Morena and the Matriarch Ch. 05

To Market, to Market

Alyssa had made quota and then some. With the cooperation of her stable of six and her four volunteers, she was able to milk not only the 700cc collection Morena needed, but to beat it by 150cc. And it was all Grade AAA or better.

Once everything was packed in the refrigeration rigs for transport, she called all the men together.

"I'm going to call my Rancher," she told them, "and arrange delivery. You men have been phenomenal. This will absolutely stun the Matriarch and I'm guessing this year's Festival will be incredibly successful. And there is no way Dosay and I could have pulled this off without your willing cooperation."

"Steven, you and your sons are obviously free to go about your lives, with my heartfelt gratitude and an 'I owe you one'. The rest of you - Gann, Roe, Hecht, Heath, Sawgrass, Lott - we're back to our original contract. You know there are limitations as far as moving around in public is concerned. But otherwise, you are as free as I can make you. And if there is any way Dosay or I can make your lives more comfortable, please let us know."

"Mistress?" Sawgrass raised his hand.

"Yes?" Alyssa asked, turning to him.

"May we make suggestions regarding the dietary regimen?" he asked. "Honestly, I think with some tweaks - which might unfortunately cost you a bit more - you could improve our health and satisfy our appetites more at the same time."

"Are you a cook?" she asked. "No, never mind that. Dosay's in charge of the kitchen. Roe has been running it for her. Take it up with him. Any of you with suggestions, take it up with him. Dosay will make the final decision. If your requests aren't outrageous, I don't see any reason we can't accommodate you. After all, you're the reason we're going to succeed and if not get wealthy, at least be well off."

"Any other questions?"

There weren't any, so Alyssa suggested the men take some time to relax and start thinking about the kinds of recreation they might be interested in. She also suggested they get off at least every couple of days to keep their supply up. They'd figure out a milking schedule later. Right now, she was going to go see if the Dale's little post office / radio-telegraphy station could get a message to Morena without having to send a rider.

One of Vern's Dale's points of interest was its post office. The same men who had figured out how to repair the hydroelectric dam had also figured out how to resurrect several old shortwave transceivers. With them, they had been able to contact other radio operators all across the continent. The Dale was probably the settlement farthest on the edge of the Wilderlands, but it did have communications with the capitol. And the capitol operators knew how to get hold of Morena.

So later that afternoon, Alyssa received a terse message with instructions to deliver the product to Morena's ranch. It was going to be a very long day's ride there, unless she camped overnight on the way. And with her precious cargo, she was a bit nervous about getting waylaid. She decided she needed a bodyguard.

She thought about taking Gann. He was experienced in the outdoors and would make a good companion on the trail. She didn't have to worry about him running off. In fact, she didn't have to worry about any of 'her men' running off. But she wondered about his ability to handle more than one assailant if they were assaulted in numbers.

Then she thought about Steven. The man was imposing all by himself. If he had any woodcraft or self-defense skills, he might make a better choice. She decided to go see him.

"Of course, Missy, I'd be honored to escort you," he'd told her with a smile. "Where are we going?"

She gave him a description of the two day ride and he thought about it for a long moment before replying.

"There's two stretches along there that are ripe for bandits," he observed. "Especially for a single traveler. But I think we can take care of that. When did you want to start out?"

"As soon as possible, Steven," she told him. "I have cargo to deliver that's on the clock. I have cold storage containers for it and it'll fit in a double saddlebag, but Morena needs it yesterday."

"Did you want to overnight at Mossy Hill?" he asked. "Or stay away from town and camp it?"

"What would you suggest?" she asked in return. "I see advantages and disadvantages for both. I have no reason to believe we're being spied on or followed, but I have to think it's a possibility."

"I'd say risk staying in town," Steven decided. "We can stable the horses at the inn, take the cargo with us to the room, I can get food for us and we can leave bright and early. We can take turns guarding the cargo while the other sleeps. And it's easier to defend a limited number of access points. Problem is, of course, people are going to be very curious. You have a rep, and why you'd be traveling with me would get tongues wagging."

"Okay, we'll plan on Mossy Hill," Alyssa agreed. "Can you meet me out front in an hour?"

"Can do, Missy," Steven smiled. "Gonna have to put up a Gone Fishin' sign on the smithy. I'll meet you here in an hour."

