Story Grace, Mercy and Blessings
- Thread starter PacNorWest
- Start date
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you. 
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#269
At the retreat, the next morning chores were completed and everyone bundled up to go out and work in the garden. Milo was plowing, Toby disking and Mark was the safety guard until there was harrowing to be done. Dory had taken stakes and a hammer out into the field to create a guide for the plowing teamster.
"This is half again as much as we have now," Mark commented to Clora and Tess. "Are you sure, that's a lot of work you're proposing to do."
"We would like to plant wheat berries in a portion of it; not the best food, but something, in case the majority of the garden fails. We simply haven't come up with any other ideas." Clora lamented.
"What about harvesting and winnowing?"
"With hand sickles, like they used to do in the olden days; flailing then tossing the berries up on a windy day to lose the chaff. Like Ma said, that seems the only solution we came come up with." Tess answered her Dad.
Mark nodded, pleased that his people were thinking ahead. "What ever we can do to help. I wonder about doing the same thing with oats for the stock?"
"I don't see why it wouldn't work, any little bit we can create will help." Clora's attention was caught by shouting over where Dory was staking the field boundaries and Milo was approaching with the footburner plow.
Milo had stopped his team and was gesturing with his arms and pistol. Dory was screaming, and Mark alerted and went running over.
"Make her stand still Dad, she's gonna get snake bit, and she won't listen to me. Want's to argue like the foolish woman she is." Milo was yelling louder and louder.
It had no effect on Dory who was hysterical and in no inclination to listen to anyone.
"She keeps twirling around, and I can't get a shot at the snake. The way she's screaming has the horses upset and I can't let go of the reins," Milo's deep voice added to the confusion.
Dory got bit.
With Dory standing still at the shock of the bite, Milo was finally able to shoot the Copperhead at the frozen woman's feet.
"You stupid, foolish, ignorant woman," Milo was roaring in his fright. "I said don't move and you in your idiot way, turned around to argue with me and stepped on the snake. You have to be the most brainless woman I have ever had the misfortune to meet."
Mark reached the scene, looked around and shot the large snake again, and it's mate that was coiling nearby. "Clora, come hold the horses, Milo, let's get her to the house."
By this time, Toby had caught up to the site of the accident, and he whistled for Tess or Rennie to come hold his horses. It was organized confusion, until Dory was just picked up and flung over Milo's shoulders in a fireman's carry.
Mark relieved Clora, which freed the woman to run to the apartment after the hurrying Milo.
Dory was put on the old couch and Clora went into doctor mode.
At the retreat, the next morning chores were completed and everyone bundled up to go out and work in the garden. Milo was plowing, Toby disking and Mark was the safety guard until there was harrowing to be done. Dory had taken stakes and a hammer out into the field to create a guide for the plowing teamster.
"This is half again as much as we have now," Mark commented to Clora and Tess. "Are you sure, that's a lot of work you're proposing to do."
"We would like to plant wheat berries in a portion of it; not the best food, but something, in case the majority of the garden fails. We simply haven't come up with any other ideas." Clora lamented.
"What about harvesting and winnowing?"
"With hand sickles, like they used to do in the olden days; flailing then tossing the berries up on a windy day to lose the chaff. Like Ma said, that seems the only solution we came come up with." Tess answered her Dad.
Mark nodded, pleased that his people were thinking ahead. "What ever we can do to help. I wonder about doing the same thing with oats for the stock?"
"I don't see why it wouldn't work, any little bit we can create will help." Clora's attention was caught by shouting over where Dory was staking the field boundaries and Milo was approaching with the footburner plow.
Milo had stopped his team and was gesturing with his arms and pistol. Dory was screaming, and Mark alerted and went running over.
"Make her stand still Dad, she's gonna get snake bit, and she won't listen to me. Want's to argue like the foolish woman she is." Milo was yelling louder and louder.
It had no effect on Dory who was hysterical and in no inclination to listen to anyone.
"She keeps twirling around, and I can't get a shot at the snake. The way she's screaming has the horses upset and I can't let go of the reins," Milo's deep voice added to the confusion.
Dory got bit.
With Dory standing still at the shock of the bite, Milo was finally able to shoot the Copperhead at the frozen woman's feet.
"You stupid, foolish, ignorant woman," Milo was roaring in his fright. "I said don't move and you in your idiot way, turned around to argue with me and stepped on the snake. You have to be the most brainless woman I have ever had the misfortune to meet."
Mark reached the scene, looked around and shot the large snake again, and it's mate that was coiling nearby. "Clora, come hold the horses, Milo, let's get her to the house."
By this time, Toby had caught up to the site of the accident, and he whistled for Tess or Rennie to come hold his horses. It was organized confusion, until Dory was just picked up and flung over Milo's shoulders in a fireman's carry.
Mark relieved Clora, which freed the woman to run to the apartment after the hurrying Milo.
Dory was put on the old couch and Clora went into doctor mode.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you Pac.
Shotgun Willy
Contributing Member
You know what they say....stupid should hurt
Texican
Live Free & Die Free.... God Freedom Country....
To bad that they probably do not have an extractor pump kit.
The Extractor Pump Kit | Sawyer Products
It appears that Dory didn't grow up in an inclusive family and understands orders. Will she survive? Only Pac knows.
