sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Take care Pac.
Story Grace, Mercy and Blessings
- Thread starter PacNorWest
- Start date
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#293b
"Sorry boys, not this time. Uncle Milo and I need to do a fast one. Please help around the place and we'll go hog hunting tomorrow." Toby addressed the small band of mutinous looking children, who didn't seemed inclined to be placated.
As the two men rode East, they were talking low between themselves. "Boy, does that bring back memories;" Milo commented. "It seemed like Ted and I were always being told we were too little to 'go and do. It was a lot better when you joined up with us, Ma and Dad relaxed a little. What do you remember of those early days?" Milo questioned.
"Tell ya later, let's get to the river," and Toby motioned for them to canter.
The trip was indeed hard and fast. They had one very large catfish and a busted trap, where the fish had exercised his displeasure.
"I figure I can lift 60-65 pounds easily, and he's a tussle for sure." Toby was lifting the giant fish by the mouth with both hands, in the classic pose.
"Better you than me," Milo laughed, "tell me O great fisherman, how are we gonna get that monster home?"
"Quarter him like a deer, I suppose," Toby was alert to something in the distance. "Listen, I think we need to take the fish and the horses and head for the brush. I could swear I heard people."
Milo had one hand grabbing his side of the fish's mouth and his reins in the other. "I'm ready," he whispered.
Toby grinned at his brother. That's what he liked about Milo, no long drawn out explanations were necessary, the man was always ready to act.
"Sorry boys, not this time. Uncle Milo and I need to do a fast one. Please help around the place and we'll go hog hunting tomorrow." Toby addressed the small band of mutinous looking children, who didn't seemed inclined to be placated.
As the two men rode East, they were talking low between themselves. "Boy, does that bring back memories;" Milo commented. "It seemed like Ted and I were always being told we were too little to 'go and do. It was a lot better when you joined up with us, Ma and Dad relaxed a little. What do you remember of those early days?" Milo questioned.
"Tell ya later, let's get to the river," and Toby motioned for them to canter.
The trip was indeed hard and fast. They had one very large catfish and a busted trap, where the fish had exercised his displeasure.
"I figure I can lift 60-65 pounds easily, and he's a tussle for sure." Toby was lifting the giant fish by the mouth with both hands, in the classic pose.
"Better you than me," Milo laughed, "tell me O great fisherman, how are we gonna get that monster home?"
"Quarter him like a deer, I suppose," Toby was alert to something in the distance. "Listen, I think we need to take the fish and the horses and head for the brush. I could swear I heard people."
Milo had one hand grabbing his side of the fish's mouth and his reins in the other. "I'm ready," he whispered.
Toby grinned at his brother. That's what he liked about Milo, no long drawn out explanations were necessary, the man was always ready to act.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Nice, now what trouble? Thank you.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#294
Entering the thick brush at the river's edge, the two men looped their horses reins over a branch and Milo was guard as Toby ran a rope through the huge catfish's mouth and gills.
The very much alive fish was thrashing and twisting and making as much noise as possible. Toby looked up at Milo, shrugged and then used the butt of his rifle to strike the fish on the top of the head.
The noise seemed very loud, but in reality wasn't that noticeable with the river sounds, the wind and the bird chorus that was singing. The catfish went still, either dead or stunned.
Both men stood close to their horses' heads, ready to stop a whinny if need be; the horses ears forward, listening to the unseen and unknown source of voices.
The source didn't seem to be concerned with noise control, and as they drew close enough so individual words could be heard, it sounded like a family or families with chattering young children.
Toby could see the group, but Milo could not through the thick clumps of brush and tangled willow. There were seven or eight women, more than a dozen children and one old man riding on a donkey as an escort.
Instantly Toby went on alert, the whole scenario seemed off and forced, stilted. The women stared at the ground, and yet moved forward on the hard to distinguish 'road'.
It was their manner of dress that cautioned Toby, the group was definitely Middle Eastern with flowing burnouses and hijabs covering the women.
As the group advanced, they got in Milo's line of sight, and his opinion matched Toby's. The women and children were front men for a raiding party; designed to take away suspicion and then the men attacked.
