10 Pound Bag Ch. 061-065

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It only took me about fifteen minutes headed up creek to find the clearing. There was a well-established trail from their cabin to here and I assumed this was where they had set up camp when they first came to the area. The clearing itself was natural with good top cover, even if it was a bit rocky. The rocks explained why there was a clearing here; there was obviously a geological protrusion here preventing the trees from rooting deep. Regardless of the science behind it, I could see it was a prime spot and settled in to make camp, picket and rub down the horses, and have some supper.

The food my friends had sent me for my first meal was packed in tinfoil and prepped to just toss on the fire. There was a package for Brin as well. I tossed Brin's package on the fire. I could tell that it was a rabbit, but since it had been in the pack all day, I decided to cook it for a bit also. The horses I tethered out by the brook so they'd have plenty of water and they were happily grazing away on the sweet spring grass in the clearing.

By the time I washed up the food was ready and I pulled it out to cool while I arranged my bed roll. I took my time eating, savoring the flavors and enjoying the treat they had sent me. It was venison with potatoes, spring carrots, and spring onions; it was possibly one of my favorite all time dishes. Matilda was an amazing cook. Well she was amazing at a lot of things but she remained an enigma in my mind. Best not to worry about such things.

After dinner and cleanup, Brin and I headed down to have our evening visit. I brought along a pint of bourbon as a gift for him and my bottle for us to share tonight. I carried the shotgun and wore the M1911 under my jacket, I had a shoulder bag with the bourbon in it. The sun was just beginning to set and Brin and I had a nice evening stroll.

**** Chapter Sixty-Four -- An Evening with the Neighbors ****

As soon as we broke clear of the tree line in the fading light, I "Hello'd" the house through cupped hands at the top of my lungs. It's really best manners to let people know you are coming in, so I was clear in announcing my approach. I sent Brin down to give them a sloppy, happy meet-and-greet while I followed behind him on the trail.

Thomas and Daisy came out into the yard and were greeted a bounding and happy Brin; he loved new friends and he wasn't afraid to show it. He bounded joyfully around the yard with Daisy giving merry chase, I had a pretty good idea someone would be getting a puppy after Mila and Cordi whelped this summer. I'd bring that up with her but carefully remind her father later on, after the pups were born. I jogged on down to relieve Thomas of his worries with a madcap daughter and my excited hound.

I calmed Brin, and after pleasantries were passed, we went inside to escape the spring night chill. Brin followed obediently and Daisy traipsed behind, reluctantly. Her reluctance melted away as Brin laid out in front of the fire and she immediately joined him; Brin, being the attention whore that he was, simply laid there with a goofy grin on his doggy face.

I greeted Martha, the lady of the house, with the respect you would use for a lady of a great manor house. She was the lady of the house and should be treated as such until she proved otherwise. I was directed to a chair which sat prominently in front of the fireplace. It was obviously the seat for the man of the house and there weren't a lot of other choices. It was also directly next to Martha's rocker, which could become an uncomfortable situation very quickly. We'd solved this problem back at home by setting up a speaker's chair for whomever was telling the story that night. That chair would the be the guest of honor chair when we had visitors.

To avoid insult, I took the seat indicated and Thomas sat in the rocker next to me. Martha found a seat on a split log bench which was obviously intended for Daisy. We settled in and there was silence for a moment. It had been a long day for everyone and a minute of calmness settled in as a matter of nature. It wasn't a tense silence; it was people simply relaxing before a nice hearth with a good fire.

Daisy kicked off the conversation with an innocent comment about how nice and sweet Brin was. She really liked my boy and I couldn't suppress my grin as I looked at Thomas and saw him start to slowly smile. Without a doubt, he was remembering that pants-wetting moment when that growl from Brin came from directly behind him. I hadn't weighed Brin in a while, but I knew he weighed 110 lbs. when I got him and he'd grown since then.

"Well now, Daisy," I started, "it just so happens that we have puppies on the way. Brin is going to be a papa before the summer is over." Well that earned three different looks from three different people: escalating joy from Daisy, curious concern from Martha, and irritation from Thomas. So I decided to pile on, "We also have kittens on the way. I'm sure one or two of them will be looking for a new home."

Boy, I had hit a home run in the kid department! She was up, bouncing in front of me, wanting to know all about it and when she could meet them. The looks of concern and irritation from her parents were priceless. Now I just had to temper her urgency and defuse what I considered to be a hugely amusing problem for her parents.

