sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you.
Story Grace, Mercy and Blessings
- Thread starter PacNorWest
- Start date
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#304
"I don't care if their real, demons or figments of my imagination, I'm shooting them." Toby vowed. "This is not of God." and he shot three times quickly; downing the large gray forms that slobbered and licked their chops as they circled closer and closer into the carnage field. The animal forms went down, and then slowly fizzled away, leaving nothing but burnt grass behind.
Milo sensed the jump of the wolf creeping up behind them; as it launched itself toward the two prone men. Rolling on his back, he only had time to jam the muzzle of his rifle into the saliva dripping mouth and pull the trigger.
Wolf blood and brains exploded all over them, the blood droplets burning where it touched their exposed skin.
"I'll watch behind," the shaken man whispered, "this stuff feels like acid, we'd better get it washed off, Lord knows what it will do to us."
"There's the river down there, and we need to check the tent, let's go, it's gonna be dark soon." Toby stood up, shaking himself slightly to discard used wolf parts.
"Damn, what a day," he was muttering to himself, and Milo totally agreed.
There was one not so dead man in the tent and Milo ended his suffering, not even bothering to ask for an explanation for the grisly choices of the deranged group.
By now, the dusk was settling in, and neither man was willing to stay near the 'pit of hell' as Milo called it. "I'd rather take my chances running into the attackers,' Milo panted, as they rode hard trotting horses back to the 'road'.
Galloping hard, they put precious distance between them and the cannibalistic village.
Gary wasn't sure how long he lay curled up in fetal form; only that he was thirsty beyond belief. Dragging himself to the cistern, he let the cool, flowing water wash over him. He paid no attention to the small green frog that jumped from the cistern lip, back into the water. He fuzzily thought, 'I've drank worse water than this,' and went for another swallow.
It was almost dark, and the man wasn't sure how long he had screamed, but he had worked himself into a trembling, quivering exhausted state of being. Apathy won, and he sat staring at nothing as the heat of the day dissipated.
Night sounds started; the last of the bird calls, and then the crickets. A few fire fly's darted here and there; but basically it was a gentle, soothing night fall. So tired, Gary tipped over on his bed roll and fell instantly asleep.
"I don't care if their real, demons or figments of my imagination, I'm shooting them." Toby vowed. "This is not of God." and he shot three times quickly; downing the large gray forms that slobbered and licked their chops as they circled closer and closer into the carnage field. The animal forms went down, and then slowly fizzled away, leaving nothing but burnt grass behind.
Milo sensed the jump of the wolf creeping up behind them; as it launched itself toward the two prone men. Rolling on his back, he only had time to jam the muzzle of his rifle into the saliva dripping mouth and pull the trigger.
Wolf blood and brains exploded all over them, the blood droplets burning where it touched their exposed skin.
"I'll watch behind," the shaken man whispered, "this stuff feels like acid, we'd better get it washed off, Lord knows what it will do to us."
"There's the river down there, and we need to check the tent, let's go, it's gonna be dark soon." Toby stood up, shaking himself slightly to discard used wolf parts.
"Damn, what a day," he was muttering to himself, and Milo totally agreed.
There was one not so dead man in the tent and Milo ended his suffering, not even bothering to ask for an explanation for the grisly choices of the deranged group.
By now, the dusk was settling in, and neither man was willing to stay near the 'pit of hell' as Milo called it. "I'd rather take my chances running into the attackers,' Milo panted, as they rode hard trotting horses back to the 'road'.
Galloping hard, they put precious distance between them and the cannibalistic village.
Gary wasn't sure how long he lay curled up in fetal form; only that he was thirsty beyond belief. Dragging himself to the cistern, he let the cool, flowing water wash over him. He paid no attention to the small green frog that jumped from the cistern lip, back into the water. He fuzzily thought, 'I've drank worse water than this,' and went for another swallow.
It was almost dark, and the man wasn't sure how long he had screamed, but he had worked himself into a trembling, quivering exhausted state of being. Apathy won, and he sat staring at nothing as the heat of the day dissipated.
Night sounds started; the last of the bird calls, and then the crickets. A few fire fly's darted here and there; but basically it was a gentle, soothing night fall. So tired, Gary tipped over on his bed roll and fell instantly asleep.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Many thanks Pac.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#305
Jerry stared at the swift moving water. He had made up his mind to cross here, without second guessing himself. Now, reality was more real and dangerous than he ever anticipated.
"Has it rained here?" he queried the couple in the next wagon, hoping that the swell of muddy water would only be temporary.
"Not here," the older man replied. "We've been here a week and I'd say the river is just cresting now. There must have been a doozy of a cloudburst upstream."
"I guess, has anyone been upstream to see if there are any better fords? The information I got sounded like there was a good way to cross the Illinois."
