The Blaine Family Chronicles Vol. 3

A Long Road Ahead

By David Nelson

The character “Luther Braun” in this book is dedicated in loving memory of my uncle, Bobby L. Brown.

Chapter 1

2019, 1 year after the blackout

Matt Blaine hit the quick-release on his harness.  The homemade two-wheeled travois behind him carried an eight-point buck.  A few minutes behind him was Joe Kitchner with another eight-pointer.

“I think we have enough meat to last a few days, don’t you think?” Kitchner asked.

“Yeah, a few days, anyway.”  He wiped the sweat from his brow.  “I’ll be glad when winter gets here.  That way we can stop using the deep freezes again and conserve some electricity.  I don’t know how much longer the batteries for the solar panels will last.  They’re supposed to have a ten-year life.  I’m going to guess that they have about eight years left, as little as they’ve been used over the past few years, but I don’t know.  Let’s get these deer hung up and draining before we get something to drink.”

Kitchner unclasped his harness and the two deer were strung up and their throats slit.  The two men washed their arms and hands at the hand pump before going inside.  Ceiling fans were rotating just fast enough to keep the house from getting too stuffy.  Matt kissed his wife, Shelly, who handed him a glass of tea.  Kitchner walked up behind his wife, Emma, and gave her a hug.  Emma handed him a glass of tea without turning around.

“How are you feeling, Emma?” Kitchner asked.

“Sick again this morning.  Third morning in a row.”  She and Shelly looked at each other and grinned.  Emma turned around to face Kitchner.  Wrapping her arms around his waist, she asked, “How are you feeling…Dad?”

Kitchner blinked twice before reality hit him.  “Uh…Dad?  Really?”  He took Emma in a bear hug and lifted her off the floor.  He suddenly set her back down and put his hand gently on her belly.  “I’m so sorry.  Are you okay?”

Emma laughed.  “I’m fine, Joe.  I won’t break like a twig if you hug me.”

“Well,” said Matt, “I guess this calls for a celebration.”  He finished his glass of tea.  “After we get those deer in the freezers.”

The two men went back outside to butcher the deer.  Joe, who was normally pretty quiet, was whistling while he worked on his deer.  Every so often he would run the blade of his knife over a sharpening steel hanging from his belt.  He always made quick work of skinning and gutting a deer, but this time his knife seemed to fly around the deer with a mind of its own.  Matt stopped to watch.  He had not seen Joe Kitchner this happy since he proposed to Emma and she said Yes.  Kitchner was usually reserved, as if he were battling demons from his past.  Matt knew that Kitchner made his living as a soldier-of-fortune after his military service.  What Kitchner never talked about was what he encountered during his post-military time in the jungles of Central and South America and Southeast Asia.  And nobody asked him about it.

Matt smiled as he went back to work on his deer.  By the time he was finished skinning and gutting, Kitchner had long since taken his quartered deer in to be cut, wrapped, and put in the freezer.  The hides were placed in a bucket of water for Lonnie Llewellyn and his son, Eddie, to tan.  Over the last year, Lonnie and Eddie, the professional outdoorsmen, had kept and tanned all the rabbit, raccoon, and deer hides.  They even had an elk hide they had tanned, and were hoping for more.  What Lonnie really wanted was bear hide for winter coats.

At present, Lonnie was at work on a rabbit-fur coat for his wife, Marge. She had been Eddie’s biology teacher at school before the blackout.  She and Lonnie met when the power went out, and Marge traveled with the father and son to the Blaine farm.  Shortly after everyone arrived at the farm, Matt went into Oscoda to see if there was still a clergyman of any kind in town.  A Baptist preacher was found, and he performed a double wedding for the Kitchner’s and Llewellyn’s. 

Most of the adults had a teaching role at the farm.  They taught subjects or skills commiserate with what they had done before the blackout.  Matt Blaine was an architect by education and a carpenter by trade.  He taught woodworking.  Shelly Blaine was a nurse practitioner, so she taught first aid and CPR.  Joe Kitchner taught self-defense and weapons training.  Emma Kitchner had been a physical therapist, so she taught that.  She was also adept at throwing knives and tomahawks, so she helped her husband in part.  Frank Marshall had been an investment broker, so he taught math.  Lonnie was a published author and outdoors expert; he taught writing skills and outdoor survival.  The latter was assisted by Eddie.  Marge Llewellyn taught biology and physical science.  Rondell Mixon had a business degree and had managed a resort hotel; he taught people and social skills.  Melinda Mixon, the budding chef, taught cooking classes.  Jim Hartley, also a high school teacher, taught history and literature. 

Max and Kara Blaine; Tonya, Mannie, Garvin, and Nikki Mixon; Eddie Llewellyn; and Amy Johnson, the runaway who joined the Blaine’s, all did lessons as if they were still in school.  Gareth Stanton “Pug” Mills, the Third -who arrived with Frank Marshall- and Megan Williams –abandoned by her husband and taken in by the Mixons- also sat in on Lonnie’s, Joe’s, Emma’s, Shelly’s, and Melinda’s classes.

Although the summer months were school-free for the kids, they all did chores like everyone else.  There was a garden to be tended and weeded.  Firewood had to be cut, split, and stacked for everyday cooking and for the coming winter.  Traps and snares were checked every day, and reset when needed.  Bedrooms were kept neat and squared away, and the house was kept swept and dusted.  Horse stalls were mucked out and hay cut and stacked for the winter.  There was no shortage of work to be done.  The kids learned early on to not complain about being bored; something would be found for them to do.

Vegetables from the garden were canned or dried.  Some meats were canned, others were dried.  Unfortunately, there were no chickens at the farm, but they did occasionally find a few duck eggs at various ponds and small lakes.  There was also no dairy cow, but Matt had traded a deer for a milk goat.  Life on the farm wasn’t cushy and easy, but everybody had what they needed.

Chapter 2

Matt was in the library writing in his journal when Shelly found him.  “Lonnie and Joe are looking for you,” she said.

“Did they say what it was about?” Matt asked.

“No, they just said they’d be at the barn waiting for you.”

“Okay, be right there.”  Matt finished his entry for the day before heading outside.  He grabbed his pistol belt and buckled it in place on his way to the barn.  Nobody went outside unarmed; nobody knew when there might be trouble.  Weapons were also kept close even when indoors.  Even Pug, who had been a spoiled rich kid and knew nothing about the outdoors, had become a decent shot.  He was given a pistol and rifle to use.

Matt got to the barn to find Lonnie and Joe standing next to the small freight wagon.  “I think we need to stop getting firewood from so close to the house for a while,” said Kitchner.  “I found some trees up by the north fence that are three and four feet across.  Three of those trees would give us between two and three cords of wood.”

“Okay, then that’s what we’ll do,” Matt replied.  Matt Blaine was the founder of the “Disaster Circle,” a group of college buddies who had gotten together to plan for TEOTWAWKI, or, The End Of The World As We Know It.  Although the families at the farm were not blood relatives, they were still family.  And Matt was the patriarch.

“Lonnie and I will go get some of those trees and bring them back.  We’ve loaded up a large crowbar, a crosscut saw, and a couple of axes.  We’ll need food and water for two days.  We’ll spend the rest of today cutting.  Tomorrow we’ll spend all day dragging the trees back here.”  Joe paused for a moment.  “It’ll take at least one full day to drag those trees back here, maybe more.”

“Alright then,” said Matt.  “Get what supplies you’ll need and head out.  We’ll see you sometime tomorrow with the first load.  Now, you’re just going to cut the trees down and haul them back in one piece?”

“That’s the plan,” said Lonnie.  “We’ll limb them, of course, and throw the branches in the back of the wagon.  We’ll save the cutting and splitting for someone else to do.”  He grinned.  “It’ll do Pug good to get some more callouses on his hands to go with his bullet scar.  It’ll build character.”

If pain was a character-builder, most of those at the farm had tons of character.  Lonnie and Joe grabbed harnesses and traces for the horses.  Matt went back to the house and had Shelly and Melinda put together two days’ worth of food and water for the two men.  Lonnie and Joe pulled the wagon up outside as Emma and Shelly carried the supplies out.  After the sacks of food and the canteens were stowed, the two men were about to go inside and get their weapons and extra ammunition.

“Leonard Andras Llewellyn,” Marge said.  Lonnie and Joe looked at each other.

“What did I do?” Lonnie asked.

“You weren’t about to take off without saying good-bye, were you?” Marge stood on the front porch holding their one-month-old daughter, Lilian.

“Not on your life, sweetheart.  There’s no way I would leave my two favorite ladies without saying good-bye.”

Lonnie gave Marge and Lilian a hug and kiss.  He didn’t always watch too closely when he shook a man’s hand, and sometimes squeezed too hard.  Marge and Lilian were an altogether different story.  He was more careful and gentle than anyone would have thought possible.  When Lonnie rocked Lilian to sleep, he did it by placing her on his forearm with her head in the palm of his hand.  He would walk around with her like that, gently swinging his arm in a short side-to-side motion; it would not take long at all for her to fall asleep.  Just as Lonnie turned to climb into the wagon, Eddie appeared.

“Hey, Dad.  Where are you headed off to?”

“Joe and I are going to go cut some of those big trees up by the north fence and bring them back,” Lonnie replied.

“Need any help?”

Lonnie thought about it for a minute.  “Grab your gear, but be quick.  We were just about to leave.  You’ll also need food and water for two days.  We won’t be stopping to eat a meal when we drag the trees back here.  We’ll drop one and go back for another.”

“Not a problem, Dad.  Be right back.”  Within five minutes, Eddie was back carrying his rucksack and shotgun.  He wore his pistol belt and a shotshell bandolier.

“What’s in the pack?” Joe asked.  “Not clothes, is it?”

“No, it’s food and my hydration bladder.  Plus two more canteens.”

“We have two five-gallon water jugs on the wagon already,” said Joe.

“I know,” said Eddie.  “But in this heat, we might need more.  You never know.”

“Okay.  Let’s get going.”

Emma stood with Marge and baby Lilian as the men took off.  Marge waved Lilian’s hand for her at her daddy as he rode away.  Emma blew Joe a kiss and waved.  The ladies watched until the wagon was out of sight, past the telephone pole wall.  They went into the living room where Amy was rocking one-year-old Ronnie Williams.  Kara asked Marge if she could hold Lilian.