Toby and Milo stood quietly for more than a half hour, before they heard the sounds of passing feet. Practicing strict sound discipline, the group of fifteen men were headed straight for the retreat.
Chuck and Wyatt were the first of the group to reach St. Louis and the expensive river ferry. It took three days of haggling and three of the mares with colts to pay the passage across with the remaining horses.
Chuck had come across before, but Wyatt was ready to jump out of his hide with nervousness. White faced and trembling, the stalwart sheriff vowed to never get near such a flimsily contraption again.
"I can't believe people voluntarily get on such a dilapidated hunk of junk and think they would be safe crossing the river. Do you suppose Tess and family came this way?" When Wyatt was finally back in solid ground, he said a prayer of thanks.
"I'm supposing so," Chuck was somewhat the same, but trying to hide his frightened reaction to the obviously deteriorating ferry raft. "Believe me, it wasn't in that poor a condition when we crossed before. It's not the same guy running the ferry either. He was a little old dried up piece of driftwood with a nasty temper, and nearly lost their brother Gary when a part of the raft broke."
"I'm not doing that again, once was enough in this lifetime," Wyatt declaired stoutly, and Chuck nodded his agreement.
Chuck and Wyatt had a small amount of change in their pockets, left over from the sale/trade of the three mares and colts. It was Wyatt's mare that had been offered as the third horse, so he got the honor of going into the bustling city market to buy supplies.
Entering the thick brush at the river's edge, the two men looped their horses reins over a branch and Milo was guard as Toby ran a rope through the huge catfish's mouth and gills.
The very much alive fish was thrashing and twisting and making as much noise as possible. Toby looked up at Milo, shrugged and then used the butt of his rifle to strike the fish on the top of the head.
The noise seemed very loud, but in reality wasn't that noticeable with the river sounds, the wind and the bird chorus that was singing. The catfish went still, either dead or stunned.
Both men stood close to their horses' heads, ready to stop a whinny if need be; the horses ears forward, listening to the unseen and unknown source of voices.
The source didn't seem to be concerned with noise control, and as they drew close enough so individual words could be heard, it sounded like a family or families with chattering young children.
Toby could see the group, but Milo could not through the thick clumps of brush and tangled willow. There were seven or eight women, more than a dozen children and one old man riding on a donkey as an escort.
Instantly Toby went on alert, the whole scenario seemed off and forced, stilted. The women stared at the ground, and yet moved forward on the hard to distinguish 'road'.
It was their manner of dress that cautioned Toby, the group was definitely Middle Eastern with flowing burnouses and hijabs covering the women.
As the group advanced, they got in Milo's line of sight, and his opinion matched Toby's. The women and children were front men for a raiding party; designed to take away suspicion and then the men attacked.
Toby and Milo stood quietly for more than a half hour, before they heard the sounds of passing feet. Practicing strict sound discipline, the group of fifteen men were headed straight for the retreat.
Chuck and Wyatt were the first of the group to reach St. Louis and the expensive river ferry. It took three days of haggling and three of the mares with colts to pay the passage across with the remaining horses.
Chuck had come across before, but Wyatt was ready to jump out of his hide with nervousness. White faced and trembling, the stalwart sheriff vowed to never get near such a flimsily contraption again.
"I can't believe people voluntarily get on such a dilapidated hunk of junk and think they would be safe crossing the river. Do you suppose Tess and family came this way?" When Wyatt was finally back in solid ground, he said a prayer of thanks.
"I'm supposing so," Chuck was somewhat the same, but trying to hide his frightened reaction to the obviously deteriorating ferry raft. "Believe me, it wasn't in that poor a condition when we crossed before. It's not the same guy running the ferry either. He was a little old dried up piece of driftwood with a nasty temper, and nearly lost their brother Gary when a part of the raft broke."
"I'm not doing that again, once was enough in this lifetime," Wyatt declaired stoutly, and Chuck nodded his agreement.
Chuck and Wyatt had a small amount of change in their pockets, left over from the sale/trade of the three mares and colts. It was Wyatt's mare that had been offered as the third horse, so he got the honor of going into the bustling city market to buy supplies.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Good treat this morning, thank you.
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
"fifteen men were headed straight for the retreat"
Got to give these folks credit for perseverance but what to do w/ the women & kids? This group don't sound like migrants looking for a new start......
