sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Oh sweet, 
thank you.
thank you.
Story Grace, Mercy and Blessings
- Thread starter PacNorWest
- Start date
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#49
Abby walked around the stacks of boxes in her kitchen. It was getting to be irksome, but every time she mentioned moving the supplies, Carol would assure her, that Al would take care of it. Abby had the dishes done, lunch prepared and supper makings ready and waiting. She said once again that she needed to move the boxes and Carol came in the kitchen at the last minute, offering a day off to the young cook.
"My goodness," Carol was solicitous, "You have worked for more than a month without a day off. How about taking today off? I realize the weather is not the best, but if you want to go visit your family, today might be better than what is coming."
"OK, that is very generous of you. I believe I will go visiting, thank you for the time off," Abby needed a change of scenery, and it was painfully obvious that both Al and Carol wanted to put the supplies away when she wasn't there.
Abby had a very good notion of why they wanted her gone. She had gone through the boxes looking for items she needed, and her nose had sniffed out unusual smells coming from the basement. That was most likely why there was an inordinate amount of sugar in the boxes, and Abby bet that all the boxes would be put away by the time she got back.
Dressing warmly and getting her horse saddled, Abby felt relief for a bit of personal time. She had no other thought but to head to Mark's, she needed to have a talk with Clora.
Tess had disappeared, leaving her boys under the supervision of Clora. Mark finished his breakfast and left to shave and get ready for the day.
Donny came in with the morning's milk, and sat down to shovel in an astonishing amount of oatmeal. To keep him company, Wyatt had another bowl, himself.
"Are you a daddy?" one of the triplets asked.
"We might get us a daddy some day." the second triplet chimed in.
"We have 'special quirements," the third one added.
"No, I don't have children;" Wyatt answered. "What are quirements?"
Donny chuckled, "I think you mean requirements, don't you? Aren't you Peter?"
The child nodded, pleased that Donny was able to tell them apart. "OK, I have to ask, what are your quirements?" Donny took a gulp of coffee.
"Really long arms,' Paul spoke up.
"Why?" Donny asked.
"To hold all of us at one time, of course. Ma said that was a very important quirement."
Donny and Wyatt agreed, and went back to eating.
"Boys," Clora's calm voice broke in, "please finish eating. Do you want toast?"
"Yes please Grandma," three voices answered.
"Hey, somebody's coming." Donny stretched up to see who was riding in. "Hey, it looks like Abby come to visit."
Abby breezed in, said hi to Wyatt and went off to find Tess.
Standing at the sink, Clora was humming softly, enjoying the complex interaction of the people in the kitchen.
Mark came back into the kitchen, and Clora had to stop her hands and stare at the most handsome man in the world. Rolling up his sleeves in a preoccupied manner, Mark looked up to see that mischievous gleam in Clora's eye.
Shaking his finger at his grinning wife, Mark sat down to have another cup of coffee. "Shake a leg Donny, we have a lot of butchering to do today."
"Okey-dokey," Donny got up and slid his dishes in the sink water.
"Hey, I can help also," Wyatt offered, and he finished his oatmeal and took his dishes to the counter. Wyatt wasn't all that excited about butchering, but he felt he was in an interesting position.
Milo and Toby worked their deer in the relative warmth of the barn. Everyone was busy with deer butchering, except for Andy and Judy. They were upstairs going through the full closets and boxes left by the previous occupants.
Abby walked around the stacks of boxes in her kitchen. It was getting to be irksome, but every time she mentioned moving the supplies, Carol would assure her, that Al would take care of it. Abby had the dishes done, lunch prepared and supper makings ready and waiting. She said once again that she needed to move the boxes and Carol came in the kitchen at the last minute, offering a day off to the young cook.
"My goodness," Carol was solicitous, "You have worked for more than a month without a day off. How about taking today off? I realize the weather is not the best, but if you want to go visit your family, today might be better than what is coming."
"OK, that is very generous of you. I believe I will go visiting, thank you for the time off," Abby needed a change of scenery, and it was painfully obvious that both Al and Carol wanted to put the supplies away when she wasn't there.
Abby had a very good notion of why they wanted her gone. She had gone through the boxes looking for items she needed, and her nose had sniffed out unusual smells coming from the basement. That was most likely why there was an inordinate amount of sugar in the boxes, and Abby bet that all the boxes would be put away by the time she got back.
Dressing warmly and getting her horse saddled, Abby felt relief for a bit of personal time. She had no other thought but to head to Mark's, she needed to have a talk with Clora.
Tess had disappeared, leaving her boys under the supervision of Clora. Mark finished his breakfast and left to shave and get ready for the day.
Donny came in with the morning's milk, and sat down to shovel in an astonishing amount of oatmeal. To keep him company, Wyatt had another bowl, himself.
"Are you a daddy?" one of the triplets asked.
"We might get us a daddy some day." the second triplet chimed in.
"We have 'special quirements," the third one added.
"No, I don't have children;" Wyatt answered. "What are quirements?"
Donny chuckled, "I think you mean requirements, don't you? Aren't you Peter?"
The child nodded, pleased that Donny was able to tell them apart. "OK, I have to ask, what are your quirements?" Donny took a gulp of coffee.
"Really long arms,' Paul spoke up.
"Why?" Donny asked.
"To hold all of us at one time, of course. Ma said that was a very important quirement."
Donny and Wyatt agreed, and went back to eating.
"Boys," Clora's calm voice broke in, "please finish eating. Do you want toast?"
"Yes please Grandma," three voices answered.
"Hey, somebody's coming." Donny stretched up to see who was riding in. "Hey, it looks like Abby come to visit."
Abby breezed in, said hi to Wyatt and went off to find Tess.
Standing at the sink, Clora was humming softly, enjoying the complex interaction of the people in the kitchen.
Mark came back into the kitchen, and Clora had to stop her hands and stare at the most handsome man in the world. Rolling up his sleeves in a preoccupied manner, Mark looked up to see that mischievous gleam in Clora's eye.
Shaking his finger at his grinning wife, Mark sat down to have another cup of coffee. "Shake a leg Donny, we have a lot of butchering to do today."
"Okey-dokey," Donny got up and slid his dishes in the sink water.
"Hey, I can help also," Wyatt offered, and he finished his oatmeal and took his dishes to the counter. Wyatt wasn't all that excited about butchering, but he felt he was in an interesting position.