Thanks Pac for the chapter.
Texican....
The Extractor Pump Kit | Sawyer Products
It appears that Dory didn't grow up in an inclusive family and understands orders. Will she survive? Only Pac knows.
Thanks Pac for the chapter.
Texican....
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#269b
"Lay still Dory," Clora commanded. "You need to stay calm and still, I want you to tell me where you were bit, but I don't want you to move, do you understand?"
The first thing Dory went to do, was lift her leg and try to sit up.
"I said do not move," Clora pushed the woman roughly back against the couch cushions. "Can't you hear? I will have Milo hold you down if you don't comply."
Dory opened her mouth to argue back, and felt Milo's hands settle on her shoulders. Tensing with anger, Dory gritted her teeth and shot daggers at Clora who ignored her.
"My right leg," she finally managed to spit out. "On the right side of my ankle, between there and my heel. I felt the fangs break the skin; I suppose I'm gonna die now, aren't I?"
"You might," Clora replied as she peeled Dory's sock back. "Chances are, if you keep being a foolish woman, it might come sooner than later. We need to monitor the bite; there's a good chance it might be a 'dry' bite, and if so, you will have an infection from the bacteria in the snake's mouth. I see the redness and swelling beginning, so I have to believe you got venom."
"It's really beginning to sting and burn, what can you do?"
"If you have access to a Dr. and hospital, you keep yourself calm and go there. Since it's not an option, you stay calm here. Copperhead bites are usually not as fatal as a rattlesnake bite can be, but it's going to be very uncomfortable."
"Isn't there something you should do to draw out the poison?" Dory was almost begging.
"It's better to leave it alone, but if you insist, we can heat a bottle and let it form a vacuum against your skin; that might draw out some liquid. The best thing you can do is keep calm and not work yourself into a tizzy and make your heart pump hard. That's why we want you still and quiet." Clora turned to find some sort of a bottle to use as a makeshift vacuum chamber.
Milo heard Dory say, "well yeah, it's not you that got bit obviously," and his fingers tightened in warning on her shoulders.
"If you had just obeyed what I called out to you; you probably wouldn't have been bit. But oh no, not you. You had to turn around to argue with me, and stepped on the snake that was trying to get away. So this fiasco is 100 percent your own fault. I don't know what makes you automatically argue with everyone, but it's a pretty stupid habit. You can either do as Ma tells you to do, or suffer the consequences. The rest of us are tired of dealing with you."
Clora looked up to censure Milo, and her son shook his head no. "You know I'm right Ma; if she wants to be an idiot, she can go be an idiot somewhere else. We don't have the time to baby her through all the stupid things she does."
Clora gave Dory a look that backed up Milo's words totally. "Milo is going to let go of your shoulders, he has to get back to work. YOU," she addressed Dory, "will lay there quietly."
"Yes Ma'am," Dory said softly, trying to relax against the lumpy couch. The way the bite was beginning to sting, itch and burn, the urge to move was great.
Clora tried several times to create a vacuum with an old ketchup bottle, but the bony and uneven skin of Dory's ankle made it impossible.
Tess came in with the boys. "Hey Grandma, we saw two more of the snakes, longer than we are tall. Granddad told us all about them and what to do if we saw one. He killed'em," Daniel confided happily, "I don't like snakes. Is Miss Dory gonna die?"
"I don't believe so Daniel, but she will get very sick and I don't want you kids bumping into her leg."
"Yes Grandma," three young voices sang out in unison, but they looked very disappointed that they wouldn't get to watch Dory die; that seemed like an interesting thing to happen.
"Lay still Dory," Clora commanded. "You need to stay calm and still, I want you to tell me where you were bit, but I don't want you to move, do you understand?"
The first thing Dory went to do, was lift her leg and try to sit up.
"I said do not move," Clora pushed the woman roughly back against the couch cushions. "Can't you hear? I will have Milo hold you down if you don't comply."
Dory opened her mouth to argue back, and felt Milo's hands settle on her shoulders. Tensing with anger, Dory gritted her teeth and shot daggers at Clora who ignored her.
"My right leg," she finally managed to spit out. "On the right side of my ankle, between there and my heel. I felt the fangs break the skin; I suppose I'm gonna die now, aren't I?"
"You might," Clora replied as she peeled Dory's sock back. "Chances are, if you keep being a foolish woman, it might come sooner than later. We need to monitor the bite; there's a good chance it might be a 'dry' bite, and if so, you will have an infection from the bacteria in the snake's mouth. I see the redness and swelling beginning, so I have to believe you got venom."
"It's really beginning to sting and burn, what can you do?"
"If you have access to a Dr. and hospital, you keep yourself calm and go there. Since it's not an option, you stay calm here. Copperhead bites are usually not as fatal as a rattlesnake bite can be, but it's going to be very uncomfortable."
"Isn't there something you should do to draw out the poison?" Dory was almost begging.
"It's better to leave it alone, but if you insist, we can heat a bottle and let it form a vacuum against your skin; that might draw out some liquid. The best thing you can do is keep calm and not work yourself into a tizzy and make your heart pump hard. That's why we want you still and quiet." Clora turned to find some sort of a bottle to use as a makeshift vacuum chamber.
