Story Grace, Mercy and Blessings
- Thread starter PacNorWest
- Start date
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Very big thank you Pac.
WE NEED TO BE PRAYING FOR PAC...............SHE HAS NOT BEEN SEEN ON THE FORUMS SINCE THIS POST
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
Folks,
I spilled coffee on the laptop and it fizzled. We had a houseful of company and today is the first time I could get to town and get another. There will be a chapter tonight. Pac.
I spilled coffee on the laptop and it fizzled. We had a houseful of company and today is the first time I could get to town and get another. There will be a chapter tonight. Pac.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Great guns, goodness. Be safe.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#498
The Linderman shopping spree over, much sooner than they appreciated, due to the lack of basic food items; the men waited outside the federal building, talking among themselves about the lack of food.
"I hate this," Mark growled at least fifteen times, as he paced up and down. The horse drawn wagon with its very distinctive 'jail' body appearance collected quite an audience in the ultra suave and sophisticated world of D.C.
The capital was filled with people and a very odd assortment of cars and pickups of various antique age. More than once the distinctive sound of a Model A, could be heard sputtering along.
The Linderman's were still cooling their heels when Phil Sr. came slowly shuffling out the door. "Gentleman," he acknowledged quietly, "Please tell me any information you might remember about Junior's death. He was such a careful marshal. I have a hard time believing he would let himself be caught in an ambush."
"We know very little," Mark tried to console the distraught father. "Junior's body was on the ground when we got to their camp. Al was with us, and didn't seem to know Phil had been killed, he was referring to him as wounded. I do have to tell you that the men accused of shooting many dozen people had high powered rifles with silencers. As we escaped, they were randomly slaughtering people behind us, as they moved forward to try and intercept us."
Phil Sr. looked very troubled and frowned heavily. "Complications," he muttered darkly. "Not every thing is as it seems,: he told Mark under his breath, as he shut down whatever he had intended to say next; as men exited the building in battle mode.
The man in charge was not Director Scott, but Mark didn't care and didn't ask where the braggadocio might be.
"I'm going to double time us out of the city" he told the commander. "We will head Southwest and wait for you at the city limits, or somewhat beyond. Too many people here staring and discussing our obviously filled wagon. If we get too far ahead of you, we'll wait at the first good sized river, and,..." Mark looked at the foot soldiers and their heavy packs; "how do you intend to cross the rivers? There are four of them between here and where we need to go."
A look that could only be described as annoyance flashed across the heavy set man's face. "We'll manage," he assured the doubting patriarch of the Linderman clan.
"Alright," Mark agreed, as to keep things civil; but doubted the ability of the statement, and it showed plainly on his face.
"Move out at a trot," Mark told Tom, "we'll go ahead and clear the way. We need to get out of here," he said to everyone's obvious relief. "Let's go."
It took most of an hour to doubletime out of the city, and into the maze of suburbia.
The rumble of the wagon and the scary appearance of the lathered horses and men, cleared the road faster than shouting could have accomplished. Dogs barked and boys tried to run along side and shout questions, that were ignored and soon left behind.
Tom gratefully slowed the horses to a walk, when Mark motioned. He felt like his insides had been pounded to mush on the hard wagon seat.
"We're not headed Southwest," he remarked to Adam and Milo, as the horses walked to cool down.
"Yeah, we know," Milo returned heavily, as he took a drink from his brand new canteen, purchased that very morning. "We have a real hinky feeling about the situation and want as far away as we can get today. It looks like rain, so we're hoping for a downpour to wash out our tracks. The plan is to stop at the river, or cross, according to the weather and the rise in the water. We don't want to have to use the robbers ferry, so we are looking to cross up here, where it's smaller."
:Good plan," Tom agreed, "let's keep going as long as possible. We can talk more tonight." It suited everyone to put as much distance as possible between them and the oncoming group of supposed friends.
The Linderman shopping spree over, much sooner than they appreciated, due to the lack of basic food items; the men waited outside the federal building, talking among themselves about the lack of food.
"I hate this," Mark growled at least fifteen times, as he paced up and down. The horse drawn wagon with its very distinctive 'jail' body appearance collected quite an audience in the ultra suave and sophisticated world of D.C.
The capital was filled with people and a very odd assortment of cars and pickups of various antique age. More than once the distinctive sound of a Model A, could be heard sputtering along.
The Linderman's were still cooling their heels when Phil Sr. came slowly shuffling out the door. "Gentleman," he acknowledged quietly, "Please tell me any information you might remember about Junior's death. He was such a careful marshal. I have a hard time believing he would let himself be caught in an ambush."