Milo and Toby worked their deer in the relative warmth of the barn. Everyone was busy with deer butchering, except for Andy and Judy. They were upstairs going through the full closets and boxes left by the previous occupants.
steamroller
Contributing Member
Thank you, excellent chapters.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
As usual, subtle colourations being added. It seems Wyatt will have to be careful w/ Amy & Tess both nearby -- if he tries any thing sketchy, I don't like his chances of getting away unscathed -- maybe, he's really not a complete jerk but -- time will tell.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#50
At Mark and Clora's, many hands helped with the butchering of the deer that Donny shot. Then they moved to Tess's place and made short work of her buck.
It was getting close to night fall when Wyatt spoke up. "Miss Abby, I'd be pleased to escort you home. The weather is getting worse; and I need to head that way. If you could be ready in a short minute or so."
Abby agreed. "Thank you," I accept your offer." and she went to get ready.
"Say Mark, I almost forgot to tell you. The state has sent word that they have accepted your families claim to the houses and farms here. The paperwork is very slow; everything has to be written out by hand, but they are pleased to have the town functioning once again." Sheriff Coleman buttoned his coat and pulled his hat low. "I used to have a good Jeep that had a strong heater," he mumbled as he held the door open for Abby to exit. "Thank you for the meals and the bed," he remembered to call out.
"Thank you for the help butchering," voices responded back. "Come back anytime."
Clora, as she climbed over the fence in the cold and blowing snow, was muttering about the need for a lane between the two houses. Mark as he helped Clora over the wooden rails and felt the same way.
"Ill figure out something," he promised and he and Donny went to do the chores, while Clora fried potatoes, onions and backstrap for supper. The house was cold, and took a long time to warm up, so Clora stoked the fire in the cookstove hot, and made a double batch of biscuits.
Donny hadn't cleaned the barn that morning, and both men worked for a solid hour to clean and water and feed the horses.
Donny felt he was probably faint with hunger, as they slogged through the increasing snow toward the house. "Oh, smell that," he said reverantly as they neared the back door. "I'm so hungry."
Ivory was laying on the back porch, chewing on a leg bone. She looked up at them, but didn't offer to interupt her supper.
"Lazy mutt," Donny teased and Ivory stared at them hard. "Sorry," he backtracked, "nice doggy." and then he laughed as they went inside.
Supper was wonderful, and plentyfull. Clora held back a chunk of the tender meat that she diced fine and intended to use as meat for gravy and biscuits in the morning. Mark and Donny weren't exactly in a competition to see who could eat the most, Clora thought it only appeared that way.
However an astonishing amount of food dissapeared.
Both men sat in their chairs groaning as Clora picked up the table. Laughing, she asked Donny if he went to bed right now, would he be able to make it through the night without getting hungry.
"Maybe," was his guarded answer. "That seems like a good idea, nite all," and in a flash he was hitting the stairs at a run.
"Clora, that was the best meal I've eaten in a long time; you did a fine job of cooking." Mark praised, patting his stomach. "Now tell me, what have you, Tess and Abby been hatching with all the whispers and giggles between the three of you?"
"Mark Linderman, I'm a grown woman, I don't giggle." Clora said sternly, and then ruined it by laughing. "We were laughing at the good Sheriff. Oh, you know, just the usual stuff," Clora said vaguely, waving her hand in the air in dismissal of the idea.
"Umhuh," Mark said, not looking like he was convinced with the explaination. "Do I need to worry about his health?"
"Nope, he's a big boy." and Clora threw a dish towl at Mark, as a subtle hint she needed help. "These all day work parties are getting hard to finish, I'm a old lady. And I'm even older than that tonight."
"I'd like to say that we can relax and let the younger people do the work, but we do like to eat and stay warm, so that means we have to keep working. And as long as we have that eating machine upstairs, we need to provide incredable amounts of food. I thought he would never stop stuffing himself tonight." Mark almost grumbled. Clora laughed again, and passed Mark a plate to dry.
George and Millie worked together cutting and canning their portion of deer. Helping one another was an enjoyable task that kept them busy far into the night. As the last canner full was taken off the stove to cool, both yawned largely and grinned.
"Is it still snowing?" Millie asked as she wiped the table for the third time.
"I can't see lights at Milo's, so I would say it is," George was peering out the second story window.
"It's after 10 pm." Millie yawned again, "they might be smart enough to go to bed."
"Is it really that late, I didn't realize." George smiled at weary Millie. "Thank you love for working so hard. This is such a wonderful hedge against hunger during the winter. I just couldn't have found a better woman than you, Millie. You are a rare gem."
Millie gave her hubby a loving glance. George couldn't have said a finer, nicer word to Millie. She had always been so under appreciated, and now here in her later life, she had a good and godly man that loved her. Millie sighed hard and her loving face glowed with her love and appreciation for George.
At Mark and Clora's, many hands helped with the butchering of the deer that Donny shot. Then they moved to Tess's place and made short work of her buck.
It was getting close to night fall when Wyatt spoke up. "Miss Abby, I'd be pleased to escort you home. The weather is getting worse; and I need to head that way. If you could be ready in a short minute or so."
Abby agreed. "Thank you," I accept your offer." and she went to get ready.
"Say Mark, I almost forgot to tell you. The state has sent word that they have accepted your families claim to the houses and farms here. The paperwork is very slow; everything has to be written out by hand, but they are pleased to have the town functioning once again." Sheriff Coleman buttoned his coat and pulled his hat low. "I used to have a good Jeep that had a strong heater," he mumbled as he held the door open for Abby to exit. "Thank you for the meals and the bed," he remembered to call out.
"Thank you for the help butchering," voices responded back. "Come back anytime."
Clora, as she climbed over the fence in the cold and blowing snow, was muttering about the need for a lane between the two houses. Mark as he helped Clora over the wooden rails and felt the same way.
"Ill figure out something," he promised and he and Donny went to do the chores, while Clora fried potatoes, onions and backstrap for supper. The house was cold, and took a long time to warm up, so Clora stoked the fire in the cookstove hot, and made a double batch of biscuits.
Donny hadn't cleaned the barn that morning, and both men worked for a solid hour to clean and water and feed the horses.
Donny felt he was probably faint with hunger, as they slogged through the increasing snow toward the house. "Oh, smell that," he said reverantly as they neared the back door. "I'm so hungry."
Ivory was laying on the back porch, chewing on a leg bone. She looked up at them, but didn't offer to interupt her supper.
"Lazy mutt," Donny teased and Ivory stared at them hard. "Sorry," he backtracked, "nice doggy." and then he laughed as they went inside.