Milo heard Dory say, "well yeah, it's not you that got bit obviously," and his fingers tightened in warning on her shoulders.
"If you had just obeyed what I called out to you; you probably wouldn't have been bit. But oh no, not you. You had to turn around to argue with me, and stepped on the snake that was trying to get away. So this fiasco is 100 percent your own fault. I don't know what makes you automatically argue with everyone, but it's a pretty stupid habit. You can either do as Ma tells you to do, or suffer the consequences. The rest of us are tired of dealing with you."
Clora looked up to censure Milo, and her son shook his head no. "You know I'm right Ma; if she wants to be an idiot, she can go be an idiot somewhere else. We don't have the time to baby her through all the stupid things she does."
Clora gave Dory a look that backed up Milo's words totally. "Milo is going to let go of your shoulders, he has to get back to work. YOU," she addressed Dory, "will lay there quietly."
"Yes Ma'am," Dory said softly, trying to relax against the lumpy couch. The way the bite was beginning to sting, itch and burn, the urge to move was great.
Clora tried several times to create a vacuum with an old ketchup bottle, but the bony and uneven skin of Dory's ankle made it impossible.
Tess came in with the boys. "Hey Grandma, we saw two more of the snakes, longer than we are tall. Granddad told us all about them and what to do if we saw one. He killed'em," Daniel confided happily, "I don't like snakes. Is Miss Dory gonna die?"
"I don't believe so Daniel, but she will get very sick and I don't want you kids bumping into her leg."
"Yes Grandma," three young voices sang out in unison, but they looked very disappointed that they wouldn't get to watch Dory die; that seemed like an interesting thing to happen.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Very good, thank you.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#270
Tess, Honey and Rennie were the garden crew. There was some grumbling among the ladies, Honey almost sure Dory got bitten on purpose so she didn't have to work.
Wisely, she did not voice her opinion out loud, but she sure had it in her mind; as they trenched, seeded, covered and hilled the extra garden space.
Along the fence line inside the compound, between the gate and the existing garden, Milo started plowing rows and rows of turned over earth. Previously, it had been an unused area, space to keep lookers. intruders and wolves a good distance away from the people activity. Now, it was going to be the barley growing area.
Clora went hunting Mark, telling of her desire for rows of wheat, planted in the same manner.
"I think it would be a waste of wheat seed Clora. Wheat needs a dormant period and ten or eleven months of growing, and then ripening. Is there anything else we might have available to plant?" Mark questioned.
"If we don't eat potatoes at all, and plant what we have set aside for food, we would have enough to almost fill a couple of rows. In that same line of thought, what about corn? We have several sacks of whole corn to grind for cornmeal, are they useable?"
"I would think so, of course I'm not a hundred percent sure, but sure worth a try. Corn should be up and producing ears in 90 days, then there are stalks for the animals and room to plant the wheat for next summers harvest. Let's do that," Mark was in an enthusiastic mood.
The two of them walked back to the barn, discussing Dory, the weather, and then Clora dropped her bombshell.
"I've had this notion," she started out, "that you need to send another letter to the current prince. I believe there are additional urns downstairs in the tunnel by the body pile. Enough of them that the prince would need to clear the tunnel for us to get the urns out."
Tess, Honey and Rennie were the garden crew. There was some grumbling among the ladies, Honey almost sure Dory got bitten on purpose so she didn't have to work.
Wisely, she did not voice her opinion out loud, but she sure had it in her mind; as they trenched, seeded, covered and hilled the extra garden space.
Along the fence line inside the compound, between the gate and the existing garden, Milo started plowing rows and rows of turned over earth. Previously, it had been an unused area, space to keep lookers. intruders and wolves a good distance away from the people activity. Now, it was going to be the barley growing area.
Clora went hunting Mark, telling of her desire for rows of wheat, planted in the same manner.
"I think it would be a waste of wheat seed Clora. Wheat needs a dormant period and ten or eleven months of growing, and then ripening. Is there anything else we might have available to plant?" Mark questioned.
"If we don't eat potatoes at all, and plant what we have set aside for food, we would have enough to almost fill a couple of rows. In that same line of thought, what about corn? We have several sacks of whole corn to grind for cornmeal, are they useable?"
"I would think so, of course I'm not a hundred percent sure, but sure worth a try. Corn should be up and producing ears in 90 days, then there are stalks for the animals and room to plant the wheat for next summers harvest. Let's do that," Mark was in an enthusiastic mood.
The two of them walked back to the barn, discussing Dory, the weather, and then Clora dropped her bombshell.
"I've had this notion," she started out, "that you need to send another letter to the current prince. I believe there are additional urns downstairs in the tunnel by the body pile. Enough of them that the prince would need to clear the tunnel for us to get the urns out."
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#270b
Mark kinda sputtered. "Clora, for the life of me; you're going to make me into an old man. I have to admit that is some idea you have. My first and foremost thought, will it be wise to let them know about the tunnel?"
"They may already know. Hacked up bodies is a calling card of their violence, isn't it?"
"Yeah, I see what you mean. Ahhh, I wrote the first letter but never found a place to mail it. I'm not sure how to get it to them." Mark was thinking hard. "This requires some deep thought and planning. If the new prince comes at us with force, we may wind up like the heap of bodies in the basement. He may have been looking for urns, and went berserk when there were none here and we were gone. Humm, actually that supposition makes a lot of sense, now that it comes to light. It could explain a lot of happenings there didn't seem to be any rational reason for." Mark was scratching his chin and rubbing the back of his neck.