The two girls rocked the babies as the ladies set about preparing lunch and planning supper.  Meals weren’t just a matter of throwing food together.  It took some planning, as there were twenty people living there.  Twenty and a half counting Joe and Emma’s expected baby.

Gone were the days of running to the store and picking up bread and lunchmeat.  Gone was picking up on the spur of the moment and eating out.  Gone was plopping down in front of the television.  Entertainment now came from books or one’s imagination.  Most meals had to be cooked now, unless they consisted of raw fruits and vegetables.  Nobody really wanted that.  About the only thing that could be grabbed as a snack was the jerky or dried fruit from the few fruit trees they had.  Any other snack items were long gone.  There was no shortage of dried red and pinto beans or black-eye peas.  There was a good selection of vegetables from the garden, but the most prevalent item at meals was game meat.

Lunch consisted of rabbit stew and cornbread.  During the summer, meals were cooked outside.  Because the house was solar-powered, the air conditioning wasn’t used but very sparingly.  Jim Hartley carried over an armload of wood and dropped it by the flat-topped wood stove.

“I’ll sure be glad when it starts cooling off,” he said as he wiped the sweat off his face and forehead.

“I think we all will,” Shelly said.  “It’s strange, though.  During the summer, we want it to be winter, but when it’s frostbite weather, we can’t wait for summer.  People are strange creatures, aren’t we?”

“Yes, we are,” said Matt as he walked toward them.  “And some of us are stranger than others.”

“Jim,” said Shelly, “would you go inform everyone that lunch is ready while I have a word with this strange man?”

After Jim left, Matt asked Shelly, “What word would like with me?”

She motioned him closer.  With her lips almost touching his ear, she whispered, “I love you.”

“Still?” Matt asked.

“Always.”

“That’s quite a coincidence,” Matt said.  “It just so happens that I love you, too.  It works out quite well, doesn’t it?”

“It sure does, my love.”

After lunch was eaten and the dishes were washed and put away, Matt went to the barn to continue working on the tree sled he had designed.  On paper it looked great; practical application was the question.  He didn’t think it would be a problem if he could get the runners rounded off and smooth enough.  He hoped that he would be finished with it by the time Joe, Lonnie, and Eddie got back with the first tree.  He would send the sled back with them to try out.  If it made their work easier, great.  If not, then Matt would have to see what else needed to be done to it, if anything could be done.  If not, then it would just be another way to carry smaller loads of firewood or rocks.

Since Lilian and Ronnie had fallen asleep, Amy and Kara were each working on a crossword puzzle book.  The other kids were either reading or napping, and the ladies were busy mending rips, tears, and holes in various articles of clothing.  Jim and Rondell were working on their lesson plans, trying to decide what the kids should learn in the fall.  Frank was at the opening of the pole wall.  He went and stood there every day, staring off into space, as if hoping to see his wife and children coming up the lane.  He would stay there for an hour or two before coming back to the house or barn.  There he would find something to occupy him until it was either time to eat or go to bed.

“I feel so sorry for Frank,” Emma said one day.

“I know,” said Shelly.  “Matt won’t show it or say anything, but I know it’s tearing him up to see Frank like this.  Matt, Rondell, Lonnie, and Frank were like brothers in college, and it hasn’t changed much over the years.”

The women fell silent again, lost in their own thoughts.  Shelly and Melinda got up an hour later to start getting things ready for supper, which was going to consist of venison backstrap, mashed potatoes and other garden vegetables, and fresh bread.  Melinda made her own marinades.  While the venison was marinating, she peeled and cubed the potatoes.  Shelly went outside to get the fire going in the stove while Marge and Emma worked on the other vegetables.  Shelly had just lit the fire and closed the door on the stove when Lonnie and Eddie came galloping into the yard on horseback.

“Shelly!  Get your medical kit!” Lonnie yelled.

Chapter 3

Shelly didn’t stand around to ask why.  When she got back outside, Lonnie had dismounted and gotten Eddie off his horse and had him lying on the ground.  Lonnie used his hunting knife and slit Eddie’s pant leg up to above the knee.  A blood-soaked rag was wrapped around his left calf.

“What happened?” asked Shelly.

“He was limbing one of the trees we cut down.  When he swung the axe, it hit at an angle and ricocheted off the tree and hit his leg.”

Shelly removed the rag.  It was an ugly wound.  The bottom corner of the axe head had dug into the calf muscle.  “Roll him onto his stomach,” Shelly told Lonnie, “and go get a pot of water to put on the stove.”

Eddie was lying there trying to keep from screaming in agony as Shelly probed the wound.  Satisfied that there were no large pieces of bark stuck in there, she rewrapped the leg with a clean bandage until the water got hot.  Marge came running out right behind Emma.

“Is he going to be okay?” Marge asked as she ran over to Lonnie.  “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Where’s Joe?” asked Emma.

“He’s back at camp with the wagon,” Lonnie answered.  “We just had the two horses, so he’s waiting for someone to come back with them.”

“If all of you have things under control,” said Matt, “I’ll take two fresh horses to him.  We’ll finish up with the trees ourselves.”  He patted Lonnie on the shoulder.  “You stay here with Eddie.  Joe and I will do the rest.”

“Thanks, bro,” said Lonnie.  Matt went to the barn and saddled Kitchner’s stallion.  He slipped lead ropes onto two other horses and took off.

The water on the stove was beginning to steam and Shelly had Lonnie bring it over to her.  “Lonnie, hold Eddie as still as you can.  I need to pull the wound open so I can clean it out real good, and he’s going to go ballistic.”

Lonnie got down and lay across Eddie’s back and shoulders.  Shelly separated the edges of the wound to clean it.  When she did, Eddie jerked violently, even with Lonnie’s two hundred and fifty pounds on top of him.  Eddie emitted a blood-curdling scream that tore Lonnie’s heart in two.  Marge was crying as well.  She loved Eddie as if he were her own flesh and blood.  After Eddie passed out from the pain, Shelly poured some whiskey over the wound to kill any bacteria.  She was then able to stitch his leg more quickly.  It was a deep wound and Shelly had to do a row of stitches inside as well as outside.  She used two different kinds of stitches.  The inner stitches would dissolve over time, but the outer ones would need to be removed manually.

After Shelly finished, she cleaned the outside one more time before wrapping gauze around Eddie’s leg.  Lonnie carried his son inside to Eddie’s room and put him on the bed.  Lonnie had pulled a chair over to the side of Eddie’s bed when Pug stuck his head in the doorway.

“I have some hydrocodone pills Eddie can have if he needs it,” he said.

“Thanks, Pug,” Lonnie said.  “He’ll probably want one when he wakes up.”

Pug handed Lonnie the bottle and left.  Marge came in and sat down beside Lonnie.  They didn’t have too long to wait before Eddie came to.

“Son,” said Lonnie, “Pug brought you some heavy-duty painkillers if you want one.”

“Yeah, that sounds good right about now.”

Lonnie turned to Marge.  “Would you go get him a bowl of stew?  He should have something on his stomach when he takes that pain pill.”

“It’ll be a few minutes,” Marge said.  “I’ll need to heat it up, unless you just want to eat it like it is.”

“Heated is fine,” Eddie said.  I can wait.”  He grunted at a sudden stab of pain.  “I think.”

“I’ll be as quick as I can.”

It was only ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity to Eddie.  He wolfed down the stew and took a painkiller.  The pain gradually subsided, and then he was out.  Lonnie and Marge waited until Eddie was asleep before they left the room.  Sometime later, Eddie thought he felt someone take his hand and hold it for several minutes.  Then a cool cloth was put on his forehead.  Eddie tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn’t focus, and he slipped into darkness again.  The hands removed the cloth periodically and replaced it with a cool one.  The hands continued to hold Eddie’s for a time before leaving him.

Amy softly closed the door behind her as she left Eddie’s room.  Hoping no one saw her, she went to her own room and closed the door. Sitting on her bed, she buried her face in her hands and silently wept.  Lonnie was headed toward Eddie’s room and had just turned the corner down the hallway when he saw Amy softly closing Eddie’s door.  Lonnie quickly stepped back so Amy wouldn’t see him.  He leaned against the wall for a few moments stroking his beard.  Marge went to him and put her hand on his arm.

“What are you so pensive about?” she asked.

Lonnie looked around before answering.  “I just saw Amy coming out of Eddie’s room,” he whispered.  “I was going to check on him when I saw her closing the door.  I guess I don’t need to check on him for a while now.  It looks like he’s got a nurse.”

Marge smiled.  “I know she’s smitten with him,” she said.  “She thinks she’s hiding it, but her eyes give her away.  Maybe in a few years we’ll have another couple on our hands.  Amy’s fifteen now, and Eddie turned seventeen a few months ago, so who knows?”

“We’ll see,” said Lonnie, “but we’re certainly not going to rush anything.  We’ll just let things take their course.  Agreed?”

“Certainly, my love.  It shouldn’t be any other way.” 

Just then Melinda called out that supper was almost ready.  Everyone washed up and gathered outside under the makeshift tarp pavilion to eat.  In Matt’s absence, Lonnie took it upon himself to ask the blessing over the meal, and an extra for Eddie.  After supper and everything was cleaned up and put away, the kids ran around playing until dark.  The adults sat around and talked over coffee and tea, and Lonnie and Jim each had a cigar.

“I just looked in on Eddie,” said Lonnie.  “He’s still sleeping.  I’ll take him a plate later on if he feels like eating.”

An hour later, Lonnie took Eddie a plate.  After he ate, he took another heavy-duty painkiller.  While he waited for it to start working, Shelly changed the dressing on his leg and put antibiotic ointment on it.  Twice more during the night Lonnie got up to check on Eddie and give him more pain meds.  The next morning Eddie hobbled out to the front porch using Pug’s cane and a crutch made from a tree limb.  While all the attention he was getting was nice, Eddie really wanted to be up doing something.  Lonnie, Marge, and Shelly kept having to tell him to sit down and not put any weight on his leg.  If his stitches broke loose, he would be in a world of hurt.  So, he tried to make the best of it by reading and playing word games with the kids.