So they went their separate ways to prepare and an hour later, the big smith was astride a large work horse in front of Alyssa's with full saddlebags and wearing a long duster. Alyssa had said her good-byes to her sister and 'her men', packed for a light couple of days and had the cargo loaded in the saddlebags on the back of her mare. When she saw Steven riding up, she looked with surprise and suspicion at his saddle loaded with saddlebags, bedroll or tent or whatever and other stuff.

"What's with all the gear?" she asked. "It's only two days."

"Be prepared, Missy," he told her, then pointed at the saddlebags and the roll strapped behind his saddle. "Rations, shelter, clean water and defensive tools. I'll show you when we get out of town."

"Not a problem," she told him. "Let's move."

And they did. They headed out of town on the main road to Mossy Hill and rode for nearly an hour, passing farms and ranches and others on the road, until they came to a point where the road cut through a stand of woods.

"Over here, Missy," Steven said and turned his horse off the road and into the trees. Alyssa followed him and they eased their way through the trees until they were a good hundred yards from the road. Then Steven halted and Alyssa rode up next to him.

"To begin with," he told her as he opened his long coat, "I've been a collector for a long time."

What Alyssa saw was a bandolier with a double row of shot shells and crossing it, a holster for a short barreled pump action shotgun. On his hip, she saw another holster, apparently for a pistol. He reached back under his bedroll behind his saddle and pulled out another long holster, this time for a lever-action carbine.

Firearms were rare and almost all of the ones in circulation were issued to the Matriarch's armed forces or the local constabularies. It wasn't illegal for citizens to own them - they were just damned hard to come by.

Steven handed her the rifle scabbard and a belt of pouches containing extra ammunition.

"You know how to use a rifle?" he asked.

"My father taught me how to shoot," Alyssa told him. "He thought knowing how to hunt and defend myself would be a good idea. I have no idea what happened to his arsenal. I was away when he died."

"Then you know how to use a revolver," he stated and dug one, in a holster on a cartridge belt, out of one of his saddlebags, handing it to her.

"Yes," she said simply. She slung the rifle scabbard off her saddle as it was intended. Her bow and quiver were already slung on the other side. Then she slung the belt of pouches over her shoulder and put on the sidearm. She took a few minutes to get familiar with the weapons, looking at the six-shooter first.

".357 Magnum," she commented as she examined it. "A lot of knock-down." Steven simply nodded as she checked to make sure five of the six chambers were loaded and the hammer was down on the empty sixth.

"Actually, it's got a cross-bar safety, Missy," Steven told her. "You can carry it fully loaded."

"Not what I was taught," Alyssa told him and that ended that discussion. Next she looked at the rifle. A lever-action carbine in pristine condition.

"Would have been nice to have a longer barrel," she remarked. "Capacity?"

"It's chambered for .357, just like the revolver, and it'll put out some pretty decent punch from the 16-inch barrel," Steven told her, "without beating up your shoulder. Tube'll hold 9, plus one in the snout. You can reload through the side gate while it's got one in the chamber. It's got a tang safety and a button under the stock that has to be held down by the lever. Iron sights are dead on at 100 yards. It's fully loaded at the moment."

"Nice," Alyssa told him appreciatively. "Guess I better dig this out before we go much farther."

She reached into one of the saddlebags and pulled out a poncho which she slipped over everything, concealing the sidearm and cartridge belts.

"Let's go."

They rode back to the road and resumed their ride towards Mossy Oak. Along the way they spoke in low tones and mostly about the countryside. But some of it was politics.

"How long have there been tribes nearby that we didn't know about?" Alyssa asked. "And why hasn't the Matriarch moved against them? With her fanatical, gung-ho, send-in-the-Marines attitude, every time she's had a chance to get breeding cooperation, she's alienated the very people that could help her - usually by forceful means."

"I think you just answered your own question," Steven told her. "There have been Wilderland tribes forever. They were actually in the best position to survive the wars. But if history teaches us anything, it's that if you have a good thing going, keep your mouth shut. Avarice and treachery will take down a community faster than anything else. And a small group of power-hungry tyrants can subjugate large numbers of people, very quickly, through the threat of violence, real or imagined."