"No, we haven't gone exploring. To do so, we would have to take one of our teams and leave our families unprotected. I see you have an outrider, would he be interested in scouting?"
"Possibly," Jerry agreed. "I'd have to talk with Donny, but he's usually agreeable. If I go with him with one of my horses, would you protect my wife and wagon until we got back. I'm thinking that any further distance than a weeks drive, is as far as I'm willing to travel upstream, what's your thoughts?"
"I'd like to agree, by the way, my names Ned and this is Sara. We've got too many children for me to remember all their names," the jovial man joked. "But their all redheaded, so you can tell they belong to us." he finished with a chuckle.
"Now Pa," Sara admonished softly, "you know full well you remember our kid's names." and both Ned and Sara laughed at the joke between them.
Jerry smiled and nodded his agreement; while Abby tried counting the kids spilling around the wagon. She thought there might be eight, but the children were amazingly lookalike in features and height, so she gave up and smiled at the obviously happy family.
"It'd be best if you unhooked back away from the water; the other night it came up more'n ten feet, we almost got our feet wet." Ned advised as he looked around. "Hey, you kids," he called out, "get yerselves in the wagon, we're gonna move."
"There was a chorus of "yes Pa's," and a mad scramble of grinning red heads. Everyone got in, and the wagons turned to circle to the North of the high bank.
Donny rode up, and he and Jerry conferred about going scouting. "I'd like to do some hunting on the way," Jerry explained. "There's no track heading upstream along this side of the river, so there might be a good chance of finding game. I'm about due for a slab of steak."
Donny agreed, and the two men got ready to go.
Abby went visiting among the other three wagons; finding out that there were two more brother's and a sister and brother in law. They were Nesbitts from up above Chicago way, and the brother in law was a Dawson.
Jerry stared at the swift moving water. He had made up his mind to cross here, without second guessing himself. Now, reality was more real and dangerous than he ever anticipated.
"Has it rained here?" he queried the couple in the next wagon, hoping that the swell of muddy water would only be temporary.
"Not here," the older man replied. "We've been here a week and I'd say the river is just cresting now. There must have been a doozy of a cloudburst upstream."
"I guess, has anyone been upstream to see if there are any better fords? The information I got sounded like there was a good way to cross the Illinois."
"No, we haven't gone exploring. To do so, we would have to take one of our teams and leave our families unprotected. I see you have an outrider, would he be interested in scouting?"
"Possibly," Jerry agreed. "I'd have to talk with Donny, but he's usually agreeable. If I go with him with one of my horses, would you protect my wife and wagon until we got back. I'm thinking that any further distance than a weeks drive, is as far as I'm willing to travel upstream, what's your thoughts?"
"I'd like to agree, by the way, my names Ned and this is Sara. We've got too many children for me to remember all their names," the jovial man joked. "But their all redheaded, so you can tell they belong to us." he finished with a chuckle.
"Now Pa," Sara admonished softly, "you know full well you remember our kid's names." and both Ned and Sara laughed at the joke between them.
Jerry smiled and nodded his agreement; while Abby tried counting the kids spilling around the wagon. She thought there might be eight, but the children were amazingly lookalike in features and height, so she gave up and smiled at the obviously happy family.
"It'd be best if you unhooked back away from the water; the other night it came up more'n ten feet, we almost got our feet wet." Ned advised as he looked around. "Hey, you kids," he called out, "get yerselves in the wagon, we're gonna move."
"There was a chorus of "yes Pa's," and a mad scramble of grinning red heads. Everyone got in, and the wagons turned to circle to the North of the high bank.
Donny rode up, and he and Jerry conferred about going scouting. "I'd like to do some hunting on the way," Jerry explained. "There's no track heading upstream along this side of the river, so there might be a good chance of finding game. I'm about due for a slab of steak."
Donny agreed, and the two men got ready to go.
Abby went visiting among the other three wagons; finding out that there were two more brother's and a sister and brother in law. They were Nesbitts from up above Chicago way, and the brother in law was a Dawson.
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
OK Mrs PAC; Redheads you say. Now I'm reviewing to see if there's any mention of a Nesbitt or a Dawson in the herd of Lindermann collected children - there goes my afternoon 
Visio or MS-Project et al only help if you designate a searchable item (date, name, activity, incident etc) so as you've freely added in (and whizzed us in the process!) so many along the way, I may have to rewrite the whole tracking schema or speed read from just before the 'Gathered Up Children' point.
I think it's good I just got a 96 count case of decent K-cups Ma'am.
Visio or MS-Project et al only help if you designate a searchable item (date, name, activity, incident etc) so as you've freely added in (and whizzed us in the process!) so many along the way, I may have to rewrite the whole tracking schema or speed read from just before the 'Gathered Up Children' point.
I think it's good I just got a 96 count case of decent K-cups Ma'am.
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Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
She's only really got into coffee after we got together. When her girls come by, I'm busy steeping & serving tea or the obligatory white wine.