"We know very little," Mark tried to console the distraught father. "Junior's body was on the ground when we got to their camp. Al was with us, and didn't seem to know Phil had been killed, he was referring to him as wounded. I do have to tell you that the men accused of shooting many dozen people had high powered rifles with silencers. As we escaped, they were randomly slaughtering people behind us, as they moved forward to try and intercept us."
Phil Sr. looked very troubled and frowned heavily. "Complications," he muttered darkly. "Not every thing is as it seems,: he told Mark under his breath, as he shut down whatever he had intended to say next; as men exited the building in battle mode.
The man in charge was not Director Scott, but Mark didn't care and didn't ask where the braggadocio might be.
"I'm going to double time us out of the city" he told the commander. "We will head Southwest and wait for you at the city limits, or somewhat beyond. Too many people here staring and discussing our obviously filled wagon. If we get too far ahead of you, we'll wait at the first good sized river, and,..." Mark looked at the foot soldiers and their heavy packs; "how do you intend to cross the rivers? There are four of them between here and where we need to go."
A look that could only be described as annoyance flashed across the heavy set man's face. "We'll manage," he assured the doubting patriarch of the Linderman clan.
"Alright," Mark agreed, as to keep things civil; but doubted the ability of the statement, and it showed plainly on his face.
"Move out at a trot," Mark told Tom, "we'll go ahead and clear the way. We need to get out of here," he said to everyone's obvious relief. "Let's go."
It took most of an hour to doubletime out of the city, and into the maze of suburbia.
The rumble of the wagon and the scary appearance of the lathered horses and men, cleared the road faster than shouting could have accomplished. Dogs barked and boys tried to run along side and shout questions, that were ignored and soon left behind.
Tom gratefully slowed the horses to a walk, when Mark motioned. He felt like his insides had been pounded to mush on the hard wagon seat.
"We're not headed Southwest," he remarked to Adam and Milo, as the horses walked to cool down.
"Yeah, we know," Milo returned heavily, as he took a drink from his brand new canteen, purchased that very morning. "We have a real hinky feeling about the situation and want as far away as we can get today. It looks like rain, so we're hoping for a downpour to wash out our tracks. The plan is to stop at the river, or cross, according to the weather and the rise in the water. We don't want to have to use the robbers ferry, so we are looking to cross up here, where it's smaller."
:Good plan," Tom agreed, "let's keep going as long as possible. We can talk more tonight." It suited everyone to put as much distance as possible between them and the oncoming group of supposed friends.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Very nice, yeah there was something wrong alright. Many thanks Pac.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#499
It was harsh travel, man and beast suffered with the urgent hurry; Mark didn't let up with the push as they put 20 miles behind them. That was a tremendous effort by everyone concerned, and Mark felt some relief with the distance as a cushion against the unease the director and his very well equipped 'army' of marshals had caused.
If Mark had ever wished Clora was nearby to use her talents on the situation, it was now. But he had good men to side him, and his own experience and intuition to guide him through the fray.
Sitting around the campfire that night, Mark outlined his fears to the rest of the crew, and wasn't surprised that they all felt the same. The talk was interrupted by a weak, tired sounding hail from outside the circle of light.
"Hello the camp," an exhausted Phil Sr. practically fell off his horse as he raised his hand in greeting. "May I come in?"
"
Come ahead," Mark invited, "what in the world are you doing here?"
Mark was fairly certain he understood why Phil had followed them, but it never hurt to hear the words from the 'horse's mouth' so to speak.
"I need to talk to you, there are unusual things happening that I don't understand and need to warn you about." Phil slurred his words in an all out effort to explain his sudden appearance, as he came up against the wall of his endurance.
Milo handed the man a cup of coffee, and a plate with several hunks of cooked rabbit.
"Thank you," Phil took a swallow of coffee and began to relax. "Who got the rabbit?" he inquired.
"I did," Adam responded. "Got three of them, I fancied fried rabbit for supper, got to say it's tasty."
"I'll say," Phil talked with his mouthful, "I've not had a finer meal in ages. "
"That's hunger," Milo and Tom said at the same time, causing laughter from them all.
"Listen," Phil continued, "there is something very strange about the new director Scott and I'm not sure he's not mixed up in some real shady doings. You helped Junior become a real son to be proud of, and I thank you with all my heart," Phil directed his comments to Mark.
"I believe Junior was killed because of what he knew about Scott and his involvement with the band of brigands you brought in, I think he's dirty, right to the top of his hair." Phil Sr. gulped coffee like it was a life giving liquid. "The 'men' he says are marshals that are in his 'army' are marshals no one has seen before. We think he has a group of enforcers and maybe has more bands like the one he's following you."