It was mid-morning when Matt and Joe showed up with the first tree trunk and load of branches.  After the load was dumped, Matt had Joe swing the wagon over to the barn to hitch up the tree sled.  Now was as good a time as any to see if it was going to work.  By lunchtime, the two men were back with yet another tree trunk and load of branches.  The sled worked great, and made hauling the trees a lot easier than dragging them along the ground, as they had done with the first one.  By the time dusk had fallen, Matt and Joe had hauled five trees and their branches back to the house.  Each tree trunk measured upwards of four feet across.

The next several days were spent with the men cutting and splitting the firewood.  It had a few months to season before it was going to really be needed.  There was a good amount of wood already seasoned for the day-to-day cooking.  Also, over the next few days, Eddie was getting to where he could get around better.  He went from using both the cane and crutch to using just the crutch.  Then he tried using just the cane.  It seemed that every time he needed something, Amy was there to bring it to him.  It seemed that everyone could see what was going on except for Eddie.

The scar that was left wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been.  Shelly had been a nurse practitioner before the blackout, and had also stitched wounds on Matt and Joe.

“If this keeps up,” she said one day, “I’ll have to start charging seamstress wages.”

Chapter 4

Matt woke early one particular morning and went outside to start the coffee pot heating.  Electricity in the house was saved for some lights at night, or running ceiling fans and the air conditioning on occasion.  While the coffee brewed, Matt gathered an armload of wood to stack by the stove. He forked some hay into the horse’s stalls and filled the water buckets.  Later he would let them out to roam and graze.

Matt sat drinking a cup of coffee and staring off into space.  He couldn’t decide if they had lost paradise or found it.  Maybe it was a little bit of both.  There was no more television to relax in front of; then again, there was no more television to rot the brain.  Sure, there had been a few shows that Matt liked to watch, but very few.  There were a few educational shows, and a few entertaining shows left.  But for the most part, TV had degenerated into a cesspool of corruption and filth.  Matt wasn’t going to miss it too awfully much.  He preferred to read anyway.

There were no more cell phones.  Landlines had almost become a thing of the past anyway.  People had lived thousands of years without any kind of telephone, but they suddenly became so much a part of people’s lives that it was impossible to even leave the house without one.  The problem with cell phones was the fact that people hardly ever talked anymore.  They simply sent each other typed messages instead.  That was something else Matt wasn’t going to miss very much.

As he sat there going over the pros and cons of the blackout, others began coming outside to get cups of coffee.  Everybody grabbed a cup and sat down.  Everybody but Frank, who poured his and walked down to the gate and opened it.  Then he just stood there for a while.  While the coffee pot was being emptied, Melinda and Shelly began fixing breakfast.  The kids came out one by one, rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

Pug was the first to start talking.  “So, Matt,” he said, “what got you started with all of this…survivalist stuff?”

“The idea actually started in high school,” Matt replied, “but I didn’t do much about it until I was in college.  I was a sophomore in college when my parents were killed in a car crash.  I was an only child, so naturally, everything went to me.  I sold the house that Mom and Dad lived in and used that money and a little bit more to put down on this farm.  I invested the rest of the money and made a little here and there.  I met Shelly after my freshman year and she was just about to start college.

“In high school I began reading worst-case scenario books and articles about the end of the world.  I began subscribing to magazines on survivalism and self-defense.  My friends thought I had gone crazy and most of them made sure not to mention anything about it out of fear that I would start a rant.  I tried talking to a few people about it, but no one was interested beyond the romantic idea of living off the land in a cave somewhere, wearing animal hides for clothing.  They thought that sounded “cool.”  I was into the more practical aspect of it, such as where would I go if any or all of this actually happened.  Of course in high school, I had no way of having a place to go.  Mom and Dad indulged my new passion, to an extent.  Dad would buy a copy of a magazine I was wanting, to see if it would be okay for me to read.  If it was, then he would let me subscribe.  If not, then he would tell me, and I’d go look for another one.  The main thing he was looking for was foul language and obvious pie-in-the-sky thinking.  Neither one of my parents ever put me down or made fun of me for being interested in the subject.”

Matt paused to refill his coffee cup and to light a cigar.  “Shelly and I waited until we both graduated to get married.  She took an instant interest in the same subject that I was so passionate about.  She never once thought I was crazy.  During college, there were more people who were somewhat interested in the doomsday scenario, but they were like the ones in high school with the caves and animal hides.  I talked with different people, and we began to have regular meetings.  After a while, the group whittled down to Shelly, Rondell, Melinda, Lonnie, Alexis, Frank, Mary, and myself.  Everybody else decided that they had more important things to worry about, such as how to get the kind of job to buy that fancy sports car or the expensive house up on Snob Hill.”

Rondell spoke up while Matt sat thinking about those days.  “Matt was the only one to have the same girlfriend all through college.  The rest of us guys had three or four girls break up with us during that time before we found ones that would stick around.  Although we all have different degrees, we all had the same interest in what might, and probably would, happen.  Lonnie here has a degree in drafting and design.  To look at him, though, you’d never know it.” 

Marge looked at Lonnie and smiled, remembering a conversation the two of them had a year ago.  Rondell continued.  “Lonnie was an avid outdoorsman, and he’s always been hairy, so we called him at different times Sasquatch, Bigfoot, or Bruin.”  Rondell paused before continuing.  “Alexis was studying conservation, and we called her Tree Hugger.”  They all smiled.  By that time, Frank had rejoined the group.  “Frank there,” Rondell said, “has a degree in finance.  Do you remember, Frank, who first started calling you Bean Counter?”

“I think maybe it was Joey Bondanella, but I’m not for certain.”

“Anyway,” said Rondell, “we all come from different walks of life, but we all had this in common.”  He swept his arm in a wide circle.  “And now we have more friends, who are now family, to share it with.”

“Over the years,” Matt said, picking up the narrative, “we all contributed to the upkeep and stocking of the place.  We all bought supplies and brought them here.  If one couldn’t make it, money was sent to buy their share.  Everybody pitched in.  And now, we’re reaping the fruits of our labors.  With friends to share them with.”

Joe Kitchner drained his coffee cup and threw his cigar butt into the fire.  “I’m going to go hunting so we can enjoy some more labor fruits.”  He went inside and gathered his pistol belt, bow, arrows, and his ever-present sword.  He was headed toward the barn to saddle his stallion when Emma joined him.

“Be careful, Joe,” she said.

“I will, don’t worry.”

A few hours later, Kitchner returned with a large deer across his saddle.  He dismounted and motioned Matt over to him.

“I saw some tracks today,” Kitchner said.

“Human tracks?”

“Yeah, and they didn’t belong to any of us.”

“How many people?”

“Three.  I couldn’t tell what they were up to, but I think we need to be a lot more careful and a lot more alert from now on.”

“I agree,” said Matt.

Just then, a loud scream was heard.

Chapter 5

Shelly came running out of the house followed by several others.  “What in the world was that?” she asked.

“It sounded like a woman screaming, but it also sounded like a cougar, or mountain lion,” Kitchner replied.

“We have cougars in Michigan?” Pug asked.

“There have been sightings,” said Matt, “and they’ve been getting more often over the last few years.  From time to time, piles of scat have tested positive as being cougar.  If it is a cougar, it’s probably just passing through, but it could be actually from here.  Last I knew, the closest cougar populations were in North and South Dakota, but they’ve been multiplying here again.  Or, it could have belonged to someone who let it go.”

“You mean a pet?” Pug asked.

“Some people have kept cougars and other large cats as pets, so yeah, I mean a pet.”

“Why on earth would someone want to keep a cougar for a pet?”

“Probably for the same reason someone would keep a wolf,” Kitchner said.  “They like the idea of having a wild animal for a pet.”

.”Well, until we figure out what, or who, screamed like that, nobody goes anywhere alone or unarmed,” said Matt.

Everybody dispersed while Matt and Joe worked on the deer.  “Now we have two problems to worry about,” said Joe.  “Strangers on the property and a possible mountain lion.”

“If people are crossing the property to get somewhere else, that’s one thing.  But if they’re scoping us out, that’s different.  Since you and Lonnie are the best trackers, why don’t you two go out tonight and find a secluded spot?  When it starts to get light, see if you can find which direction they’ve gone.”

“Sounds good,” said Joe.

“I’ll go tell Lonnie myself,” Matt said.

“Okay, and I’ll grab a few things to take.”

The rest of the day passed fairly normally.  Chores were done, lesson plans were worked on for the coming “school year,” and kids ran around and played.  When the gate was closed for the night, Matt mentioned to Frank about the tracks Joe came across.

“Let’s not open the gate tomorrow morning,” Matt said, “until we determine whether they’re friendly or not.  Joe and Lonnie are going to go track them.”

“Okay, when?”

“They’ll leave out tonight and find a spot to sit.  In the morning, they’ll find the tracks and see where they lead.  If it turns out that it’s just a group passing through, we’ll open the gate again.  But until then, we’ll leave it closed and keep the horses in the barn and corral.”

The adults did the usual sitting around after supper with tea, coffee, and cigars while the kids ran around and played until dark.  Eddie sat with them and drank a cup of coffee.  Amy wasn’t too far away, and was ready to bring him anything he needed.  After midnight, Matt, Lonnie, and Joe told their wives where they were going.  Matt was going in order to close the gate behind Lonnie and Joe.  The two had filled small daypacks with jerky, water, and extra ammunition.  They each carried a bow, a quiver full of arrows, and a .45.  Joe had his sword and Lonnie had his big Bowie knife.

Lonnie and Joe crept through the woods as quiet as ghosts.  Neither one of them made a sound.  They each found a tree to climb up into and spend the night.  The only sounds they heard were the usual night woods sounds.  They were awake the next morning just as dawn was breaking.  Joe led them to where he had come across the tracks the day before.  The tracks meandered somewhat, but in general led in a straight line toward the west fence.  Lonnie and Joe followed them slowly.  They reached the fence an hour later where the tracks kept going in the westerly direction.  Satisfied that the people were just passing through, Lonnie and Joe headed back to the house.

