Story Grace, Mercy and Blessings
- Thread starter PacNorWest
- Start date
steamroller
Contributing Member
Thank you.
Sneaker 11
RECONDO
The master of the 'cliff' strikes again.
Thanks Ms Pac
11
Thanks Ms Pac
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Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
G.PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#298
"Options," Milo whispered Mark's favorite ...'next thing to do,' word."
"No good ones that I can think of," Toby ghosted his reply. "If we move, we create a bullseye to our location. It's the horses I'm worried about. If we leave, they'll get anxious and sound off."
"What about one of us scouting and the other staying with the horses, best that i can come up with," Milo's reply was right in Toby's ear. The two of them stood still undecided, until it was Milo's turn to indicate that he heard movement.
Two bruised and bleeding Asians were carefully picking their way in retreat. Fortunately for Toby and Milo, they were using the other side of the road, closest to the river. Milo slowly reached for his knife, nodding to Toby to do the same.
Both men flexed their wrists to limber the muscles, and Milo held up three fingers on the opposite hand, slowly counting down to one. "Now," he whispered, and his knife went flying through the air, true to it's target, the man's heart. The body crumpled to the ground, the other man frozen in stride.
Toby's knife went a little awry, a branch deflected it slightly, and he connected into the man's belly. A surprised grunt and gasp floated in the air, and seemingly from nowhere; three men in flowing robes ran into the scene.
Toby shouldered his rifle and with three shots muffed as well as could be with the homemade silencer, he dropped the men chattering among themselves.
Now it was a game of cat and mouse. The two cats with their horses standing absolutely still, waiting to see if the mouse would be brave enough to come out and show himself.
Almost a hour later, there was movement in the bushes behind the pile of bodies. Toby shouldered his rifle, ready to shoot; when Milo's attention was captured by a cough and cattail frond movement in the opposite direction.
A cautionary touch on Toby's hand, Milo pointed to the left side of the road, where two more Asian men were backing away from the killing scene, crouched down as to minimize their silhouettes.
Someone coughed again, drawing fire from the unseen group still concealed by the heavy brush. It was a fire blindly shoot out, where the participants hoped it was the enemy and not someone from their own side.
Their were moans and pitiful cries from the dying and wounded, but it made no difference to the two clansmen. They exercised the highest level of concealment and avoidance, disciplining themselves to stand almost motionless for another two hours.
Finally, it was the horses that relaxed, shifted their weight to stand on three legs and swish at the mosquitos that were beginning to swarm.
Toby silently lifted his shoulders in a classic, do you think the horses are reliable enough to trust the danger is over, stance.
Milo shrugged back, not willing to call the area clear of unfriendlies. Coming to a conclusion, Milo held up four fingers, indicating they should be silent a while longer.
"Options," Milo whispered Mark's favorite ...'next thing to do,' word."
"No good ones that I can think of," Toby ghosted his reply. "If we move, we create a bullseye to our location. It's the horses I'm worried about. If we leave, they'll get anxious and sound off."
"What about one of us scouting and the other staying with the horses, best that i can come up with," Milo's reply was right in Toby's ear. The two of them stood still undecided, until it was Milo's turn to indicate that he heard movement.
Two bruised and bleeding Asians were carefully picking their way in retreat. Fortunately for Toby and Milo, they were using the other side of the road, closest to the river. Milo slowly reached for his knife, nodding to Toby to do the same.
Both men flexed their wrists to limber the muscles, and Milo held up three fingers on the opposite hand, slowly counting down to one. "Now," he whispered, and his knife went flying through the air, true to it's target, the man's heart. The body crumpled to the ground, the other man frozen in stride.
Toby's knife went a little awry, a branch deflected it slightly, and he connected into the man's belly. A surprised grunt and gasp floated in the air, and seemingly from nowhere; three men in flowing robes ran into the scene.
Toby shouldered his rifle and with three shots muffed as well as could be with the homemade silencer, he dropped the men chattering among themselves.
Now it was a game of cat and mouse. The two cats with their horses standing absolutely still, waiting to see if the mouse would be brave enough to come out and show himself.
Almost a hour later, there was movement in the bushes behind the pile of bodies. Toby shouldered his rifle, ready to shoot; when Milo's attention was captured by a cough and cattail frond movement in the opposite direction.