Supper was wonderful, and plentyfull. Clora held back a chunk of the tender meat that she diced fine and intended to use as meat for gravy and biscuits in the morning. Mark and Donny weren't exactly in a competition to see who could eat the most, Clora thought it only appeared that way.
However an astonishing amount of food dissapeared.
Both men sat in their chairs groaning as Clora picked up the table. Laughing, she asked Donny if he went to bed right now, would he be able to make it through the night without getting hungry.
"Maybe," was his guarded answer. "That seems like a good idea, nite all," and in a flash he was hitting the stairs at a run.
"Clora, that was the best meal I've eaten in a long time; you did a fine job of cooking." Mark praised, patting his stomach. "Now tell me, what have you, Tess and Abby been hatching with all the whispers and giggles between the three of you?"
"Mark Linderman, I'm a grown woman, I don't giggle." Clora said sternly, and then ruined it by laughing. "We were laughing at the good Sheriff. Oh, you know, just the usual stuff," Clora said vaguely, waving her hand in the air in dismissal of the idea.
"Umhuh," Mark said, not looking like he was convinced with the explaination. "Do I need to worry about his health?"
"Nope, he's a big boy." and Clora threw a dish towl at Mark, as a subtle hint she needed help. "These all day work parties are getting hard to finish, I'm a old lady. And I'm even older than that tonight."
"I'd like to say that we can relax and let the younger people do the work, but we do like to eat and stay warm, so that means we have to keep working. And as long as we have that eating machine upstairs, we need to provide incredable amounts of food. I thought he would never stop stuffing himself tonight." Mark almost grumbled. Clora laughed again, and passed Mark a plate to dry.
George and Millie worked together cutting and canning their portion of deer. Helping one another was an enjoyable task that kept them busy far into the night. As the last canner full was taken off the stove to cool, both yawned largely and grinned.
"Is it still snowing?" Millie asked as she wiped the table for the third time.
"I can't see lights at Milo's, so I would say it is," George was peering out the second story window.
"It's after 10 pm." Millie yawned again, "they might be smart enough to go to bed."
"Is it really that late, I didn't realize." George smiled at weary Millie. "Thank you love for working so hard. This is such a wonderful hedge against hunger during the winter. I just couldn't have found a better woman than you, Millie. You are a rare gem."
Millie gave her hubby a loving glance. George couldn't have said a finer, nicer word to Millie. She had always been so under appreciated, and now here in her later life, she had a good and godly man that loved her. Millie sighed hard and her loving face glowed with her love and appreciation for George.
Thank you for more story.
If you listen to women laugh, you can tell if they are laughing about a man or a woman. If they are laughing about a woman, even a woman they hate, it is a pitiful laugh. If they are laughing about a man, even a man they like, it is a cruel laugh.
If you listen to women laugh, you can tell if they are laughing about a man or a woman. If they are laughing about a woman, even a woman they hate, it is a pitiful laugh. If they are laughing about a man, even a man they like, it is a cruel laugh.
Sneaker 11
RECONDO
Ms Pac, You have a very unique way of taking me back to my youth. Days when we would gather at Gma's & Gpa's house to butcher. No electricity or running water, a continual stream of carrying fire wood in for the cook stove. Good loving banter around the table where the cutting was taking place. Dad continually steeling knives. Coffee consumed by the gallon and all had responsibilities. Thanks for the memories.
11
11
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
A very big thank you.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#51
It was late in a chilly house afternoon that Gary and Chuck surfaced once again. "It's cold in here," Chuck almost accused; "didn't you put wood on the fire?"
"Nope," Gary snarled back. "I was just as drunk as you were. I keep a couple of emergency pieces in here, I'll see if I can get a fire going. If you want heat, trot your butt over to the mill slab pile and bring wood back."
Chuck bristled at the arrogant order, but then he guessed Gary was probably right. Shrugging into his coat, Chuck jammed his hat on tight and stepped out into the biting wind and swirling snow. Hustling as fast as his old, decrepit, post drinking body would function, Chuck went to the woodpile and gathered up an armful of the long strips and pulled them toward Gary's place.
Chuck thought about just going home and leaving the evil tempered Gary to his own devices, but then he remembered the chili that would be warming on the stove. So regretfully he trudged back across the road to Gary's and dropped the slabs on the porch.
The strips were mostly bark with thin wood strips. They would burn hot and fast. Chuck used his foot to step on the end and break the strip over his boot. Gary opened the door and between the two of them, they got the fire going well and the chili and coffee started to heat.
"I think we're losing ground with the heat, every time we open the door to bring in more wood." Chuck was proud of himself for assessing the situtation and coming to such a momentous conclusion.
"So?"
"Well, I just thought I'd mention it; not that it isn't damn obvious." Chuck contributed his sage advise. He felt a little put out at Gary's attitude.
"The slabs are free, if you are too particular to burn slabs, then go home and build your own fire and stoke it with whatever you have handy." Gary gave his consideration to Chuck.
Chuck decided he had better change the subject before Gary threw him out before the chili was ready. "Say, tell me, are there other houses on this side of the road that a person could claim? The reason I'm askin, the quarters at the back of the store have a tiny sheepherder's stove that's hardly big enough for a coffee pot. Almost worthless."
"Look out the window," Gary snarled. "If you can count, then you will know how many places there are. I've looked at all of them and most are way bigger than this place. I didn't want big; it's just right for one person," he said with heavy meaning.
Chuck ignored him and stirred the chili that was starting to steam. The coffee pot made a hiccup of perking and stopped, a sure sign the stove needed more wood. Chuck looked pointedly at Gary, and the surly Linderman ignored his guest. Chuck sighed hard, and went to the porch for more wood.
Chuck made up his mind that he was going to stick it out with his most ungracious host until the next morning, and then by golly, he was going to get his own place. Evening started to settle and Chuck put his coat and hat on and went back to the woodpile. This time he staggered as he pulled a huge amount of slabs over to the porch and broke the wood as best he could. The bark and thin wood was drawing moisture from the snow and getting more difficult to break. It was requiring more effort and muscle and Chuck broke enough to finish heating supper.
The two men ate in silence and impatiently waited for the coffee to perk. When it was ready, it was hot enough in the battered tin cups that both men burned their lips.
Slowly, they got to talking about the 'good old days' as what their lives had been like.
Phoebe and Seamus got their kids fed and through a quick washup. Seamus was busy entertaining the children with stories of Scotland and of his youth. Heavily edited to keep his sordid past from the tender young ears, Seamus told of the rolling hills, craggy mountains and the wind whipped sea.
