10 Pound Bag Ch. 061-065

**** Chapter Sixty-One -- On the road to Omaha ****

I was up before the dawn, I think I actually beat the rooster out of bed this morning. It seems that I was eager to get out on my own travelling again, solitude had been hard for me to come by in recent months. I was definitely looking forward to getting out on the trail and on my own for a while. Michelle had taken me to bed early and it wasn't just for a good night's sleep. Sometime in the middle of the night Matilda squeezed in and cried for a bit while I held her, there was still a girl in there somewhere. I still slept well nonetheless.

I took a long hot shower knowing that it would be a while before I would have that luxury again; I was surprised to find that we were now using handmade soap, Matilda never ceased to surprise me. Cleansed and now dressed in my 19^th century travel garb it was time to eat and hit the road. Yes Michelle had a long conversation with me about clothing and we pulled together something that wouldn't make me stand out too much. The good news was that they had two shirts that the girls had put together for me from Matilda's cloth hoard and I was allowed to wear a pair of my blue jeans. I had a handmade leather coat to wear and my old beater cowboy hat, my boots were modern but they would pass casual inspection without a problem.

I had a .22 auto stashed on my boot and the M1911 in a shoulder holster, the double barrel was in the rifle sheath and the breech loader was rolled up in my blanket roll. The muskets were in the pommel holsters in front of me as was a portion of the ammo for all the firearms. I had my knife on my belt and the woodsman axe on a horse pack.

Michelle went through the pack load-out for each of the pack horses, everything was distributed and they both carried a very light load; I doubted that would be the case on my return journey. The bottles and jars were each swaddled in burlap wraps that were stuffed with wool and hay; the girls had whipped those up in less than an hour, Matilda was brilliant and training them well. I was shown my food pack and camping utensils and not allowed to look at the food until I was on the trail, apparently they had packed some surprises. My utensils were what I had bought precisely for this type of camping/hunting excursion, it was all modern and pack fitted taking up very little space. I even had an ember bucket designed to carry hot coals from the previous fire through to the next evening's fire. Amos had a separate pack of small kindling for me mostly I think to remind me that I sucked at starting fires from scratch, nice gesture and very nice dig coming from a kid who was scared of his own shadow just a month ago.

They overloaded me at breakfast and I ate until almost bursting, I had private conversations with everyone after to remind them of the role they were expected to play while I was gone. Michelle was left in charge and Holder was to provide camp security. Everyone knew where their weapons were and where they were supposed to go in case of emergency, the rendezvous point was set in the grove near the orchard. Hope for the best but prepare for the worst.

I mounted up and rode off with the pack horses trailing behind and Brin leading the way. Brin was a great traveling companion, his nose and ears were far better than mine by a long shot and he never went rabbit crazy and crashed out into the brush chasing fantasies. If something worried him he would stop dead and I would follow suit, if he skirted an area then I did also; I know for a fact that we dodged at least one rattler that way.

We followed the game trails and when we came to a fork we always bore north-by-northwest, I knew we had rivers ahead of us that we would need to cross and the further west we went the easier it would be. Brin waited at every fork while I took compass readings and updated my maps, I could only measure the distance traveled by time until we came to major geographic feature that was noted on my maps. The maps I had found on this area were incredibly vague and sometimes of dubious origin, folks in the early 1800s seemed to have had different concepts of distances than someone like me who grew up in the modern world.

We made it to the edge of the forest in just under two hours, it was slower going trailing the pack horses and I wasn't taking the most direct route out to the prairie. My plan was to make a circular journey until I crossed the Platte and then head due east, I knew I had to cross the Little Nemaha and the Saline River before I got to the Platte. The further west I was when I attempted those crossings the easier it would be, I decided to stay within the tree-line today and break northwest tomorrow morning.

The tree-line wasn't abrupt here like it was at a river or our cosmically altered compound, it was usually about a half mile area where the trees and bushes slowly thinned and the prairie grass started to take over. It was a very pleasant ride with only occasional creeks or groves to conquer, any major obstacles could easily be circumvented.

