Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Or, possibly, goats pawing at the ground where urns are buried??
Story Grace, Mercy and Blessings
- Thread starter PacNorWest
- Start date
Something they need, somethings she's good at. 
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#382
It took Clora a long time to walk to the forest, she was slow and deliberate, minding where her feet were. At first, she walked the trail, thinking strongly about what it was that was calling her to the woods.
Almost an hour later, Clora was exhausted as she sluffed out of the tangle of brush and limbs towards a downed tree. She needed to sit and recoup her energy for the long walk back to the house.
The moment she sat on the trunk of the tree, her feet started tingling as they rested on the ground.
"Right here, this is where you need to dig," she beckoned Donny to come with the spade and take several deep shovels worth of dirt. Scooting over so her feet were out of the way, Clora rested as Donny put his back into digging.
Soon there was a hole the size of a wash tub, before Donny hit a metal sounding thud.
A metal lock box with squiggling looking writing, about the size of a small tin cashbox was unearthed. Donny took the point of the shovel with a strong blow, and dented in the top, springing the not so sturdy box apart.
Prying the two halves apart, a ring of fifteen or so keys fell out and dropped into the hole.
"Well, will ya look at that; what do ya suppose those are for?" Donny bent over and had to drop to his knees to reach in the hole for the prize. The keys now had dirt and the beginnings of rust on them.
Donny passed the keys to Clora and she shook them gently to dislodge the dirt and duff. They were ordinary looking house key types, and Clora stood and dropped them in her pocket, asking Donny to fill in the hole.
It felt good to rest while Donny worked, and when he was finished, Clora started for the house.
It took Clora a long time to walk to the forest, she was slow and deliberate, minding where her feet were. At first, she walked the trail, thinking strongly about what it was that was calling her to the woods.
Almost an hour later, Clora was exhausted as she sluffed out of the tangle of brush and limbs towards a downed tree. She needed to sit and recoup her energy for the long walk back to the house.
The moment she sat on the trunk of the tree, her feet started tingling as they rested on the ground.
"Right here, this is where you need to dig," she beckoned Donny to come with the spade and take several deep shovels worth of dirt. Scooting over so her feet were out of the way, Clora rested as Donny put his back into digging.
Soon there was a hole the size of a wash tub, before Donny hit a metal sounding thud.
A metal lock box with squiggling looking writing, about the size of a small tin cashbox was unearthed. Donny took the point of the shovel with a strong blow, and dented in the top, springing the not so sturdy box apart.
Prying the two halves apart, a ring of fifteen or so keys fell out and dropped into the hole.
"Well, will ya look at that; what do ya suppose those are for?" Donny bent over and had to drop to his knees to reach in the hole for the prize. The keys now had dirt and the beginnings of rust on them.
Donny passed the keys to Clora and she shook them gently to dislodge the dirt and duff. They were ordinary looking house key types, and Clora stood and dropped them in her pocket, asking Donny to fill in the hole.
It felt good to rest while Donny worked, and when he was finished, Clora started for the house.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Very nice, thank you Pac.
Texican
Live Free & Die Free.... God Freedom Country....
The keys are in Clora's pocket. Now what will be revealed to Clora?
Pac knows.
Will it be revealed in the next chapter?
Thanks Pac for the chapter.
Texican.....
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#383
Clora got as far as the edge of the woods, and had to call for Donny and Gary's help.
"I'm so tired and weak, I can't go any further, grab my arms and hold me up please." Clora was sweating with the effort. Gary sort of pushed against Clora, feeling her weight, and swooped around, picking her up.
"Put me down, I'm too heavy for you to carry." She protested.
"If you would not draw in such heavy air while protesting, you'd be lighter to carry;" Gary teased, carrying the elder woman with ease. "Ma, I don't think you weigh as much as a ......"
"Don't you dare say a word," Clora threatened, "I'll have you know I'm still your mother. You just be respectful, and we'll get along just fine." Clora informed with a spunky tone.
"Yes Ma," Gary was laughing, trying to not laugh. "I am respectful." he was muttering around tightened lips.
Donny had no compunction not to guffaw, and he was sending waves of booming male laughter across the open space.
"I won't make you cookies." Clora threatened, and Donny laughed louder.
"Tilly will," Donny went to open the door into the kitchen.
"Tilly will do what?" Tilly asked as she leaned over to pull a sheet of cookies from the oven.
"Make me cookies." Donny was confident, with his announcement.
