10 Pound Bag Ch. 156-160

**** Chapter 156 -- Pushing On ****

By: Emmeran, 2 June 2021

Editor: nnpdad 9 June 2021

At my mention, Mick went inside to check the status of breakfast and refresh the coffee. I had a few moments to think and things weren't quite settled up on this account yet. I had barely lit up a cigarette when Sinclaire showed up in little more than a shift and curled up in my lap. It was a good little snuggle and I enjoyed the feeling of her lithe little body in my lap, she certainly wasn't a girl by any measure but she was a delightful example of womanhood.

Cook brought out fresh coffee and then breakfast and Mick brought me a mostly cold beer. It seems we still had ice floating around down there. More food came out for Mick and we ate. Well I tried to eat with Sinclaire in my lap and picking at my food while we finished our conversation. I eventually lost my patience and chased Sinclair off to the shower and the tub. Putting together a quick bacon sarny of fried bread and bacon, I got up and led Mick off to show him how the pump system worked.

Now a bacon sarny ain't a BLT, it's the poor British equivalent of a BLT but it does in a pinch and that lithe little body squirming on top of me had roused another hunger. I handed Mick half my sarny and when I was sure he understood what was going on, I went down to grab what I needed to enjoy my tub one more time before I left.

**** ****

A woman doesn't have to be the greatest beauty in the land for a guy to enjoy watching her shower. Once SinfulClaire realized I was intent on watching, she gave me a delicate and elegant show. Her life may have been many things, but she did have excellent womanly talent and skills. That might possibly have been the best beer and cigarette of my life.

Obviously we frolicked in and out of the tub for a spell, but responsibilities called us both and we had to get on with the day. The heat of the summer day was already rising as we exited the tent and reality bore back down upon us; she was on the cusp of a major life restart and I needed to get on with a journey.

I did spend a brief bit of time with Mick describing his overall duties but made sure he fully understood that he reported to Ms. Sinclaire and that I expected him to take care of her and this place. He might be a gimp at this point, but he was no less of a man, and I felt comfortable that things would go well under his watch. Sinclaire agreed we'd need more people over time and that the cooks should all train under Mrs. Byrne. While that last caveat confused her at first, I alleviated her concerns with a bit of cash. Sinclaire was here to stay, unless she went into the bottle or some such. Mick and Cook were thrilled to have a new direction in life and I started packing my travel bag.

**** ****

The restart of our trip was much better. First of all, the herd met me on the road and I didn't have to go get them started. I began to feel like I could focus on my concerns and not theirs, I'd do my share of riding drag and such and I always had a night watch. Mostly it was supervising the night watch, but it was still a night watch.

The men had come to realize that nothing was easy on the trail and as a matter of fact, being a cowboy was a shitty job. Every major stream and small river was a fording exercise and we did on occasion lose a head or two; the carcass would be recovered and butchered immediately. Well, if they wanted meat to eat.

The men did some fishing and foraging in the evenings. The crawdads were proving extremely popular, as were the fresh mushrooms that could be spotted along the way if you were riding out on skirt. The fellas started to learn how to truly live off the land and they were sharing that knowledge with each other.

We quickly broke out onto the mostly open prairie and our speed picked up. It was easier to keep the herd together out here and we could avoid most of the major fording until we hit the Osage River and Lakes. There was good water and good grass all along here and we kept a good pace. The wolves kept their distance and we only cut Indian sign twice. None of us were skilled enough to know which tribe that raiding band belonged to, but it looked to be young warriors and young ones were dangerous with ambition.

We had to set out riders on point to seek our best way forward and to keep an eye out for hostiles, that was a new reality for most of these men. The tradesmen and the slaves were the worst, they had led sheltered lives and simply didn't know how to do a lot of things; they sometimes didn't even know when to be cautious.

Now that turned into a long discussion with Sheriff regarding slavery, emancipation and the time that followed. Thankfully, we didn't get into the Panic of 1873, often called the long depression. The rise of the Ku Klux Klan and all the damage they did basically began in that period and slowly spread as intolerance spread. The list of things done wrong during that period ran deep enough to start two world wars.