And, before you even think of it, there's no costuming involved!
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank yu
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#306
Milo's shoulder hurt like the dickens, and he cursed the sniper under his breath. Galloping full speed in the total darkness, was the height of stupidity. The horses were breathing hard, the sound loud in the silent night. The hoofbeats were louder, but in the scheme of things, unavoidable.
Milo felt his horse bunch up and skid to a stop, nearly unseating the sweating man. Toby was a little slower and almost went over the horses head, frantically grabbing for mane and anything thing else to help him stay aboard.
"Now what's the matter with you, you jug headed old fool," Toby was growling, not loud, but not observing a code of silence.
"I imagine it's because they are at the gate," came the laconic reply from the darkness. "What the hell do you two think you're doing, running horses full out in the dark?" Mark was angry, and it showed in his voice.
"Long story Dad, you wont believe what we've been through. I've been shot, and there's an attack force coming our way." Milo rushed through his explanation, stopping only to cough when a wave of pain stabbed through him.
"Dad, they're Asian, Russian and Arabic, we've got to get Milo taken care of and get our horses cooled down," Toby was suddenly impatient with the way Mark was acting.
Mark could hear the frustration of a grown man that wanted to get the obstacles moved out of his way. Suddenly he remembered that his sons were grown, responsible and wouldn't have abused their horses unless it was necessary.
"I've opened the right side gate," Mark voice held as much of an apology as he could muster at the moment, "Milo I can feel your horse's rein, walk straight ahead about fifty steps. When your horse moves, Toby's will follow. Stay on your horses, I'll shut and lock the gate and then lead you to the barn."
Pricilla, Tilly and Doc moved along with the small wagon train. Tilly nudged Pricilla to notice the lone rider that was quartering them, far to the right. When the wagon boss rode past, Tilly stopped him long enough to point out the rider and his obvious intent to intercept them.
"Do you ladies have any weapons?" the boss inquired, shaking his head at their defenseless capabilities. "It figures," he spit sarcasm.
"Listen, you overbearing, arrogant excuse of a human;" the words fell out of Pricilla's mouth before she could stop the acerbic reply. "We barely escaped the total massacre of our group, we had our lives and not much else. Don't be so nasty, even though you don't have better manners than that."
It was right then and there that wagon boss Spook Waller fell in love. Nobody, and he meant nobody had ever snapped right back at him. That woman had to be the special mate that God had picked out for him. He'd sure been waiting long enough for her to show up.
Riding over to her driver's side of the wagon, he rubbed his hands together and lifted his hat in respect. "Ma'am, I do thank you for mentioning the approaching rider, I will protect you." and the 'old coot', as Pricilla privately called him, ducked his horse behind the woman's wagon, and moved up to put himself between them and the oncoming rider.
Pricilla quietly snorted, and gave a pinched lip look to Tilly.
Milo's shoulder hurt like the dickens, and he cursed the sniper under his breath. Galloping full speed in the total darkness, was the height of stupidity. The horses were breathing hard, the sound loud in the silent night. The hoofbeats were louder, but in the scheme of things, unavoidable.
Milo felt his horse bunch up and skid to a stop, nearly unseating the sweating man. Toby was a little slower and almost went over the horses head, frantically grabbing for mane and anything thing else to help him stay aboard.
"Now what's the matter with you, you jug headed old fool," Toby was growling, not loud, but not observing a code of silence.
"I imagine it's because they are at the gate," came the laconic reply from the darkness. "What the hell do you two think you're doing, running horses full out in the dark?" Mark was angry, and it showed in his voice.
"Long story Dad, you wont believe what we've been through. I've been shot, and there's an attack force coming our way." Milo rushed through his explanation, stopping only to cough when a wave of pain stabbed through him.
"Dad, they're Asian, Russian and Arabic, we've got to get Milo taken care of and get our horses cooled down," Toby was suddenly impatient with the way Mark was acting.
Mark could hear the frustration of a grown man that wanted to get the obstacles moved out of his way. Suddenly he remembered that his sons were grown, responsible and wouldn't have abused their horses unless it was necessary.
"I've opened the right side gate," Mark voice held as much of an apology as he could muster at the moment, "Milo I can feel your horse's rein, walk straight ahead about fifty steps. When your horse moves, Toby's will follow. Stay on your horses, I'll shut and lock the gate and then lead you to the barn."
Pricilla, Tilly and Doc moved along with the small wagon train. Tilly nudged Pricilla to notice the lone rider that was quartering them, far to the right. When the wagon boss rode past, Tilly stopped him long enough to point out the rider and his obvious intent to intercept them.
"Do you ladies have any weapons?" the boss inquired, shaking his head at their defenseless capabilities. "It figures," he spit sarcasm.
