me you’ll have an abundance of sweet potatoes for our Thanksgiving boxes.”

“Yes we will. As a matter of fact, Mollie and I are going to meet with Margaret Hays next week to go over the contents. We’re planning on adding a little cookbook of holiday recipes to the box. We’ve still got several weeks but it never hurts to plan ahead.”

“You are most correct. If you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to the Gilberts.”

“Of course. Have a nice day.”

“Are you ready to go? The twins are getting hungry.”

“After all those blueberry pancakes they ate this morning?” Gil asked.

“They are growing children.”

“An Omani 747 cargo aircraft crashed last night at Chicago’s O’Hare International airport. Witnesses say the aircraft seemingly flew into the ground short of the runway, possibly indicating an instrument malfunction during the stormy landing.”

Grace stopped tossing the salad.

“How can you fly a plane that big into the ground?” Grace asked.

Gil turned the radio volume down.

“Well, under instrument conditions, if their altimeters are malfunctioning, it would be easy.”

“Those poor people.”

“If you will get the kids, I’ll set everything on the table.” Grace said.

“On it.”


After lunch, Grace sat on the couch with her laptop.

“I’m glad you mentioned celery to the Reverend. I’d thought about stalk celery earlier this year and it had slipped my mind. All I can find for stalk celery seed is hybrid, so I’m going to order a bunch of it and put what we don’t use this year in cold storage. We can easily freeze dry stalk celery.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Gil said. “While you’re on there, order me another couple gross of wine bottles with corks. I have enough wax.”

“Okay.”

“Hello, the house!”

Gil got up and went to the door.

“Glen! Jack! Come on in, my friends.”

“I don’t mean to bother….”

“You’re not bothering us. We’re just sitting here listening to music and relaxing.”

“Glen can I get you something to drink?” Grace asked.

“I’ve got him something.” Gil said and got up. “Maybe Jack would like one of those dental chews.”

Jack’s ears perked up and his head swiveled between the humans to see what was going on. When Grace came back with a rock glass with two ice cubes in one hand and a stick-looking-thing in another, he perked up. He sniffed the stick-looking-thing when it was offered and found he liked the smell. He gently took it into his mouth and lay on the floor with it cradled between his paws. Glen eagerly took the two ounces of River Bank Gil poured over ice and handed to him.

“Gil, I was thinking. This past winter, my batteries didn’t recharge very well due to that spell of bad weather we had. I was wondering about your setup. I know you said you had wind generators, but I didn’t see them when I came up.”

“Bring your drink and follow me.” Gil said.

Gil and Glen got up and headed for the deck door. Jack grabbed his chew and followed them. Gil led them down to the wind turbine tower and showed Glen the assembly.

“Glen, during the day, the solar panels handle the job of recharging the battery banks, but at night they are worthless. This is a special setup. The extendible tower has a low light sensor that activates a motor that raises the tower, and the turbine picks up the recharging of the batteries. When it gets lighter, the turbine shuts down and the tower retracts, bringing the turbine down out of sight.”

“That’s what I want. Can you set me up with whoever does this?”

“Sure. As a matter of fact, I’ve got the sheets on the dimensions of the concrete base, and we can get that done and have that ready when they bring up and install the components. I’ll call Drake tomorrow and get you a system ordered.”

“I appreciate that Gil. Just let me know what the bill is.”

They walked back to the deck and talked for the rest of the afternoon.


Gil heard a horn honk as he was taking the pig candy out of the smoker. He laid the tongs down and walked a few feet to see Drake and three other guys standing by Drake’s truck. Gil shouted to get their attention and waved them over.

“Morning Gil. Whatcha doing?”

“Making some pig candy.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s thick cut bacon basted with a secret blend of spices, slowly smoked with a hickory of no more than 125 degrees.”

Gil handed them all a piece and their faces melted when they tasted the tasty morsel.

“Great Scott! This is delicious! You should sell this stuff!”

Gil frowned. “I don’t think so. It would probably end up being twenty-five to thirty dollars a pound. Anybody can make it. The baste is nothing more than maple syrup, brown sugar, a pinch of cayenne pepper, and whatever other spices you want. I assume you’re here to put in Glen’s tower and turbine?”