Mark nodded. "Did he see you leave, or did you pass him on the trail?"
"I don't think so," Phil said weakly, not sounding convinced himself.
It was harsh travel, man and beast suffered with the urgent hurry; Mark didn't let up with the push as they put 20 miles behind them. That was a tremendous effort by everyone concerned, and Mark felt some relief with the distance as a cushion against the unease the director and his very well equipped 'army' of marshals had caused.
If Mark had ever wished Clora was nearby to use her talents on the situation, it was now. But he had good men to side him, and his own experience and intuition to guide him through the fray.
Sitting around the campfire that night, Mark outlined his fears to the rest of the crew, and wasn't surprised that they all felt the same. The talk was interrupted by a weak, tired sounding hail from outside the circle of light.
"Hello the camp," an exhausted Phil Sr. practically fell off his horse as he raised his hand in greeting. "May I come in?"
"
Come ahead," Mark invited, "what in the world are you doing here?"
Mark was fairly certain he understood why Phil had followed them, but it never hurt to hear the words from the 'horse's mouth' so to speak.
"I need to talk to you, there are unusual things happening that I don't understand and need to warn you about." Phil slurred his words in an all out effort to explain his sudden appearance, as he came up against the wall of his endurance.
Milo handed the man a cup of coffee, and a plate with several hunks of cooked rabbit.
"Thank you," Phil took a swallow of coffee and began to relax. "Who got the rabbit?" he inquired.
"I did," Adam responded. "Got three of them, I fancied fried rabbit for supper, got to say it's tasty."
"I'll say," Phil talked with his mouthful, "I've not had a finer meal in ages. "
"That's hunger," Milo and Tom said at the same time, causing laughter from them all.
"Listen," Phil continued, "there is something very strange about the new director Scott and I'm not sure he's not mixed up in some real shady doings. You helped Junior become a real son to be proud of, and I thank you with all my heart," Phil directed his comments to Mark.
"I believe Junior was killed because of what he knew about Scott and his involvement with the band of brigands you brought in, I think he's dirty, right to the top of his hair." Phil Sr. gulped coffee like it was a life giving liquid. "The 'men' he says are marshals that are in his 'army' are marshals no one has seen before. We think he has a group of enforcers and maybe has more bands like the one he's following you."
Mark nodded. "Did he see you leave, or did you pass him on the trail?"
"I don't think so," Phil said weakly, not sounding convinced himself.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Big thank you Pac.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
Folks,
I have a houseful of company this weekend and next, please excuse me from the story. I'm just plain not fast anymore. Pac.
I have a houseful of company this weekend and next, please excuse me from the story. I'm just plain not fast anymore. Pac.
Nature_Lover
Wait! What?
Thank you Pac! I'll wait. As long as it takes.
And when you are able to resume posting, I will devour your story like I did Clora's coffee, and all those fish out of the creek, cooked in grandma's iron skillet.
You are fortunate to have a house full of company. Enjoy and try to relax.
And when you are able to resume posting, I will devour your story like I did Clora's coffee, and all those fish out of the creek, cooked in grandma's iron skillet.
You are fortunate to have a house full of company. Enjoy and try to relax.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#500
"We have some information about a leader that the bands of assassins take orders from. But only that there was an unknown hotshot calling all the raids and plundering. I guess, who better than a high ranking officer of the law." Mark was honest, as his mind was busy putting two and two together.
"Can we get across the Roanoke river hereabouts? I'd like to sneak down and destroy the ferry camp and try and destroy the secondary camp, where ever that might be. Perhaps catch our formally esteemed director in some cross fire where he would become a friendly fire causality."
Big, Milo, Tom and Adam looked at each other, all thinking the same thing. How in the world were five men and one old used car salesman going to come up against heavily armed men and prevail.
"Um dad, dont'cha think that's a little ambitious for six men to try?" Milo hated to rain on his dad's idea, but by heaven, he wasn't anxious to try out those odds.
Mark seemed to come out of a mental fog, staring blankly at his small band of soldiers, "Oh, yeah," he muttered, "I was thinking about something else," he excused his lapse.
They set a guard rotation, with Adam volunteering to do double duty, as he was hoping to get his dad more rest.
Milo and Big exchanged glances, this was a worrisome development in Mark's personality, perhaps a failing in his thinking. They weren't sure, but a reason to carefully monitor the orders that the head man was issuing.