"That might be a great revenge, have the prince clean up his own mess to get to the urns. And, the urns had to have been delivered after the massacre, so someone was either watching, or late to the party." he added as his mind went spinning in 90 different directions.
"Are you still a Marshall? Would they be of any help?" Clora's calm questions had Mark stopping to listen to her reasons.
"I am, and so are Milo and Tess. We have never been relieved of our duties, so I'm assuming...……. well, you know what assuming will get ya. The one thing I wish we had, above all other items, is a short wave radio. That would be so slick to listen to world air traffic, and perhaps get to understand what is happening."
All of a sudden the lid that Mark had hammered tightly on his OCD need to know information vault burst open and he was newly afire with purpose and resolve.
"Wouldn't a short wave radio need to use electricity? That seems to be a commodity in short supply?" Clora was doing her own thinking.
"With a plane in the sky, there's an electric grid functioning somewhere," Mark replied slowly. Rubbing his hands together, he wandered off to the main house to look for papers he had stored. A man with a mission.
"Be careful going in there," Clora called out and got a wave of his hand.
Gary had spent two weeks with his belligerent totally non cooperative nephew; and the situtation hadn't improved or really changed in any meaningful way.
Ricky was just as apt to spit and curse as he was the first day.
To the young man, Gary was calm and infuriating and unreasonable as the day was long. He hadn't given Ricky a lot of rules; but the ones he did have, he never waivered from.
The spitting rule was the one that Ricky hated the worst. If Ricky spit at Gary, the man calmly and deliberately got down from his horse. cut a switch and walloped Ricky on the bottom.
Stubborn to the bottoms of his feet, Ricky hadn't made up his mind to stop spitting, except lately, the whoopings had gotten longer and harder. That was alright, he could take it, and the first time he had the opportunity, he was going to run away. He didn't need this intervention, or what ever the hell it was.
Ricky was filled with hate from his heart both ways.
Gary had thought he acted a great deal like Ricky, except he had been scared, not full of evil rage as Ricky was. It took three weeks of slow lumbering travel to reach Greenville. Sitting on the ridge above town, Gary could see there was no use to travel into town. There was nothing there.
Turning the horses northward up the eastern Continental Divide, they negotiated the steep terrain, stopping often to let the horses blow. What had been traveled in less than an hour by car, took the whole day to reach the old hotel by the lake.
It had been his intention to camp there for the night, but the entire area had been ransacked. They had destroyed the hotel, barn and hayshed. Even the graves had been opened and bleached white human bones were scattered around the small knoll.
Gary rode slowly by the wreckage, following the faint trail that curled around the steep curves and headed for Henderson.
"Hey, it's time to stop; why are you going on by." Ricky whined, "There's water here, I'm thirsty."
"Not here, not now," Gary growled his meanest sounding denial yet, and kept pushing on.
Mark kinda sputtered. "Clora, for the life of me; you're going to make me into an old man. I have to admit that is some idea you have. My first and foremost thought, will it be wise to let them know about the tunnel?"
"They may already know. Hacked up bodies is a calling card of their violence, isn't it?"
"Yeah, I see what you mean. Ahhh, I wrote the first letter but never found a place to mail it. I'm not sure how to get it to them." Mark was thinking hard. "This requires some deep thought and planning. If the new prince comes at us with force, we may wind up like the heap of bodies in the basement. He may have been looking for urns, and went berserk when there were none here and we were gone. Humm, actually that supposition makes a lot of sense, now that it comes to light. It could explain a lot of happenings there didn't seem to be any rational reason for." Mark was scratching his chin and rubbing the back of his neck.
"That might be a great revenge, have the prince clean up his own mess to get to the urns. And, the urns had to have been delivered after the massacre, so someone was either watching, or late to the party." he added as his mind went spinning in 90 different directions.
"Are you still a Marshall? Would they be of any help?" Clora's calm questions had Mark stopping to listen to her reasons.
"I am, and so are Milo and Tess. We have never been relieved of our duties, so I'm assuming...……. well, you know what assuming will get ya. The one thing I wish we had, above all other items, is a short wave radio. That would be so slick to listen to world air traffic, and perhaps get to understand what is happening."
All of a sudden the lid that Mark had hammered tightly on his OCD need to know information vault burst open and he was newly afire with purpose and resolve.
"Wouldn't a short wave radio need to use electricity? That seems to be a commodity in short supply?" Clora was doing her own thinking.
"With a plane in the sky, there's an electric grid functioning somewhere," Mark replied slowly. Rubbing his hands together, he wandered off to the main house to look for papers he had stored. A man with a mission.
"Be careful going in there," Clora called out and got a wave of his hand.
Gary had spent two weeks with his belligerent totally non cooperative nephew; and the situtation hadn't improved or really changed in any meaningful way.
Ricky was just as apt to spit and curse as he was the first day.
To the young man, Gary was calm and infuriating and unreasonable as the day was long. He hadn't given Ricky a lot of rules; but the ones he did have, he never waivered from.