Phoebe did the dishes, and then joined the group for a bible lesson and a song before bedtime. Kids that had played hard in the cold, fresh air and then filled their tummy's with good warm food were sleepy before the song was over. There was no complaining that it was bedtime, yawning boys bravely helped each other down the hall to their bedroom.
Phoebe had thought to put each boy in their own room, but they always got together sometime during the night. Cots lined the wall and each boy had his favorite, as they said prayers and were tucked in for the night.
This was Seamus's time to play with Suisan, while Phoebe picked up the house and put more wood on the fire. "We will need more wood tomorrow, the pile is going away alarmingly," Phoebe brought two cups of tea to the chairs around the stove. "It is really storming out there, I hope everyone is safe and warm."
"Aye, I can hear the storm against the windows." Seamus cooed to his daughter and she regarded him with serious dark eyes.
"Seamus, we're going to have another baby."
The joy lighting the burly Scots face was like a spotlight in the darkness. "Oh, bonny lassie, tis a heaven sent blessing. Yer doin OK?"
"I am," Phoebe assured him. "Sometime near May or June."
"Praise the lord," Seamus spoke heartfelt joy. "Praise the Lord."
Abby and her sheriff escort heartily wished they had started for home earlier. The wind whipped snow drove straight into their face, and the darkness with it's cold was finger numbing painful.
Wyatt's pretty sorrel took then straight to the barn at the Inn. The horse was smart enough to remember where his last meal of oats had happened, guiding his humans when they could no longer see in the darkness.
"Would you mind going in and warming something for supper and heating coffee?" Wyatt asked. "I'll care for the horses." he said hopefully.
"Yes," Abby's teeth were chattering so hard that she could barely speak. That for sure, was the last time she was going to be so foolish about getting home before dark. The warm meal and boiling coffee helped the two warm up. Of course they had to tell of the day's activities to Al and Carol. Abby's lips twitched with amusement when she noticed there wasn't a box in the kitchen, they had all been put away. So, it had been a busy day for all of them.
Abby straightened her kitchen and put the dishes on to soak. She did notice that Al and Carol had left their dishes for her to wash, and she momentarily wrinkled her nose in irritation.
Abby said goodnight and hauled herself to her bedroom and shut the door. It was almost too much effort to get under the covers and warm herself, but Abby dived in and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
It was late in a chilly house afternoon that Gary and Chuck surfaced once again. "It's cold in here," Chuck almost accused; "didn't you put wood on the fire?"
"Nope," Gary snarled back. "I was just as drunk as you were. I keep a couple of emergency pieces in here, I'll see if I can get a fire going. If you want heat, trot your butt over to the mill slab pile and bring wood back."
Chuck bristled at the arrogant order, but then he guessed Gary was probably right. Shrugging into his coat, Chuck jammed his hat on tight and stepped out into the biting wind and swirling snow. Hustling as fast as his old, decrepit, post drinking body would function, Chuck went to the woodpile and gathered up an armful of the long strips and pulled them toward Gary's place.
Chuck thought about just going home and leaving the evil tempered Gary to his own devices, but then he remembered the chili that would be warming on the stove. So regretfully he trudged back across the road to Gary's and dropped the slabs on the porch.
The strips were mostly bark with thin wood strips. They would burn hot and fast. Chuck used his foot to step on the end and break the strip over his boot. Gary opened the door and between the two of them, they got the fire going well and the chili and coffee started to heat.
"I think we're losing ground with the heat, every time we open the door to bring in more wood." Chuck was proud of himself for assessing the situtation and coming to such a momentous conclusion.
"So?"
"Well, I just thought I'd mention it; not that it isn't damn obvious." Chuck contributed his sage advise. He felt a little put out at Gary's attitude.
"The slabs are free, if you are too particular to burn slabs, then go home and build your own fire and stoke it with whatever you have handy." Gary gave his consideration to Chuck.
Chuck decided he had better change the subject before Gary threw him out before the chili was ready. "Say, tell me, are there other houses on this side of the road that a person could claim? The reason I'm askin, the quarters at the back of the store have a tiny sheepherder's stove that's hardly big enough for a coffee pot. Almost worthless."
"Look out the window," Gary snarled. "If you can count, then you will know how many places there are. I've looked at all of them and most are way bigger than this place. I didn't want big; it's just right for one person," he said with heavy meaning.
Chuck ignored him and stirred the chili that was starting to steam. The coffee pot made a hiccup of perking and stopped, a sure sign the stove needed more wood. Chuck looked pointedly at Gary, and the surly Linderman ignored his guest. Chuck sighed hard, and went to the porch for more wood.
Chuck made up his mind that he was going to stick it out with his most ungracious host until the next morning, and then by golly, he was going to get his own place. Evening started to settle and Chuck put his coat and hat on and went back to the woodpile. This time he staggered as he pulled a huge amount of slabs over to the porch and broke the wood as best he could. The bark and thin wood was drawing moisture from the snow and getting more difficult to break. It was requiring more effort and muscle and Chuck broke enough to finish heating supper.
The two men ate in silence and impatiently waited for the coffee to perk. When it was ready, it was hot enough in the battered tin cups that both men burned their lips.
Slowly, they got to talking about the 'good old days' as what their lives had been like.
Phoebe and Seamus got their kids fed and through a quick washup. Seamus was busy entertaining the children with stories of Scotland and of his youth. Heavily edited to keep his sordid past from the tender young ears, Seamus told of the rolling hills, craggy mountains and the wind whipped sea.
Phoebe did the dishes, and then joined the group for a bible lesson and a song before bedtime. Kids that had played hard in the cold, fresh air and then filled their tummy's with good warm food were sleepy before the song was over. There was no complaining that it was bedtime, yawning boys bravely helped each other down the hall to their bedroom.
Phoebe had thought to put each boy in their own room, but they always got together sometime during the night. Cots lined the wall and each boy had his favorite, as they said prayers and were tucked in for the night.
This was Seamus's time to play with Suisan, while Phoebe picked up the house and put more wood on the fire. "We will need more wood tomorrow, the pile is going away alarmingly," Phoebe brought two cups of tea to the chairs around the stove. "It is really storming out there, I hope everyone is safe and warm."
"Aye, I can hear the storm against the windows." Seamus cooed to his daughter and she regarded him with serious dark eyes.
"Seamus, we're going to have another baby."