"Listen, you overbearing, arrogant excuse of a human;" the words fell out of Pricilla's mouth before she could stop the acerbic reply. "We barely escaped the total massacre of our group, we had our lives and not much else. Don't be so nasty, even though you don't have better manners than that."
It was right then and there that wagon boss Spook Waller fell in love. Nobody, and he meant nobody had ever snapped right back at him. That woman had to be the special mate that God had picked out for him. He'd sure been waiting long enough for her to show up.
Riding over to her driver's side of the wagon, he rubbed his hands together and lifted his hat in respect. "Ma'am, I do thank you for mentioning the approaching rider, I will protect you." and the 'old coot', as Pricilla privately called him, ducked his horse behind the woman's wagon, and moved up to put himself between them and the oncoming rider.
Pricilla quietly snorted, and gave a pinched lip look to Tilly.
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sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Love it, thanks Pac. Nice treat after picking green beans this evening.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#307
As the lone rider advanced toward the wagons, his figure grew larger and larger.
"Good Lord," Tilly said in her forthright manner, "that looks like Paul Bunyan on a horse. Do ya suppose that man is done growing yet?"
"I hope so," Pricilla smirked, "that's a work horse he's riding, and it looks like it's none too stout for the load."
"What in heaven's name are you women jabbering about?" Bruce was cranky, he was hungry. The oversized bowl of stew that had been breakfast seemed like it had only whetted his hunger. He wanted and needed more food; and he patiently explained to the evil women his predicament.
"Fine," came Pricilla's quick retort, "You'd better get a lot of rest, we're gonna work your tail off tonight. Tilly, the next time that fool wagon boss comes by, tell him we have a doctor that will see patients tonight for coin or food."
"Sure thing," Tilly agreed, never taking her eyes off the oncoming rider. Oh my, her little heart went pitter patter at the sight and size of that devilishly handsome man.
logically, she knew the man was most likely married, all the good ones were, still, the man was surely easy on the eyes. Tilly smiled shyly when the man got close; if only that wagon boss would clear out of the way so she could get a better look at the newcomer.
Otto Deal, affectionally known as "Big Deal" sat on his horse and stared mesmerized at the woman sitting on the wagon seat. By jimminy she vas a fine looking voman; yust vhat a stout man like himself needed. He fell in love faster than Spook.
Tilly wasn't sure why her eyelashes fluttered, and her smile deepened to show two adorable dimples in her cheeks. Roses appeared on her cheeks, and her eyelashes couldn't seem to stay still. Tilly was in love.
Bruce heaved a deep sigh, the way emotions were dripping and smooshing around the darn wagon, it was nothing short of disgusting.
As the lone rider advanced toward the wagons, his figure grew larger and larger.
"Good Lord," Tilly said in her forthright manner, "that looks like Paul Bunyan on a horse. Do ya suppose that man is done growing yet?"
"I hope so," Pricilla smirked, "that's a work horse he's riding, and it looks like it's none too stout for the load."
"What in heaven's name are you women jabbering about?" Bruce was cranky, he was hungry. The oversized bowl of stew that had been breakfast seemed like it had only whetted his hunger. He wanted and needed more food; and he patiently explained to the evil women his predicament.
"Fine," came Pricilla's quick retort, "You'd better get a lot of rest, we're gonna work your tail off tonight. Tilly, the next time that fool wagon boss comes by, tell him we have a doctor that will see patients tonight for coin or food."
"Sure thing," Tilly agreed, never taking her eyes off the oncoming rider. Oh my, her little heart went pitter patter at the sight and size of that devilishly handsome man.
logically, she knew the man was most likely married, all the good ones were, still, the man was surely easy on the eyes. Tilly smiled shyly when the man got close; if only that wagon boss would clear out of the way so she could get a better look at the newcomer.
Otto Deal, affectionally known as "Big Deal" sat on his horse and stared mesmerized at the woman sitting on the wagon seat. By jimminy she vas a fine looking voman; yust vhat a stout man like himself needed. He fell in love faster than Spook.
Tilly wasn't sure why her eyelashes fluttered, and her smile deepened to show two adorable dimples in her cheeks. Roses appeared on her cheeks, and her eyelashes couldn't seem to stay still. Tilly was in love.
Bruce heaved a deep sigh, the way emotions were dripping and smooshing around the darn wagon, it was nothing short of disgusting.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Good smiles tonight, thank you.
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Indeed and it must be galling for Bruce to not be in the centre of it all. Poor baby; hungry, no one to appreciate him and now, being rented out by these women like a mule.....Love is in the air....
Thanks Mrs. Pac.
Lili
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#308
Jerry and Donny said their goodbyes and turned their horses up river, Riding along, Donny unconsciously let out a large sign of appreciation. "Oh, I like this, going hunting is a good break from all the day to day."