Clora sat in her chair, grateful to be in the house.
"Well, did you learn anything?" Bruce mocked her sudden show of independence. "I was watching and trying to get Tilly to bet with me; that you would need help getting back to the house."
"Stuff it Bruce," Clora started to snarl, "I don't need any of your lip."
"Did you find anything while you were out?" Bruce asked.
"We did, a ring of keys in a metal box. There must be fifteen or more keys," and Clora pulled the king from her pocket.
"Huh," Bruce looked them over and didn't see anything worth commenting on. "Strange." was all he said.
Clora got as far as the edge of the woods, and had to call for Donny and Gary's help.
"I'm so tired and weak, I can't go any further, grab my arms and hold me up please." Clora was sweating with the effort. Gary sort of pushed against Clora, feeling her weight, and swooped around, picking her up.
"Put me down, I'm too heavy for you to carry." She protested.
"If you would not draw in such heavy air while protesting, you'd be lighter to carry;" Gary teased, carrying the elder woman with ease. "Ma, I don't think you weigh as much as a ......"
"Don't you dare say a word," Clora threatened, "I'll have you know I'm still your mother. You just be respectful, and we'll get along just fine." Clora informed with a spunky tone.
"Yes Ma," Gary was laughing, trying to not laugh. "I am respectful." he was muttering around tightened lips.
Donny had no compunction not to guffaw, and he was sending waves of booming male laughter across the open space.
"I won't make you cookies." Clora threatened, and Donny laughed louder.
"Tilly will," Donny went to open the door into the kitchen.
"Tilly will do what?" Tilly asked as she leaned over to pull a sheet of cookies from the oven.
"Make me cookies." Donny was confident, with his announcement.
Clora sat in her chair, grateful to be in the house.
"Well, did you learn anything?" Bruce mocked her sudden show of independence. "I was watching and trying to get Tilly to bet with me; that you would need help getting back to the house."
"Stuff it Bruce," Clora started to snarl, "I don't need any of your lip."
"Did you find anything while you were out?" Bruce asked.
"We did, a ring of keys in a metal box. There must be fifteen or more keys," and Clora pulled the king from her pocket.
"Huh," Bruce looked them over and didn't see anything worth commenting on. "Strange." was all he said.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Whipper snappers lol, thank you Pac.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#384
Mark, Milo and Big kept a steady pace with their horses. The track was well worn and every once in a while, a crudely lettered sign pointed the way to the coast. There were few people; most appearing downtrodden and needy/hungry.
All three men were keeping a sharp eye out for small game, and that was sparser than ever.
"I think we had better ride quite a ways away from this track before we call it a day. it seems like it would be better for our health," Milo laconically drawled.
Mark nodded, and Big was busy looking at both sides of the track for a likely place to strike out into the brush.
"To our right will be the river, I'm not interested in heading there, too much water noise to hear attackers,' Milo stood up in his stirrups to see if he could spot a likely area.
"It looks like there is a break in the brush, up ahead, possibly a creek. We could trail up there and perhaps find a good spot;" Milo reported. "There's a group of people coming toward us, we need to wait until after they pass." he finished.
The group of seven wandered slow, in no particular hurry, frustrating the waiting three men, anxious to get to a place to settle for the night. The group called hello's, told of high prices in the city and slower than molasses, stumbled up the road and out of sight.
"Yimminy, I don't have a good feeling about those men," Big was serious. "They had a lot of fire power tucked in their waistbands, and they critically inspected us and the horses. A real bad feeling."
"Then we need to pass this place up. How about a hard canter for a couple of miles." Mark suggested, and it was agreed.
It was near dark when they stopped in the outskirts of a small city. "I think we've put enough miles between us and those suspicious looking tramps," Mark said, "but we'll have to have a guard tonight; our horses look too appealing to footsore people.
"And, I hate walking more than they do," Milo was definite, "I'm ready to eat. what do we do, a small fire or jerky?
"Jerky," Mark was looking over the assorted groups, and there wasn't much in the line of food showing around the small campfires. "We'd better sleep on our saddles tonight; just to make sure we have them in the morning," he warned almost silently.
Big said he would take the first watch, intending to let Mark sleep longer. The elder man looked tired; and they had come a long hard way in two days.
Mark, Milo and Big kept a steady pace with their horses. The track was well worn and every once in a while, a crudely lettered sign pointed the way to the coast. There were few people; most appearing downtrodden and needy/hungry.