We did have long conversations about freeing slaves who had thus far had everything guided for them; these weren't captured tribesman, they were domestically bred people with limited exposure and a limited skill set. They simply didn't have anything, not even a home. Sadly at emancipation, most just turned into serfs or share croppers, which is the same damn thing. Great initiative, poor execution.

All of this simply highlighted what our new citizens didn't know and what they would need to learn. We were offering them a fair chance though; the ability to stand on their own two feet. Mistakes would be made, but we both agreed that this path was a good one; other paths might need to be blazed alongside it but this one worked for now.

Amos was always there and that lad had some interesting insight.

Even if he was lovesick and mooning over his young love.

**** Chapter 157 -- Injuns and Puppy Love ****

By: Emmeran, 6 June 2021

Editor: nnpdad 10 June 2021

By the sixth day, I was beginning to dread my shifts riding alone with Amos. He was now in full bloom of 'lovesick,' and simply could not stop talking about the girl. I had to back him down once in a while from telling me too much. So we started to spend our evenings writing together. I taught him how to write a love letter and even a love poem.

I was wary about encouraging this youthful obsession, yet on the other hand, the lad had a talent. He was able to weave words but lacked the skill to write them, I set him to work, reading the one book I had with me. I always carried a book; a lesson learned from my youth and military days. You can't count on electronics, but you can count on a well-cared for book. When all else fails, just a little light and a book, or something to write on, can comfort you.

One of the greatest books of love stories and poems (some even quite graphic) is the bible. I had a bible with me I my travel bag and we worked from that. Blessedly, I wasn't alone in this endeavor. Sheriff rode with the young man frequently enough that he was happy to help. Even Peter and Jeb kicked in some aid. Both knew the bible well and both knew all the fun stories and were willing to talk about them. It was a lot of listening to a beginner read, though. Amos was bright and came along quickly, but it was still painful to follow along and correct him.

However, he excelled at weaving words together romantically. Had one of us been willing to write it out for him, it would have made for an epic work of prose and poetry. Instead, it was hours of scratching out words on whatever small piece of parchment or prepared leather we had around. I had a very small supply of parchment with me and I zealously conserved that resource like the treasure that it was.

In the end, we managed. Once he had an actual letter formed in his mind, I allowed him a single piece of note-sized parchment. Practicing with the fountain pen was entirely a separate endeavor. Had my mother not forced me into a handwriting class in Middle School, I would have been just as worthless with the tool. As it turned out, that class was full of cute young girls and I ended up getting my first romantic experience out of that class.

Still, the fountain pen was an effort and only Peter and the Rabbi were a help there; Jeb had never truly had a reason to write, and Sheriff was utterly lost. He'd only seen such a thing used in movies, so he was about as useless with the tool as I was with an easel and artist's paint. It was hilarious to watch in action, but nothing good would be coming out of it. So we fell into a small routine for a couple of days and each of us helped him with a specific area of his effort, it passed the time if nothing else.

Everything changed in that small routine when we ran into the small band of Otoes. They didn't give us any trouble and Brin was a big part of that; he accompanied me as I was out on point when we stumbled across them. Our reputation preceded us apparently and the warriors they did have with them were nothing but polite. A hidden benefit of having a recognizable and legendary war dog as a companion?

We learned that they were pacing the buffalo herds, waiting to be called in by their hunters to help with the butchering. They did ask one favor: to travel with us, so our herd would hide sign of their travel. Kansa raiders had been troubling them of late, which made hiding the tracks of the travois nearly impossible.

Travelling was boring but dangerous business. Some days brought nothing but endless riding in the heat and praying for rain to cool things off at night. Others brought river crossings and other annoying hazards. I've mentioned it before, complacency quickly becomes your enemy. To fight this off, we ran gun drills daily and I didn't mind expending a little powder so the gang could gain some proficiency. We inspected gear and had the Otoe run night raids against us. Yes they were mostly old men and the women, but they had some skills.