I took my mid-day meal near a small brook and allowed the horses to graze and drink while I sat down to explore the lunch the girls had sent along for me. I sat down and got comfortable and then opened my lunch-bag and pulled everything out, I spread it out in front of me and then started laughing. I laughed so hard that I rolled over holding my sides with Brin standing over me worrying about my sanity. Brin's tongue brought me back to reality so I sat up straight again and gave Brin one of the Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches that they had sent along for my mid-day dinner; Brin got the one with the smiley dog face drawn on the paper wrapping.

So yeah, the girls had sent me a kids school lunch, I had a couple of PB & jams, a bag of chips, some carrot sticks, an apple, and a juice box. Of course everything had smiley faces drawn on them. The juice was my own fault, I always took a case of it on my expeditions in case someone got sick, it was shelf stable and easy to transport; sickly sweet but still it was mostly juice and it helped when a person was ill. The chips reminded me that I needed to hide my private chip stash better or I'd be out before too long, at the same time I doubted that I could hide anything around that compound without them finding it. I definitely needed to build a workshop when I got back.

Saving the juice box was an easy decision, I didn't need that sickly sweet taste in my mouth right now and clear cold creek water tasted just fine in the warm spring sun. Summer was heading our direction and the daytime weather was getting warm. One thing that did surprise me is that my sinuses weren't a problem this year, normally I was miserable in the spring with all of the flowers starting to bloom but it didn't seem to affect me this time what-so-ever. On the other hand Sonya and Matilda had become snot machines and every time a new flower popped they went on sneezing fits all over again.

Riding along gives one to time to think about such things, I didn't ponder long however and decided that since I'd grown up near here I was immune to these plants; Matilda and Sonya however were a long way from their birthplaces and the pollen here was kryptonite to them for now. I rode along slowly, staying ever vigilant but also allowing my mind to process and wander a bit. Brin kept a steady circle around me about twenty-five yards out, it looked like he was comfortable exploring that far as we moved along at this pace. He had long since given up on trying to mark every tree we came across but still managed to hit one once in a while, it was interesting to watch him in action.

I decided that if I was going to be so laid back I should probably do so with a weapon in my hands so I pulled out my double-barrel and loaded it up being careful to relax both of the hammers back down to avoid an accidental misfire.

So there I was ambling along peacefully in the late afternoon sun just looking for a favorable camp site when I started to realize that I could see a man-made tree-line in the distance ahead of me. The man-made part was easy, at a certain point there just were no more trees. Not a tapering off just a line of trees and a bunch of stumps beyond them.

Well that put a damper on my day.

**** Chapter Sixty-Two -- Neighbors ****

I ventured forward to the cut line and just sat there in the saddle taking inventory of the situation. I was looking down a gentle slope at a small homestead with a cabin and small livestock shed with a small wooden corral next to it. The chimney on the cabin was smoking merrily and the entire homestead was neat and tidy. It was apparent that someone was actively plowing a field and preparing to plant.

It was late afternoon and I was feeling a bit reluctant to wander down and make acquaintance this late in the day, a stranger showing up at supper time is considered rude by most of the folk I grew up with. My other option was to double back a mile or so and set up camp next to one of the brooks I'd seen, I could then return in the morning and make a noisy approach to introduce myself.

I sat there considering what might be best and smoking a cigarette, Brin was out scouting somewhere and the afternoon weather simply called for a little relaxation. It was a pretty little scene down below and while I knew that whoever it was had just survived a harsh winter and was hard at work to prepare for the next one. Everywhere I looked was spring green, vibrant and reassuring in the sunshine; flowers were sprinkled everywhere throughout the stump field and the little splashes of color brought their little hollow to vibrant life.

The voice in my head was singing joy at the beauty, the gruff voice behind me was saying "Now Mister, you stop right there."

I just sat there and took another drag off of my cigarette and wishing I had brought along cigars instead. I obviously wasn't going anywhere and I knew better than to react, so I just sat and smoked.