Oh well, we'll find out down the line but I anticipate it will be a bad end as Toby & Milo are capable warriors and their families are in the target area so, I'm not thinking they'll be all forgiving if the interlopers are actually an attack force....
G.
Got to give these folks credit for perseverance but what to do w/ the women & kids? This group don't sound like migrants looking for a new start......
Oh well, we'll find out down the line but I anticipate it will be a bad end as Toby & Milo are capable warriors and their families are in the target area so, I'm not thinking they'll be all forgiving if the interlopers are actually an attack force....
G.
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Texican
Live Free & Die Free.... God Freedom Country....
"fifteen men were headed straight for the retreat"
Two well trained guys with rifles and they let the bad guys head toward the retreat without taking any out. Bad judgement. Taking seveal out and the bad guys will chase the boys.
Texican....
Two well trained guys with rifles and they let the bad guys head toward the retreat without taking any out. Bad judgement. Taking seveal out and the bad guys will chase the boys.
Texican....
RememberGoliad
Veteran Member
You're jumping to a conclusion, Tex.... She dropped that action line for Chuck and Wyatt. A mini-cliff of what happens next after they saw those 15 heading to the retreat. I mean, they could be fixing to slap 'em with a stunned catfish, who knows? (Too bad they were successfully fishing instead of pig hunting.)
Old Gray Mare
TB Fanatic
First thought was human shields and maybe not. All may not be as it seems. Wonder what and who is hiding under the Berkas? Are they armed?
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#295
Doc, Pricilla and Tilly spent mind numbing days riding the hard wagon seat as they inched toward St. Louis. More than once, Pricilla regretted her decision not to travel with Jerry and Abby; but she didn't share that with her companions.
At the time the decision needed to be made, Pricilla had taken the information she had at hand, mulled over the pro's and cons and with a dose of what she hoped was common sense, made her decision.
Pricilla was beginning to doubt herself and her critical thinking skills. She hated, just plain hated, making snap decisions. Plodding along in line, gave her the time and opportunity to revisit every decision and it wasn't looking good for her peace of mind.
Tilly was a quiet passenger. She wasn't so dumb, that she couldn't see that her hostess had a great deal troubling her; and Tilly was concerned it may her traveling with the strange pair. Tilly didn't want to lose her ride, that was all important.
Tilly had carefully examined the flow between Pricilla and the Doc, and not finding any currents or undercurrents of attraction, so the newcomer crossed that problem off the list. Tilly sat on the hard wooden bench as deep in thought as Priss. The only difference she could tell, was the Doc wasn't acting as entitled as he had previously.
When he wasn't acting like a royal ass, Doc was actually an interesting person. For her own education, Tilly watched carefully as the gaunt and feeble Bruce conducted his doctor business in the evenings, gathering in small donations of vegetables and coins. Hopefully, that could be another skill she could add to her repertoire.
In the back of her mind, Tilly had been keeping a running total of the money collected and so far, it hadn't reached a hundred dollars. And, from the talk she listened too, the wagons were a week away from St. Louis.
"It's gonna pinch us hard," Tilly finally said aloud, bringing to the light, Pricilla's greatest fear.
"I don't know what to do," Priss softly admitted; "If you have any ideas, I'm listening."
"None come to mind, right off," Tilly was honest; "unless we can gather in enough food to start a kitchen and sell meals."
"That's a good start," Pricilla tried to be encouraging.
Gary and Ricky bedded down for the night, the sounds of the forest creatures telling Gary that they were alone. Woken from a deep sleep, Gary lay still and tense. The crickets and frogs had stopped noise making, someone or something was nearby.
Doc, Pricilla and Tilly spent mind numbing days riding the hard wagon seat as they inched toward St. Louis. More than once, Pricilla regretted her decision not to travel with Jerry and Abby; but she didn't share that with her companions.
At the time the decision needed to be made, Pricilla had taken the information she had at hand, mulled over the pro's and cons and with a dose of what she hoped was common sense, made her decision.
Pricilla was beginning to doubt herself and her critical thinking skills. She hated, just plain hated, making snap decisions. Plodding along in line, gave her the time and opportunity to revisit every decision and it wasn't looking good for her peace of mind.