Weapons were cleaned and inspected, gear was cleaned and inspected; we even paid close attention to personal care and cleanliness. We did anything we could think of to maintain good order and discipline, these were all raw recruits in my eyes and we could all die if I didn't train them. Hell, it would have been entirely unprofessional and negligent not to do so.

They grumbled. Of course, they grumbled, guys like to grumble and complain. You really have to worry when they don't, after all nobody likes night watch or riding drag and sucking dust. But it had to be done and they knew it, they still grumbled about it though. They gained trail skills and slowly gained an understanding of basic tactics but it was hard to tell if any of that would come through when the balloon went up.

We finally split up with our Otoe sputniks on the tenth day. They had to bend further west to follow the herd and I got the feeling that the men didn't like their women trailing with us. There hadn't been any incidents that I was aware of, but at the same time I didn't need that tribe added to my enemies list right now. Anyway, best to part as amiable traveling companions.

On day twelve we approached the Kansa river, this put us in the area of the future Kansas City and deep into Kansa territory. This was also where we turned north and started to follow the river again. Or, more exactly, followed the forest that followed the river. In the 19^th century, that forest was very seldom less than ten miles deep, and it got thicker the farther north we went. This was the edge of the great plains.

This was where the Kansa decided to strike.

**** Chapter 158 -- Kansas City Star ****

By: Emmeran, 6 June 2021

Editor: nnpdad 10 June 2021

Brin woke me before my mid-watch started.

Something was wrong and he was agitated.

Something was wrong in the dark of a moonless night.

I took extra magazines and quietly chambered a round. The second watch was coming in. It was Jeb and Amos. They were supposed to wake Peter and me for mid. Sheriff and the Rabbi had the dawn or death watch. At least, in our world, that's how it worked and was called.

I shushed them both and pointed to Brin who was still whining very quietly. We had to trust his instinct. This was dangerous ground, however we looked at it. Silence was our greatest advantage. We had to wake our men and keep them completely silent, even if this were a false alarm we needed the practice.

Jeb woke the rest of the captains and gave them almost silently whispered instructions, they disappeared into the dark to start waking the men. I simply followed Brin as he silently worked a trail leading us away from the camp and the Kansa River, he was a good dog and allowed me to move slowly behind him. I hadn't brought much with me, just the M1911, my long knife and my ultrabright flashlight. My plan was to trust in Brin. The night sounds of the cattle and horses covered up whatever was happening back at camp, there weren't any screams or gun shots so I thought we were still OK.

I followed Brin carefully, watching every footstep until he suddenly froze and lay low, I laid next to him. The night was dark and there was very little light to see by, the stars weren't even much of a help with the sporadic cloud cover we had. But all the night critters had gone silent, something was out here. We were lying flat on the ground about two hundred yards from the main camp when I felt Brin start to growl deep down in his chest. I immediately shushed him and stopped breathing to listen.

They passed within yards of us as we lay there in stillness, Brin was quivering to be released and I simply soothed him and waited for the inevitable second wave. The second wave passed about twenty yards behind the first, I was sure the leaders would be behind them but I needed to focus on that second wave. Pete and I had discussed this, the first wave caused confusion and the second wave brought victory; that was their thinking.

I was now behind the second wave and waiting for them to pause as they held for the attack command. Brin and I got ourselves turned back around and followed them, we followed silently as they set up for the attack.

You could hear their night calls where the insects had gone silent.

As they paused, I readied myself and Brin; there were a few of the second wave warriors a couple of yards in front of us. When they gathered themselves, I went into action.

My first word was to give Brin his release.

Then I released myself.

The world got ugly fast.

The warriors in front of me were surprised by the growl and then Brin was upon them. I flicked my high-powered LED light onto max and burned their eyes and then I burned them down with double taps. Brin was doing his thing and I really didn't want to be any part of that but I heard muskets and rifles going off at the camp and hit the ground instinctively as errant rounds burnt through the brush at man height. There were new screams from back towards campside, not including the screams from Brin's latest chew toy. I heard the shotgun bellow twice in quick order and I froze hoping to hear it again.