Lonnie called out when they got back to the pole fence and Matt let them in.  After hearing about the group, Matt left the gate open.

“There was a man with what I’m guessing was a wife and child,” Lonnie said.  “Judging from his stride, he’s about six feet tall.  He’s either a heavy man, or he’s carrying quite a load, because his tracks were deep.  The other two sets were smaller and the footprints closer together.”

“Then they either didn’t know we were here,” said Matt, “or they were in a hurry to get somewhere.  Either way, they’re gone now.”  He turned to Lonnie.  “I’m going to go into town and see if there’s something there that we can trade some of these hides for.  I’d like for you to go, too, if you would.  We’re getting low on coffee, salt, and sugar.  There may not be any more coffee to be found anywhere around here, but it’s worth a shot.  I’d also like to see if there are any more cigars or maybe some pipe tobacco. I’m wondering if anyone has tried putting some of the old steam locomotives back into service.  That would be one way of transporting goods.  That, and a new take on the old wagon trains.”

“Sure, I’ll go.  When are you going?”

“I’ll be going after lunch.  I want to see what they have before hauling those hides into town, possibly for nothing.”

While they waited for lunch, Max practiced his knife throwing.  Kitchner had started teaching him the year before, and Max was getting really good at it.  Matt and Lonnie checked their pistols to make sure they were in good working order.  Matt went over his .45-.70 and Lonnie checked his AR-15.  After lunch was eaten, the two men saddled up and headed for town.  Matt’s rifle was in the saddle boot while Lonnie’s was slung across his back.  They both rested a hand on their thigh within easy reach of the pistol they carried; Matt’s Desert Eagle .50, and Lonnie’s Kimber .45.

When they got to town, Matt led them to the mayor’s office, hoping there would be items in town that could be traded for.  Mayor Jim Whitely greeted them with a handshake and a smile.

“What can I do for you today, Matt?”

“I was wondering if there were any supplies in town we might trade for,” Matt said.  “We’re running low on sugar, coffee, and salt.  I’m also looking for any cigars or pipe tobacco, if there is any.”

“We’ve got some of everything you mentioned” replied the mayor.  “What do you have to trade?”

“We have a large number of hides, rabbit and deer, and we can get some fresh meat.”

“Let’s go talk to the merchants here and see what they have to say.  Mort over at the general store has coffee, salt, and sugar.  Will still has a good supply, surprisingly, at his smoke shop.”

They went to the general store first.  Mort said he would trade three large cans of coffee, a four-pound bag of sugar, and a carton of salt for two deer hides and ten rabbit hides.  Will said he would trade two bundles of twenty-five cigars for two deer hides and a hindquarter.

“How about a third bundle for the hindquarter?” Matt asked.

“Done,” said Will.

“We’ll be back this afternoon with all the hides,” said Matt.  “Give us about two hours.”

When Matt and Lonnie gat back to the farm, Matt gathered the necessary hides and rolled them up in one bundle.  After they had made their trades, Matt wanted to speak with the mayor once again.  He had a couple of ideas about how to open up lines of trade with other communities in the area, and maybe ones further out as time went by.  They talked for several minutes about Matt’s ideas, and Mayor Whitely said he would get the town leaders together for Matt to speak to in the next few days.

Matt thanked him and he and Lonnie headed back to the farm.  It was nearing dusk when they turned down the county road toward the farm.  Matt had just urged his horse into a trot when something jumped out of the underbrush at them.  Matt’s horse reared and almost threw him.  Lonnie’s horse was also rearing, and he couldn’t bring it under control for several long moments.  The source of the horse’s fright soon became clear.  A cougar apparently was ready to pounce when Matt sped up his horse.  The sudden change in speed had thrown off the cougar’s timing, and the claws aiming for the middle of the horse scratched the flank instead.  Lonnie got his horse under control sooner than Matt did, and pulled his .45 and fired.  The bullet struck the cougar in the shoulder, knocking it over.  Lonnie’s aim was off with the horse moving the way it was, or it would have been a more serious wound to the big cat.  The wounded cougar was now even more dangerous than before.  Lonnie fired again.  Somehow, he managed to hit the cat in the head.  Matt had finally gotten his horse under control, and both animals were anxious to get home to the safety of their stalls.

When Matt and Lonnie got back to the farm, Matt took his horse to the corral to treat its wounds.  He snubbed the horse up to the railing and pinned it with the corral gate.  He cleaned the scratch marks on the horse’s rump and applied medicated ointment before putting her in the stall.

Over supper, Matt told about his plans to speak with the mayor and town leaders about the possibility of opening some trade lines with other communities.  Matt’s group had already talked about it among themselves, so it wasn’t news to anyone.  What was news, though, was the cougar attack.

“I thought they were gone from Michigan,” said Pug.

“They pretty much were at one time,” Matt replied, “but apparently they’ve made a comeback.  That must be what we heard the other night, the scream that sounded like a woman.  Everybody will need to stay sharp and alert from now on.  For anyone who doesn’t know, cougars are also known as mountain lions, it just depends on where you’re from.”

After supper, while it was still light, Matt sat down with a state map and thought about what communities might be interested in starting trade routes.  He was pretty sure East Tawas would be open to the idea.  He wondered about other towns along US Highway 23, and how many would be open to it.  If he were to guess, he would say that they would be, given that they were probably running very low on a lot of supplies, if they hadn’t run out completely.  After he spoke with Mayor Whitely, he would travel to East Tawas and talk to John Briggs.  One could only hope that others would be open to the idea.  It was probably going to be many years before things got even remotely close to what they were before the blackout.

“Who are you thinking about talking to, hon?” Shelly asked.  She had refilled his coffee cup and saw the markings on his map. 

“So far, I’ve got Oscoda, East Tawas and Tawas City, Alabaster, Delano, and Au Gres to the south.  Going north here,” he used his pen as a pointer, “I have Greenbush, Harrisville, Black River, Spruce, Ossineke, and Alpena, for starters.  I think after I talk with them, I’ll go to work on getting some of the more-inland towns involved.”

“Such as…?”

“Such as Mikado, Lincoln, Barton City, and Hubbard Lake.  It will take a lot of time to cover all that territory and talk to the necessary people.  But the more people we can get involved, the better it will be for everyone.”

Shelly cupped Matt’s face in her hands and kissed him.  “You’re a good man, Matthew Blaine.  I know you’ll do well.  If no one listens to you, then you did all you could.”

“Thank you, Shelly.  I appreciate that.”

“So when do you meet with the mayor again?”

“Day after tomorrow.  He’ll have told the others in town of the meeting by then.  Hopefully, they’ll listen.  I have Lonnie working on some new wagon plans to show everybody at the various meetings.”  Matt drained his coffee cup.  “One more cup and I think I’ll go to bed.”

Matt poured another cup of coffee and stepped out on the porch.  As he was lighting a cigar, Lonnie and Joe joined him.  Lonnie told Matt that he had the new plans halfway done; he would be finished with them tomorrow.  They talked about the trade plans, the future, and the past.

“It’s hard to believe that it’s been a year since the fit hit the shan,” Joe said.  “It’s gone by fast.  Who would have thought that we’d be sitting here living like the Old West?”  He looked at Matt and Lonnie.  “Oh, wait, you did.  If someone had told me two years ago that we would be in this situation, I would have laughed in their face.  I’m sure not laughing now.”

They talked for a few more minutes before Matt crushed out his cigar.  “I will see you guys in the morning.  I’m going to bed.”

Chapter 6

The next morning began as usual.  Chores were done and the ladies got breakfast fixed and served.  Matt worked on his presentation to the leaders of whichever towns they went to.  Lonnie finished working on his wagon plans.  Joe went hunting and took Max with him.  Frank and Pug went hunting, too, but in a different direction.  Eddie was still mending from his tree-trimming accident, so he hung around the house and barn doing light work.  Whenever he needed something, Amy was usually close at hand to bring it to him.  While Amy still spent some time with the babies, Kara and Tonya did more so.

“Matt,” Shelly called out as she approached.  “What would you think of everybody going to town tomorrow?  The kids would like to go to the lake and go swimming.”

“It’s okay with me, but nobody goes anywhere alone or unarmed.  There are still plenty of bad people out there.  I’ll have Lonnie with me, and I think I’ll take Joe, too, but I want everybody else to stay together.”

“Okay.  I’ll let them know.”

The two hunting parties returned with two deer and several rabbits and squirrels.  Bows and crossbows were used as much as possible to conserve ammunition as well as to not draw too much attention to their location.  Joe and Frank strung the deer up to drain while Pug and Max did the same with the smaller animals.  When they were sufficiently drained, Lonnie and Joe skinned them and Eddie put the hides in buckets of water.  The animals were then gutted, butchered, and put into the freezers.  Rabbit stew and squirrel kabobs were on the menu for lunch.  Melinda was always coming up with a new marinade recipe to experiment with.  Some were winners, some not so much.

As preparations were made for the next day, Matt began to wonder about the feasibility of his plan.  He began to wonder if he could even pull it off.

“Am I biting off more than I can chew?” he asked Lonnie.

“You know, Matt,” Lonnie replied, “a wise man once said that the man who thinks he can and the man who thinks he can’t are both right.”

Matt smiled.  Lonnie had been his best friend since college, and could always be counted on to disperse little tidbits of wisdom when needed.  Matt’s favorites were “Time flies like the wind; fruit flies like bananas,” and “No matter where you go, there you are.”

After a supper of venison backstrap and garden vegetables, Matt, Lonnie, and Joe once again made sure their rifles and pistols were in good working order.  Joe sharpened the throwing knife he kept in a sheath underneath the back of his shirt collar.  He also made sure his hunting knife was shaving sharp.  He was asked one time why he was always sharpening his knives.  He answered rather simplistically that it did no good to carry a dull knife.  Lonnie ran the blade of his large Bowie over a stone and razor strop.  Shelly, Marge, and Emma packed their men’s saddlebags with jerky and extra ammunition, and filled their canteens.  If all went well tomorrow, and if there was enough time, Matt wanted to go talk to Greenbush’s town officials concerning his plan.  After the usual nightly ritual of tea, coffee and cigars, and the kids playing ‘til dark, final inspections were made on gear before everyone called it a night.