All three men were keeping a sharp eye out for small game, and that was sparser than ever.
"I think we had better ride quite a ways away from this track before we call it a day. it seems like it would be better for our health," Milo laconically drawled.
Mark nodded, and Big was busy looking at both sides of the track for a likely place to strike out into the brush.
"To our right will be the river, I'm not interested in heading there, too much water noise to hear attackers,' Milo stood up in his stirrups to see if he could spot a likely area.
"It looks like there is a break in the brush, up ahead, possibly a creek. We could trail up there and perhaps find a good spot;" Milo reported. "There's a group of people coming toward us, we need to wait until after they pass." he finished.
The group of seven wandered slow, in no particular hurry, frustrating the waiting three men, anxious to get to a place to settle for the night. The group called hello's, told of high prices in the city and slower than molasses, stumbled up the road and out of sight.
"Yimminy, I don't have a good feeling about those men," Big was serious. "They had a lot of fire power tucked in their waistbands, and they critically inspected us and the horses. A real bad feeling."
"Then we need to pass this place up. How about a hard canter for a couple of miles." Mark suggested, and it was agreed.
It was near dark when they stopped in the outskirts of a small city. "I think we've put enough miles between us and those suspicious looking tramps," Mark said, "but we'll have to have a guard tonight; our horses look too appealing to footsore people.
"And, I hate walking more than they do," Milo was definite, "I'm ready to eat. what do we do, a small fire or jerky?
"Jerky," Mark was looking over the assorted groups, and there wasn't much in the line of food showing around the small campfires. "We'd better sleep on our saddles tonight; just to make sure we have them in the morning," he warned almost silently.
Big said he would take the first watch, intending to let Mark sleep longer. The elder man looked tired; and they had come a long hard way in two days.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Aw Sweet to come home to. 
RememberGoliad
Veteran Member
Good that Big is doing that, but better not let Mark figure it out or it might backfire!
Sammy55
Veteran Member
Thanks, Mrs. Pac! Wonderful chapter! I agree with Big - let Mark sleep. He's under enough stress with the trip and leaving his sick wife behind.
I hope you are getting better and healthier each day. We worry about you, you know?
I was just thinking the other day about how long it's been since you brought the young Clora and her siblings into our lives. It's been so long! And involved so many, many stories! It's been wonderful to have a "front seat" to watch all the families' lives and moves and activity through all of these years. Addicting stuff you've brought us! Your stories about Clora and her family, along with the many lessons I've learned through these stories through the years, have been a huge blessing!! Thank you! And God bless you, Mrs. Pac...you and your creative mind and your writin' fingers.
I hope you are getting better and healthier each day. We worry about you, you know?
I was just thinking the other day about how long it's been since you brought the young Clora and her siblings into our lives. It's been so long! And involved so many, many stories! It's been wonderful to have a "front seat" to watch all the families' lives and moves and activity through all of these years. Addicting stuff you've brought us! Your stories about Clora and her family, along with the many lessons I've learned through these stories through the years, have been a huge blessing!! Thank you! And God bless you, Mrs. Pac...you and your creative mind and your writin' fingers.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#385
It seemed to Mark that he had just slipped into a fitful sleep when gunfire rocked the small camp. The sounds of fists hitting flesh; and the encouragement of onlookers to "hit him again," rang through the night air.
The sounds had all three men up and stepping back into the semi-darkness, away from the fire glow. Within minutes the two battling combatants, rolled and tumbled into the edge of the fire.
One man was definitely the lesser of the fighters, and the three clansmen stood aside; not understanding whom was the 'good' guy and whom was the 'bad'.
Mark watched the slugfest, preferring to stay neutral; until he saw the glint of the circled star showing on the inside of the weaker fighter's vest.
"He's a Marshall," Mark called out, "Milo, I need your help!"
Seconds later, there were boos from the watching crowd, as Big's rifle and the side arms of Milo and Mark stopped the fight. Mark kept both men under the gun as he harshly told the rest of the loitering men to go back to their camps.
"It's over," he growled three times. "Go back to your own camps or you will be arrested." There were a couple of toughs that must have been friends of the dark bearded brawler that spit at Mark; and he kept his Glock leveled on them.
They went through the 'what happened here and the he said - he said, dance; until the bearded man asked by what authority Mark supposed he could detain him.
"Do you have a charge against him?" Mark asked the supposed Marshall; not willing to trust without verifying what the fight had been about.