Instead I heard a.45 and a.22 coughing and I worried; then that beautiful double barrel spoke again. By the sounds good things were happening. I killed the lamp, whistled up Brin and we went hunting Chieftains, who I was sure would be in the third wave of would be conquering heroes. This time however, Havoc was hunting them.

I knew I had just made some fresh enemies but I didn't care, I sent Brin to Seek. The Narrator was coming and he didn't count coup.

There were three of them and I lit them up, Brin found them in less than two minutes and his growl alerted them. I lit them up with my light and announced myself by shooting the youngest and loudest in the face. He fell like tipped cow.

Everybody else went silent and still.

I motioned them off of their horses with my pistol and simply said "English?"

One replied "Yes".

I gathered their horse leads and said "My fire, we will smoke." I was hoping to resurrect something out of this blood bath. Brin was bade to and happily led us back to camp, it was time to have a little pow-wow with the Kansa raiding Chiefs.

The first thing I did when we got to camp was to order large fires built, enjoy it fellas -- roast marshmallows if you have them. Major victory achieved and show the world our might.

Happily, we hadn't killed so many of their warriors, well except for my captains and me. We had killed or severely wounded twenty of their young men, this was a major blow to the tribe. The lethality of my weapons stunned them and I began to hear my name whispered even as I walked past my own men. To hear them tell it Brin and I killed thirty men that night. It was very far from the truth, but I was sure it would get worse over time. Folks love a good story and they love to embellish it at every turn.

I wanted to go back home.

Everywhere I went, I would hear them saying in a hushed voice:

It's the Narrator.

**** Chapter 159 -- One Dyin' And A Buryin' ****

By: Emmeran, 7 June 2021

Editor: nnpdad 10 June 2021

One dyin' and a buryin',

One dyin' and a buryin',

Some cryin',

Six carryin' me,

I wanna be free.

-Roger Miller

It was a day to bury our dead and tend our wounded. We also had prisoners I had to deal with. The massive and imposing Sheriff stood guard over them right now with the assistance of Brin and that frightening double-barrel shotgun. They weren't going anywhere and weren't going to try. Weapons superiority was a wonderful thing.

We spent the first light patching up the wounded; that meant the wounded from both sides. I then had them send a runner to fetch travois for their non-walking wounded. Could I trust them not to bring back reinforcements?

Yes, I could.

Their tribe couldn't take another hit like we just laid on them. They were all part of one large family and related. I couldn't literally wipe out this sub-tribe if I decided to do it. Hell, Pete might come and do that anyway, once he heard the news. They lost almost twenty men and a few more would never fully recover from their wounds, that was at least half of their manpower. There would be a lot of wailing in their camp tonight. They had attacked us; it wasn't our fault. It's called 'getting what you get for doing what you did.'

We buried our two dead. One poor soul, a tough guy, had simply frozen in battle and gotten run through by a lance. The other was simply a matter of wrong place at the wrong time; he took a musket ball directly through the brisket. We got off easy but putting people in the ground still sucked regardless of why.

We buried them near the banks of the Kansa River. We dug them each a hole. It wasn't a perfect rectangle like you see in a Hollywood movie; it was just a couple of holes in the ground. We made them fairly deep and long enough for each of them. We lay their bodies down there with their private possessions, then tossed about a foot of dirt on them. We then laid down a layer of rocks to keep the animals away, and finished by filling the holes in with more dirt. Gruesome work, overall.

Rabbi said a few words from the old testament and we put large stones over their graves to serve as markers.

**** ****

I'd seen to the wounded. We did have one guy who'd ride travois all the way back. I'd keep him drugged up a little bit, but he was just going to have to deal with the pain. It would have been different if I'd been a drug dealer on a run who got transported back, but no I was just a techie with an overwhelming desire to flee society and remake himself as a modern day mountain man.

Now it was time to deal with the Kansa. It was also time to eat. Breakfast hadn't happened and lunch was upon us - my stomach was growling like an angry Brin.