"We have some information about a leader that the bands of assassins take orders from. But only that there was an unknown hotshot calling all the raids and plundering. I guess, who better than a high ranking officer of the law." Mark was honest, as his mind was busy putting two and two together.
"Can we get across the Roanoke river hereabouts? I'd like to sneak down and destroy the ferry camp and try and destroy the secondary camp, where ever that might be. Perhaps catch our formally esteemed director in some cross fire where he would become a friendly fire causality."
Big, Milo, Tom and Adam looked at each other, all thinking the same thing. How in the world were five men and one old used car salesman going to come up against heavily armed men and prevail.
"Um dad, dont'cha think that's a little ambitious for six men to try?" Milo hated to rain on his dad's idea, but by heaven, he wasn't anxious to try out those odds.
Mark seemed to come out of a mental fog, staring blankly at his small band of soldiers, "Oh, yeah," he muttered, "I was thinking about something else," he excused his lapse.
They set a guard rotation, with Adam volunteering to do double duty, as he was hoping to get his dad more rest.
Milo and Big exchanged glances, this was a worrisome development in Mark's personality, perhaps a failing in his thinking. They weren't sure, but a reason to carefully monitor the orders that the head man was issuing.
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sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Oh man I hope Mark is okay. Plus they need to get home.
VinceU1
Contributing Member
Don't worry about it. He's got that link thing going on...
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#501
Mark waited until everyone was bustling around camp, getting ready for the night. He plumped his bedroll with clothes and his blanket, telling Milo to create a disturbance toward the outside of the wagon box. When Milo finished, Mark had simply melded into the darkness, unseen.
The fire died down and was banked for the morning. All natural looking actions of men bedding down for the night, but there was a darker purpose. behind what they were doing.
Mark had the itchy feeling that Phil had been followed, so he had the clan ready to fight, if necessary. They put together an elaborate deception, and waited.
Mark wasn't happy to be proven right, when some over anxious, trigger happy goon fired into his bedroll, about two hours later.
However many enemy shooters there were, they didn't have silenced rifles and few had night vision. But Mark did.
He got five, Milo got four and Big fired more than any of them and used infra red scopes that Mark was unaware he had. Big knew he had killed upwards of fifteen, but he downplayed his success, preferring to let the Linderman men keep control.
Phil Sr. was so scared his teeth chattered and he was trembling so much that he had a hard time hearing Mark's orders. So was Adam frightened, and wondering how that Mark knew they would be ambushed. The young man was asking a lot of questions that Mark didn't have time to answer, so he waved Tom into the role of teacher, while he and Milo went out to inspect the downed attackers.
There were two pistol shots in the silent and dark night, Tom restraining Phil and Adam from running out to help. "Mercy shots," he growled at his son, and Adam coughed and choked.
"You mean?" the untested youth stammered.
"Yes, I mean," Tom replied harshly. "Pay attention to what is happening. You too Phil. If you intend to get any older, that is. Now be quiet, so we can hear if they need us to help.
Mark waited until everyone was bustling around camp, getting ready for the night. He plumped his bedroll with clothes and his blanket, telling Milo to create a disturbance toward the outside of the wagon box. When Milo finished, Mark had simply melded into the darkness, unseen.
The fire died down and was banked for the morning. All natural looking actions of men bedding down for the night, but there was a darker purpose. behind what they were doing.
Mark had the itchy feeling that Phil had been followed, so he had the clan ready to fight, if necessary. They put together an elaborate deception, and waited.
Mark wasn't happy to be proven right, when some over anxious, trigger happy goon fired into his bedroll, about two hours later.
However many enemy shooters there were, they didn't have silenced rifles and few had night vision. But Mark did.
He got five, Milo got four and Big fired more than any of them and used infra red scopes that Mark was unaware he had. Big knew he had killed upwards of fifteen, but he downplayed his success, preferring to let the Linderman men keep control.
Phil Sr. was so scared his teeth chattered and he was trembling so much that he had a hard time hearing Mark's orders. So was Adam frightened, and wondering how that Mark knew they would be ambushed. The young man was asking a lot of questions that Mark didn't have time to answer, so he waved Tom into the role of teacher, while he and Milo went out to inspect the downed attackers.
There were two pistol shots in the silent and dark night, Tom restraining Phil and Adam from running out to help. "Mercy shots," he growled at his son, and Adam coughed and choked.
"You mean?" the untested youth stammered.
"Yes, I mean," Tom replied harshly. "Pay attention to what is happening. You too Phil. If you intend to get any older, that is. Now be quiet, so we can hear if they need us to help.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Very big thank you Pac.
PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#502
Mark's voice came from the darkness. "Tom, you and Adam please harness the horses as quietly as you can. Big, come help me round up the horses of the attackers. Tie our saddle horses to the back of the wagon, we will need to ride their horses. We have to make it look like we were captured and they are escorting us further on down the line. Phil, you drive, Tom and Adam, you ride and carry the captured rifles, we have to look like the attackers from a distance."
Adam got ready to let loose with a boat load of questions, and got quickly shut down by his father.
"Hush and do as you're told, we gotta go until we find a way to defend ourselves. We're sitting ducks out here, so hesh up and get the work done." Tom grated out in a low voice. "Don't be talkin, voices carry plenty far out here." He gave Adam a little push to get started.
Phil strained his eyes to see the dark lumps of the bedrolls and slung them in the back of the wagon. He was stumbling around until Tom told him to get up on the wagon and get ready to be handed the reins. Phil said a quiet thank you, and did as he was told.
Mark and Milo were beside them selves with the excitement of capturing the night vision, infra red scopes and the enemy's horses.
Mark had lifted one of the new horse's feet and run his thumb over the curious raised markings on the bottom of the horseshoe. That was how he had decided they needed to ride the strange horses to simulate a capture.
The dead men were pulled to a ditch and dumped in head first. The pile of bodies would be noticed, but with out facial features to recognize, the dead men might pass as the hapless Linderman clan.
Silently as possible, the group moved out, the team led by Big and his set of night vision goggles. On through the night they advanced, the streaks of early dawn finding them at a good sized stream.
Streaks of lightening and the far off rumble of thunder urged the procession to cross the moving water before it became rain swollen from upstream deluges.
It wasn't the most ideal crossing, deep and swift, and they lost one of the new horses when the animal panicked and reared, throwing himself down to catch his head under the wagon.
To keep the struggling horse from kicking and breaking the legs of the other tied horses, Mark shot the animal and Tom rode in with his wicked knife and cut the rope. The carcass was a dark lump that slowly swirled and disappeared out of sight.
In the dim and now damp morning, as the rain started falling, Big led the team in a gallop. They had crossed the Roanoke river and Mark, Big and Milo were headed home in a direct line Southwest.
It rained harder and harder, slowing them to a trot and then a walk. Nobody talked, the unpleasantness was just something to grit your teeth and endure.
Mark's voice came from the darkness. "Tom, you and Adam please harness the horses as quietly as you can. Big, come help me round up the horses of the attackers. Tie our saddle horses to the back of the wagon, we will need to ride their horses. We have to make it look like we were captured and they are escorting us further on down the line. Phil, you drive, Tom and Adam, you ride and carry the captured rifles, we have to look like the attackers from a distance."
Adam got ready to let loose with a boat load of questions, and got quickly shut down by his father.
"Hush and do as you're told, we gotta go until we find a way to defend ourselves. We're sitting ducks out here, so hesh up and get the work done." Tom grated out in a low voice. "Don't be talkin, voices carry plenty far out here." He gave Adam a little push to get started.
Phil strained his eyes to see the dark lumps of the bedrolls and slung them in the back of the wagon. He was stumbling around until Tom told him to get up on the wagon and get ready to be handed the reins. Phil said a quiet thank you, and did as he was told.
Mark and Milo were beside them selves with the excitement of capturing the night vision, infra red scopes and the enemy's horses.
Mark had lifted one of the new horse's feet and run his thumb over the curious raised markings on the bottom of the horseshoe. That was how he had decided they needed to ride the strange horses to simulate a capture.
The dead men were pulled to a ditch and dumped in head first. The pile of bodies would be noticed, but with out facial features to recognize, the dead men might pass as the hapless Linderman clan.
Silently as possible, the group moved out, the team led by Big and his set of night vision goggles. On through the night they advanced, the streaks of early dawn finding them at a good sized stream.
Streaks of lightening and the far off rumble of thunder urged the procession to cross the moving water before it became rain swollen from upstream deluges.
It wasn't the most ideal crossing, deep and swift, and they lost one of the new horses when the animal panicked and reared, throwing himself down to catch his head under the wagon.
To keep the struggling horse from kicking and breaking the legs of the other tied horses, Mark shot the animal and Tom rode in with his wicked knife and cut the rope. The carcass was a dark lump that slowly swirled and disappeared out of sight.
In the dim and now damp morning, as the rain started falling, Big led the team in a gallop. They had crossed the Roanoke river and Mark, Big and Milo were headed home in a direct line Southwest.
It rained harder and harder, slowing them to a trot and then a walk. Nobody talked, the unpleasantness was just something to grit your teeth and endure.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you, whew 