A cautionary touch on Toby's hand, Milo pointed to the left side of the road, where two more Asian men were backing away from the killing scene, crouched down as to minimize their silhouettes.
Someone coughed again, drawing fire from the unseen group still concealed by the heavy brush. It was a fire blindly shoot out, where the participants hoped it was the enemy and not someone from their own side.
Their were moans and pitiful cries from the dying and wounded, but it made no difference to the two clansmen. They exercised the highest level of concealment and avoidance, disciplining themselves to stand almost motionless for another two hours.
Finally, it was the horses that relaxed, shifted their weight to stand on three legs and swish at the mosquitos that were beginning to swarm.
Toby silently lifted his shoulders in a classic, do you think the horses are reliable enough to trust the danger is over, stance.
Milo shrugged back, not willing to call the area clear of unfriendlies. Coming to a conclusion, Milo held up four fingers, indicating they should be silent a while longer.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you for the morning treat 
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#299
Every once in a while, the man with the knife wound in his belly; let out a shuddering, breathy moan. He had yanked the knife out, and Toby's prized K-Bar lay close under the man's arm, hidden from view.
Toby fully intended to retrieve his knife, there was no way he was going home without it. The entire situtation wasn't good; they had perhaps three hours of daylight left and it was beginning to cloud over. They also had a fish that soon would be inedible, if it wasn't taken care of.
Battle hardened and scarred men; neither Toby or Milo were afraid to engage the enemy, but it was simply smarter for them to let the two distinct enemies war with each other.
Both men were thinking of Mark's admonition, 'the best battle you win, will be the battle you don't have to fight.' After waiting another hour, Milo whispered; "what if we went directly to the right, circled around to the North of the big swamp and came into the retreat from the West?"
"As good a plan as I can think of," Toby muttered. "Cover me, I'm gonna go get our knives." and he started inching forward when a gust of wind moved the concealing brush they were hiding in. Frustratingly enough, the wind wasn't cooperating, refusing to blow for long stretches at a time.
Toby finally reached the last bush of concealment and was motionless for minutes. Then to Milo's surprise, he started inching backward. It was another half hour of their dwindling daylight spent, until the brothers were back together.
"I smell cigarette smoke," Toby whispered, "there are still men out there waiting."
"I guess we could just stand up and auto spray the bushes," Milo joked almost silently. "We may have to leave the knives for now, except how are we gonna leave? Sitting on top of a horse, I'm tall and exposed?"
"For once, I'm happy that you are taller than I," Toby joked back. "Your red hair is like a bulls eye center, best keep your hat on."
Strongly forged and battle tested bonds between the two men, had them respecting and confidant of the others ability. "I guess I could pray," Milo whispered, "it's gonna take God to get us out of this one."
That's when the coyote showed up. The wind was blowing from the river, taking the man scent of Toby and Milo to the North. Ever cautious, the scavenger walked silently in from the East, circling the attacker that was slowly dying, but just hadn't got the deed done. The man screamed, when the coyote bit the bloody opening of his knife wound. The coyote going for the soft underbelly of a human, as easily as he would a fawn or a calf.
The coyote reacted instantly, spinning around and running back from where he came from. Two long robed men rushed from their cover to shoot at the animal, the reports loud and identifying.
Milo and Toby shot, and two robed men crumpled to the ground. There was another shot from the direction of the raiders, and Toby took a guesstimate and fired back.
He hit something, as the shout of surprise and pain was in an obviously Arabic sounding . The man made the fatal mistake of lurching forward, using his own gun to spray bullets around the opening, ala Rambo style.
"Thank you God for the coyote," Milo whispered. "I wonder if that's the last of them. This is getting tiresome, picking them off one at a time."
"I've got a gut feeling that it is, I count nine of the Arabs, that leaves six to attack the compound. I also count six of the eight Chinese, and that leaves two that are shadowing the Arabs. Who ever is waiting, seems to be on the right side of us. I'm gonna go left down the road, cross over and come up from the river. The knives are close to the brush on that side; I think I can reach them by going that way. You be sure of your target, I don't fancy getting shot." Toby hissed at a grinning Milo.
Every once in a while, the man with the knife wound in his belly; let out a shuddering, breathy moan. He had yanked the knife out, and Toby's prized K-Bar lay close under the man's arm, hidden from view.