"So many obstacles in the way, it feels like God doesn't want us to get to the retreat," Jerry was hanging on for dear life. He had chosen the slimmest, most narrow backed horse in the hitch that was broke to ride, and she was like sitting astraddle a table.
"Dreamy,' didn't think much of having a rider, and even less of leaving her sister horses behind. She acted just ornery enough that Jerry couldn't relax and simply ride, oh no; he had to be ready for a horse explosion at any second.
"You obstinate, contrary female,: Jerry scolded, "stop that and walk, darn ya."
Dreamy didn't care for the tone of her rider's voice, either. She pinned her ears back and swished her tail hard, trying to put a little hump in her back.
Jerry felt her bunch up, and "WHAP" the length of solid leather rein left an imprint on her flank. Then there were two and then three reminders that Jerry still considered himself in control of the situtation.
Donny was smirking at the older man's discomfort, and finally had to laugh aloud. "You're doin good, a regular bronc buster," he praised Jerry and god a dark look of retaliation from the man.
They rode for two solid days, scouting for a way to cross the dangerously swollen river. There were no tracks on the side they were traveling, but several times they encountered wagons on the other side, taking advantage of the water grade.
There was no use shouting across the rushing water, and by the third day out, both men were highly frustrated at the lack of information.
They were into the fifth day of scouting and the second day of a seriously cold and miserable rain, when they came to a ford. The river split around a island, and there were wagons waiting to cross.
Talking to the waiting men, they figured this was the ford Jerry had been expecting to find.
Jerry and Donny said their goodbyes and turned their horses up river, Riding along, Donny unconsciously let out a large sign of appreciation. "Oh, I like this, going hunting is a good break from all the day to day."
"So many obstacles in the way, it feels like God doesn't want us to get to the retreat," Jerry was hanging on for dear life. He had chosen the slimmest, most narrow backed horse in the hitch that was broke to ride, and she was like sitting astraddle a table.
"Dreamy,' didn't think much of having a rider, and even less of leaving her sister horses behind. She acted just ornery enough that Jerry couldn't relax and simply ride, oh no; he had to be ready for a horse explosion at any second.
"You obstinate, contrary female,: Jerry scolded, "stop that and walk, darn ya."
Dreamy didn't care for the tone of her rider's voice, either. She pinned her ears back and swished her tail hard, trying to put a little hump in her back.
Jerry felt her bunch up, and "WHAP" the length of solid leather rein left an imprint on her flank. Then there were two and then three reminders that Jerry still considered himself in control of the situtation.
Donny was smirking at the older man's discomfort, and finally had to laugh aloud. "You're doin good, a regular bronc buster," he praised Jerry and god a dark look of retaliation from the man.
They rode for two solid days, scouting for a way to cross the dangerously swollen river. There were no tracks on the side they were traveling, but several times they encountered wagons on the other side, taking advantage of the water grade.
There was no use shouting across the rushing water, and by the third day out, both men were highly frustrated at the lack of information.
They were into the fifth day of scouting and the second day of a seriously cold and miserable rain, when they came to a ford. The river split around a island, and there were wagons waiting to cross.
Talking to the waiting men, they figured this was the ford Jerry had been expecting to find.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you very much Pac.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
Folks,
we are having Vacation Bible school at church through Sunday, and I am the refreshment committee. We ran out of six dozen cookies today, so I am baking more, more, more. Be back Monday, thanks, Pac and Mr. KC.
we are having Vacation Bible school at church through Sunday, and I am the refreshment committee. We ran out of six dozen cookies today, so I am baking more, more, more. Be back Monday, thanks, Pac and Mr. KC.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Gads, a cookie -a- thon, good luck Pac.
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
I'm pretty sure cookie requirements take precedence Ma'am.
See you next week.
Watch your back bendng over to pull all those pans o' goodness out.
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Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
My family tradition is oatmeal/raisin or PB/ChocChip the size of a small plate. One of them & some coffee & you're good to go until meal time. Two of them and you likely won't eat.
Old Gray Mare
TB Fanatic
We start with the Vanishing Oatmeal cookie recipe on the Quaker Oat's Box and then look for gorp or granola like things to add: coconut flakes, nuts, m&m's, chocolate chips, craisins, raisins and other dried fruit.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
It was a cookie marathon. I finally resorted to making pans of bar cookies. Between the kids and grownups, it was Almost a 100 dozen. I was most woefully unprepared; but I can tell you that next summer I will have many cookies in the freezer. I made many different kinds, but the only cookie wanted was chocolate chip. And not the white chocolate chip, NOOO sir, it had to be regular chocolate. So now I know and will be prepared, (I hate to be behind the 8-ball).
#309
Jerry and Donny took a long look at a wagon getting ready to cross the ford. The water was slower in the first stream of water; and the team kept their footing and reached the center island. The far body of water was much swifter, and the wagon and driver hesitated a long time gathering up his nerve to slowly inch into the river.