The joy lighting the burly Scots face was like a spotlight in the darkness. "Oh, bonny lassie, tis a heaven sent blessing. Yer doin OK?"
"I am," Phoebe assured him. "Sometime near May or June."
"Praise the lord," Seamus spoke heartfelt joy. "Praise the Lord."
Abby and her sheriff escort heartily wished they had started for home earlier. The wind whipped snow drove straight into their face, and the darkness with it's cold was finger numbing painful.
Wyatt's pretty sorrel took then straight to the barn at the Inn. The horse was smart enough to remember where his last meal of oats had happened, guiding his humans when they could no longer see in the darkness.
"Would you mind going in and warming something for supper and heating coffee?" Wyatt asked. "I'll care for the horses." he said hopefully.
"Yes," Abby's teeth were chattering so hard that she could barely speak. That for sure, was the last time she was going to be so foolish about getting home before dark. The warm meal and boiling coffee helped the two warm up. Of course they had to tell of the day's activities to Al and Carol. Abby's lips twitched with amusement when she noticed there wasn't a box in the kitchen, they had all been put away. So, it had been a busy day for all of them.
Abby straightened her kitchen and put the dishes on to soak. She did notice that Al and Carol had left their dishes for her to wash, and she momentarily wrinkled her nose in irritation.
Abby said goodnight and hauled herself to her bedroom and shut the door. It was almost too much effort to get under the covers and warm herself, but Abby dived in and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
You're obviously blessed with significant powers of observation AND interpretation -- is there perhaps another story there?
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
THank you.
steamroller
Contributing Member
Thank you.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#52
Corbin and Clara were caught in the front edge of the storm. The freight wagons rolled as fast as the horses could pull under the circumstances, as the wind and snow blasted them from behind.
Corbin made sure that the back canvas on her wagon was as tightly anchored to the floor as possible, giving Clara as much protection from the elements as possible. Clara suffered with the cold, sitting with all her clothes on and wrapped in a blanket.
When they got to the steep hill that she remembered from the initial trip, Corbin dropped back to say, "hold on for another 24 hours and we will be home."
Clara nodded gratefully, giving Corbin her best smile to show she was still in the game. That night, he held her and was shocked at how cold Clara still was. "Yeah, you're not doing this again, you're cold as ice, do you ever get warm?"
Clara shook her head no and burrowed closer to Corbin for warmth. The next day, she had not only her blanket but Corbin's also. They had unhooked and re-grouped horses to pull the steep hill, when Clara's attention was diverted to a lump of white in the snowy landscape.
The lump squatted down in the dubious safety of a large tangled bush, and as Clara watched, the dull darkness of a rifle barrel was leveled at the group of men changing harness. Without thinking, she grabbed the rifle that was propped on the wagon seat between her and the driver and fired two shots.
The lump screamed and there was a report from his rifle that went wild. Rifles, pistols and shotguns appeared out of thin air, the men ready to do battle at a moments notice.
Corbin came running back to the wagon when the driver yelled his name. "She shot whoever it was," he said with wide eyes, jerking his head in Clara's direction.
"Clara, what happened," Corbin demanded as Jerry and another hand went to inspect the now dead shooter,
"He was ready to shoot you, he kept moving the rifle every time you moved. I couldn't let him do that." Clara was shaking, with the let down of adrenalin and the cold. Corbin hopped up on the wagon and gave her a quick hug. "Thanks baby for having sharp eyes and saving me."
"Hey boss, the guy's deader than a door nail. Appears to be some old white haired, toothless ridgerunner toting a black powder rifle a hundred years old. He was all covered up with a white sheet with two eye holes, so he definitely intended to kill somebody. One of the guys knows about him, said he has a cabin off in the woods with three half wit boys. Well, two I guess. One of'em got shot last summer, and the outrider says he ain't seen the other two boys for quite a spell."
"Thanks for the info," Corbin told the gossip, and reached up to squeeze Clara's foot as a warning not to say anything. "Let's double time this boys, I've had all the snow getting down the back of my neck that I want. A good warm bunk house sounds mighty fine right about now." he urged.
They rolled into the farm well after dark, and Corbin made sure Clara was dropped off at the house the first thing. "Get her warm," he ordered Mrs. Dufus. "She's half frozen and suffering a bit of shock, she had to shoot a sniper that had me in his sights." Angel Dufus reached both arms out to Clara and had her in the corner by the wood stove in a flash.
"Kirie, get me some hot tea," she asked her oldest, "and Dulce get a chair for Mizz Clara."
Well mannered and obedient children scattered to do their mothers bidding. The boys were excused from the kitchen while Angel rolled down Clara's stockings and wrapped her legs in a warm blanket. Bricks were warmed and wrapped in old blankets to warm Clara's feet.
"Ok boys, we need more wood, we've got to raise this woman's core temperature," Angel was shooting orders right and left. Two of the taller girls were standing on the other side of the stove holding up blankets to warm and they were changed out frequently.
Soon Clara started shivering uncontrollably, almost shaking herself off the chair. "You watch her Dulce, we don't want her falling over into the stove. You kids pay attention to how we do this. Kirie, you start feeding her spoons full of the tea, just don't burn her mouth."
Angel Dufus hadn't wanted to like Clara, when the woman first came to the farm. The cook had been afraid that Clara would be a gold digger and an opportunist like the last woman Corbin had brought home.
Clara's sweetness and her very obvious adoration of Corbin, soon put Angel's fears to rest. Even the young girl was a honest and upright person, although it became very evident she was mourning a lost love.
The whole Dufus family in the house did everything possible to bring Clara back to health. Finally Clara was warm enough to hold her own tea cup and she discovered how thirsty she was. Drinking several cups of the hot liquid, she whispered in an embarrassed tone to Angel. "I didn't want to drink much, so we didn't have to stop and let me run into the timber, when there was trees, that is."
"Not good, not good," Angel muttered. "No wonder you were so cold, your body was all messed up. More tea?"
Clara nodded and watched as a half spoonful of precious sugar was stirred into her drink. "You shouldn't waste the sugar on me," she protested and tried to smile at the scowl Angel gave her.
"I hear the men coming in, Mr. Corbin will need warming up and the two of you must be powerful hungry. He said make you warm, and by golly that's what we intend to do." The cook walked by Clara and gave her free hand a squeeze. "They'll be time enough tomorrow to sort this all out." she promised. "Let us pamper you tonight."