Matt lay there in the dark staring toward the ceiling.  “What are you thinking about?” Shelly asked him.

“How did you know I was awake?” he asked her.

“I’ve been married to you long enough to know when you’re awake or asleep.  So, what are you thinking about?”

“I asked Lonnie today if he thought I was up to what I have planned.  ‘Biting off more than I can chew’ was the phrase I used.”

“And what did he say?”

“He told me that the man who thinks he can and the man who thinks he can’t are both right.”

“And he’s right.  If you think you can do this, then you can.  Actually, I know you can.  I have faith in you, honey.  You’ll do just fine.”  She leaned over and kissed him.  “Good-night, baby.  Don’t worry about tomorrow.”

“Good-night.  And thank you.”

The party of four bedded down for the night.  It had been a long and rough day, not to mention a long and rough journey.  The man, as strong as he was, was showing the wear and tear of the trip.  The woman and two children were even worse off.  The only thing that kept them all going was the fact that they would reach their destination in a day or two.  He had unsaddled and watered their three horses; the children rode double.  They were all asleep as soon as they lay down.

Chapter 7

Matt was up the next morning just as the eastern sky was beginning to lighten.  The obligatory coffee pot was brewing over the fire pit.  When Shelly came outside to get the breakfast fire going, Matt was sitting there holding his cup and staring off into space.

“Trying to solve all the world’s problems?” Shelly asked.

“Not all of them,” he answered.  “Just some of them.”

“If anyone can do it, you can.”

“I appreciate your faith in me.”

The coffee finished brewing as the others came outside a few at a time.  Everybody poured a cup, and another pot was started.  Melinda and Emma came outside to help Shelly with breakfast.  Megan carried a platter of deer steaks in one hand, and Ronnie in the other.

“Why is all the cooking done outside when there’s electricity inside to use?” Megan asked.

“Because we don’t use the air conditioning very much,” said Shelly, “it gets too hot inside to do any cooking.  When the weather starts cooling off, we’ll start cooking inside again, just like last fall and winter.”

“Okay.  I was just wondering.  Besides, meals cooked on a wood stove just seem to taste better anyway.”

“Oh, I agree wholeheartedly.  And meats roasted in an oven don’t even compare to those roasted over a fire.”

After breakfast the three men saddled up and headed to town.  They went straight to Mayor Whitely’s office.  The mayor was the only one there at the moment.

“The others will be along directly,” the mayor said.  “We’ve still got fifteen minutes before the meeting starts.”

When the town council was all present, Matt began his pitch.  He outlined where he thought trade routes could be started at first, then others added later.  He asked about what items might be produced around Oscoda or Au Sable that could be used for trade.  He had Lonnie show the council his plans for freight wagons and how to build them.  Joe was there to suggest a group of armed guards accompany the new freight wagon trains, at least for a time.  The existing roads would be used; there was no need for any trailblazers.  First, though, a group of volunteers would be needed to clear the roads of all vehicles.  If nothing else, they simply needed to be pushed off the road to make room for the wagons.  Preferably, the main lanes cleared as if cars were still driving.

The mayor and council were in favor of Matt’s plan, but they would need to get with people in town to see what there might be to trade with.  Matt thanked them for their time, and then he, Lonnie, and Joe headed for Greenbush, twelve miles away.  Matt made his presentation to the people of Greenbush, who all embraced it wholeheartedly.  They even volunteered to send someone else to towns to the north to spread the word.  Matt thanked them for their willingness and enthusiasm.  Matt decided to go ahead and try talking to the people of Mikado before heading home.  He wondered how the other communities would feel about the idea.  He thought they would be interested, because at the moment, there was no trade going on among the communities in the area, just the locals trading with each other.

When they were about halfway between Greenbush and Mikado, a man stepped out of the woods holding a shotgun.

“Hold it right there, gentlemen,” he said.  “I’ll be taking your weapons and horses.”

Joe Kitchner scratched the back of his head.  “I’m curious,” he said.

“What are you curious about, Pops?” the man asked.

“What I’m curious about, Sonny, is why a man would bring a gun to a knife fight.”  Suddenly Joe’s hand shot forward and his throwing knife seemed to magically appear, sticking out of the man’s throat.  The man’s shotgun went off harmlessly into the ground as he fell dead.  Joe dismounted and retrieved his knife.  After wiping it off on the dead man’s shirt, he also took the shotgun, a knife, and several shotgun shells off the body.  Joe remounted and they took off for Mikado without another look back.

Chapter 8

Matt, Lonnie, and Joe got back to the farm in time for supper.  Matt said that Oscoda, Au Sable, Greenbush, and Mikado were all in favor of beginning trade lines.  Also that Greenbush would send people north to talk to others about it.  No one said anything about their encounter on the road with the would-be robber.  Things looked positive for Matt’s plans.  Lonnie’s wagon blueprints were well-received also, and could be built easily.  Everyone congratulated Matt on the success of his talks, and Lonnie on the reception of his wagons.  Joe’s idea for a militia-type group of armed guards was also liked by the town leaders.

The kids had a good time at the lake that day.  They got to burn off some pent-up energy, and the ladies got to lie around and do very little that day.  Rondell, Frank, Jim, Eddie, and Pug sat around also, seemingly relaxing, but ever watchful.  And armed.  Everybody went to bed earlier than usual, especially the kids.

“Maybe we should do that more often,” Shelly told Matt.  “It seems to tire them out more than usual.”

“Maybe we will,” he replied.  Soon, everyone was dead to the world.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking.  Please fasten your seatbelts.  Your flight attendants will show you what to do in case of an emergency.  We will be cruising at an altitude of thirty-five thousand feet today, and we will be flying nonstop to Denver.  There will be a two-hour layover before we head to Chicago.  Everybody will deplane there and catch their connecting flights to their respective destinations.  We thank you for flying TransAir, and we hope you enjoy your flight.”

The 737 taxied onto the runway, and the captain was granted permission to take off.  The airliner rolled down the runway, gaining speed rapidly.  The front landing gear left the ground, followed almost immediately by the rear.  One hundred feet off the ground, there was an explosion.  Half of the right wing disintegrated in a ball of flame, and the 737 plunged toward the earth.  Mary Marshall hugged her two children to her as the ground rushed up to meet them.

Frank awoke in a cold sweat, unable to choke back the scream building in his throat.  Matt opened the door to Frank’s room and stuck his head in.

“May I come in?” Matt asked.

“Yeah.”  It was barely a whisper.

“Same nightmare as before?”

Frank nodded, his face buried in his hands.

“I think you need to take something to help you sleep more heavily.  You can have either a synthetic sleeping pill, or you can take a couple of shots of this natural bourbon we keep for medicinal purposes.  Your choice.”

“Give me the bourbon.”  Frank tossed back a double shot and sat with his head in his hands.  “I don’t know how much more of this I can take, Matt.  I feel like I’m going to go crazy.”  His eyes welled with tears.  “I just miss my family.”

“I know you do, buddy.  I am so sorry.”

“I know.  Thanks.”  Frank lay back and closed his eyes.  Matt took his cue and went back to his and Shelly’s room.

“Is he okay?” Shelly asked.

“Not really,” said Matt.  “He took a double shot of bourbon to help him sleep.  I just wish there was some way I could help.”

“You are helping.  You’re there for him when he needs a friend.”

“I know, but I wish I could do more.”

“And I’m sure that Lonnie and Rondell feel the same way as you do,” Shelly replied.  “But what else is there to do?  Realistically.”

“Realistically, nothing, I suppose.  Unrealistically, I could go searching for them.”

“And what do you think your chances of finding them would be?”

“A snowball’s chance.”

“Exactly.  If you did happen to find them, that would be a miracle in itself.  Besides, how long do you think it would take you to get to Seattle?”

“Probably a year or more, depending on the weather and other problems.”

“Exactly.  There’s really nothing more you can do than what you’re already doing.”

“Deep down, I know that.  I just….”

“I know, hon.  You men are fixers, and this is something you can’t fix.”  She kissed his cheek.  “Try to get some more sleep.”

“I will.  Good-night, sweetheart.”

Chapter 9

Mannie and Garvin Mixon asked their dad if Max Blaine could teach them to throw a knife.  They had been watching, but were afraid to ask for fear of being told “no.”  Rondell thought about it and said it would be okay as long as there was an adult present.  The two boys ran to tell Max the news.  Max started them off by showing them the proper way to hand someone a knife: handle first, cutting edge away from the hand.  Max asked Joe to supervise first in order to make sure Max was teaching Mannie and Garvin correctly.

Frank was at his usual place at the palisade gate looking down the drive.  He went to the garden and began weeding, picking the vegetables that were ready.  Frank had been working the garden for half an hour when he heard the sound of hooves, but didn’t think too much of it.  He then heard someone call his name.

“Frank?”  A woman’s voice.

Frank froze.  He slowly stood up and turned around, afraid of what he would, or wouldn’t, see.  He felt dizzy and his vision swam for a few seconds.  Standing at the gate were his wife Mary, his children Jeremiah and Beth, and a man he didn’t recognize.  Frank stood rooted to the spot.  He felt that if he moved, the mirage would disappear.

“Dad!” Jeremiah and Beth yelled in unison.  Frank finally found the strength to move.  He ran to the gate as fast as he could possibly move.  He grabbed his family in one big embrace and cried as he held them.  The other man stood off a short distance in silence.  When Frank finally managed to let his family go, Mary turned toward the man with them.

“Frank, this is James Wilson, a friend of Mother and Dad’s from church.  He brought us here.”

Frank walked over to James and gave him a hug.  “James, I can never repay you for what you’ve done for my family and me.  I owe you everything I have.”

“No sir, you don’t.  But a bath, a hot meal, and a bed to sleep in would be nice.”

“Anything you want that I have, and it’s yours,” said Frank.  As they walked toward the house, Frank called out.  “Matt!  Lonnie!  Rondell!  Come on out here!”

Everybody came running from wherever they had been.  Shelly and Melinda stopped short when they saw Mary and the children.  They ran over and they all laughed and hugged and cried.  Frank introduced James to the others.