"Mister, I told you not to move!", disembodied voice exclaimed.

So I put out my cigarette, it was down to the butt anyway and decided to turn this into a conversation. "You told me to stop and here I sit stopped, I hadn't been going anywhere anyway. I was just enjoying the scenery, someone down there has a pretty nice homestead setup, I was thinking that if I had any talent I'd love to paint a picture of that."

"Mister, that someone would be me and I don't recall sending out invitations for visitors." Mr. Gruff replied.

"Well now," I said as I started to gently ease the hammer back on the first barrel of my shotgun, "see that was what I was contemplating, it seemed rude to ride down to an introduce myself at supper time, I thought I might just backtrack and camp out until the morning."

The deep rumbling growl from behind us told me that Brin had come back; I took that moment to click the hammer into the fully cocked position and thankfully it was almost silent. I heard shuffling behind me and took that moment to wheel my horse and drop off to the ground behind it. I looked back over my saddle and along the shotgun barrel to see what my new friend looked like.

Well, he was in a quandary and he knew it, he was caught between an angry dog and a shot gun, his musket swinging back and forth. I was in control now. I was looking at a large black man, well not really black but more of a half-breed, kind of like most Americans are in the modern day. Purity of race doesn't truly exists, never has and never will, DNA typing proved that fact out pretty damn quickly in the modern age.

"I'm not looking for a fight", I said, "but my dog Brin doesn't take well to people threatening me and while I know you have one shot in that there musket, this here scatter-gun of mine has two and will definitely end you. What my shotgun doesn't get my dog Brin definitely will, so it might be best if you just point that musket away from us and we can have a proper introduction."

The panic in Mr. Gruff's eyes was glaringly apparent, he had something he needed to protect and that protection need might be greater than his survival need; he was extremely dangerous at this point and I needed to defuse the situation quickly or there would be blood. Blood out here would lead to emotional agony and great hardship for many people and I needed to move us past that and get us past that quickly.

I was playing it by ear and needed to clear the air, "I'm your new neighbor and have a homestead down by the Big Nemaha, I'm travelling north to find the trading post at Fort Atkinson as I find myself in need of some goods. Maybe we should just head down to your place and put your wife in charge of these guns so we can restart on a friendlier basis."

He thought about that for a moment and then nodded slowly, his response telling me that his woman was no pushover and he trusted her to protect him. So off we went, silently side by side winding our way through the stumps down to their quaint little homestead.

I was taking a major chance here but I didn't feel that I had a choice, I needed to be in good standing with my neighbors if I wanted to survive out here. Either that, or I'd have to kill him and take over the responsibility of his family - and I had the feeling that was more than just a wife.

Walks like that seem to take forever even if we were only going a couple of hundred yards, there was still a chance of somebody losing their sand and making a mess out of this situation; I was careful to keep the gelding close to me so I could dodge behind him and use his body as a shield if need be.

The tension and the situation made me consider that I might have let my hand to hand combat skills deteriorate to far, I need to start running classes when I got back to camp to bring the entire team up to snuff. I wasn't a Kung Fu warrior by any means but I had learned a few things along the way, however if you don't practice you may as well have never learned. I'd always had better things to do than to spend six hours a day on a mat practicing hand to hand combat. I did however have the Marine Corps training and I had a buddy who rose to 3^rd Level black belt and he showed me a few of the important basics. My buddy Kevin may as well have lived at that dojo but to make and keep his black belt rating he practiced and exercised constantly. Constantly meant always; he left the Corps and it was his life from sun up to sun down -- that is simply what it takes to be a high-ranked blackbelt.

Kevin introduced me to the fact that there were only a few top level black belts in the entire world and all of them were elders with decades of experience. Decades of experience means daily practice usually of at least four hours each day, martial arts are a shit ton more complicated than a new cooking technique. However the basics were useful as long as you practiced them, just don't go challenging any ninjas.