Toby fully intended to retrieve his knife, there was no way he was going home without it. The entire situtation wasn't good; they had perhaps three hours of daylight left and it was beginning to cloud over. They also had a fish that soon would be inedible, if it wasn't taken care of.
Battle hardened and scarred men; neither Toby or Milo were afraid to engage the enemy, but it was simply smarter for them to let the two distinct enemies war with each other.
Both men were thinking of Mark's admonition, 'the best battle you win, will be the battle you don't have to fight.' After waiting another hour, Milo whispered; "what if we went directly to the right, circled around to the North of the big swamp and came into the retreat from the West?"
"As good a plan as I can think of," Toby muttered. "Cover me, I'm gonna go get our knives." and he started inching forward when a gust of wind moved the concealing brush they were hiding in. Frustratingly enough, the wind wasn't cooperating, refusing to blow for long stretches at a time.
Toby finally reached the last bush of concealment and was motionless for minutes. Then to Milo's surprise, he started inching backward. It was another half hour of their dwindling daylight spent, until the brothers were back together.
"I smell cigarette smoke," Toby whispered, "there are still men out there waiting."
"I guess we could just stand up and auto spray the bushes," Milo joked almost silently. "We may have to leave the knives for now, except how are we gonna leave? Sitting on top of a horse, I'm tall and exposed?"
"For once, I'm happy that you are taller than I," Toby joked back. "Your red hair is like a bulls eye center, best keep your hat on."
Strongly forged and battle tested bonds between the two men, had them respecting and confidant of the others ability. "I guess I could pray," Milo whispered, "it's gonna take God to get us out of this one."
That's when the coyote showed up. The wind was blowing from the river, taking the man scent of Toby and Milo to the North. Ever cautious, the scavenger walked silently in from the East, circling the attacker that was slowly dying, but just hadn't got the deed done. The man screamed, when the coyote bit the bloody opening of his knife wound. The coyote going for the soft underbelly of a human, as easily as he would a fawn or a calf.
The coyote reacted instantly, spinning around and running back from where he came from. Two long robed men rushed from their cover to shoot at the animal, the reports loud and identifying.
Milo and Toby shot, and two robed men crumpled to the ground. There was another shot from the direction of the raiders, and Toby took a guesstimate and fired back.
He hit something, as the shout of surprise and pain was in an obviously Arabic sounding . The man made the fatal mistake of lurching forward, using his own gun to spray bullets around the opening, ala Rambo style.
"Thank you God for the coyote," Milo whispered. "I wonder if that's the last of them. This is getting tiresome, picking them off one at a time."
"I've got a gut feeling that it is, I count nine of the Arabs, that leaves six to attack the compound. I also count six of the eight Chinese, and that leaves two that are shadowing the Arabs. Who ever is waiting, seems to be on the right side of us. I'm gonna go left down the road, cross over and come up from the river. The knives are close to the brush on that side; I think I can reach them by going that way. You be sure of your target, I don't fancy getting shot." Toby hissed at a grinning Milo.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Can't say thank you enough .
.PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#300
Toby wiggled out of sight, fading through the brush and willows to the left of their hide. Milo was thinking that Toby was still pretty good, .... for an old man. But with age comes some manner of wisdom, so he thought the snarky remark and then promptly forgot it; thinking it was better for his own health. He had seen Toby chopping wood. Not a man to mess with.
For all that Toby had been, or not; he was very different now. So much like Dad.
Because he knew the general direction Toby was moving, Milo kept track of his brothers movements through the rippling of the grass. Toby only moved when the wind blew hard enough to set the grass in motion, and it was agonizingly slow.
Milo was so busy surveilling the surrounding area, he almost missed Toby's horse prick his ears forward and come to alertness. Then he heard it. Someone was walking on the road. No, it was two someone's, they were speaking to one another, making no effort to be silent.
In fact, the two men were arguing rather loudly; the heavy accented brogue of definitely Slavic origin, at odds with the Arabic robes they were wearing.
Milo nodded to himself, so this is what it was going to be. An unholy alliance between the Russians, the Chinese and the Muslims.
The Russians must have been so sure that they had set the other two factions against one another; and all had been killed, that the two were making no effort to be silent.
Studying the two soldiers, Milo lost track of Toby's where abouts, but he was reasonably sure Toby could hear them.