It was a panic fright from the time the horses were forced to start swimming. The rushing water was stronger than the force of the swimming animals; and the wagon box turned around and was drifting backwards downstream. the horses were pulled backwards and in a thrashing panic. By sheer luck and the divine intervention of God, the wagon box was pulled into a eddy, and the plunging horses found footing in the slower water.
The next problem was the steep bank. Down stream by a good hundred yards from the cut bank ford crossing, the horses heaved themselves up on a narrow strip of flat land.
The driver slowly crawled down from the wagon seat and went to pet and calm his trembling team. Carefully soothing the animals and checking the harness attachments. The man scouted the bank and then went to his wagon for a shovel.
Chipping away at the under cut and eroded ridge above the water, he soon was able to pull large chunks of the bank down, creating a hopefully passable way to reach the solid ground.
Spook, had a difficult time blocking the newcomer from riding close to the ladies' wagon. It took him a long time to realize that the huge mountain of man was interested in the almost as large woman on the wagon seat, and not the fair and shining damsel holding the reins.
Heaving a great sigh of relief, Spook almost acted cordial to the newcomer. He introduced himself, and got the man's name in return.
"Me name is Deal, Big Deal is how I'm called;" the man never stopped looking at Tilly and smiling in appreciation at the fetching rosy blush on her cheeks. "Miss," he doffed his hat, "how be ya called?"
Tilly was blushing and giggling and totally breathless as she whispered "Tilly."
"Tis a most fine name as I have ever heard," Big tried to reach over the space to shake Tilly's hand, and was forced to side pass his horse between Spook and the wagon to briefly touch Tilly's offered hand.
There was a soft sigh from Tilly and a stunned gasp from Big.
"Oh my," Tilly twittered, "that certainly felt like an electric shock."
"Yeah," Big reacted by jerking his arm, but never letting go of Tilly's fingers. "It certainly was. Do ya be thinkin it's fate?"
#309
Jerry and Donny took a long look at a wagon getting ready to cross the ford. The water was slower in the first stream of water; and the team kept their footing and reached the center island. The far body of water was much swifter, and the wagon and driver hesitated a long time gathering up his nerve to slowly inch into the river.
It was a panic fright from the time the horses were forced to start swimming. The rushing water was stronger than the force of the swimming animals; and the wagon box turned around and was drifting backwards downstream. the horses were pulled backwards and in a thrashing panic. By sheer luck and the divine intervention of God, the wagon box was pulled into a eddy, and the plunging horses found footing in the slower water.
The next problem was the steep bank. Down stream by a good hundred yards from the cut bank ford crossing, the horses heaved themselves up on a narrow strip of flat land.
The driver slowly crawled down from the wagon seat and went to pet and calm his trembling team. Carefully soothing the animals and checking the harness attachments. The man scouted the bank and then went to his wagon for a shovel.
Chipping away at the under cut and eroded ridge above the water, he soon was able to pull large chunks of the bank down, creating a hopefully passable way to reach the solid ground.
Spook, had a difficult time blocking the newcomer from riding close to the ladies' wagon. It took him a long time to realize that the huge mountain of man was interested in the almost as large woman on the wagon seat, and not the fair and shining damsel holding the reins.
Heaving a great sigh of relief, Spook almost acted cordial to the newcomer. He introduced himself, and got the man's name in return.
"Me name is Deal, Big Deal is how I'm called;" the man never stopped looking at Tilly and smiling in appreciation at the fetching rosy blush on her cheeks. "Miss," he doffed his hat, "how be ya called?"
Tilly was blushing and giggling and totally breathless as she whispered "Tilly."
"Tis a most fine name as I have ever heard," Big tried to reach over the space to shake Tilly's hand, and was forced to side pass his horse between Spook and the wagon to briefly touch Tilly's offered hand.
There was a soft sigh from Tilly and a stunned gasp from Big.
"Oh my," Tilly twittered, "that certainly felt like an electric shock."
"Yeah," Big reacted by jerking his arm, but never letting go of Tilly's fingers. "It certainly was. Do ya be thinkin it's fate?"
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you Pac, yep that be a ton of cookie bars.
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
The staples for our herd of locusts was:
1. Oatmeal Raisin
2. Oatmeal Choc Chip (special dark)
3. Oatmeal or Matrimonial Squares
4. Nanaimo bars (an absolute PITA to make) but mostly a fridge treat
My mom selected these because, w/ planning and her kidlets/indentured workers, they represented the most volume of production for a reasonable amt of effort. All delicious w/ good coffee or milk.
And you probably forgot but white chocolate is a non-starter in kiddle land. Milk chocolate is OK but Special Dark is where its at.
Having said all that, Hi! Welcome back! Yes, we missed you....