“James,” Matt said, “we cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done.  If there’s anything we can do, you just let us know.  If it’s feasible, we’ll do it.  Anything at all, you just name it.”

“Thank you, but like I mentioned to Frank, I sure could use a bath, a hot meal, and a bed.”

“Done,” said Matt.  “The house is solar-powered, so go ahead and go take a shower.  Lonnie can show you where everything is.  You look about my size.  Shelly, go get a set of clean clothes for him to wear while his are being washed, please.”

Lonnie and Shelly took James inside to show him where everything was.  Half an hour later, they came back out.  All questions were saved until they were all together.  Lonnie introduced Marge and Lilian to Mary and the kids.  Mary looked at Lonnie with teary eyes.

“I’m so glad you found someone.”  Turning to Marge, she said, “It’s going to be a full time job keeping him and Eddie out of trouble.  You know that, don’t you?”

“Tell me about it,” Marge said laughing.

Mary turned to Shelly.  “Is there somewhere we can get cleaned up, too?  I can’t remember the last time we had a bath.”

“Most definitely.  Take your time.  I’ll show you where everything is and Frank’s room.”

Pug and Jim Hartley shared a room, and one of the beds was loaned to James to sleep on for the night.  Pug volunteered to sleep on the couch that night.  After Mary and the kids finished cleaning up, Shelly showed them to Frank’s room.

“All four of you look like you’re about to drop where you stand.  Go lie down and sleep until you wake up.  It will not be a problem.”

Mary, Jeremiah, and Beth all climbed up on Frank’s queen-size bed and were immediately asleep.  James was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.  Everybody else kept the noise to a minimum, but considering the shape the four were in, a canon going off beside their beds would not have awakened them.

Chapter 10

Mary, Jeremiah, and Beth Marshall, and James Wilson all slept the rest of the day and all night.  They barely even moved.  When Frank went to bed that night, he simply spread a pallet on the floor and slept there.

When everybody made it outside in the morning, Mary, Jeremiah, Beth, and James were all looking refreshed and rested.  Their color was coming back, too.  Coffee was brewed and breakfast was served.  Matt offered James a cigar; he declined.  Matt, Lonnie, Joe, and Pug all lit one while everybody settled in to hear the story of the journey from Seattle, Washington, to Oscoda, Michigan.

“As I mentioned, James is a friend of Mother and Dad’s from church.  When he heard our situation, he offered to bring us here.  He’s single, and his brother and sister are in Seattle to take care of their parents.  James owned a sporting goods store, so he had access to some of the things we were going to need.  A friend of his owned a riding stable, and he gave us four horses, one of which we used as a packhorse.  We set out following the interstate, because we figured it would be the easiest way to go.  We could not believe the number of cars, trucks, and semis dead in the middle of the road.  It was tougher going than we thought it would be.  We lost our packhorse in Montana.  She broke a leg and James had to put her down.  He asked at the next ranch that we came to if we could buy or trade for two horses.  The rancher said we could have one horse for each night that he could spend with me.”

Frank suddenly got angry.  “What happened?” he interrupted.

“James pistol-whipped him and we left,” Mary replied.

“I hope you didn’t think that I was implying…”

“No, I didn’t think anything of the sort.  It’s okay.”  She paused before continuing her narrative.  “We had to stop for the winter in North Dakota.  We found a family that was willing to let us stay with them.  When things finally thawed out, we were able to head this way again.  Crossing the mountains was bad enough, but the roving gangs robbing everyone they could were worse.  I’m just glad that we finally made it.  If it weren’t for James, we wouldn’t have.  And we never did get another packhorse.  After a while, there wasn’t much point.  We just distributed what gear we had among the three horses we had left.”

Matt turned to James.  “So what are you plans now?” he asked.

“I really don’t know right now,” James answered.  “I’m not really looking forward to making that trip again real soon.”

“If you want to, you can stay with us for as long as you need to, or if not, there’s probably any number of houses in town to choose from.  There are a lot of empty ones.”  Matt held up a hand.  “I’m not trying to get you to stay in town, that’s not what I’m saying.  You can stay here, the other was just a suggestion.”

“I just might go looking in town, but I’d like a few days to rest up if I could.”

“Hey, take as long as you need,” Matt replied.  “What’s ours is yours.”

“What about Jack and Mandy?” Frank asked Mary.

“They had a lot of people from church band together and move into one large building.  Some of the people they went to church with were like us, preparing for disasters.  They’re safe.  When it happened, they told me about James, and that I should come home.”  Mary paused to catch her breath.  “We stopped by the house first to see if you were still there or not.  Jeremiah and Beth both noticed right off that her favorite stuffed animal was missing, and his wolf knife wasn’t on the wall.”

Frank smiled.  “I brought them with me, along with our wedding album and other photos.  I’m glad to know that your parents are taken care of.”

Mary and James told other parts of their year-long trip, some good, some harrowing.  Lunch was served while the story was still being told.  By the time it was finished, it was almost time to start getting supper ready.  The Blaine and Mixon kids decided to forego playing and listened to the story, interjecting a question now and then.

Matt stood up and stretched.  “While supper is being fixed, I’m going to go check the traps and snares.  It’ll be what, forty-five minutes before it’s ready?” he asked Shelly.

“About that,” she replied.

“Okay, I’ll be back later.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Lonnie.  “I need to stretch my legs.  Been sitting too long.”

They returned half an hour later with six rabbits.  Lonnie took them away from the food area and hung them up to drain.  After supper, he skinned and gutted them and put the hides in water to be tanned later.  The meat was wrapped and put in the freezer.

“How about rabbit and dumplings for lunch tomorrow?” Matt asked Shelly.  “You know, since we don’t have any chickens.”

“Okay, sounds good to me,” she answered.  “What are your plans for tomorrow?”

“Mayor Whitely said there’s a man in town who can help Lonnie build some wagons.  Name’s Luther Braun, and he used to build houses at one time.  If he can build a house, a freight wagon shouldn’t be too much of a challenge.  Lonnie and I were going to go talk to him.”  Matt puffed his cigar.  “I wonder when we might hear from Greenbush as to whether others north of them will want to get involved with the trade routes or not.”

“I suppose all we can do is wait,” Shelly said.  “When are you going to start taking Max with you on your trips?”

“I’ve been thinking about that.  I’ll probably take him with me tomorrow.”

“It will do him a lot of good to go with you and learn about what you’re doing.”

“Yeah, he’s gotten really good at hunting, fishing, and throwing that knife of his, but he also needs to stay up on his social skills.”

“That’s important for anybody, but especially the young ones.  I know he would like to be involved with what you’re doing.”

“I’ll go have a talk with him.”

Max was excited at the prospect of going with Matt, and getting involved with his dad’s idea.  It made him feel accepted, feel that his dad was entrusting something important with him.  After Matt talked with him, Max floated three inches off the ground.

Chapter 11

After breakfast the next morning, Matt, Lonnie, and Max got ready to head into town.  They all made sure that their rifles and pistols were in good working order before leaving.  Jerky, biscuits, and water were packed for lunch.  When the three got to the mayor’s office, Luther Braun was there already.  Lonnie showed him the plans for the freight wagons.  Luther nodded as Lonnie pointed out various aspects.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to use stuff already built?” Max asked.  “Like maybe a school bus or something?”

“I thought about that, Max,” Lonnie said, “but those would be too heavy and ungainly.  We need something shorter, lighter-weight, and easier to maneuver.”  He tousled Max’s hair.  “But thank you for the input.  I’m glad to see you take an interest.”

“How old are you, Max?” Luther asked.

“I’m thirteen, sir.”

“Have you seined yourself up a girlfriend yet?”

“Sir?” Max asked with a confused look on his face.

“A seining net is used by folks to catch minnows or small fish to use for bait,” Luther explained.

“Oh.  No, sir, I haven’t,” Max replied.

“Sir,” said Luther.  “I like that.  It’s good for youngsters to have manners.  Too many these days ain’t got ‘em.”

“That is so true,” said Matt.  “His mother and I have made sure that he and his sister were taught manners.”

“That’s good,” Luther said.  “Now, about these wagon plans.  Where do you propose we get the lumber for ‘em?”

“Well,” Matt replied, “I wanted to talk to Mayor Whitely about using wood from some of the abandoned houses around here.”

“That would prob’ly work.  There’s two-by-fours, two-by-sixes, and plywood.  I don’t see why the mayor would have a problem with that.”

“I’d like to talk to him about that now, if I could,” said Matt.

“Why don’t you do that while Lonnie and me go over these plans some more?”

When Matt laid out his plan to Mayor Whitely, the mayor was all for it.  “Tell you what, Matt.  I’ll have some men go through town and mark some houses with yellow tape that would be okay to use.  We’ve been talking about tearing some of those houses down anyway.  Especially the ones that are eyesores.  You’re welcome to them.”

“Thank you, Mayor.  I appreciate that.  Just let me know when the first one’s marked, and as soon as we can, we’ll get started tearing it down.  What do you want done with the shingles and wire and whatnot?”

“We’ll probably just dig holes and bury everything that we can’t use at some point in the future.  Just leave the trash in piles and some of the men in town will take care of it.  Matter of fact, I know of a house right now that you can start with, the Paxon’s place.”  He pointed the place out on a map.  “They left town right after the blackout, and I don’t expect them back.  He had family somewhere else.”

“Okay, thank you.”  Matt went back to where Lonnie and Max were with Luther.  “We got permission to tear down some houses for materials.  The mayor’s going to have someone mark the houses we can use.  The first one we’ll start on is the Paxon’s house.”

“I know where that is,” said Luther.  “When do you want to get started?”

“In the morning,” said Matt.  “That way, we can bring a few more people into town to work on it.”

“That’ll work,” said Luther.  “See you tomorrow, then.”

When Matt, Max, and Lonnie got back home, Matt told everyone the plan.  “So tomorrow,” he said, “I’ll need some of you to go into town with us to start on that first house.  Any volunteers?”

It was decided that everyone would go into town.  Something would be found for most everyone to do.  Lunch was eaten, and everyone went about doing his or her own thing until supper.  After supper, baths and showers were taken, and the kids put to bed.  Megan sat on the couch, holding Ronnie.  She was about to fall asleep, so Pug asked if she would like him to hold the baby for a while.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully.