It was a bad position for the brothers to be in, there was a good chance they would be directly shooting at each other with the Slavic's centered in the cross fire.
Milo studied his targets. With heavy black beards and turban headdresses wound low, except for the voices, they easily passed as ethnic Arabs. He wondered if this was a retaliation for the death of the prince, and then decided that he didn't care. They were interlopers that needed killing before they killed any of the clan. If they neutralized these two, that left four Arab types and Two Chinese to be worried about.
Foolishly, the two fake Arabs turned their backs toward the river as they bent over to rifle through the seriously wounded man's pockets, laughing loud as they observed his death rattled moans.
Taking no more chances, Milo shot twice, striking the thieves, as they held up Toby's K-Bar a spoil of war. Milli- seconds later, Toby shot; the double whammy sending the men to the ground in a heap.
The silenced rounds has been astonishing quiet, but loud enough to be heard. Both Milo and Toby observing the protocol of waiting silently after a kill.
Donny had been scouting about a half mile ahead of the wagon, and he was pleased with himself. By careful maneuvering, he had been able to divert the wagon and Abby away from any farms where he could see sheep.
Now he was about to be outfoxed. There were sheep farms on both sides of the track, and the wagon was coming over the slight rise and the woolies were in plain sight of the eagle eyed Abby.
Abby had been complaining about the lack of available farmsteads, suspecting that Donny had been up to mischief, but with out proof and the guileless Jerry with a face that proclaimed fake innocence's.
"We need to stop at one of these farms, you choose which one;" Abby was no nonsense, it was up to her to keep these two men on the straight and narrow, and alive, if at all possible.
"Both places appear to be occupied," Jerry halted the team. "I don't have to tell you that nowsdays it's risky to just come into a farm, especially when there are locked gates. Abby, your desire to help Donny is admirable, but I'm going to over rule you in this case. I'm sure what ever kind of salve you are looking for, can be found in St. Louis at less risk to us. We're not that far out from the city, and Donny is doing Ok with the lard. Let's just keep moving on."
Abby was silent, processing what Jerry said. Finally she nodded her head in agreement and Jerry started the team, willing to be moving with no delay; especially before she changed her mind. Abby was a treasure, but stubborn as the day was long.
Pricilla and Tilly stared morosely at the expanse of muddy Mississippi water in front of them. The second shock was the dilapidated condition of the ferry taking passengers across.
"Oh, I ain't sure I've got that much prayer in me," Tilly shaded her eyes, as she looked across the river to the tempting lure of St. Louis in the distance. "I had no idea it was like this."
"It does seem worse than I remember," Bruce said from behind them. "Maybe a lot worse."
From the top of the hill on the Western side, the trio stared with dismay at the swarms of wagon's waiting to cross. "It'll take a month of waiting before we would be in line to cross, even if I was sure I had the gumption to do so. I can smell the danger of it, all the way up here." Tilly said in a resigned voice. "This is the definition of insanity."
Toby wiggled out of sight, fading through the brush and willows to the left of their hide. Milo was thinking that Toby was still pretty good, .... for an old man. But with age comes some manner of wisdom, so he thought the snarky remark and then promptly forgot it; thinking it was better for his own health. He had seen Toby chopping wood. Not a man to mess with.
For all that Toby had been, or not; he was very different now. So much like Dad.
Because he knew the general direction Toby was moving, Milo kept track of his brothers movements through the rippling of the grass. Toby only moved when the wind blew hard enough to set the grass in motion, and it was agonizingly slow.
Milo was so busy surveilling the surrounding area, he almost missed Toby's horse prick his ears forward and come to alertness. Then he heard it. Someone was walking on the road. No, it was two someone's, they were speaking to one another, making no effort to be silent.
In fact, the two men were arguing rather loudly; the heavy accented brogue of definitely Slavic origin, at odds with the Arabic robes they were wearing.
Milo nodded to himself, so this is what it was going to be. An unholy alliance between the Russians, the Chinese and the Muslims.
The Russians must have been so sure that they had set the other two factions against one another; and all had been killed, that the two were making no effort to be silent.
Studying the two soldiers, Milo lost track of Toby's where abouts, but he was reasonably sure Toby could hear them.
It was a bad position for the brothers to be in, there was a good chance they would be directly shooting at each other with the Slavic's centered in the cross fire.