Tilly was a quiet passenger. She wasn't so dumb, that she couldn't see that her hostess had a great deal troubling her; and Tilly was concerned it may her traveling with the strange pair. Tilly didn't want to lose her ride, that was all important.
Tilly had carefully examined the flow between Pricilla and the Doc, and not finding any currents or undercurrents of attraction, so the newcomer crossed that problem off the list. Tilly sat on the hard wooden bench as deep in thought as Priss. The only difference she could tell, was the Doc wasn't acting as entitled as he had previously.
When he wasn't acting like a royal ass, Doc was actually an interesting person. For her own education, Tilly watched carefully as the gaunt and feeble Bruce conducted his doctor business in the evenings, gathering in small donations of vegetables and coins. Hopefully, that could be another skill she could add to her repertoire.
In the back of her mind, Tilly had been keeping a running total of the money collected and so far, it hadn't reached a hundred dollars. And, from the talk she listened too, the wagons were a week away from St. Louis.
"It's gonna pinch us hard," Tilly finally said aloud, bringing to the light, Pricilla's greatest fear.
"I don't know what to do," Priss softly admitted; "If you have any ideas, I'm listening."
"None come to mind, right off," Tilly was honest; "unless we can gather in enough food to start a kitchen and sell meals."
"That's a good start," Pricilla tried to be encouraging.
Gary and Ricky bedded down for the night, the sounds of the forest creatures telling Gary that they were alone. Woken from a deep sleep, Gary lay still and tense. The crickets and frogs had stopped noise making, someone or something was nearby.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Aw great, thank you pac.
Texican
Live Free & Die Free.... God Freedom Country....
Tactically I think its better to let the 15 try to to engage Mark & Co then, hammer the BBJ out of the otherwise-occupied Hadjis from the rear.....
Timing is everything
Toby and Milo were well trained by Mark not to leave camp without being armed and being that far from the clan home to be armed with pistols and rifles. At least one has a rifle if you remember the catfish being dispatched with the butt of a rifle.
It is better to attack the rear before they get back to the clan home and force the band of marauders to split their force than to allow 15 to attack the clan home.
It would be smart and easier for both parties of the clan to fight a lesser force when the marauders split their force. This has been proven thru the ages.
Just how many are left at the clan home that can fight and fight well since Mark has trained them? Tess and Clora should sense the marauders before they get to the clan home.
Gary and Ricky are far from the marauders and clan home since Toby and Milo are only a 1/2 day's journy from the clan home since they can make the fishing endeavor in one day. Who is out there? Only Pac knows.
Thanks Pac for the chapters.
Texican....
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Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
A tactical dispute our generous author will decide
when she has time
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RememberGoliad
Veteran Member
You're exactly right, Texican, in your assertions. I wasn't arguing you, just the timing of it. We do not know anything beyond the fact that Milo and Toby became aware of 15 men plus what looks like a gaggle of women and an old geezer on a donkey. Pac hasn't returned yet to that thread of the story.... we do not know yet if the guys are going to do as we expect, or if they're going to forget their raising. Basically, we don't yet know if they messed up. Pac's gonna have to fill us in, in her own good time, when it suits her story 
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#296
Taking care to regulate his breathing to sound like he was still asleep, Gary inched his hand to his pistol in his sleeping blankets. The cool, starry night that had seemed so friendly and made for sleep, now became a cover for danger.
Ricky's restless sleep near the tree he was tied to, was a sound Gary couldn't get accustomed to. Whatever caused the boy's behavior during the day, was active and disturbed the child's sleep at night.
Their was a slight gurgling sound as the knife was plunged deep into Ricky's throat, spilling his life blood on the dry North Carolina dirt.
Gary got ready to fire when he sensed the dark shape looming over him, and it never happened. Heart pumping fear had his muscles so tense, his large stalwart hands were shaking the Glock, as he waited for what ever fate was going to befall him.
Lying still for more than an hour, his muscles cramping from the alert state his body was in; Gary noted the small night sounds were returning. Whomever had been in camp and harmed Ricky was gone.
Gary's mind prepared him for the sight he would see the next morning when it became light enough to distinguish shapes.