Megan watched as Pug sat with Ronnie.  She noticed how gentle Pug was with Ronnie, and wondered why Tyler couldn’t have been more like him.  Pug was attentive and thoughtful, and often asked if she needed help with Ronnie.  After the way Tyler had treated her, she had a strong distrust of men, as far as relationships were concerned.  Not that anyone could blame her, of course.  Her presumed late husband had forced her off the boat he had stolen from the Mixons, and her being about to give birth.  Tyler was presumed dead, because the Mixon’s sailboat was found beached after a harsh storm with no one aboard.  She had lately begun to see Pug in a different light.  He was not the least bit pushy toward her, and he seemed to genuinely enjoy holding and playing with Ronnie.

James Wilson would help on the house for a while tomorrow before talking to Mayor Whitely about moving into one of the abandoned houses in town.  Plans were settled upon and everyone went to bed.

Chapter 12

Lunch fixings, water jugs, and some tools were loaded into the wagon while breakfast was being fixed.  After the dishes were washed and put away, most of the kids climbed into the wagon.  Rondell drove the wagon with Melinda beside him.  The rest of the adults and Max rode their horses.  Matt went straight to the Paxon place where Luther was already waiting.

“Been waiting long?” Matt asked as he dismounted.

“About ten minutes, I think.”  He checked his old pocket watch.  “Yeah, ten minutes.”

“Shelly,” said Matt, “why don’t you and the other ladies take the kids across the street to play in the park for a while?  There’s really nothing for them to do right now, not until we get this roof torn off.”

Women and children went across the street while some of the men climbed up on the roof.  The others went inside and began tearing sheetrock off the walls.  Matt started at the bottom left corner of his side of the roof and began pulling the shingles toward the upper right-hand corner.  The warm July morning let the shingles come up like that, and it allowed him to tear off large chunks at a time.  Lonnie did the same thing on the other side of the straight-gable roof.  Pug had grabbed a shovel and was at work popping loose the ridge row.  Frank pulled up the shingles that Pug loosened and threw them off onto the ground.  Max dragged the large sections of shingles into a pile and threw the smaller pieces on top.  When the roof was down to the plywood, the men used their hammers to pull the roofing nails.  When that was all done, the plywood was removed sheet by sheet, until the rafters were exposed.  Inside the house, most of the sheetrock was off the walls and ceiling.

“Let’s save all the wiring, light switches, and other electrical items,” said Matt as he descended the ladder.  “We’ll save everything that might be of some use in the future.  If the carpet’s still good, roll it up and set it aside.  Appliances can be set aside, too.  I’ll ask Mayor Whitely about those later.”  He glanced at Luther.  “If it were up to me, I’d put all this stuff in a warehouse somewhere.  One just never knows when it might be of some use.”

“Yeah,” Luther replied, “I think I’d do that, too.”

“Alright, guys,” Matt called.  “Let’s take a break before we start the clean-out.”

After a thirty minute break, everybody got to work.  When it was done, there were piles of shingles, sheetrock, linoleum, and bathroom tile waiting to be buried.  Copper wiring and appliances were set aside to ask Mayor Whitely about.  Matt and Lonnie used sheets of plywood across the ceiling joists to stand on while they took the rafters down while the siding was taken off the outside.  The roof skeleton was down in pretty short order, and the men started on the interior walls.  After a short lunch break, the rest of the interior and exterior studs were taken down.  Every possible nail was saved, with the crooked ones being hammered straight.  The boards were separated by length and width and set on blocks off the ground.  Windows and doors were also saved for future use.  Light switches and electrical outlets were all thrown into a bucket and put with the wire and appliances.  With twenty-two people working, they had the house down in a day.

“I think we’ve had enough fun for one day,” Matt said as he sat down.  “Not a bad day’s work.  Luther, you did the work of two men.”

“That’s how I keep my youth,” Luther replied.  “All play and no work makes Luther an old man.”

They all said their good-byes and went their separate ways.  When Matt’s crew got back to the farm, the kids got cleaned up first and immediately went to bed; they were too tired to even play.  The adults sat around for a while talking and drinking coffee before they, too, got cleaned up and went to bed.

“We’ll start measuring and cutting the pieces for the first wagon tomorrow,” said Lonnie.  “I’ll also start taking the parts I need off of some cars and trucks.  Hopefully, I can have the first wagon built in a couple of days.”

“Sounds good,” said Matt.  “See you tomorrow.”

Chapter 13

Over the next week, Lonnie and Luther built two freight wagons with the materials from the torn-down house.  The finished wagon bodies sat up off the ground on blocks while the wheels were constructed.  Lonnie used two-by-sixes laid side by side and laminated between two sheets of plywood.  It was tough going with a hand saw, but he got the wheels cut out a little over three feet across.  He then nailed strips of tire rubber around the edges.  He used a brace with an auger bit to drill the center holes for the axels.  When the wagons were finished, all that was needed now was some livestock to pull them.

“They look kinda like those old Conestoga wagons,” said Luther, “the kind that our ancestors would have used to move cross-country in.  Except that they don’t have any covers on ‘em.”

“They are similar,” agreed Lonnie, “with a few modifications.  As for the covers, we’ll find some material for that later.”

“Yeah, great-great-grandpa wouldn’t have had rubber tires on his,” Luther replied.  “Course, they didn’t have paved roads to travel on, neither.”

Lonnie picked up the wagon tongue and walked side to side with it.  “The swivel works smoothly,” he said.  “It’ll make for easier turning.”

While Lonnie and Luther had been working on the wagons, Matt took Max and Joe with him to talk to John Briggs down at East Tawas about trade routes.  In the last year, the people of East Tawas had decided to move back into town from the encampment they had set up when the blackout first happened.  While their encampment had provided relative safety, they felt like captives in a prison of their own making.  They moved back into town, but not everybody moved back into their own house.  Those who already lived close to the center of town went back to their own homes, and vacated houses were moved into by others.  That way, nobody was separated from everybody else.  Some vacant houses were torn down, starting at the outskirts and working toward the center of town.

When Matt got to East Tawas, finding the mayor’s office was easy.  There was a big sign that could be seen from several blocks away.  Matt, Max, and Joe dismounted in front of the office and went inside.  John Briggs was sitting behind a desk, looking at some pictures on the wall.

“Matt Blaine,” Briggs said when they walked in.  “What brings you back here?”

“Well,” said Matt, “I wanted to talk to you about setting up some trade routes, and maybe getting some commerce going around here again.  You remember my son Max, and Joe Kitchner, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” Briggs replied as he shook hands with them.  “Trade, huh?  What have you got in mind?”

“Corn, wheat, barley, soybeans, and oats can be grown here, and I was thinking that they could be traded for finished goods.”

“Such as?”

“Furniture, clothing, things like that.  If we could grow cotton here, that would be great, but the growing season is too short.  However, I talked with Mayor Whitely in Oscoda about getting the old steam locomotive back on the tracks and running.  If trade can be established with other places further south of here, then we could get a lot more things to trade for.”

“It sounds like a good idea to me,” Briggs said.  “Tell you what, you get enough people on board, and I think the people here will all go for it.  We haven’t been having near the problems as before with raiding parties, although there have been a few here and there.  By the way, I met your friends Frank Marshall and Lonnie Llewellyn last year.  They were three and four days behind you, respectively.  Frank and his friend Pug traveled with George and Jenna Mason.  I’m sure they’d like to know how their old friends are doing.”  He picked up his old campaign hat.  “I’ve still got this old thing.  I can’t bring myself to part with it now.  Come on, I’ll introduce you to the Masons.”

“George Mason?” Matt asked.

“Yeah, he said his parents were what he called history buffs.  His brother was the one who got shot in the leg by that sniper that Joe here shot out of the tree.  Had to amputate.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Matt said.  “How’s he doing?”

“He’s doing real good.  He started developing blood poisoning because he wouldn’t let the doctor operate until George got here.  Tony was convinced he was coming.  And it’s a good thing they got here when they did, or Tony probably would have died from that blood poisoning.  They live just a few blocks down the street.”

A few minutes later, Briggs knocked on George’s front door.  “Hey, John, what’s up?” George asked.

“This is Matt Blaine,” Briggs said, “that friend of Frank’s that I told you about.  This is his son Max, and their friend Joe Kitchner.”

“Pleased to meet you,” George said.  “Come on in.  I’d introduce you to my wife Jenna, but she’s visiting my brother and sister-in-law.  So, Matt, what brings you to our neck of the woods?”

“I was talking to Briggs about getting some trade routes started, and start reconnecting with other towns.”

“Wow.  So tell me about it.  How do you plan to accomplish this?”

“I mentioned to Briggs that I talked with our mayor about getting the old steam locomotive back on the tracks to haul trade goods.  Several grains can be grown here, not to mention livestock, and there are finished goods that can be used also.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said George.

“And we also have some wagons that our friend Lonnie designed and built to go other places that the train doesn’t.”

“Lonnie?” George asked.  “Big guy, long hair and bushy beard, and looks like a cross between Rasputin and the Wild Man from Borneo?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” Matt said, laughing.

“I shook hands with him, and afterwards wished I hadn’t.  He’s got quite a grip.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.  Anyway, we’ve been talking to people in different towns and communities about this trade plan, and most everybody sounded interested.”

“Most everybody?” George asked.

“There have been a few who aren’t interested, but they’re a small number of people that just want to keep to themselves.  Kind of a we-four-no-more mentality.”

“There’s always someone who just has to be difficult, isn’t there?” George snorted.  “But, hey, why be difficult when with just a little more effort, you can be impossible?”

“I know what you mean,” said Matt.  “One other thing I’m curious about is whether our current money is going to be used anymore.  I mean, we’ve been cut off from most everybody else in the country, so I wonder what the government is doing, such that it is.”

“Maybe someone should go to Washington and find out,” said Joe.  “Everybody there is probably still wandering around in a state of shock because they can’t get their limousine started.”  He got a mock look of despair on his face.  “Oh, horrors, they might even have to do some physical labor.”

They all got a laugh out of that.  “If you manage to get this idea of yours off the ground,” said George, “I’ll be more than happy to contribute what I can.”