The spitting rule was the one that Ricky hated the worst. If Ricky spit at Gary, the man calmly and deliberately got down from his horse. cut a switch and walloped Ricky on the bottom.
Stubborn to the bottoms of his feet, Ricky hadn't made up his mind to stop spitting, except lately, the whoopings had gotten longer and harder. That was alright, he could take it, and the first time he had the opportunity, he was going to run away. He didn't need this intervention, or what ever the hell it was.
Ricky was filled with hate from his heart both ways.
Gary had thought he acted a great deal like Ricky, except he had been scared, not full of evil rage as Ricky was. It took three weeks of slow lumbering travel to reach Greenville. Sitting on the ridge above town, Gary could see there was no use to travel into town. There was nothing there.
Turning the horses northward up the eastern Continental Divide, they negotiated the steep terrain, stopping often to let the horses blow. What had been traveled in less than an hour by car, took the whole day to reach the old hotel by the lake.
It had been his intention to camp there for the night, but the entire area had been ransacked. They had destroyed the hotel, barn and hayshed. Even the graves had been opened and bleached white human bones were scattered around the small knoll.
Gary rode slowly by the wreckage, following the faint trail that curled around the steep curves and headed for Henderson.
"Hey, it's time to stop; why are you going on by." Ricky whined, "There's water here, I'm thirsty."
"Not here, not now," Gary growled his meanest sounding denial yet, and kept pushing on.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
I sure was hoping he could straighten the kid out.
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Somehow, I had this feeling The Urns were not done with Mark, Clora et al.
Well, more accurately, I was sure our Author wasn't done with them; hard to let a good thread unravel and die with out some resolution......
As to the whiner, Ricky will get with the program or not but his success or failure will be his; his survival too. You can't help anyone like him until they admit to needing, then asking for help. Until then, all you can do is make sure they know help is available and try to keep them, and those around them, safe. Leading by example only works with those ready to be better.
Mrs PAC, as usual, more depth and colour to make the picture more vivid: thank you.
Well, more accurately, I was sure our Author wasn't done with them; hard to let a good thread unravel and die with out some resolution......
As to the whiner, Ricky will get with the program or not but his success or failure will be his; his survival too. You can't help anyone like him until they admit to needing, then asking for help. Until then, all you can do is make sure they know help is available and try to keep them, and those around them, safe. Leading by example only works with those ready to be better.
Mrs PAC, as usual, more depth and colour to make the picture more vivid: thank you.
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PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#271
Clora went in to check on Dory. The woman was lying quietly, pensively staring at the ceiling. "It really hurts and there's a terrible itch down deep and it makes me want to rub it."
"I have some comfrey leaves to make a poultice, it is a comforting draw, non-stinging, and should help with the itch. It has to be heated gently, so it will take a little bit."
"Those leaves are huge, what did you say it was?" Dory asked as her eyes followed Clora in the kitchen.
"Comfrey," Clora replied as she pumped water into a pan and set it on the stove. Clora took a couple of aspirin and crushed them carefully on a plate. Scraping up the crushed white bits into a tablespoon, she used a drop of water to moisten the substance into a thin paste. Using a teaspoon, Clora carefully dropped the slurry on the fang marks.
"What's that?"
"An aspirin draw, something to try while the comfrey is heating."
"You mean you haven't tried it before?" Dory's voice rose several octaves. "What if it turns out to be the wrong thing to do?"
"I'm trying to show you that I don't value your life any more than you do. You cannot continue to be so careless, you endanger us all by not following orders when they are given. We are not beating you into submission, we are asking you to be alert and capable of following orders given for your own safety. I am going to tell you," and Clora took in a deep breath before she continued.
"That the choice is going to be yours. Either you stop the constant arguing, or find yourself another group to associate with. All the men here have extensive military training, you will not argue or question their decisions. You will obey when given an order. Am I making myself totally clear? There is no debate in this matter, I'm giving you this warning, and I won't issue another."
This was a Clora that Dory had never faced before. The young woman had to double blink, and when she opened her mouth, no words came out.
"Think long and hard before you say anything," Clora held a steady but censuring look at the young woman. "You are here in our group, under our protection. If you think you can do better elsewhere, you are welcome to leave. But I would go over my options very carefully, if I were you." Clora turned around to test the water in the pan. Pumping more water in the sink, Clora let the dribble of water wash the dust and bugs from the Comfrey. Rolling the wet leaf tightly down one side of the fibrous stem, Clora cut ribbons from the rolled leaf and chopped them in a medium dice. Into the slowly warming water, the leaves were carefully stirred into a lump of green goop.
"I'm going to put this tray under your foot, and elevate your ankle with this rolled up towel." Clora explained, as she deftly accomplished her task.
"That stuff smells green like," Dory ventured carefully, not willing to get on Clora's mad side again.
Clora accepted the change in the conversation with a small nod, and for the rest of the morning, tended to her patient.
Clora went in to check on Dory. The woman was lying quietly, pensively staring at the ceiling. "It really hurts and there's a terrible itch down deep and it makes me want to rub it."
"I have some comfrey leaves to make a poultice, it is a comforting draw, non-stinging, and should help with the itch. It has to be heated gently, so it will take a little bit."
"Those leaves are huge, what did you say it was?" Dory asked as her eyes followed Clora in the kitchen.