Only the next day, there was nothing there to accept. A slight drop of blood, and a blank spot where Ricky had been. Gary stared dumbly at the vacant spot beside the tree; the body, blankets, rope simply gone, ... vanished.
Hands shaking in earnest, built the fire from a few live coals. He needed the comfort of something familiar, like hot, strong coffee. It was the most difficult adjustment Gary had ever made. Someone had come into his camp, killed the boy, gathered up the body and clothing and vanished.
Stark reality had tough, practical Gary acknowledging that simply couldn't happen. No one could see that well in the dark, moonless night; nor be sure of their target with one swift thrust of a knife. Ricky was a youth, but the teen had to weight at least a hundred to a hundred and twenty pounds; and there had been no sounds to indicate a person had lifted a heavy object.
Gary reacted badly; forgetting to get up and search the area for clues, look for footprints or anything out of place. He was mainly thinking of Milo and how he dreaded telling his brother he had allowed the killing of his son.
The rage that Gary had bottled up inside over David and Scotty's killing, erupted in a chilling, other wordily howl of pain and anguish. Grief and then shame and guilt for allowing the senseless slaughter racked Gary.
Sitting by the fire in the ruins of a house that had once been his home, Gary screamed the atrocities of war and the killings necessary to stay alive, from the depths of his heart.
Taking care to regulate his breathing to sound like he was still asleep, Gary inched his hand to his pistol in his sleeping blankets. The cool, starry night that had seemed so friendly and made for sleep, now became a cover for danger.
Ricky's restless sleep near the tree he was tied to, was a sound Gary couldn't get accustomed to. Whatever caused the boy's behavior during the day, was active and disturbed the child's sleep at night.
Their was a slight gurgling sound as the knife was plunged deep into Ricky's throat, spilling his life blood on the dry North Carolina dirt.
Gary got ready to fire when he sensed the dark shape looming over him, and it never happened. Heart pumping fear had his muscles so tense, his large stalwart hands were shaking the Glock, as he waited for what ever fate was going to befall him.
Lying still for more than an hour, his muscles cramping from the alert state his body was in; Gary noted the small night sounds were returning. Whomever had been in camp and harmed Ricky was gone.
Gary's mind prepared him for the sight he would see the next morning when it became light enough to distinguish shapes.
Only the next day, there was nothing there to accept. A slight drop of blood, and a blank spot where Ricky had been. Gary stared dumbly at the vacant spot beside the tree; the body, blankets, rope simply gone, ... vanished.
Hands shaking in earnest, built the fire from a few live coals. He needed the comfort of something familiar, like hot, strong coffee. It was the most difficult adjustment Gary had ever made. Someone had come into his camp, killed the boy, gathered up the body and clothing and vanished.
Stark reality had tough, practical Gary acknowledging that simply couldn't happen. No one could see that well in the dark, moonless night; nor be sure of their target with one swift thrust of a knife. Ricky was a youth, but the teen had to weight at least a hundred to a hundred and twenty pounds; and there had been no sounds to indicate a person had lifted a heavy object.
Gary reacted badly; forgetting to get up and search the area for clues, look for footprints or anything out of place. He was mainly thinking of Milo and how he dreaded telling his brother he had allowed the killing of his son.
The rage that Gary had bottled up inside over David and Scotty's killing, erupted in a chilling, other wordily howl of pain and anguish. Grief and then shame and guilt for allowing the senseless slaughter racked Gary.
Sitting by the fire in the ruins of a house that had once been his home, Gary screamed the atrocities of war and the killings necessary to stay alive, from the depths of his heart.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Sad but maybe Gary will come to himself now.
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Well if one accepts the Clan are led by a firm faith in God, which has always been fundamental to the story then, there must be demons. In fact, most Holy Books for most Western Religions focus to some degree on those manifestations of Good & Evil.
Perhaps an Archangel was dispatched to deal with a past-redemption soul; perhaps a demon recognised Ricky as true kindred and took him home to their corner of hell and yes, either one could have been a trigger event for Gary.
Maybe it was just time for PAC to end a non-productive sub-plot? She's the one with the plot map so, I'm just going to trust her & enjoy the journey.
Or maybe, PAC was just seeing if we were awake?