"He has seven charges of stealing against him; for looting and raiding wayfarers, plus they may have killed my partner. Now I am going to ask you by what authority are you involved in this altercation.?" the battered man wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
Mark and Milo turned away from the accused man to flip open their vests and expose their own circled stars. The third Marshall nodded his head and asked if they had handcuffs.
"No, rope is the best we can do; do you want all three men tied?"
"Yes, until we can sort out who all the players are. There will be a murder charge against them if they have killed Phil; the three of them ambushed him as he came into camp."
It seemed to Mark that he had just slipped into a fitful sleep when gunfire rocked the small camp. The sounds of fists hitting flesh; and the encouragement of onlookers to "hit him again," rang through the night air.
The sounds had all three men up and stepping back into the semi-darkness, away from the fire glow. Within minutes the two battling combatants, rolled and tumbled into the edge of the fire.
One man was definitely the lesser of the fighters, and the three clansmen stood aside; not understanding whom was the 'good' guy and whom was the 'bad'.
Mark watched the slugfest, preferring to stay neutral; until he saw the glint of the circled star showing on the inside of the weaker fighter's vest.
"He's a Marshall," Mark called out, "Milo, I need your help!"
Seconds later, there were boos from the watching crowd, as Big's rifle and the side arms of Milo and Mark stopped the fight. Mark kept both men under the gun as he harshly told the rest of the loitering men to go back to their camps.
"It's over," he growled three times. "Go back to your own camps or you will be arrested." There were a couple of toughs that must have been friends of the dark bearded brawler that spit at Mark; and he kept his Glock leveled on them.
They went through the 'what happened here and the he said - he said, dance; until the bearded man asked by what authority Mark supposed he could detain him.
"Do you have a charge against him?" Mark asked the supposed Marshall; not willing to trust without verifying what the fight had been about.
"He has seven charges of stealing against him; for looting and raiding wayfarers, plus they may have killed my partner. Now I am going to ask you by what authority are you involved in this altercation.?" the battered man wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
Mark and Milo turned away from the accused man to flip open their vests and expose their own circled stars. The third Marshall nodded his head and asked if they had handcuffs.
"No, rope is the best we can do; do you want all three men tied?"
"Yes, until we can sort out who all the players are. There will be a murder charge against them if they have killed Phil; the three of them ambushed him as he came into camp."
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you, wow!
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#386
"I've got to hurry, better leave someone here to guard your camp." the battered Marshall wheezed out. Big nodded that he would stay, and Milo finished knotting a slick little arrangement on the hoodlums.
Tied together by several loops of rope around their neck with barely enough slack between their bodies to move; the restraint solved the problem of the three of them taking off running in different directions.
Already, just trying to walk in the same direction had choked them down to the ground twice.
"Ok gentlemen," Milo was calm and pleasant, "let's get a move on, on the count of three;" and the irate attackers shuffled forward, under the watchful guns of Mark and Milo.
"Hey," Milo interrupted the battered Marshall as he started to trot away; "how far and where are we heading?"
"Straight ahead down this track about a quarter of a mile, we have a prison wagon, you'll see it, the prisoners make a lot of noise." the man hollered over his shoulder, as he set out.
Mark looked at Milo, "let's put a hustle on these gents, it's sounding like this isn't a good situation."
The men weren't too anxious to motivate, but harsh pokes in the back and sides, happened to change their minds.
Mark and Milo arrived at the Marshall's camp to pandemonium. The battered Marshall had stopped a jail break, but there was a scroungy looking man bent over the Marshall lying on the ground; fumbling for the man's badge.
Milo shot the man in the foot, after his command to stop was disregarded. The shot sounded loud enough to stop the yelling and shouting, bringing the prisoners to an astonished halt and quiet.
"He's got a gun," the low whispers ran through group, "that mean sucker deliberately shot old Percy in the foot. Now what's Percy gonna do to get by."
Mark and Milo put the three roped together men and the limping thief in the wagon with the rest of the corralled men. "The rest of your friends can untie you," he suggested as the three protested loudly.
The wounded Marshall had a scalp crease, and he looked somewhat familiar to Mark. He was out cold, but Mark asked the battered officer, "does this man have a father that used to sell cars?"
"I've got to hurry, better leave someone here to guard your camp." the battered Marshall wheezed out. Big nodded that he would stay, and Milo finished knotting a slick little arrangement on the hoodlums.