"Comfrey," Clora replied as she pumped water into a pan and set it on the stove. Clora took a couple of aspirin and crushed them carefully on a plate. Scraping up the crushed white bits into a tablespoon, she used a drop of water to moisten the substance into a thin paste. Using a teaspoon, Clora carefully dropped the slurry on the fang marks.
"What's that?"
"An aspirin draw, something to try while the comfrey is heating."
"You mean you haven't tried it before?" Dory's voice rose several octaves. "What if it turns out to be the wrong thing to do?"
"I'm trying to show you that I don't value your life any more than you do. You cannot continue to be so careless, you endanger us all by not following orders when they are given. We are not beating you into submission, we are asking you to be alert and capable of following orders given for your own safety. I am going to tell you," and Clora took in a deep breath before she continued.
"That the choice is going to be yours. Either you stop the constant arguing, or find yourself another group to associate with. All the men here have extensive military training, you will not argue or question their decisions. You will obey when given an order. Am I making myself totally clear? There is no debate in this matter, I'm giving you this warning, and I won't issue another."
This was a Clora that Dory had never faced before. The young woman had to double blink, and when she opened her mouth, no words came out.
"Think long and hard before you say anything," Clora held a steady but censuring look at the young woman. "You are here in our group, under our protection. If you think you can do better elsewhere, you are welcome to leave. But I would go over my options very carefully, if I were you." Clora turned around to test the water in the pan. Pumping more water in the sink, Clora let the dribble of water wash the dust and bugs from the Comfrey. Rolling the wet leaf tightly down one side of the fibrous stem, Clora cut ribbons from the rolled leaf and chopped them in a medium dice. Into the slowly warming water, the leaves were carefully stirred into a lump of green goop.
"I'm going to put this tray under your foot, and elevate your ankle with this rolled up towel." Clora explained, as she deftly accomplished her task.
"That stuff smells green like," Dory ventured carefully, not willing to get on Clora's mad side again.
Clora accepted the change in the conversation with a small nod, and for the rest of the morning, tended to her patient.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you.
Texican
Live Free & Die Free.... God Freedom Country....
Dory better wise up and get with the program for Clora has set the guidelines and the guidelines will be followed or Dory is going by by.
Can Dory comply or does she need to start packing her bags?
Only Pac knows.
Thanks Pac.
Texican....
Can Dory comply or does she need to start packing her bags?
Only Pac knows.
Thanks Pac.
Texican....
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#272
Clora put the warm, goopy mass of Comfrey on the snake bite area and went to start supper. It was stew again, the delicious combination of small amounts of meat with any available vegetable and gravy.
It had been delicious in the beginning of the trip to Iowa. Now, two years later, it was hard to choke the mixture down. The whole clan was suffering from food fatigue. Add in rice and beans in any and all conceivable concoctions, and people were beginning to pass on eating, rather than eat the same thing day in and day out.
Clora dusted off her memory and made several whole wheat berry casseroles and puddings; and they were eaten less enthustically than Tess's earthworm initiation.
It wasn't just Clora's household, Toby and Milo had the same problems, and that led Milo to come up with the idea of a fish trap.
He and Robbie planned, made models and soaked willow branches to bend to make a conical willow basket, Figuring out how to make side walls to funnel the fish into the basket, but not let the fish swim back out, took a lot of their spare time.
The garden had been planted, the corn squash, beans, potatoes and barley tucked into the earth to sprout and hopefully increase. Cutting firewood was a constant priority, and the cool, sharp weather another reminder that did not diminish the urgency to be prepared for winter.
It was the later weeks of August, that Milo and Robbie set out for the closest river, about four miles away. They had been at the retreat for a month; and the garden wasn't faring well.
The tomatoes were a dismal failure, refusing to germinate, or growing stunted in the cold weather. The corn was a major disappointment, growing so slowly that the squash leaves were taller than the corn they were supposed to provide shade for.
Every time she looked at the garden, Clora prayed harder. They were in serious straits, the more she cut back, the faster the storeroom lost it's inventory of food.
This is why Milo and Robbie went fishing early one August morning. Honey was in a tizz about both of her men leaving, Clora had forbid Mark and Toby to go leaving the retreat unguarded, Tess and Clora were tending the garden with Dory as security; her foot propped up on a chair.
Toby and Mark were cutting wood, when Dory screamed that the approaching group of men were armed.
Pedi cabs hauled the current prince and his entourage right to the retreat gate, and men began hollering for entrance, brandishing rifles and very irritated tempers.
Clora put the warm, goopy mass of Comfrey on the snake bite area and went to start supper. It was stew again, the delicious combination of small amounts of meat with any available vegetable and gravy.
It had been delicious in the beginning of the trip to Iowa. Now, two years later, it was hard to choke the mixture down. The whole clan was suffering from food fatigue. Add in rice and beans in any and all conceivable concoctions, and people were beginning to pass on eating, rather than eat the same thing day in and day out.
Clora dusted off her memory and made several whole wheat berry casseroles and puddings; and they were eaten less enthustically than Tess's earthworm initiation.
It wasn't just Clora's household, Toby and Milo had the same problems, and that led Milo to come up with the idea of a fish trap.
