#300
Toby wiggled out of sight, fading through the brush and willows to the left of their hide. Milo was thinking that Toby was still pretty good, .... for an old man. But with age comes some manner of wisdom, so he thought the snarky remark and then promptly forgot it; thinking it was better for his own health. He had seen Toby chopping wood. Not a man to mess with.
For all that Toby had been, or not; he was very different now. So much like Dad.
Because he knew the general direction Toby was moving, Milo kept track of his brothers movements through the rippling of the grass. Toby only moved when the wind blew hard enough to set the grass in motion, and it was agonizingly slow.
Milo was so busy surveilling the surrounding area, he almost missed Toby's horse prick his ears forward and come to alertness. Then he heard it. Someone was walking on the road. No, it was two someone's, they were speaking to one another, making no effort to be silent.
In fact, the two men were arguing rather loudly; the heavy accented brogue of definitely Slavic origin, at odds with the Arabic robes they were wearing.
Milo nodded to himself, so this is what it was going to be. An unholy alliance between the Russians, the Chinese and the Muslims.
The Russians must have been so sure that they had set the other two factions against one another; and all had been killed, that the two were making no effort to be silent.
Studying the two soldiers, Milo lost track of Toby's where abouts, but he was reasonably sure Toby could hear them.
It was a bad position for the brothers to be in, there was a good chance they would be directly shooting at each other with the Slavic's centered in the cross fire.
Milo studied his targets. With heavy black beards and turban headdresses wound low, except for the voices, they easily passed as ethnic Arabs. He wondered if this was a retaliation for the death of the prince, and then decided that he didn't care. They were interlopers that needed killing before they killed any of the clan. If they neutralized these two, that left four Arab types and Two Chinese to be worried about.
Foolishly, the two fake Arabs turned their backs toward the river as they bent over to rifle through the seriously wounded man's pockets, laughing loud as they observed his death rattled moans.
Taking no more chances, Milo shot twice, striking the thieves, as they held up Toby's K-Bar a spoil of war. Milli- seconds later, Toby shot; the double whammy sending the men to the ground in a heap.
The silenced rounds has been astonishing quiet, but loud enough to be heard. Both Milo and Toby observing the protocol of waiting silently after a kill.
Donny had been scouting about a half mile ahead of the wagon, and he was pleased with himself. By careful maneuvering, he had been able to divert the wagon and Abby away from any farms where he could see sheep.
Now he was about to be outfoxed. There were sheep farms on both sides of the track, and the wagon was coming over the slight rise and the woolies were in plain sight of the eagle eyed Abby.
Abby had been complaining about the lack of available farmsteads, suspecting that Donny had been up to mischief, but with out proof and the guileless Jerry with a face that proclaimed fake innocence's.
"We need to stop at one of these farms, you choose which one;" Abby was no nonsense, it was up to her to keep these two men on the straight and narrow, and alive, if at all possible.
"Both places appear to be occupied," Jerry halted the team. "I don't have to tell you that nowsdays it's risky to just come into a farm, especially when there are locked gates. Abby, your desire to help Donny is admirable, but I'm going to over rule you in this case. I'm sure what ever kind of salve you are looking for, can be found in St. Louis at less risk to us. We're not that far out from the city, and Donny is doing Ok with the lard. Let's just keep moving on."
Abby was silent, processing what Jerry said. Finally she nodded her head in agreement and Jerry started the team, willing to be moving with no delay; especially before she changed her mind. Abby was a treasure, but stubborn as the day was long.
Pricilla and Tilly stared morosely at the expanse of muddy Mississippi water in front of them. The second shock was the dilapidated condition of the ferry taking passengers across.
"Oh, I ain't sure I've got that much prayer in me," Tilly shaded her eyes, as she looked across the river to the tempting lure of St. Louis in the distance. "I had no idea it was like this."
"It does seem worse than I remember," Bruce said from behind them. "Maybe a lot worse."
From the top of the hill on the Western side, the trio stared with dismay at the swarms of wagon's waiting to cross. "It'll take a month of waiting before we would be in line to cross, even if I was sure I had the gumption to do so. I can smell the danger of it, all the way up here." Tilly said in a resigned voice. "This is the definition of insanity."