"Remember, Daisy," I said, "they have to stay with their mother while they are young and they need to be carefully trained. Dogs don't act like Brin without going to dog school first, and I know your parents wouldn't want an untrained dog running around here. Besides you haven't seen Brin with his dog cart yet. He loves to help work and has his own cart that he pulls around. He can even help carry firewood in the winter." Well that statement got Thomas's full attention and I knew we'd have a conversation about this later, but I was pushing for advantage and started in about the cats. "Say, Daisy, do you know what the cats eat?"

Daisy shook her head, 'No,' as expected, so I went on. "Cats eat mice, rats, snakes, birds and even bugs!" With that Daisy's face fell and she said "No, my kittens will eat oatmeal and bread and cookies with me, Momma makes the best cookies and I know the kittens will love them!" Both of her parents were sharing extreme concern now. Their daughter was looking distraught and this stranger seemed to be winding her up. I'd be concerned, also.

Daisy was just flat out beside herself, "But Z what will they eat if they can't eat the food that Momma makes?" she pleaded.

"Daisy, cats and dogs eat food that cats and dogs like. Cats are more picky, but if you let them they will find their own food. I think your Momma and Poppa would like that.

"The kittens' mother will teach them how to hunt but it takes a while. I do have good news, though. We also have baby chickens and they can eat almost anything. They have to live in the barn cuz they are so messy."

"Baby chicks..." was all the child could say with stars in her eyes. This was all too good to be true from her perspective. At the same time, I could see her parents' eyes light up with the thoughts of what chickens could bring. "Yes," I said "and when you come to visit, you can see them and maybe your parents will let you take a few home if you are really good and helpful."

Well that got me a dazzling smile and a big hug from a smiling child. I gave her a small hug and suggested that it might be close to bedtime. She went off with her mother to dream of cute baby chicks, kittens, and puppies.

Thomas simply looked at me and chuckled, "I don't know whether to curse you or thank you." I simply pulled my bottle out of my bag and said, "You were about to thank me." That brought a huge grin to his face and he got up and went over to the kitchen area, coming back with three wooden cups. The modern part of me thought, 'How quaint.' While he was up for the cups, I moved over to sit on the bench and pretended to be looking through my bag. With my bag on the bench next to me, there was no room for him so he had to sit in his chair.

I handed him the bottle and he poured a small serving of bourbon into each cup. I doubted he'd ever had whiskey of this quality before but I kept my mouth still; some things were best left discovered, rather than described. Martha returned from putting Daisy to bed and looked askance at the new seating arrangement, I simply smiled and raised my cup while Thomas shrugged his shoulders and did the same. As soon as Martha was comfortably seated in her rocker, we all took a sip and sat back to enjoy the treat.

One of the true differences between a good whiskey and your run of the mill blends, is that the first sip is smooth and lacks the harsh alcohol burn. Instead, you are presented with warmth and a wide range of tasty flavors as the liquid passes over each section of your tongue. Each section of your tongue is slightly more sensitive to different flavors but able to detect them all. The net effect is a smooth soft wave of flavor and warmth passing over your tongue and setting off all manner of pleasure responses. Simply put, 'it's damn good.'

After a moment had passed, I queried them, "Do you like it?" Well Thomas simply replied with a big grin and Martha said "This here is dangerous."

"Yes, ma'am," I answered, "this isn't to be drunk as anything but a dessert. A person could get themselves in a lot of trouble with this.

"A friend of mine back home makes this. He ages it for twenty-three years before he sells it. This here is whiskey that his papa made and it's been aging in casks in a cave for all that time until he started selling it." Martha and Thomas looked at me with amazement. "Heck," I said, "you are doing the same thing here yourselves. What will this farm be like in twenty years? Work like this takes a long time to truly pay off but if you hold steady, your family will benefit greatly. I'm doing the same thing down south of here. We're building for forever, not just tomorrow."

We all sat back to watch the fire and ponder that for a bit, then had another small serving of bourbon each. After that, the talk quickly turned to their knowledge of the area, plans for the season, and plans for my trip. Being of dubious ancestry, neither of them visited the fort and it limited their ability to trade with the local natives also. They were pretty much on their own. I offered, and then insisted, that they allow me to pick up supplies for them at the fort. They gave in after much insistence on my part.

At the end of the evening, I gave them the pint of whiskey I had brought for them, then Brin and I hoofed our way back to camp. We had a full moon and I was feeling pretty good as I snuggled into my blanket for a good night's sleep in the spring air.