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PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#310
"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Wyatt questioned Chuck who was riding along with a dark scowl on his face,
"Not entirely," Chuck admitted candidly. "We followed the river road heading into St. Louis. The cutoff seemed like a well travelled path, but you can see that there's no grass if we continue along the river."
"It looks like a plague of locusts has devoured every thing green in sight. How far inland do you think we will have to go, to find grass and game for us?" Wyatt mumbled.
"Well, as far as it takes to find grass, clean water and game." Chuck almost snapped. He was feeling unsettled, and more than a little discouraged; and maybe just a little bit lost.
"I figure we're almost a mile East of the river, and there's still not adequate graze for the horses; and I sure haven't seen any game." Chuck softened his attitude. "I frankly had no idea that so many people had stripped the land as they have done. It's astonishing that so many have gone South; it's gonna be a wonder if there's any room left." he tried to joke.
"The weather is such a factor, I don't recall ever having it so cold in August." Wyatt lightly complained, pulling his coat closer. "I sure wish I had grabbed a heavier coat, but who would have thought about the temperature in June. It was hot in Iowa and surely thought we were in for another hot and humid summer."
"Yeah," Chuck had no comforting words to soothe Wyatt's frustration. "The only solution I have, is to find one of these abandoned farms and look for more clothes and hopefully food. The little bit you were able to get in St, Louis, sure ain't gonna get us very far."
"Yeah, well that's kinda against my profession; face it, I'm a lawman and consider that breaking and entering."
"Well, then sit there and shiver and listen to your stomach growl," Chuck was deadly practical. "If you come up with a different idea, let me know."
Mark led his sons to the barn with the help of Wayne's infrared binoculars. The well used optics wearing out and nothing to use as a replacement. The imagines were becoming fuzzier, and the background becoming lighter.
There was one low light lantern burning and Toby and Milo got gratefully down. Milo sagged against his horse, hanging on to the saddle horn with his good arm. "That low life hit my bad shoulder, what a poor time to be wounded." Milo asked for help to get to the apartment, to have Ma doctor his wound, or Honey if she was there.
"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Wyatt questioned Chuck who was riding along with a dark scowl on his face,
"Not entirely," Chuck admitted candidly. "We followed the river road heading into St. Louis. The cutoff seemed like a well travelled path, but you can see that there's no grass if we continue along the river."
"It looks like a plague of locusts has devoured every thing green in sight. How far inland do you think we will have to go, to find grass and game for us?" Wyatt mumbled.
"Well, as far as it takes to find grass, clean water and game." Chuck almost snapped. He was feeling unsettled, and more than a little discouraged; and maybe just a little bit lost.
"I figure we're almost a mile East of the river, and there's still not adequate graze for the horses; and I sure haven't seen any game." Chuck softened his attitude. "I frankly had no idea that so many people had stripped the land as they have done. It's astonishing that so many have gone South; it's gonna be a wonder if there's any room left." he tried to joke.
"The weather is such a factor, I don't recall ever having it so cold in August." Wyatt lightly complained, pulling his coat closer. "I sure wish I had grabbed a heavier coat, but who would have thought about the temperature in June. It was hot in Iowa and surely thought we were in for another hot and humid summer."
"Yeah," Chuck had no comforting words to soothe Wyatt's frustration. "The only solution I have, is to find one of these abandoned farms and look for more clothes and hopefully food. The little bit you were able to get in St, Louis, sure ain't gonna get us very far."
"Yeah, well that's kinda against my profession; face it, I'm a lawman and consider that breaking and entering."
"Well, then sit there and shiver and listen to your stomach growl," Chuck was deadly practical. "If you come up with a different idea, let me know."
Mark led his sons to the barn with the help of Wayne's infrared binoculars. The well used optics wearing out and nothing to use as a replacement. The imagines were becoming fuzzier, and the background becoming lighter.
There was one low light lantern burning and Toby and Milo got gratefully down. Milo sagged against his horse, hanging on to the saddle horn with his good arm. "That low life hit my bad shoulder, what a poor time to be wounded." Milo asked for help to get to the apartment, to have Ma doctor his wound, or Honey if she was there.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Very nice, thank you Pac. Wyatt going to have to learn if a place is deserted it's fair game.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#311
Chuck and Wyatt rode almost two weeks to the East, before they found what they considered good grass and water.
"This is more like it," Wyatt enthused, "The horses need this kind of grass, and I'm beginning to see rabbit trails. It's about time we caught a break."
"Maybe more than you think," Chuck was looking at a set of buildings off in the distance. "I almost think those barns belonged to Melinda's cousins. If so, we might be able to buy or work for food to reprovision ourselves. I was only there once, a long time ago, but it sure looks familiar somehow."
"Melinda?"
"My former wife," Chuck explained. "The old man here was her favorite uncle, so we might be welcomed. Hopefully," he added slowly.
The closer they got to the distant buildings, the more unkept and in disrepair they appeared. It didn't look good for their cause, and in one way, it wasn't.