Clara smiled a weary smile and acquiesced without firing another shot. Her eyes watched Corbin as he came in and washed up in the hallway. He was tired and cold and hungry. Sitting down, he looked for Clara and found her bundled in the corner behind the stove. "Are you warm?" he asked.
"Almost cooked," Clara said gratefully, "thanks to Angel and her wonderful children, I'm thawed out."
Once warm, Clara couldn't stay awake and Corbin left his supper to walk her to the bedroom. Tucked in the warm bed that had been heated with bricks, Clara went fast asleep.
Back in the kitchen, Corbin bragged on Clara and her quick thinking that kept him from being killed. "That old man sure must have had a hatred for me, and last summer, his boy fired first. Have you heard what came of the other two brothers?" he asked Dufus.
"Gossip, the locals say the two pulled out after the third brother died. The old man has always been way off plumb, and he must have been waiting for you. Two shots off a wagon, you say? That's pretty good shooting, you got a keeper this time Mr. Corbin."
"More than I deserve," Corbin said heartily. as he ate his supper.
Corbin and Clara were caught in the front edge of the storm. The freight wagons rolled as fast as the horses could pull under the circumstances, as the wind and snow blasted them from behind.
Corbin made sure that the back canvas on her wagon was as tightly anchored to the floor as possible, giving Clara as much protection from the elements as possible. Clara suffered with the cold, sitting with all her clothes on and wrapped in a blanket.
When they got to the steep hill that she remembered from the initial trip, Corbin dropped back to say, "hold on for another 24 hours and we will be home."
Clara nodded gratefully, giving Corbin her best smile to show she was still in the game. That night, he held her and was shocked at how cold Clara still was. "Yeah, you're not doing this again, you're cold as ice, do you ever get warm?"
Clara shook her head no and burrowed closer to Corbin for warmth. The next day, she had not only her blanket but Corbin's also. They had unhooked and re-grouped horses to pull the steep hill, when Clara's attention was diverted to a lump of white in the snowy landscape.
The lump squatted down in the dubious safety of a large tangled bush, and as Clara watched, the dull darkness of a rifle barrel was leveled at the group of men changing harness. Without thinking, she grabbed the rifle that was propped on the wagon seat between her and the driver and fired two shots.
The lump screamed and there was a report from his rifle that went wild. Rifles, pistols and shotguns appeared out of thin air, the men ready to do battle at a moments notice.
Corbin came running back to the wagon when the driver yelled his name. "She shot whoever it was," he said with wide eyes, jerking his head in Clara's direction.
"Clara, what happened," Corbin demanded as Jerry and another hand went to inspect the now dead shooter,
"He was ready to shoot you, he kept moving the rifle every time you moved. I couldn't let him do that." Clara was shaking, with the let down of adrenalin and the cold. Corbin hopped up on the wagon and gave her a quick hug. "Thanks baby for having sharp eyes and saving me."
"Hey boss, the guy's deader than a door nail. Appears to be some old white haired, toothless ridgerunner toting a black powder rifle a hundred years old. He was all covered up with a white sheet with two eye holes, so he definitely intended to kill somebody. One of the guys knows about him, said he has a cabin off in the woods with three half wit boys. Well, two I guess. One of'em got shot last summer, and the outrider says he ain't seen the other two boys for quite a spell."
"Thanks for the info," Corbin told the gossip, and reached up to squeeze Clara's foot as a warning not to say anything. "Let's double time this boys, I've had all the snow getting down the back of my neck that I want. A good warm bunk house sounds mighty fine right about now." he urged.
They rolled into the farm well after dark, and Corbin made sure Clara was dropped off at the house the first thing. "Get her warm," he ordered Mrs. Dufus. "She's half frozen and suffering a bit of shock, she had to shoot a sniper that had me in his sights." Angel Dufus reached both arms out to Clara and had her in the corner by the wood stove in a flash.
"Kirie, get me some hot tea," she asked her oldest, "and Dulce get a chair for Mizz Clara."
Well mannered and obedient children scattered to do their mothers bidding. The boys were excused from the kitchen while Angel rolled down Clara's stockings and wrapped her legs in a warm blanket. Bricks were warmed and wrapped in old blankets to warm Clara's feet.
"Ok boys, we need more wood, we've got to raise this woman's core temperature," Angel was shooting orders right and left. Two of the taller girls were standing on the other side of the stove holding up blankets to warm and they were changed out frequently.
Soon Clara started shivering uncontrollably, almost shaking herself off the chair. "You watch her Dulce, we don't want her falling over into the stove. You kids pay attention to how we do this. Kirie, you start feeding her spoons full of the tea, just don't burn her mouth."
Angel Dufus hadn't wanted to like Clara, when the woman first came to the farm. The cook had been afraid that Clara would be a gold digger and an opportunist like the last woman Corbin had brought home.
Clara's sweetness and her very obvious adoration of Corbin, soon put Angel's fears to rest. Even the young girl was a honest and upright person, although it became very evident she was mourning a lost love.
The whole Dufus family in the house did everything possible to bring Clara back to health. Finally Clara was warm enough to hold her own tea cup and she discovered how thirsty she was. Drinking several cups of the hot liquid, she whispered in an embarrassed tone to Angel. "I didn't want to drink much, so we didn't have to stop and let me run into the timber, when there was trees, that is."
"Not good, not good," Angel muttered. "No wonder you were so cold, your body was all messed up. More tea?"
Clara nodded and watched as a half spoonful of precious sugar was stirred into her drink. "You shouldn't waste the sugar on me," she protested and tried to smile at the scowl Angel gave her.
"I hear the men coming in, Mr. Corbin will need warming up and the two of you must be powerful hungry. He said make you warm, and by golly that's what we intend to do." The cook walked by Clara and gave her free hand a squeeze. "They'll be time enough tomorrow to sort this all out." she promised. "Let us pamper you tonight."
Clara smiled a weary smile and acquiesced without firing another shot. Her eyes watched Corbin as he came in and washed up in the hallway. He was tired and cold and hungry. Sitting down, he looked for Clara and found her bundled in the corner behind the stove. "Are you warm?" he asked.
"Almost cooked," Clara said gratefully, "thanks to Angel and her wonderful children, I'm thawed out."
Once warm, Clara couldn't stay awake and Corbin left his supper to walk her to the bedroom. Tucked in the warm bed that had been heated with bricks, Clara went fast asleep.
Back in the kitchen, Corbin bragged on Clara and her quick thinking that kept him from being killed. "That old man sure must have had a hatred for me, and last summer, his boy fired first. Have you heard what came of the other two brothers?" he asked Dufus.