**** Chapter Sixty-Five - Modern Memory ****

I had set my phone to voice record when I slipped out to take a leak after supper last night, I didn't normally carry the phone as they were pretty much useless in this day and time. Before I left home I had ended up deciding that some pictures and notes while on this expedition might prove useful in the future, so I carried my phone along only powering it up when I deemed it was necessary. This was one of those situations, I was about to farm some information from Thomas and I didn't want to try to remember all of the details, particularly when I was imbibing.

When I returned from this trip I would transfer the data and have Sonya transpose it all to text for us. Just considering that brought on a smile, Sonya and the rest of us were going to have to learn to use a quill and ink in very short order. I was pretty sure that our internet order for office supplies up at the ranch would be returned due to lack of signature so our supply was finite. With that semi-humorous thought I added writing supplies to our list, I was still keeping a list on my phone since modern memory processing wasn't conducive to remembering things the way these people did.

We had gotten too used to computers carrying that load for us and even remembering a few addresses and phone numbers was unusual in the modern world, people no longer trained their memory. I thought back to Trish's son's and how they had trouble just remembering their mother's phone number at age eight, in my youth at that age I could spout off at least ten phone numbers. You just had to do it and so your mind learned, but handheld computers took that need away the same way most people couldn't tell time by simply glancing at the sky in the modern world. Basic skills simply lost through lack of use. It was understandable because why learn to do that when you can just glance at your handheld computer to get all of that in the modern world. I'm not sure it was truly an improvement.

These are the sort of thoughts you have when you have solitude and were riding along, I was simply following a game trail Thomas had told me about headed north towards the Saline and Platte rivers. I kept my eyes up and moving but half of my brain was pondering, I was paying attention but I wasn't focused. I had a lot to consider and contemplate, things had been happening at breakneck speed and this offered my the opportunity to process much that I had been avoiding.

The weather remained accommodating and I made pretty good speed, the prairie was flat and easy to travel on so I was pretty sure I had made at least thirty miles that second day. As the sun started it's downward movement I started casting about for a camping spot. Eastern Nebraska was full of brooks and streams making finding a spot fairly easy. I guess if you have to choose where to travel back in time at this wasn't a bad area but I was quite positive that winter would rectify that opinion.

I made camp near a small brook that had a few trees and sufficient shelter if the winds kicked up. Tonight I set up my little camping lean to, waking up that morning covered in dew reminded me of some realities. The lean-to was basically a simple pre-packaged tarp solution that they charged way too much for, I'd started buying them a ways back however because they packaged up so small and light that they took up little space in your pack. I wouldn't use one in the cold but during the summer they were my preferred shelter.

The lean to was open on both ends and one side, mine was sized for two people but I found that it worked just perfect for me, my saddle and the packs. Back in the safe world of modern times I'd set it up with the open sides towards the fire, now I didn't do that. I wanted to have my night vision available if there was trouble in the dark. One of the benefits of having brooks and creeks around was that there was always a small gully in the land you could camp inside so your fire wouldn't stand out on the horizon. The fresh water and firewood didn't hurt my feelings either.

Dinner wasn't an exciting affair, dried beef and rice boiled over the fire and eaten with some bread Matilda had sent along. Some mushrooms had been added in along with a packet of spices which obviously helped, different from pre-packaged trail meals but not worse and maybe even better. There was enough included for Brin and I and there would be leftovers to have for breakfast, I'd need to keep a better eye out for rabbits and prairie chickens as the trip went on if I wanted to have something better.

This was pretty much like any other road trip I'd been on in my life, excitement wasn't waiting around every corner and a day passing in utter boredom was pretty much the norm. When the eating was done I cleaned up the camp, banked the fire and checked on the horses. Brin and I snuggled under the lean to with the saddle and packs between us and the world, after a short one-side conversation and some doggy belly rubs we drifted off to sleep.

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I awoke with a start from a dubious dream, I had my pistol in my hand and had even chambered a round in my sleep. This was part of the reason I wasn't a big fan of keeping a pistol on you at all times, too damn easy to make mistakes. I safed the weapon and pushed on Brin until he got out of my way. The morning proceeded as normal from that point, scan the perimeter, do your dailies, start the coffee, wash up, have breakfast, clean up, sanitize the site and hit the road. Traveling just isn't exciting on most days.

I was up and on the move as the sun started to rise in the sky, I figured I had made it about half-way at this point which wasn't bad considering I hadn't been pushing it. Today I'd do more hunting along the way, no need to get wasteful with the food, I also knew that Michelle had included some pre-hooked line for me to use, I would remember to run it across the stream when I set up camp tonight. I might just get lucky and have fresh fish for breakfast.

I set off at a bit more of a brisk pace, I'd like to make it to the Platte tonight if I could.