Riding down the lane to the house, Chuck got a sinking feeling the place was abandoned. There were horses and several head of cows in the pastures; but they were obviously neglected.
A pitifully thin Collie dog gave them a feeble bark, and then went back to lying down, too emaciated to stand and protect.
Wyatt held the reins as Chuck went to knock on the door. There was no answer, and the door wasn't locked, when he finally tried it. Stepping inside, it was clear that the place had been riffled, but basically the place was still intact.
Chuck went looking for dog food the first thing, and finally found a galvanized can half full in the garage. Tipping the can on it's side, he called the dog over to eat.
"Nobody's here and have been gone for a long time, do you fancy sleeping in a bed tonight?" Chuck issued an irresistible lure.
They stayed three weeks. Neither man had realized the stress they had been under. The chance to sleep in a comfortable bed, in relatively safe surroundings, with the horses stabled in the protection of the barn; healed a lot of small nagging problems that had been shaping up to be big ones.
The farm had a good sized pantry that was bare except for the basic necessities. The beginning of the fourth week, after they had investigated every nook and cranny of the homestead layout; the two men decided to butcher one of the cows.
"We can turn most of that old canner and cutter into jerky, dry it by the wood stove and have enough to eat all the way to the retreat," Chuck smiled at the thought of food for the journey.
"How long is that gonna take?" Wyatt frowned at the impending delay. But they were so comfortable in the warm kitchen with the coffee they had discovered hidden under the stack of small square haybales.
"Who cares?" Chuck replied. "With what's here, we can outfit ourselves royally and ride all winter if we so choose. I'm thinking about working on that old wagon, and traveling with a way to sleep and a place for our food.. This being out in the rain with just a poncho between me and the elements, is for the birds."
Wyatt agreed heartedly, but had a nagging concern about the time delay. He was missing Tess and the boys; but had to admit that Chuck had a good sounding plan.
By the end of the fifth week, they were mostly ready to travel. It was Chuck, out on a hunting expedition, that ran into a solitary rider he recognized as Donny.
Chuck and Wyatt rode almost two weeks to the East, before they found what they considered good grass and water.
"This is more like it," Wyatt enthused, "The horses need this kind of grass, and I'm beginning to see rabbit trails. It's about time we caught a break."
"Maybe more than you think," Chuck was looking at a set of buildings off in the distance. "I almost think those barns belonged to Melinda's cousins. If so, we might be able to buy or work for food to reprovision ourselves. I was only there once, a long time ago, but it sure looks familiar somehow."
"Melinda?"
"My former wife," Chuck explained. "The old man here was her favorite uncle, so we might be welcomed. Hopefully," he added slowly.
The closer they got to the distant buildings, the more unkept and in disrepair they appeared. It didn't look good for their cause, and in one way, it wasn't.
Riding down the lane to the house, Chuck got a sinking feeling the place was abandoned. There were horses and several head of cows in the pastures; but they were obviously neglected.
A pitifully thin Collie dog gave them a feeble bark, and then went back to lying down, too emaciated to stand and protect.
Wyatt held the reins as Chuck went to knock on the door. There was no answer, and the door wasn't locked, when he finally tried it. Stepping inside, it was clear that the place had been riffled, but basically the place was still intact.
Chuck went looking for dog food the first thing, and finally found a galvanized can half full in the garage. Tipping the can on it's side, he called the dog over to eat.
"Nobody's here and have been gone for a long time, do you fancy sleeping in a bed tonight?" Chuck issued an irresistible lure.
They stayed three weeks. Neither man had realized the stress they had been under. The chance to sleep in a comfortable bed, in relatively safe surroundings, with the horses stabled in the protection of the barn; healed a lot of small nagging problems that had been shaping up to be big ones.
The farm had a good sized pantry that was bare except for the basic necessities. The beginning of the fourth week, after they had investigated every nook and cranny of the homestead layout; the two men decided to butcher one of the cows.
"We can turn most of that old canner and cutter into jerky, dry it by the wood stove and have enough to eat all the way to the retreat," Chuck smiled at the thought of food for the journey.
"How long is that gonna take?" Wyatt frowned at the impending delay. But they were so comfortable in the warm kitchen with the coffee they had discovered hidden under the stack of small square haybales.
"Who cares?" Chuck replied. "With what's here, we can outfit ourselves royally and ride all winter if we so choose. I'm thinking about working on that old wagon, and traveling with a way to sleep and a place for our food.. This being out in the rain with just a poncho between me and the elements, is for the birds."
Wyatt agreed heartedly, but had a nagging concern about the time delay. He was missing Tess and the boys; but had to admit that Chuck had a good sounding plan.
By the end of the fifth week, they were mostly ready to travel. It was Chuck, out on a hunting expedition, that ran into a solitary rider he recognized as Donny.