"So the tribes have learned to keep it simple, not depend on technology but rather on their own blood, sweat and tears. The tribes that you hunt, as a Procurer, are victims of their own success. They breed too many people and have to range farther and farther afield to support them. They don't have the force of arms to resist the Matriarch, so the best they can do is stay hidden. And build their homes in remote areas with secret accesses and defendable positions. But that only lasts so long against a brigade of the Matriarch's armored wagons."

"Well, this particular Matriarch is a real bitch," Alyssa commented. "The one before her wasn't too bad. She actually did try to help the outlying communities. This one doesn't give a shit. She just wants to live the good life and have everybody kowtowing to her and doing whatever she says. That's not how it was supposed to be."

"No, it wasn't," Steven agreed. "But humans are imperfect. The idea of having a woman, whose vested interests should be hearth and home, in a position of absolute power was a noble one... except for the 'should be' part. We've had good and we've had bad... you can usually tell the good ones by how long it takes before they're killed and a wannabe steps up to take her place."

"Speaking of getting killed," Alyssa pointed out, suddenly serious, "this is one of those choke points where the bandits like to hang out. And we're pushing our luck - it's starting to get dark. We can make Mossy Hill tonight but we've got at least two hours to go. Any ideas?"

"Yeah. Loosen your pistol. It's easier to fight from horseback with it. If any assailants have guns, kill them first, don't even try to parlay. Ride for cover, probably the trees right behind where our attackers are coming from. Chances are, they won't have anybody back there. Ride over anyone in your way. And if we make the trees, switch to the carbine and take out anything that moves."

"We can always eat whatever we shoot if it isn't human."

"Actually..." Alyssa started and Steven just gave her a look like, "don't say it."

A little farther up the road, it really did become a choke point. The road narrowed between rocky abutments to little more than cart ruts with very little on each side. Steven slowed them up before they reached it.

"We'll go to the right, up and over - I'll stay left and you go right," he told her. "An ambush would be waiting along the ridge. Get out the carbine, stay wide of the road, and if we run into any, hopefully they'll be trapped between our guns and the cliff edge. Driving them off the ridge and onto the road gives us the advantage. I'll handle anything up close and personal on the cliff side. You keep any reinforcements from swamping us."

"Sounds like a plan," Alyssa told him and prepared to move out.

It turned out their preparations were unnecessary. At the top of the cliff, overlooking the road, they found the remains of a small camp, including a fire scar. But it had been abandoned for at least a week, if not more.

"Better safe than sorry," Alyssa pointed out.

"Amen," Steven added as they moved on, riding down the far side and back onto the road.

An hour and a half later, the sun had set and they were entering Mossy Hill. They rode straight for the inn and Steven waited with the horses and their cargo while Alyssa went in and rented a room, with a private bath. When she returned, the two unloaded the horses, turned them over to the stable boy with a generous tip so he'd treat them well, and carried their gear up to the room.

It had its own bath - the definition of 'private' - and, it had only one bed.

"Steven, as tempting as it is to check on the cargo, I think I just want to leave them alone and slide them under the bed. I'll trust that the cold transport units are working," Alyssa told him.

"Sure," he agreed. "I'll ring for the servant and get you some hot water. You can wash off the road grime and get some decent sleep before we gotta head out tomorrow."

"Steven, you're sweet - and sure, I'll take the first bath, but you're going to take one, too. You're working for it. And besides, we need to get some food, too. I mean, we could eat your rations, but why? We're at an inn with a kitchen."

"Okay, you bathe and we'll order some food and you get some sleep."

"Ring for the servant, would you?" Alyssa asked, deciding to stop arguing. She'd just fix it her way.

Steven did, and both were out of their "travelin' clothes" by the time the serving girl showed up.

She was young, late teens, probably the daughter of the innkeeper.

"Okay, girl, what's your name?" Alyssa asked her straightaway.

"Lizzie, Mistress," she answered.

"Okay, Lizzie, how much to fill that with hot water?" and Alyssa pointed at the big oaken bathtub.

"Nothin', Mistress," Lizzie answered. "Ye paid fer it with th' room. Soap's included, too."

"Okay, then how much do you cost?" Alyssa asked next.