Milo studied his targets. With heavy black beards and turban headdresses wound low, except for the voices, they easily passed as ethnic Arabs. He wondered if this was a retaliation for the death of the prince, and then decided that he didn't care. They were interlopers that needed killing before they killed any of the clan. If they neutralized these two, that left four Arab types and Two Chinese to be worried about.
Foolishly, the two fake Arabs turned their backs toward the river as they bent over to rifle through the seriously wounded man's pockets, laughing loud as they observed his death rattled moans.
Taking no more chances, Milo shot twice, striking the thieves, as they held up Toby's K-Bar a spoil of war. Milli- seconds later, Toby shot; the double whammy sending the men to the ground in a heap.
The silenced rounds has been astonishing quiet, but loud enough to be heard. Both Milo and Toby observing the protocol of waiting silently after a kill.
Donny had been scouting about a half mile ahead of the wagon, and he was pleased with himself. By careful maneuvering, he had been able to divert the wagon and Abby away from any farms where he could see sheep.
Now he was about to be outfoxed. There were sheep farms on both sides of the track, and the wagon was coming over the slight rise and the woolies were in plain sight of the eagle eyed Abby.
Abby had been complaining about the lack of available farmsteads, suspecting that Donny had been up to mischief, but with out proof and the guileless Jerry with a face that proclaimed fake innocence's.
"We need to stop at one of these farms, you choose which one;" Abby was no nonsense, it was up to her to keep these two men on the straight and narrow, and alive, if at all possible.
"Both places appear to be occupied," Jerry halted the team. "I don't have to tell you that nowsdays it's risky to just come into a farm, especially when there are locked gates. Abby, your desire to help Donny is admirable, but I'm going to over rule you in this case. I'm sure what ever kind of salve you are looking for, can be found in St. Louis at less risk to us. We're not that far out from the city, and Donny is doing Ok with the lard. Let's just keep moving on."
Abby was silent, processing what Jerry said. Finally she nodded her head in agreement and Jerry started the team, willing to be moving with no delay; especially before she changed her mind. Abby was a treasure, but stubborn as the day was long.
Pricilla and Tilly stared morosely at the expanse of muddy Mississippi water in front of them. The second shock was the dilapidated condition of the ferry taking passengers across.
"Oh, I ain't sure I've got that much prayer in me," Tilly shaded her eyes, as she looked across the river to the tempting lure of St. Louis in the distance. "I had no idea it was like this."
"It does seem worse than I remember," Bruce said from behind them. "Maybe a lot worse."
From the top of the hill on the Western side, the trio stared with dismay at the swarms of wagon's waiting to cross. "It'll take a month of waiting before we would be in line to cross, even if I was sure I had the gumption to do so. I can smell the danger of it, all the way up here." Tilly said in a resigned voice. "This is the definition of insanity."
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
THANK You,
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#301
"We didn't come past any other ferries?" Bruce asked hopefully. "I was hoping we might backtrack and choose a safer looking contraption."
Pricilla shook her head no, "I'm afraid the only other option would have been to go with Jerry and Abby. But," and she held up a cautionary hand, "that wasn't without problems either. They have to ford the Illinois and the Kentucky, so that's two rivers to this one. Neither crossings are without danger; plus they are going to have steep mountains to travel across."
"If I remember correctly, "Bruce spoke up, "when we originally started out, Mark intended to go down to Gulfport and cross the Mississippi there. He had a confirmed ferry crossing of a thousand apiece, but we learned of this ferry and decided to come this way."
"Then the cost is the same, and we need to add travel time down to Gulfport. Does anybody know how far that is?" Tilly asked. A lot of their dreams were drowning in the muddy waters of the big river.
"We could,....." Pricilla started slowly, "set up camp and hang Doc's shingle out and provide health care to maybe earn enough money."
"Maybe I could find enough to start a small cafe; I know I said I wanted to go South to be warm, and perhaps that's the best thing to do. Realistically, summer is dwindling away and, I've never heard reports of St. Louis being all that warm in the winter. What if we went South from here and looked for another crossing?" Tilly was so practical, her suggestion seemed like a ray of hope.
"That's not a bad idea," Bruce mumbled behind the two seated ladies. "I honestly don't believe I could get on that ferry."
Ever down to earth Tilly; didn't mention to the other two, that any ferry they might encounter could be in the same or worse shape than the one they were observing. That was a bridge to be crossed over later, if at all.