Tied together by several loops of rope around their neck with barely enough slack between their bodies to move; the restraint solved the problem of the three of them taking off running in different directions.
Already, just trying to walk in the same direction had choked them down to the ground twice.
"Ok gentlemen," Milo was calm and pleasant, "let's get a move on, on the count of three;" and the irate attackers shuffled forward, under the watchful guns of Mark and Milo.
"Hey," Milo interrupted the battered Marshall as he started to trot away; "how far and where are we heading?"
"Straight ahead down this track about a quarter of a mile, we have a prison wagon, you'll see it, the prisoners make a lot of noise." the man hollered over his shoulder, as he set out.
Mark looked at Milo, "let's put a hustle on these gents, it's sounding like this isn't a good situation."
The men weren't too anxious to motivate, but harsh pokes in the back and sides, happened to change their minds.
Mark and Milo arrived at the Marshall's camp to pandemonium. The battered Marshall had stopped a jail break, but there was a scroungy looking man bent over the Marshall lying on the ground; fumbling for the man's badge.
Milo shot the man in the foot, after his command to stop was disregarded. The shot sounded loud enough to stop the yelling and shouting, bringing the prisoners to an astonished halt and quiet.
"He's got a gun," the low whispers ran through group, "that mean sucker deliberately shot old Percy in the foot. Now what's Percy gonna do to get by."
Mark and Milo put the three roped together men and the limping thief in the wagon with the rest of the corralled men. "The rest of your friends can untie you," he suggested as the three protested loudly.
The wounded Marshall had a scalp crease, and he looked somewhat familiar to Mark. He was out cold, but Mark asked the battered officer, "does this man have a father that used to sell cars?"
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Wonderful, what a time to meet again?
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Bad pennies abound
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
I was a Finance Mgr in several dealerships. I've run across a few sales people who'll lie at the drop of a hat to get a sale however, the most egregious lies most often come from the other side of the table. When found out and questioned about why they lied/misrepresented or falsified their trade in or validity of their credit info, the most common response was "But, you're a dealer so, ...."
One of the worst was a Baptist Minister who told some bald-faced lies while wearing his dog-collar. Odd but he couldn't understand why I wouldn't let him marry my 2nd wife and I.
Sammy55
Veteran Member
Bad pennies in every bunch. But some vocations seem to have more bad pennies than others.
juco
Veteran Member
Ooo! I remember him! That character showed up quite some time back. Wow, Pac. How do you keep your cast of characters straight?
And thank you!
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Lawyers?
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
I remember laughing enough to make me choke when I read a stat years ago saying more people would trust a car salesman than a lawyer: I think it was almost 3:1 in favour of the car peddlers.
All y'all have a great, safe weekend, fumbling JB be damned!
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#387
(Remember folks, Phil and his Marshall buddies served on Mark's sniper team against the long range sniper task they had to do. Phil Sr. conducted himself in an appropriate manner, dealing with Mark, when our hero was buying a pickup.
If I may.....................I might suggest readers read a little slower, I find you are missing clues, that tie in people from previous stories. That's life..................all of our experiences shape us to be the people we are today. Overlook or forget an interesting event and you lose a piece of your strength and ability to cope in the future.
As per the story; Phil Jr. finished with the sniper team and went home with honors to become a retired sniper after his war duty. He has always been a Marshal, perhaps an unsung hero that quietly and with out notice protects the fabric of our lives and freedoms.
Please understand that when it is your job to sell anything used, from cars to used shoes; the seller that provides you with said articles often times is not honest about the defects they want to be rid of. You, as the seller of the newly acquired item only know what you have been told, and there in lies the disparity.
I find honesty and integrity to be severely lacking in the majority of businesses. I bought a ranch in the early '60's with a handshake; but now days there has to be two weeks of paperwork and guaranteed funds. So, in the space of my life time, conditions have deteriorated to this point. A sad commentary on the structure of our lives.
Mark is an upstanding character because of his honesty and dedication to follow the Christian rules set forth in the bible. That set of principles (at times) has worked against him in life, but he answers to God, his code of honor, and his personal responsibilities with unwavering dedication.
Mark is also to an age where he understands that humans are frail and that taking the 'easy road' happens if we don't have a strong faith and resolve. It's life. I try to make the story about that life; .............and sneak in a few moments of standing on my soap box for a lecture'
See, I feel I have had you trapped as you read the intro to get to the next chapter in the story.!!