Lizzie blushed. "Excuse me, Mistress?" she asked a little sheepishly.

"To help with the bath," Alyssa explained, suddenly aware of the miscommunication. "For washing and drying and getting more hot water for the bath and like that."

"Oh, I'm free, too," Lizzie explained, apparently relieved. "Fer you and yer manservant, too."

Steven had to turn away a bit to hide his smile. He was straight-faced when he turned back.

"Well, Lizzie, I'd like you to do two things," Alyssa instructed. "I want you to start filling this tub with hot water and I'd like you to get me a menu from the kitchen so we can order some food."

"Yes, Mistress," Lizzie curtsied slightly and left the room. Moments later there was a knock on the door. Steven automatically pulled his pistol out of his gear and stood to the side while Alyssa answered the door.

It was Lizzie, carrying two ceramic pitchers and dragging a length of hose. Alyssa let her in.

Lizzie hauled the hose over to the tub and turned on its spigot before turning back to Alyssa.

"Don't tell Old Joe, Mistress," she said, "but it's a lot easier to tap off th' hot water tank on th' roof than carry all that water up from downstairs. I'll flip th' notch and the door'll close while I go get yer menu. I'll be back before it's full, Mistress."

Alyssa just smiled at the girl's ingenuity and even more when, after Lizzie filled both ceramic pitchers from the room's sink, she saw Lizzie kneel down and flip up a small piece of hinged wood on the door that made a place for the hose to enter while the door could be closed and locked. Then Lizzie headed off downstairs while the tub filled.

"Didn't know they had these kind of amenities here," Alyssa smiled. "Maybe I'd stay here more often."

"It is definitely surprising," Steven agreed. "Also surprising that the young lady thought she was on the menu and was preparing herself to do her job."

"What are you talking about?" Alyssa asked. "You mean the blush?"

"Yep," Steven confirmed. "And she was getting ready in her head to have sex with you. And other than being embarrassed, she wasn't finding the idea all that distasteful."

"How can you possibly know that?" Alyssa demanded, even though she felt his conviction.

Steven just looked at her steadily and Alyssa began to suspect that maybe there was some kind of mutation in Steven's genetics... just not one that showed up in the tests.

"Do you really want to know the answer to that?" he asked after several moments awkward silence.

"Actually, yes," Alyssa told him, "but not now. Sometime later."

Alyssa decided to start undressing, down to what she called her "shift"... mostly because that's what her mother had called it. It was a loose, mid-thigh length, sleeveless tunic with a deep V-neck, made of some kind of silk - a kind of cloth still not easy to come by, although some of the lands to the west were producing it and it was coming in with the caravans. She found it damned comfortable to wear under her deerskin and cowhide traveling clothes. The fact that it showed off her assets rather nicely wasn't something she thought about very often.

"You are most certainly a beautiful woman, Missy," Steven told her as he watched her disrobe.

"Well don't just stand there gawking," she told him, glancing up. "Strip. You're getting a bath, too."

Steven shrugged his shoulders and began taking off his clothes until he was standing in a simple wrap-type loincloth that left very little to the imagination as to how hung he was. It appeared to serve the sole function of keeping his cock and balls out of the way so they didn't get inadvertently smashed. Alyssa involuntarily felt herself swelling up. Steven was a handsome man and well endowed - and knew how to use it. That's when there was another knock at the door.

"Who is it?" Alyssa called out.

"Lizzie, Mistress," Lizzie's voice came from the other side of the door.

Alyssa moved to open it, but Steven wagged a finger at her as he retrieved his pistol and stood next to the door. Then he nodded to Alyssa to answer it.

It turned out to be Lizzie with the menu and no one else. Although, when she stepped into the room, Steven looming over her in nothing but a loincloth and a big pistol gave her one helluva fright.

"Oh, shit!" she exclaimed, trying to scurry away - but he was between her and the door. "I'm sorry, Mistress! I'm sorry! Whatever I did, just tell me an' I'll make it right, I swear!"

"Calm down, Lizzie," Alyssa told her, trying to keep a straight face. "It's nothing to do with you. We're just being a bit more cautious than usual. I think the bath is full enough... would you hand me the menu and shut it off?"

Lizzie did as asked and Alyssa looked over their choices, finally handing the menu to Steven.