Pricilla, Doc and Tilly attached themselves to a small cadre of wagons going South along the western side of the Mississippi, their inclusion depending on the fact they wouldn't need any help or assistance with their travel. The wagon boss was a grizzled looking coot with a short temper and a general dislike of unmarried women; and he especially didn't care for Tilly and Pricilla. He thought them traveling with a man that neither of them was married too, was scandalous.
Jerry, Abby and Donny passed the two sheep farms in silence. Up over the next rise they looked at the Illinois River, swirling and rushing it's way to the Mississippi.
"Oh my," was all Abby could say, "oh my."
"I don't see any ferry," Donny observed, "what do we do, ford the river?"
"I guess so, unless there's something we can't see," Jerry rubbed his chin. "I understood there was a ferry here," his voice trailed off in concern. It was easy to see that this wasn't a 'ease your horses into the water and drive carefully across' situtation. This looked like Danger with a capital D.
Driving down the bank to the water's edge, they grouped up with two other wagons that were waiting and watching the muddy current.
Despite all of his training, Toby stealthily entered the small clearing and retrieved the two knives from the dead bodies and then sprinted to where Milo was hidden. "Let's move, we need outta here. I'm sick and tired of all this incessant waiting. We're loosing daylight, and gonna be stuck out here in the dark."
The two men mounted up and urged their horses into a gallop. It wasn't smart to make so much noise, but they were planning on their rapid movement taking them away from the current problems.
"We didn't come past any other ferries?" Bruce asked hopefully. "I was hoping we might backtrack and choose a safer looking contraption."
Pricilla shook her head no, "I'm afraid the only other option would have been to go with Jerry and Abby. But," and she held up a cautionary hand, "that wasn't without problems either. They have to ford the Illinois and the Kentucky, so that's two rivers to this one. Neither crossings are without danger; plus they are going to have steep mountains to travel across."
"If I remember correctly, "Bruce spoke up, "when we originally started out, Mark intended to go down to Gulfport and cross the Mississippi there. He had a confirmed ferry crossing of a thousand apiece, but we learned of this ferry and decided to come this way."
"Then the cost is the same, and we need to add travel time down to Gulfport. Does anybody know how far that is?" Tilly asked. A lot of their dreams were drowning in the muddy waters of the big river.
"We could,....." Pricilla started slowly, "set up camp and hang Doc's shingle out and provide health care to maybe earn enough money."
"Maybe I could find enough to start a small cafe; I know I said I wanted to go South to be warm, and perhaps that's the best thing to do. Realistically, summer is dwindling away and, I've never heard reports of St. Louis being all that warm in the winter. What if we went South from here and looked for another crossing?" Tilly was so practical, her suggestion seemed like a ray of hope.
"That's not a bad idea," Bruce mumbled behind the two seated ladies. "I honestly don't believe I could get on that ferry."
Ever down to earth Tilly; didn't mention to the other two, that any ferry they might encounter could be in the same or worse shape than the one they were observing. That was a bridge to be crossed over later, if at all.
Pricilla, Doc and Tilly attached themselves to a small cadre of wagons going South along the western side of the Mississippi, their inclusion depending on the fact they wouldn't need any help or assistance with their travel. The wagon boss was a grizzled looking coot with a short temper and a general dislike of unmarried women; and he especially didn't care for Tilly and Pricilla. He thought them traveling with a man that neither of them was married too, was scandalous.
Jerry, Abby and Donny passed the two sheep farms in silence. Up over the next rise they looked at the Illinois River, swirling and rushing it's way to the Mississippi.
"Oh my," was all Abby could say, "oh my."
"I don't see any ferry," Donny observed, "what do we do, ford the river?"
"I guess so, unless there's something we can't see," Jerry rubbed his chin. "I understood there was a ferry here," his voice trailed off in concern. It was easy to see that this wasn't a 'ease your horses into the water and drive carefully across' situtation. This looked like Danger with a capital D.
Driving down the bank to the water's edge, they grouped up with two other wagons that were waiting and watching the muddy current.
Despite all of his training, Toby stealthily entered the small clearing and retrieved the two knives from the dead bodies and then sprinted to where Milo was hidden. "Let's move, we need outta here. I'm sick and tired of all this incessant waiting. We're loosing daylight, and gonna be stuck out here in the dark."