With the prisoner problem temporarily solved, Mark and Milo turned their attention to the worked over man who identified himself as Al. As Mark was vetting the young man, Milo went to the aid of the wounded Phil. Phil not only had a scalp crease, but he had a bullet wound through his heart and was very dead.
Al had the status as a junior Marshall; and was frightened to assume responsibility for the seven men held in the jail wagon.
"They are tough murderers," Al whispered to Mark, "don't trust them an inch. The three we put in with them have been shadowing us for several days, looking for an opportunity. We felt they wouldn't try to overpower us if we were in a camp of people, boy was that wrong thinking." he sputtered.
"Where are you taking the bunch" Mark asked.
"To the federal lockup in DC; this group of fine upstanding felons all have treason, sedition and anarchy on their rap sheets. They've all had trials and been sentenced; and I don't have the experience to continue without another person in charge."
Mark looked at Milo and the unspoken messages went back and forth between them.
They were going to have to help the inexperienced man, and then who should come riding up the trail, but Big with their horses and pack mule.
Big had his rifle at the ready, and looked at the group gathered. "I believe we should be movin on," he drawled, "Problems a'comin, sooner than later."
(Remember folks, Phil and his Marshall buddies served on Mark's sniper team against the long range sniper task they had to do. Phil Sr. conducted himself in an appropriate manner, dealing with Mark, when our hero was buying a pickup.
If I may.....................I might suggest readers read a little slower, I find you are missing clues, that tie in people from previous stories. That's life..................all of our experiences shape us to be the people we are today. Overlook or forget an interesting event and you lose a piece of your strength and ability to cope in the future.
As per the story; Phil Jr. finished with the sniper team and went home with honors to become a retired sniper after his war duty. He has always been a Marshal, perhaps an unsung hero that quietly and with out notice protects the fabric of our lives and freedoms.
Please understand that when it is your job to sell anything used, from cars to used shoes; the seller that provides you with said articles often times is not honest about the defects they want to be rid of. You, as the seller of the newly acquired item only know what you have been told, and there in lies the disparity.
I find honesty and integrity to be severely lacking in the majority of businesses. I bought a ranch in the early '60's with a handshake; but now days there has to be two weeks of paperwork and guaranteed funds. So, in the space of my life time, conditions have deteriorated to this point. A sad commentary on the structure of our lives.
Mark is an upstanding character because of his honesty and dedication to follow the Christian rules set forth in the bible. That set of principles (at times) has worked against him in life, but he answers to God, his code of honor, and his personal responsibilities with unwavering dedication.
Mark is also to an age where he understands that humans are frail and that taking the 'easy road' happens if we don't have a strong faith and resolve. It's life. I try to make the story about that life; .............and sneak in a few moments of standing on my soap box for a lecture'
See, I feel I have had you trapped as you read the intro to get to the next chapter in the story.!!
With the prisoner problem temporarily solved, Mark and Milo turned their attention to the worked over man who identified himself as Al. As Mark was vetting the young man, Milo went to the aid of the wounded Phil. Phil not only had a scalp crease, but he had a bullet wound through his heart and was very dead.
Al had the status as a junior Marshall; and was frightened to assume responsibility for the seven men held in the jail wagon.
"They are tough murderers," Al whispered to Mark, "don't trust them an inch. The three we put in with them have been shadowing us for several days, looking for an opportunity. We felt they wouldn't try to overpower us if we were in a camp of people, boy was that wrong thinking." he sputtered.
"Where are you taking the bunch" Mark asked.
"To the federal lockup in DC; this group of fine upstanding felons all have treason, sedition and anarchy on their rap sheets. They've all had trials and been sentenced; and I don't have the experience to continue without another person in charge."
Mark looked at Milo and the unspoken messages went back and forth between them.
They were going to have to help the inexperienced man, and then who should come riding up the trail, but Big with their horses and pack mule.
Big had his rifle at the ready, and looked at the group gathered. "I believe we should be movin on," he drawled, "Problems a'comin, sooner than later."
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
I remembered Phil . I reread all the stories last fall so it was easier to keep up with who was who. Thank you Pac, but shoot Phil is dead 
.
. I reread all the stories last fall so it was easier to keep up with who was who. Thank you Pac, but shoot Phil is dead .PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#388
"How soon" Mark asked as he looked for the horses and harness to the jail wagon.
"Maybe a half hour at the most," Big replied; "I'll help you harness. What will we do with the dead man?"