He and Robbie planned, made models and soaked willow branches to bend to make a conical willow basket, Figuring out how to make side walls to funnel the fish into the basket, but not let the fish swim back out, took a lot of their spare time.
The garden had been planted, the corn squash, beans, potatoes and barley tucked into the earth to sprout and hopefully increase. Cutting firewood was a constant priority, and the cool, sharp weather another reminder that did not diminish the urgency to be prepared for winter.
It was the later weeks of August, that Milo and Robbie set out for the closest river, about four miles away. They had been at the retreat for a month; and the garden wasn't faring well.
The tomatoes were a dismal failure, refusing to germinate, or growing stunted in the cold weather. The corn was a major disappointment, growing so slowly that the squash leaves were taller than the corn they were supposed to provide shade for.
Every time she looked at the garden, Clora prayed harder. They were in serious straits, the more she cut back, the faster the storeroom lost it's inventory of food.
This is why Milo and Robbie went fishing early one August morning. Honey was in a tizz about both of her men leaving, Clora had forbid Mark and Toby to go leaving the retreat unguarded, Tess and Clora were tending the garden with Dory as security; her foot propped up on a chair.
Toby and Mark were cutting wood, when Dory screamed that the approaching group of men were armed.
Pedi cabs hauled the current prince and his entourage right to the retreat gate, and men began hollering for entrance, brandishing rifles and very irritated tempers.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Oh my! Thank you.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#273
Mark snapped into commander mode. All the women and children went to the barn apartment; Toby stationed himself at the retreat door and Clora, once she got Dory inside, took up her rifle and went to the barn door shadows.
Mark carried his battle rifle at the ready, rightly assuming that the visitors had weapons trained on him. Carefully, he kept the prince in an open lane of fire, as he walked confidently toward the gate.
Servants of the prince were milling nervously, trying to push the gate open, giving themselves a panic because the prince was inconvenienced.
"Stop!" Mark ordered, his voice almost drowned out by the roaring of the guards and the foolish chatter of the servants.
Mark decided he would stand at the gate all day, until the prince created some order from the chaos. One word from the man would have silenced the commotion, and Mark stood staring unsmiling at the potentate, waiting for the man to speak.
The prince let the frenzied activity go on for many long minutes, and then with a snap of his fingers, the silence was deafening. He conferred low with a nervous young man who swallowed hard and came forward with a request that they be allowed to enter; the prince was in a great hurry.
"The prince may enter with three men," Mark said sternly, shifting his eyes from the young man to the dark bearded prince. The young man started visibly trembling, his mouth gaping open as he turned around to genuflect to his royal highness.
The quaking man started to repeat what Mark had said, and the prince waved him away. "I heard," he said with a sneer. "What if I disregard your conditions?"
"Then you will die along with several of your men, before you kill me," Mark said calmly, not moving an inch.
There were gasps of astonishment from the group, and the heavily armed men in the group tightened their hands on their weapons.
"My father said you were the most obstinate but fair man for an American. How do I know you will extend the same fairness to me?" The contempt fairly dripped from his lips.
"You don't, I treat all men in direct relationship to the way they treat me," came the same calm, measured tone.
The prince steepled his hands under his chin and took a long measuring look at the white haired man barring the entrance. Three low words to the man standing beside him and a snap of his fingers, brought three of the burliest guards to the gate.
A fresh pedi cab driver was motioned forward and the prince and his three guards were admitted. Mark led the way to the retreat, and opened the door to the large building.
The hesitation from the guards, told Mark all he needed to know about the prince and his involvement in the massacre in the basement, Both Toby and Clora were in the shadows of each of the main wings, and Mark indicated the prince should proceed him in the building.
The guards pushed in to clear the building, and broke into a shouting match when they discovered Toby and Clora with weapons.
The prince turned with a disproving sneer, and Mark just as calmly as ever said, "you have your men, I have mine."
"You do not live here?" the prince looked around the empty, silent building.
"I'm sure you know why," Mark countered with reserve. "I have something to show you, so you know I speak in good faith." and he removed the two letters he had written from his vest pocket.
Mark handed the envelopes to the prince and stood solidly with his rifle at the easy.
The prince flicked his eyes rapidly over the contents and said in cultured English with a slight British intonation, "I can see you have attempted to contact us, How many of the urns do you have?"
"There are three upstairs here. The unknown amount of the rest of them are beneath the decaying, putrefied bodies you left in the tunnel. The price you will pay for the urns, will be the cleaning of the body pile."
The prince jerked back, the only sign he was acquainted with the condition of the bodies. "I would like to see the three that are here," he commanded.
"Clora," Mark spoke, "Take that man to the room where the urns are."
Clora stepped forward and motioned the man to follow her. He looked at his ruler and the prince flipped his fingers and the man bowed and went to follow Clora.
"Not him," Clora said loudly, "he has too many weapons and has your orders to kill me with a knife in the room." Clora leveled her rifle at the guard, who incidentally was standing in the line of fire toward the prince.
"Have the man that pedaled the cab come in here, he can retrieve the urns," Clora used her most imperial voice and looked down her nose at the prince.
Her command brought gasps from the guards, and they looked fearfully at the prince for his wishes.
Another flick of his fingers, had a guard beckoning the driver inside. The guard spoke to the driver and he looked up in surprise, but dutifully followed the woman into the dark hall.