The two men mounted up and urged their horses into a gallop. It wasn't smart to make so much noise, but they were planning on their rapid movement taking them away from the current problems.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you very much.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#302
Hunched low over their horse's necks; Milo and Toby made a mad dash to get out of shooting range. They weren't quite fast or quiet enough.
Where ever the snipers had been holed up, they were in clear enough view of the Linderman men to get off several quick shots. Milo got a graze across the top of his left shoulder, and went to swearing at the unknown goons, for hitting his shooting arm.
Neither man slacked up, urging their horses to run full speed through the seemingly endless tangle of willow and buck brush. Twice, the horses unexpectedly jumped, clearing something beneath their feet. The second time, Toby was nearly unseated from his mount and he slowed down.
"I'm not the rider you are," he told Milo with harsh breathing, "and look at this, the ground is getting wetter. We are headed into some kind of swamp, where the heck are we, anyway?"
"The sun is still to our left, so we are headed generally North; I thought that was the way we wanted to go?" Milo sat up in the saddle to reconnoiter
"I'll bet you a nickel that we're close to that camp of cannibal eating sickos that Gary's boys came from. We must be a lot further East than I expected."
"We'd better be aware, isn't this wolf territory?" Toby inwardly shivered as he looked around.
"Yeah," Milo suddenly got a uneasy feeling. "Toby, my skin is crawling, that's a warning I take seriously."
The two men almost rode out of the thick brush to the edge of a steep cliff, before abruptly stopping. Down below them was a horrific sight. People in lashed together cages dotted the area, and the smell, the smell made the the two horsemen sick to their stomach's. It was the overpowering sicky sweet smell of cooked human.
Pricilla, Tilly and Doc plodded along, not talking much. The sight and condition of the ferry over to St. Louis played hard with their hopeful attitudes. It was a crushing blow to be so close to the place they needed to be; but so far away in terms of money and ability to get there.
Hunched low over their horse's necks; Milo and Toby made a mad dash to get out of shooting range. They weren't quite fast or quiet enough.
Where ever the snipers had been holed up, they were in clear enough view of the Linderman men to get off several quick shots. Milo got a graze across the top of his left shoulder, and went to swearing at the unknown goons, for hitting his shooting arm.
Neither man slacked up, urging their horses to run full speed through the seemingly endless tangle of willow and buck brush. Twice, the horses unexpectedly jumped, clearing something beneath their feet. The second time, Toby was nearly unseated from his mount and he slowed down.
"I'm not the rider you are," he told Milo with harsh breathing, "and look at this, the ground is getting wetter. We are headed into some kind of swamp, where the heck are we, anyway?"
"The sun is still to our left, so we are headed generally North; I thought that was the way we wanted to go?" Milo sat up in the saddle to reconnoiter
"I'll bet you a nickel that we're close to that camp of cannibal eating sickos that Gary's boys came from. We must be a lot further East than I expected."
"We'd better be aware, isn't this wolf territory?" Toby inwardly shivered as he looked around.
"Yeah," Milo suddenly got a uneasy feeling. "Toby, my skin is crawling, that's a warning I take seriously."
The two men almost rode out of the thick brush to the edge of a steep cliff, before abruptly stopping. Down below them was a horrific sight. People in lashed together cages dotted the area, and the smell, the smell made the the two horsemen sick to their stomach's. It was the overpowering sicky sweet smell of cooked human.
Pricilla, Tilly and Doc plodded along, not talking much. The sight and condition of the ferry over to St. Louis played hard with their hopeful attitudes. It was a crushing blow to be so close to the place they needed to be; but so far away in terms of money and ability to get there.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Time to take out the trash as the old saying goes.
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Yah Juco! Der Verdamit Volves! Should have cleaned zem out before, vhen zey had ze chances!
Ah vell, Mrs PAC has a plan, I'm sure ......
G.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#303
Instantly backing away from the cliff edge, Toby and Milo turned aside to heave their empty stomachs, concealing themselves once again in the thick brush.
"Dear God in heaven," Toby managed to spit out, "that smell, I can't believe the smell."
As white in the face as Milo was, his freckled face and red hair stood out in garish red.
"I'm gonna kill them all, no more giving them the pass." Milo choked out. "This is to be stopped right now."