"Take him with us, I suppose. Most likely put him on the seat to the wagon and tie him on, right now I can't think of another solution. Milo and Al, will you get the body loaded."
As the two men worked the horses, Mark asked what was happening.
"A force of about fifteen to sixteen men, using silencers and mowing down people right and left." was Big's rushed explanation, "not a fate I fancy."
"Yeahhh, me neither." Mark responded. With the two well experienced men throwing harness, they were ready to go in fifteen minutes. Setting off in a trot through the darkness was foolish at best, but necessary.
Besides the faster pace kept the noisy prisoners busy hanging on, or, trying to keep their seats. There was plenty of griping and complaining as it was; until Mark rode close enough to silence the yapping with "would you rather be shot like fish in a barrel. We won't let you loose, so the oncoming attackers would cut you down in a heartbeat."
Tough, hardened men didn't want that anymore that their protectors did.
Depending on the horses to sense the track and follow the semi open lane, Al hurried the horses along at a medium trot. As they moved, Big was shouting that raiders were coming. That got him shot at a couple of times and a string of curses from sleep disturbed travelers.
Eventually, they distanced themselves from the sleeping camp, and kept on moving.
"Where do we turn North?" Mark questioned Al, who shrugged and said :" dunno, never been this way before. I'm from Arizona and New Mexico, stationed out of the Dallas branch. Phil had all the roads memorized and way stations laid out in his mind, he came from DC, I believe."
"The last I knew, yeah he was from there." Mark added thoughtfully. "I haven't seen or heard from him in several years."
That ended the conversation, as men turned their attention to escaping the tense atmosphere of the loose knit gathering.
They heard the river before they got there, stopping to rest the horses and waiting for daylight.
"How soon" Mark asked as he looked for the horses and harness to the jail wagon.
"Maybe a half hour at the most," Big replied; "I'll help you harness. What will we do with the dead man?"
"Take him with us, I suppose. Most likely put him on the seat to the wagon and tie him on, right now I can't think of another solution. Milo and Al, will you get the body loaded."
As the two men worked the horses, Mark asked what was happening.
"A force of about fifteen to sixteen men, using silencers and mowing down people right and left." was Big's rushed explanation, "not a fate I fancy."
"Yeahhh, me neither." Mark responded. With the two well experienced men throwing harness, they were ready to go in fifteen minutes. Setting off in a trot through the darkness was foolish at best, but necessary.
Besides the faster pace kept the noisy prisoners busy hanging on, or, trying to keep their seats. There was plenty of griping and complaining as it was; until Mark rode close enough to silence the yapping with "would you rather be shot like fish in a barrel. We won't let you loose, so the oncoming attackers would cut you down in a heartbeat."
Tough, hardened men didn't want that anymore that their protectors did.
Depending on the horses to sense the track and follow the semi open lane, Al hurried the horses along at a medium trot. As they moved, Big was shouting that raiders were coming. That got him shot at a couple of times and a string of curses from sleep disturbed travelers.
Eventually, they distanced themselves from the sleeping camp, and kept on moving.
"Where do we turn North?" Mark questioned Al, who shrugged and said :" dunno, never been this way before. I'm from Arizona and New Mexico, stationed out of the Dallas branch. Phil had all the roads memorized and way stations laid out in his mind, he came from DC, I believe."
"The last I knew, yeah he was from there." Mark added thoughtfully. "I haven't seen or heard from him in several years."
That ended the conversation, as men turned their attention to escaping the tense atmosphere of the loose knit gathering.
They heard the river before they got there, stopping to rest the horses and waiting for daylight.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you, I am still sorry about Phil.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#388b
"I know we were supposed to go to Greensboro and go North," Al relayed to Mark. ""But I haven't the foggiest notion where Greensboro is."
Mark and Milo weren't sure, but Big was. He knew the approximate area, anyhow.
"Sure, I remember now," Mark yawned until his jaw made a popping sound. "I've been through there many times, coming from DC."
Folks, we have a range fire situation coming at us, be back when we get it figured out.
"I know we were supposed to go to Greensboro and go North," Al relayed to Mark. ""But I haven't the foggiest notion where Greensboro is."
Mark and Milo weren't sure, but Big was. He knew the approximate area, anyhow.
"Sure, I remember now," Mark yawned until his jaw made a popping sound. "I've been through there many times, coming from DC."
Folks, we have a range fire situation coming at us, be back when we get it figured out.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Just be safe. That is what counts.