“Yep. How do we get over there?”

“Let me get the rest of this stuff in the house and We’ll get you started. Drive on down to the boat garage on the other side of the air strip and we’ll get started.”

Gil took the tongs and pig candy into the kitchen for Grace to handle and called Glen on the radio.

“Glen, the guys are here to install the tower. Come on over and we’ll have the Jon boat on the shore.”

“Roger, on my way.”

Gil caught up with Drake and his crew and they hauled the Jon boat down to the river and started carrying the tower components down and loading them. They soon heard the roar of Glen’s hovercraft coming up the river and watched as it beached about twenty meters from them, Jack directing operations from his First Mate’s Station.

“Morning gentlemen.” Glen said.

Gil grinned. “Good morning Glen. Is Jack ready to move this stuff over?”

Jack moved from Glen’s side and sniffed the equipment the men were loading and returned to Glen.

“I think he’s ready.” Glen grinned.

Glen hooked the tow ropes up to the Jon boat and gently tugged the boat into the water. Backing up, the installation crew boarded the hovercraft.

“I’LL BE RIGHT OVER!” Gil yelled over the din of the hovercraft.

Glen nodded and slowly advanced the throttle and moved the boats out into the main channel. Gil went back to the boat garage and got his hovercraft, sans wings, and went over, landing just ahead of them. Then began the drudge of hauling the components up the trail to the cabin. Thirty minutes later, everything was stacked around the small clearing where Glen, with Gil and the gang’s help, had poured the base for the tower. Gil and Glen just stood back and watched the installation crew assemble the components. An hour later tests were run. The tower went up, the turbine turned into the wind and started generating power. Drake adjusted the light sensor, the turbine stopped, and the tower retracted. Drake did some more adjustments to the sensor and stood up.

“I’ve got the sensor set the same as Gil’s. The turbines make noise, but you’re far enough from Gil that it won’t matter. It will just seem like an echo. If the winds get too high, the turbine will brake and the tower will retract.”

Glen grinned. “Y’all want some sun tea?”

They all sat around relaxing on the shady porch before Glen hauled them back over to Gil’s side of the river.


Gil went back over and talked with Drake a bit before they left. As they headed up the drive, Gil headed up to the Chamber to check the carboys. After reading the hydrometer, he decided to check again in a couple of days. The watermelon wine wasn’t quite ready.


Gil and Trace loaded the two hogs into the livestock trailer, Trace closing the gate as Glen pulled out.

“When are you picking up the shoats?” Trace asked.

“Not until Wednesday. Reverend Jim told me of a guy over near Liberty Hill Church that could use the money.”

They went into Hirschfeld’s and backed the trailer up to the slaughter area.

"Guten Tag Herr Conner!"

„Guten Tag, Herr Hirschfeld. Wir haben zwei Schweine für Sie. Ich brauche diesmal keine Wurst.” ("Good afternoon Mr. Hirschfeld. We have two swine for you. I don't need any sausage this time. Get me all the bacon and pork fat you can and turn the rest into lard.!" )

"Wie Sie wünschen, Herr Conner. Ich rufe Sie an, wenn alles bereit ist." (As you wish, Mr. Conner. I will call when all is ready.”)

They unloaded the hogs, and Trace closed the door on the trailer.

“Good, they didn’t crap all over the place this time.” Trace mumbled.

As they pulled out, they heard the muffled sound of a pistol shot.

“I need to stop by Tractor Supply and pick up some more mineral blocks for the deer. I’m going to set some up near the spring pond.” Gil said.

“Billy said he saw at least a 14 pointer around there.” Trace replied.

“Yeah, he’s also picking up signs of feral hogs. We probably need to start thinking of a night hog hunt if they get more prevalent. I want to wipe them out, if possible. I’ll get Billy to start baiting an area.”

 

[feralferret]

Thank you.

 

[Mr Bill]

Thanks for the updates

 

[wvstuck]

thanks!