Crawling on their bellies to the cliff edge, the two men unleashed the power of their rifles and silencers. Starting at the edge of the camp, they worked in toward the center, men dropping like targets in a carnival game.
Milo had his eye on three men that ducked into a tent, expecting they would reappear with weapons. Puzzled, he watched as he continued to eliminate the 'keepers' of the human occupied cages.
Then Milo and Toby heard the singing and wolf howling.
"Their freakin crazy" Toby muttered; "acting just like that 'wolf girl,"
"Yeah, but I betcha their calling in the wolves from somewhere. It's probably their defense against attacks. I'm gonna shoot into the tent and see if I can stop that crap."
ilo shot into the tent walls, not knowing where the men inside were standing, but sincerely hoping he made contact. "I've got to reload," he drew a deep breath and then wished he hadn't, with the smell clogging his nose, making him retch once again.
"Look at that," Toby harshly shook Milo's arm, "That guy in the far cage pulled a dead man's arm into his cage and is eating him. I think their all under the influence of what ever they gave the wolf girl. I say we need to kill them all; they're humans beyond redemption."
Milo hesitated, not willing to believe his eyes. But when the caged people noticed that one of them was tearing into the body of a guard, they all set up a keening clamor, the high pitched shrilling, that was the same as running fingernails down a blackboard.
Making a decision, Milo started shooting and killing those in the cages. Toby joined in, and soon the camp was eerie quiet with whiffs of smoke eddying about in the slight breeze.
Milo rested his forehead on his arm. "Forgive us God." he whispered. "That was a devil's pit of hell on earth."
"You know we have to go down there and make sure the ones in the tent are dead." Toby was shaking, but practical. "It has to be a clean sweep."
"Yeah, I know." Milo replied; "I'm trying to get over what we've just seen and had to do."
Resting and watching for survivors and or movement; the Linderman men noted the three slinking forms of wolves, circling in the brush at the edge of the camp.
Instantly backing away from the cliff edge, Toby and Milo turned aside to heave their empty stomachs, concealing themselves once again in the thick brush.
"Dear God in heaven," Toby managed to spit out, "that smell, I can't believe the smell."
As white in the face as Milo was, his freckled face and red hair stood out in garish red.
"I'm gonna kill them all, no more giving them the pass." Milo choked out. "This is to be stopped right now."
Crawling on their bellies to the cliff edge, the two men unleashed the power of their rifles and silencers. Starting at the edge of the camp, they worked in toward the center, men dropping like targets in a carnival game.
Milo had his eye on three men that ducked into a tent, expecting they would reappear with weapons. Puzzled, he watched as he continued to eliminate the 'keepers' of the human occupied cages.
Then Milo and Toby heard the singing and wolf howling.
"Their freakin crazy" Toby muttered; "acting just like that 'wolf girl,"
"Yeah, but I betcha their calling in the wolves from somewhere. It's probably their defense against attacks. I'm gonna shoot into the tent and see if I can stop that crap."
ilo shot into the tent walls, not knowing where the men inside were standing, but sincerely hoping he made contact. "I've got to reload," he drew a deep breath and then wished he hadn't, with the smell clogging his nose, making him retch once again.
"Look at that," Toby harshly shook Milo's arm, "That guy in the far cage pulled a dead man's arm into his cage and is eating him. I think their all under the influence of what ever they gave the wolf girl. I say we need to kill them all; they're humans beyond redemption."
Milo hesitated, not willing to believe his eyes. But when the caged people noticed that one of them was tearing into the body of a guard, they all set up a keening clamor, the high pitched shrilling, that was the same as running fingernails down a blackboard.
Making a decision, Milo started shooting and killing those in the cages. Toby joined in, and soon the camp was eerie quiet with whiffs of smoke eddying about in the slight breeze.
Milo rested his forehead on his arm. "Forgive us God." he whispered. "That was a devil's pit of hell on earth."
"You know we have to go down there and make sure the ones in the tent are dead." Toby was shaking, but practical. "It has to be a clean sweep."
"Yeah, I know." Milo replied; "I'm trying to get over what we've just seen and had to do."
Resting and watching for survivors and or movement; the Linderman men noted the three slinking forms of wolves, circling in the brush at the edge of the camp.
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Sneaker 11
RECONDO
WOW the image from the literal cliff was most powerful, now on to the masters next cliff.
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