"Gossip, the locals say the two pulled out after the third brother died. The old man has always been way off plumb, and he must have been waiting for you. Two shots off a wagon, you say? That's pretty good shooting, you got a keeper this time Mr. Corbin."
"More than I deserve," Corbin said heartily. as he ate his supper.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Very nice, thank you.
steamroller
Contributing Member
Very good, thank you.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#53
Toby and Rennie sat at the table holding hands. They were winding down from the busy day of butchering and canning. "I must be getting old," Toby joked. "This isn't as much fun and exciting as it used to be. Time was," he reminisced, "that the hustle and bustle and people that came to help butcher was a grand experience for us kids. Our life wasn't boring in the least, but we were always looking for a little extra." Toby laughed.
"Maybe not much has changed," Rennie teased. "I have my suspicions that you wouldn't turn down a little excitement."
"Welll," Toby prevaricated, "maybe a little, especially if I could sorta guide it the way I want it to happen. We could have excitement with that group of men that were observing us; I really haven't settled that whole situtation in my mind. They were here for a reason, but didn't put any cards on the table. When they found out that Dad was a Marshall, they quickly folded their tents and left, so that has suspicion written all over it."
"Agreed," Rennie succinctly replied. "TJ, please don't tease Lyric," she called out toward the living room. "That boy," Rennie spoke darkly, "had better straighten up. He's getting mighty close to the end of my tolerance for his hijinks."
"I'll talk to him," Toby mentioned. "Are there any other problems?"
Rennie got up to put more hot water in her tea mug. Toby could hear her muttering under her breath about undisciplined hooligans.
"I assume you are referring to the good doctor's boys?"
"Bloody straight," Rennie growled. "Little monsters that are mostly unsupervised. and let run like wild animals. Phoebe tries hard to keep track of her boys, but they do run in a pack."
Toby and Rennie sat at the table holding hands. They were winding down from the busy day of butchering and canning. "I must be getting old," Toby joked. "This isn't as much fun and exciting as it used to be. Time was," he reminisced, "that the hustle and bustle and people that came to help butcher was a grand experience for us kids. Our life wasn't boring in the least, but we were always looking for a little extra." Toby laughed.
"Maybe not much has changed," Rennie teased. "I have my suspicions that you wouldn't turn down a little excitement."
"Welll," Toby prevaricated, "maybe a little, especially if I could sorta guide it the way I want it to happen. We could have excitement with that group of men that were observing us; I really haven't settled that whole situtation in my mind. They were here for a reason, but didn't put any cards on the table. When they found out that Dad was a Marshall, they quickly folded their tents and left, so that has suspicion written all over it."
"Agreed," Rennie succinctly replied. "TJ, please don't tease Lyric," she called out toward the living room. "That boy," Rennie spoke darkly, "had better straighten up. He's getting mighty close to the end of my tolerance for his hijinks."
"I'll talk to him," Toby mentioned. "Are there any other problems?"
Rennie got up to put more hot water in her tea mug. Toby could hear her muttering under her breath about undisciplined hooligans.
"I assume you are referring to the good doctor's boys?"
"Bloody straight," Rennie growled. "Little monsters that are mostly unsupervised. and let run like wild animals. Phoebe tries hard to keep track of her boys, but they do run in a pack."
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
Folks,
sorry for the short chapters. It's a real busy time and I'm old and slow. LOL. Pac.
sorry for the short chapters. It's a real busy time and I'm old and slow. LOL. Pac.
Orion Commander
Veteran Member
Yeah but you are still above ground and still moving. Sounds like a win, win situation.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
If memory serves you've been adding to the Linderman tale for about 10-11 years now, entertaining & enlightening us PLUS handling what RL put on your plate -- I'd say you're due for a little rest Ma'am
We'll all be here when you catch your breath.
G
Siskiyoumom
Veteran Member
Thank you!
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#54
Clora was sitting at the table when a vague movement caught the corner of her eye. Bright beady eyes and twitching whiskers observed the quiet kitchen. When Clora sneezed, the little mouse felt like dying of fright.
"Too bad you didn't," Clora groused, "I hate mice."
The little mouse didn't care if Clora despised mice, he was looking for warm quarters for the winter. and he turned tail and disappeared under the pantry door.
"Your days are numbered," the mistress of the house threatened, and she resolved to see if Lyric had gentled any of the feral cats that were in town. On a scrap of paper from her pocket and the pencil stub that went everywhere with her, Clora started planning her Thanksgiving dinner.
For once, Clora was hoping that each family wanted to do their own celebration. She felt tired just thinking about the work involved in a total family celebration. She wouldn't mind if Tess and her boys came, but everyone else, not so much.
First of all, the unexpected snow caught Clora with half her potatoes still in the ground. They needed to be dug immediately after the snow melted and processed in some way. There were enough single men that could help dig for a portion of the spuds, and then Andy and Judy. Clora thought about the young couple that seemed to slack off on their winter preparations.
Perturbed thoughts crossed her mind. Donny had been over generous in supplying his brother and sister in law with meat, and frankly, the two had not been properly appreciative. So, Clora needed to have a little talk with Donny. If he felt the need to go hunting, she would welcome all the game he could harvest. Especially if he could get a turkey for Thanksgiving.
The rest of the Thanksgiving meal would follow the reduced food supplies. There would be dressing, but flour for bread was in tight supply, so not the generous onion, bacon and sausage stuffing they had enjoyed previously. No cranberry sauce, but they would have apple sauce. There would be squash and pumpkin, small and not fully mature, but what was available. Always with the green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy.
Now that she had her future plans settled, Clora went to strip the guest bed and get the sheets washed. Searching the dresser drawers and closets, Clora found a set of spare sheets, and breathed a thankful prayer for the person who had bought a second set of sheets when they were available.
Cleaning the room, she happened to find a set of lace up boots in the back corner of the smallest closet. Holding her breath, Clora looked to see if the boots might fit her. They were a size larger than she normally would wear, but a second pair of socks would take up the slack.
Taking the treasure back to her bedroom, Clora looked at their room with a critical eye. They needed to have some secret spaces for weapons, and other important papers and the small amount of cash they hand.
She needed to get Mark's intake on the subject, but he was down at the church building. The occasional customer, traveler and church goer, had dwindled to less that a trickle, with the turn in the weather. The exodus of people leaving Iowa, had stopped; no one wanted to be caught in bad weather as they were traveling.