We arrived and I tethered my mounts to his corral fence setting Brin to guard them, they'd all starve to death there if something happened to me before I released Brin; Rottweilers are like that. With that done I went to meet the lady of the house and possibly the decider of our neighborly relationship.

**** Chapter Sixty-Three - Mr. Gruff and His Wife ****

It was time to learn some names and break the ice. Having good relations with these folk was of high importance to me, but this would be a delicate dance now that we had our initial meet-n-greet over the barrel of a gun.

Mrs. Gruff was a fine looking woman from what I could tell; it did not do to look a lady up and down like a possible conquest while she stood with her family on the threshold of the family home. I kept eyes on everything but her body and focused on Mr. Gruff and the child between them. Manners were of utmost importance in that moment.

I doffed my hat and made a proper introduction of myself including a slight bow, "Zachariah Ebenezer Narrater at your service my good neighbors. I am very pleased to meet my neighbors and do hope that we can ignore the unfortunate initial confusion. I'd like to consider ourselves well met."

Well, of course my statement was met with confused silence, so I stepped forward, took a knee, and offered my hand to their young daughter. I told her, "You can call me Z and I'm very pleased to meet you. What might your name be?"

She looked up at her mother, who simply nodded, and then she reached out and took my proffered hand and sweetly said, "I'm Daisy. Momma named me after her favorite flower." I gently shook her tiny hand and offered, "I should have guessed that such a beautiful young lady would be the child of amazing people like your parents; you do them proud and you should be proud of them." She gave me a quizzical look at that, so I continued, "Your father found me while I was enjoying the view of your magnificent estate. He is building quite a castle for his queen and his princess. He must love you both very much to work so hard for you."

I was rewarded with a huge smile, so I stepped back to my feet and away, returning my focus to the adults. "I feel I've made one friend here and I'd like to make two more if I possibly can.

"I remain Zach Narrater, you neighbor from half a day ride southeast and I'd very much like it if we could be on good terms." I said as I offered my hand.

It was time for me to be done talking and time to listen and watch. I had a lot at risk because my people had no idea what was happening right now and if these folk were bad, I was in trouble. I still didn't know their names and that was a bad sign. Folks don't like to to be on first name basis with people they feel they have to kill; hell, I didn't like it either. I had palmed the .22 with my left hand while down on my knee but even though it was hidden in my big paw, it was still fully safe and I would have to chamber and unsafe before I could fire. I was a bit tense.

The pause seemed like forever but it was actually a moment before he reached out and took my hand into a firm but gentle handshake. "I'm Thomas", he said, "and this here is my wife, Martha." I relaxed and put my hands into my coat pocket for a moment leaving the .22 behind when I pulled them back out

"Pleased to meet you Thomas, Martha and Daisy", I replied. "It's so nice to know we have nice neighbors nearby and I'd love to invite you up to meet the rest of my folk." There seemed to be a lot of trepidation on their part so I decided a temporary exit would be best.

"Thomas, I need to go set up camp somewhere. Can you recommend a good spot nearby?" I asked. Well, Daisy started going on about inviting me to supper and some such but I knew it would be best just to give them some time. When her mother shushed her, I spoke directly to the little girl, "Daisy, I have to go make my camp and take care of my horses and dog. We can't have them hungry. Maybe I can come back after supper and we can chat for a little while then. But I have to be back on the trail again tomorrow morning, so I won't be able to visit for long."

Mom and Dad both agreed with that and Daisy was sent off to set the table for supper, so I politely made my exit. Thomas walked me out to my horses, giving me directions to a nice clearing about a half of a mile up-creek from his homestead. I shook Thomas' hand again and called Brin over, "Brin, Friend." Of course, Brin went nuts sniffing and smelling the new friend and I just gave Thomas a sheepish smile at the dog's antics. It was amazing how quickly Brin could go from "I'm going to eat your liver" to "Oh my gosh, a new friend!" Dogs were amazing.

I mounted up and turned to Thomas before I left, "By any chance are you a drinking man? Do you take a bit of whiskey now and again? " He affirmed with a head nod and a big smile, so I left out to set up camp.