Mark seldom blinked and stared in direct opposition to the prince's royal protocol.
"The American dog should be shown his manners," one of the guards dripped acid in his sneer."
Mark replied in flawless Farsi, "I am not the prince's subject, and I believe you should be first to enter the tunnel for a remark like that."
The prince's mouth twitched slightly, and he motioned for his guard to stand back. The guard had blanched white under his swarthy complexion, and shot dagger looks at the brash American.
The pedi driver came scurrying in the room with two of the urns, bowed as he set them at the prince's feet and ran back into the dark hall for the last one.
To Mark, it was clear by the look on the prince's face that neither of the three urns were the one he expected to find.
Mark snapped into commander mode. All the women and children went to the barn apartment; Toby stationed himself at the retreat door and Clora, once she got Dory inside, took up her rifle and went to the barn door shadows.
Mark carried his battle rifle at the ready, rightly assuming that the visitors had weapons trained on him. Carefully, he kept the prince in an open lane of fire, as he walked confidently toward the gate.
Servants of the prince were milling nervously, trying to push the gate open, giving themselves a panic because the prince was inconvenienced.
"Stop!" Mark ordered, his voice almost drowned out by the roaring of the guards and the foolish chatter of the servants.
Mark decided he would stand at the gate all day, until the prince created some order from the chaos. One word from the man would have silenced the commotion, and Mark stood staring unsmiling at the potentate, waiting for the man to speak.
The prince let the frenzied activity go on for many long minutes, and then with a snap of his fingers, the silence was deafening. He conferred low with a nervous young man who swallowed hard and came forward with a request that they be allowed to enter; the prince was in a great hurry.
"The prince may enter with three men," Mark said sternly, shifting his eyes from the young man to the dark bearded prince. The young man started visibly trembling, his mouth gaping open as he turned around to genuflect to his royal highness.
The quaking man started to repeat what Mark had said, and the prince waved him away. "I heard," he said with a sneer. "What if I disregard your conditions?"
"Then you will die along with several of your men, before you kill me," Mark said calmly, not moving an inch.
There were gasps of astonishment from the group, and the heavily armed men in the group tightened their hands on their weapons.
"My father said you were the most obstinate but fair man for an American. How do I know you will extend the same fairness to me?" The contempt fairly dripped from his lips.
"You don't, I treat all men in direct relationship to the way they treat me," came the same calm, measured tone.
The prince steepled his hands under his chin and took a long measuring look at the white haired man barring the entrance. Three low words to the man standing beside him and a snap of his fingers, brought three of the burliest guards to the gate.
A fresh pedi cab driver was motioned forward and the prince and his three guards were admitted. Mark led the way to the retreat, and opened the door to the large building.
The hesitation from the guards, told Mark all he needed to know about the prince and his involvement in the massacre in the basement, Both Toby and Clora were in the shadows of each of the main wings, and Mark indicated the prince should proceed him in the building.
The guards pushed in to clear the building, and broke into a shouting match when they discovered Toby and Clora with weapons.
The prince turned with a disproving sneer, and Mark just as calmly as ever said, "you have your men, I have mine."
"You do not live here?" the prince looked around the empty, silent building.
"I'm sure you know why," Mark countered with reserve. "I have something to show you, so you know I speak in good faith." and he removed the two letters he had written from his vest pocket.
Mark handed the envelopes to the prince and stood solidly with his rifle at the easy.
The prince flicked his eyes rapidly over the contents and said in cultured English with a slight British intonation, "I can see you have attempted to contact us, How many of the urns do you have?"
"There are three upstairs here. The unknown amount of the rest of them are beneath the decaying, putrefied bodies you left in the tunnel. The price you will pay for the urns, will be the cleaning of the body pile."
The prince jerked back, the only sign he was acquainted with the condition of the bodies. "I would like to see the three that are here," he commanded.
"Clora," Mark spoke, "Take that man to the room where the urns are."
Clora stepped forward and motioned the man to follow her. He looked at his ruler and the prince flipped his fingers and the man bowed and went to follow Clora.
"Not him," Clora said loudly, "he has too many weapons and has your orders to kill me with a knife in the room." Clora leveled her rifle at the guard, who incidentally was standing in the line of fire toward the prince.
"Have the man that pedaled the cab come in here, he can retrieve the urns," Clora used her most imperial voice and looked down her nose at the prince.
Her command brought gasps from the guards, and they looked fearfully at the prince for his wishes.
Another flick of his fingers, had a guard beckoning the driver inside. The guard spoke to the driver and he looked up in surprise, but dutifully followed the woman into the dark hall.
Mark seldom blinked and stared in direct opposition to the prince's royal protocol.
"The American dog should be shown his manners," one of the guards dripped acid in his sneer."
Mark replied in flawless Farsi, "I am not the prince's subject, and I believe you should be first to enter the tunnel for a remark like that."
The prince's mouth twitched slightly, and he motioned for his guard to stand back. The guard had blanched white under his swarthy complexion, and shot dagger looks at the brash American.
The pedi driver came scurrying in the room with two of the urns, bowed as he set them at the prince's feet and ran back into the dark hall for the last one.
To Mark, it was clear by the look on the prince's face that neither of the three urns were the one he expected to find.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Who would have thought even one of the sons would still be alive?