Chuck chose a cabin that was in reality a small house. It had a small barn and corral, a small garden space with room to expand. A place that could house a man and wife, if Chuck were so lucky to find an unattached woman. Three bedroom, with all the rest of the normal rooms, he swept the floor using the broom he found in the closet. Actually he was thinking about an anomaly that he had noticed.
If the houses had been occupied by people, it was the absence of certain items that would be normal to find in a house, that bothered him. There were no small electric appliances, radios or television sets. There were simply no electric anythings, not even light fixtures in the ceiling or light switches on the walls.
All the houses had wood stoves of some sort, but no hot water heaters. The more he thought about the situtation, the more it felt like the entire clan had been dumped into the middle of a twilight zone episode. A opening in a wrinkle of time, not fact but fantasy.
Chuck cleaned his house, preferring to be more neat and tidy than that jerk Gary. That man, Chuck decided, had all the makings of living worse than a pig. There were paper bags in the broom closet that he used to write a grocery list, getting his makeshift wallet out of his saddlebags, Chuck counted up his money.
If hindsight counted for anything, he probably should have continued to work for Corbin. He had some money, but not enough to get through the winter. So a missed opportunity to earn money had evaporated through his own lack of foresight.
Laying his slim belongings on the kitchen table for inspection, Chuck decided he needed to be hunting. Perhaps he could trade game to George for the barest of necessities. It was too late to head South, so he needed to be alert for any opportunities that might yield money. His second hand store was languishing in neutral, as people weren't traveling. So, he looked over his list and crossed several items off.
George was agreeable to some trading, but was a shrewd man with his dollar. He certainly didn't cut Chuck any slack, and Chuck respected the older man for his bargaining abilities.
Milo was the next person Chuck went to see; and they talked about restarting the mill. Chuck bargained for lumber and mill ends for heating wood. He and Milo settled on Chuck building a cover over the mill, and removal of the large pile of sawdust that had accumulated.
Clora was sitting at the table when a vague movement caught the corner of her eye. Bright beady eyes and twitching whiskers observed the quiet kitchen. When Clora sneezed, the little mouse felt like dying of fright.
"Too bad you didn't," Clora groused, "I hate mice."
The little mouse didn't care if Clora despised mice, he was looking for warm quarters for the winter. and he turned tail and disappeared under the pantry door.
"Your days are numbered," the mistress of the house threatened, and she resolved to see if Lyric had gentled any of the feral cats that were in town. On a scrap of paper from her pocket and the pencil stub that went everywhere with her, Clora started planning her Thanksgiving dinner.
For once, Clora was hoping that each family wanted to do their own celebration. She felt tired just thinking about the work involved in a total family celebration. She wouldn't mind if Tess and her boys came, but everyone else, not so much.
First of all, the unexpected snow caught Clora with half her potatoes still in the ground. They needed to be dug immediately after the snow melted and processed in some way. There were enough single men that could help dig for a portion of the spuds, and then Andy and Judy. Clora thought about the young couple that seemed to slack off on their winter preparations.
Perturbed thoughts crossed her mind. Donny had been over generous in supplying his brother and sister in law with meat, and frankly, the two had not been properly appreciative. So, Clora needed to have a little talk with Donny. If he felt the need to go hunting, she would welcome all the game he could harvest. Especially if he could get a turkey for Thanksgiving.
The rest of the Thanksgiving meal would follow the reduced food supplies. There would be dressing, but flour for bread was in tight supply, so not the generous onion, bacon and sausage stuffing they had enjoyed previously. No cranberry sauce, but they would have apple sauce. There would be squash and pumpkin, small and not fully mature, but what was available. Always with the green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy.
Now that she had her future plans settled, Clora went to strip the guest bed and get the sheets washed. Searching the dresser drawers and closets, Clora found a set of spare sheets, and breathed a thankful prayer for the person who had bought a second set of sheets when they were available.
Cleaning the room, she happened to find a set of lace up boots in the back corner of the smallest closet. Holding her breath, Clora looked to see if the boots might fit her. They were a size larger than she normally would wear, but a second pair of socks would take up the slack.
Taking the treasure back to her bedroom, Clora looked at their room with a critical eye. They needed to have some secret spaces for weapons, and other important papers and the small amount of cash they hand.
She needed to get Mark's intake on the subject, but he was down at the church building. The occasional customer, traveler and church goer, had dwindled to less that a trickle, with the turn in the weather. The exodus of people leaving Iowa, had stopped; no one wanted to be caught in bad weather as they were traveling.
Chuck chose a cabin that was in reality a small house. It had a small barn and corral, a small garden space with room to expand. A place that could house a man and wife, if Chuck were so lucky to find an unattached woman. Three bedroom, with all the rest of the normal rooms, he swept the floor using the broom he found in the closet. Actually he was thinking about an anomaly that he had noticed.
If the houses had been occupied by people, it was the absence of certain items that would be normal to find in a house, that bothered him. There were no small electric appliances, radios or television sets. There were simply no electric anythings, not even light fixtures in the ceiling or light switches on the walls.
All the houses had wood stoves of some sort, but no hot water heaters. The more he thought about the situtation, the more it felt like the entire clan had been dumped into the middle of a twilight zone episode. A opening in a wrinkle of time, not fact but fantasy.
Chuck cleaned his house, preferring to be more neat and tidy than that jerk Gary. That man, Chuck decided, had all the makings of living worse than a pig. There were paper bags in the broom closet that he used to write a grocery list, getting his makeshift wallet out of his saddlebags, Chuck counted up his money.
If hindsight counted for anything, he probably should have continued to work for Corbin. He had some money, but not enough to get through the winter. So a missed opportunity to earn money had evaporated through his own lack of foresight.
Laying his slim belongings on the kitchen table for inspection, Chuck decided he needed to be hunting. Perhaps he could trade game to George for the barest of necessities. It was too late to head South, so he needed to be alert for any opportunities that might yield money. His second hand store was languishing in neutral, as people weren't traveling. So, he looked over his list and crossed several items off.
George was agreeable to some trading, but was a shrewd man with his dollar. He certainly didn't cut Chuck any slack, and Chuck respected the older man for his bargaining abilities.
Milo was the next person Chuck went to see; and they talked about restarting the mill. Chuck bargained for lumber and mill ends for heating wood. He and Milo settled on Chuck building a cover over the mill, and removal of the large pile of sawdust that had accumulated.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you Pac.
steamroller
Contributing Member
Thank you very much.
Siskiyoumom
Veteran Member
Appreciate the new chapter!