G.
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PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#297
Because they were focused on watching and studying the first group of Muslim women and children; and then the squad of armed men heading in the general direction of the retreat' Toby and Milo almost stepped out in front of a very tightly disciplined group of Asian soldiers.
With slight hand gestures, both men stood with a hand on their horse's muzzle. hardly daring to breath.
When the group of eight had moved out of sight, Toby let out his breath, and whispered. "Did you see that? They had a monkey with them, I wonder why?"
Milo pulled on his moustache, a sure sign he was troubled. "I'm guessing that the monkey is a low tech early warning system. They see and hear better than humans, so perhaps we should move from here, in case they circle back. We need to go further away from the river, the noise prevents us from being totally alert. Besides, the hoof and footprints we are leaving are visible."
Toby nodded and the two men headed away from the sandy loam of the river banks. Dragging a handful of cattail fronds, Milo swished away their tracks once they got to the traveled road.
"I think we are in more danger than we realize," Toby said low. "Two groups of people unfriendly to the United States, moving openly on our soil. Throw in the prince that was recently here and the puzzle of the airplane. It leads to some interesting speculation, don't you think. I hope Ma and Tess are on duty, and have the retreat alerted," he concluded.
Milo held up his hand, pointing to the road, he made a walking movement with his fingers, indicating there was movement. Toby nodded, and they stood ready to stop the horses whinny's.
To their surprise, it was the group of Muslin appearing men who had doubled back. In a few tense minutes of waiting, there was the sounds of a battle. Many shots were fired.
"What do we have here? Two warring fractions?" Toby whispered. "Interesting in a peculiar way. I wonder who is winning? " He questioned the winners of the unseen battle.
"If I had my druthers," Milo drawled, "I'd choose the Muslims to win."
"Why?"
"I honestly feel that the Asians are more disciplined and ruthless, the Muslims are just as ruthless, but less cohesive." Milo whispered. "Unless they are from the same tribe, they war amongst themselves. That's to our advantage, if we can get it to work for us."
The shooting stopped, the silence worrisome. "Now what we do we do?" both men whispered at once .
Because they were focused on watching and studying the first group of Muslim women and children; and then the squad of armed men heading in the general direction of the retreat' Toby and Milo almost stepped out in front of a very tightly disciplined group of Asian soldiers.
With slight hand gestures, both men stood with a hand on their horse's muzzle. hardly daring to breath.
When the group of eight had moved out of sight, Toby let out his breath, and whispered. "Did you see that? They had a monkey with them, I wonder why?"
Milo pulled on his moustache, a sure sign he was troubled. "I'm guessing that the monkey is a low tech early warning system. They see and hear better than humans, so perhaps we should move from here, in case they circle back. We need to go further away from the river, the noise prevents us from being totally alert. Besides, the hoof and footprints we are leaving are visible."
Toby nodded and the two men headed away from the sandy loam of the river banks. Dragging a handful of cattail fronds, Milo swished away their tracks once they got to the traveled road.
"I think we are in more danger than we realize," Toby said low. "Two groups of people unfriendly to the United States, moving openly on our soil. Throw in the prince that was recently here and the puzzle of the airplane. It leads to some interesting speculation, don't you think. I hope Ma and Tess are on duty, and have the retreat alerted," he concluded.
Milo held up his hand, pointing to the road, he made a walking movement with his fingers, indicating there was movement. Toby nodded, and they stood ready to stop the horses whinny's.
To their surprise, it was the group of Muslin appearing men who had doubled back. In a few tense minutes of waiting, there was the sounds of a battle. Many shots were fired.
"What do we have here? Two warring fractions?" Toby whispered. "Interesting in a peculiar way. I wonder who is winning? " He questioned the winners of the unseen battle.
"If I had my druthers," Milo drawled, "I'd choose the Muslims to win."
"Why?"
"I honestly feel that the Asians are more disciplined and ruthless, the Muslims are just as ruthless, but less cohesive." Milo whispered. "Unless they are from the same tribe, they war amongst themselves. That's to our advantage, if we can get it to work for us."
The shooting stopped, the silence worrisome. "Now what we do we do?" both men whispered at once .
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Oh, OH, lol Thank you.