Briggs walked back to his office with Matt, Max, and Joe.  “It was good to see you again, Matt.  All of you.  You folks need to come back and visit sometime.”

“Thanks,” said Matt, “we’ll do that.  I don’t know when, but we will at some point.”

“Any time, just drop in,” Briggs said.  “We’ve got places for you to stay.”

“I appreciate that.”  He shook hands with Briggs.  “We need to be heading back now, but I’ll let you know about what happens concerning our ideas.”

“You do that,” said Briggs.  “We’ll be seeing you.”

Chapter 14

As Matt, Max, and Joe walked their horses down the road toward the property gate, a dark-clad figure watched them intently from the underbrush.  The horses all pricked their ears forward and looked where the man was lying.  Neither Matt nor Joe saw anything, which was just the way the man wanted it.

“Could be a coyote,” said Joe.

“Or another cougar,” Matt replied.  They all three kicked their horses into an easy lope to get away from any possible danger.

“I found you, Matt Blaine,” the man said softly, “and you will pay for taking her away from me.  You too, soldier boy.  You will both pay dearly.  And then she will discover what real pain is.  All of you will.”

When they were out of sight, the man slowly moved backward, keeping watch on the road in case someone else came along.  No one did, and the man made his way back to his camp by the river.  He built up the fire to just big enough to heat a small pot of stew.  After he ate, he pulled a wicked-looking dagger from his boot.  Testing the sharpness against the hair on his arm, he ran it over a sharpening stone a few times.  When both edges shaved his arm, the dagger was returned to its sheath.  A Colt 1911 was next to be checked.  The man removed the magazine and ejected the round from the chamber, which he clicked into the magazine.  He field-stripped the pistol and cleaned it thoroughly.  He worked the slide and dry-fired the pistol after reassembling it.  He slapped the magazine into the butt and jacked a round into the chamber.  Engaging the safety, the man laid the pistol beside him and went to work on his high-powered rifle.  After the .308 sniper rifle was cleaned and working smoothly, he loaded it and worked the bolt to chamber a round.  The man smiled wickedly at the one hundred and eighty grain bullets he had for the rifle.  He would take immense pleasure in killing Matt, Joe, and anyone who got in his way.

The man looked over at the dead body in the brush.  “Thanks for the food, bub,” he said.  It was nothing personal with the camper.  He simply had food that his killer wanted.  The man felt not the slightest bit of remorse.  The camper was collateral damage.  He simply wanted his revenge against Matt and that soldier boy, and nothing and nobody else mattered.  The man fell asleep that night dreaming of Matt lying dead in a pool of blood.

Chapter 15

The next morning, Frank went to open the palisade gate.  He found an envelope wedged between two of the half-poles of the gate.  To whom it may concern was scrawled across the front.  Frank opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper.

Matt Blaine and his soldier friend are going to die.  It might be today, it might be tomorrow, it might be next week.  But they both will die.  And they will never see it coming.  And neither will she.  She will die, too, but long after the others.  I have special plans for her.

Frank folded the note and walked slowly back to the house.  Matt was outside pouring a cup of coffee when Frank walked by.

“Get Joe and Lonnie and come to the barn,” Frank said as he walked by.  Something in his tone told Matt not to ask any questions right now.  He told the two men quietly that Frank wanted to see them all at the barn.  Nothing was said to anyone else, and they acted as if they were simply going about their daily routine.  When they were all in the barn away from the front doors, Frank handed the envelope to Matt.  He read it and handed it to Joe, who in turn gave it to Lonnie.

“You know who this is?” Lonnie asked.

“I’m pretty sure I do,” Matt replied.

“I think I do, too,” said Joe.

“Who is it?” Frank asked.

“Bill Johnson,” Matt said.

“Who’s that?” Lonnie asked.

“Amy’s uncle,” said Joe.  “The one who raped her after her parents never returned after the blackout.  I gave him a beating that he will never forget.  And now, he’s apparently tracked us down so that he can kill us for my beating him, and Matt taking Amy away from him.  Or that’s how he sees it anyway.  Nobody took her, she left voluntarily.”

“So Amy is the “she” in the letter.”  Frank shook his head.  “Why would he give any warning?  Why not just attack when we least expect it?”

“Because he wants us to worry,” said Joe.  “Psychological torture.  He wants us to constantly be looking over our shoulders wondering when the bullet’s going to hit.  I say that because he’s likely to shoot from a distance rather than face us directly.”

“So he’s a coward,” Lonnie said.  “I ran into one of those on the road a few days out of Manistee.”

Frank looked at Lonnie.  “The late ex-husband?”

“Yeah.”  Lonnie had never talked about it, and Frank never asked.  “But I’m not the one who killed him.  She did.”

Three sets of eyebrows went up.  “Marge killed her ex-husband?” Matt asked.

“Yeah.  He was about to shoot me in the back, so she killed him.”

“I was not aware of that,” Matt said.

“Nobody but Eddie, Marge, and myself were.  Now you know.  Just don’t say anything to her about it.  We haven’t talked about it since.”

“Our lips are sealed,” said Frank.  “No one will say anything.”  They all nodded in agreement.  “Now,” Frank continued, “what are we going to do about our current problem?”

“First of all, we’re not going to say anything to anybody, especially Amy,” Matt said.  He was silent for a few moments.  “On second thought, I am going to tell Shelly, because I’m going to go get him before he gets any of us.”

“Are you sure about that, Matt?” Joe asked.  “I could find him quicker than you could.”

“I know you could, Joe, but I’m the main one he’s after.  You are a target, yes, but he wants me first.  You read the note; he mentioned me first.  Besides, as the head of this little group here, I can’t ask someone to do something I’m not willing to do myself.”

“I know you are,” said Joe, “but as you said, you’re the leader here.  If something happens, who’s going to take charge?”

“If anything were to happen to me, Lonnie will take my place until Max is old enough to shoulder the responsibility.”

Joe opened his mouth to say something else, but Matt cut him off.  “My decision is final.  I’m going after Bill; not you, not Lonnie, not anyone else.  I am.  I’ll start hunting tonight.”  Before anyone could say anything else, Matt walked back to the fire pit for another cup of coffee.

Chapter 16

Bill watched with his binoculars from his hiding place in the underbrush as Frank opened the envelope and read the note.  Bill could have easily taken Frank as he stood there reading, but Matt was the one he really wanted.  Him and the man who beat him so severely.  And Amy.  He had special plans for her.  She thought he was rough and mean before, but before he was through, she would be begging him to kill her.  And he would.  Eventually.  But first things first.  Matt Blaine would die because he stole Amy from him.  Matt would die because he was the reason that Bill didn’t have any more friends.  Matt would die because he made Bill look like a weakling in front of the others.  Joe would die because he beat Bill so badly that he was several weeks healing from it.

From where Bill lay, he could see a large portion of the inside of the wall.  He would not be easily recognizable if Matt or Joe saw him.. He had grown his hair and beard out over the last year.  It was a drastic change from what he had looked like last year when “it” happened.  That stupid girl was going to pay for what had happened to him.  After Matt and Joe did, of course.

Bill lay there in the underbrush until lunchtime, when everyone was occupied with their food.  He had no interest in killing any kids, except Amy off course.  The ladies held no interest for him except for the physical, and that was out of the question.  He would simply concentrate on stalking Matt, and then Joe, and try to figure out how to get Amy away from there.  That was the stumper.  She was never alone.  As a matter of fact, no one was ever alone.  They always traveled at the very least in pairs.

Bill made his way back to his camp.  He had buried the body of the camper before it got to stinking too badly and drew unwanted attention.  He then moved to another spot on the river in case the other place was a known favorite of the young man he had murdered.  Bill was pleased with himself.  The idea of finding Matt had come to him during the several weeks it took him to recover from the beating he had received.  He knew that he would need to change the way he looked, so he let his hair and beard grow.  Every one of his friends avoided him.  One had actually pulled a gun and ordered Bill off his property.  Said he wanted nothing to do with child molesters.  Later that week, that man’s house burned down.

Bill had collected his meager belongings and left town.  After leaving, everything Bill got, he stole.  Money was pretty much useless, and he wasn’t about to actually work for his meals.  At some point along the way, Bill stole a horse out of a pasture.  The horse had started out friendly enough, but soon got its fill of Bill’s hatefulness.  Bill had kicked the horse in the ribs to go faster, and the horse reared and dumped Bill to the ground and ran off.  Bill had sat there on the ground cursing the horse, cursing his luck, cursing Matt, cursing Joe, cursing Amy, and cursing anything or anyone else that came to mind.  But after almost a year of looking and asking around, he had finally tracked down the sources of his anger and hatred.  Matt, Joe, and Amy were living out their final days on this earth.  They had no idea how much longer they had, and truthfully, Bill didn’t either.  He was just going to string them along until he decided to kill them.  It was as simple as that.  They would die, and he would feel better.  Once that was done, he might even send another note threatening to kill everyone else if they didn’t leave the property.  They had a pretty nice setup.  Anyway, he would cross that bridge when he got to it.  He had to concentrate on Matt for the time being.  Starting tomorrow, he might start harassing Matt with a potshot here and there.

He smiled at the prospect.

Chapter 17

Matt poured another cup of coffee while Shelly and Melinda were getting breakfast ready.  When Melinda went to call the kids, Matt pulled Shelly aside and told her about the note.

“What are you going to do, Matt?” she asked.

“I’m going to hunt him down and end this once and for all,” he said.  “That’s what I’m going to do.”

“I won’t try to talk you out of this.  All I’m going to say is please, please be careful.  If you can’t talk sense with him and get him to leave us alone…”

“There will be no talking,” Matt interrupted.  “He’s past any talking.  He has spent the last year tracking us down, and he wants his revenge against me, Joe, and Amy.  When I find him, it’s simply going to be a kill-or-be-killed situation.”

Shelly looked directly into his eyes.  “Then I suggest you kill him,” she said flatly.

“I will.  Do not say a word to Amy about Bill being anywhere close to here.  Lonnie, Frank, and Joe know about this, but no one else.  I want to keep it that way.  After lunch, I’m going to go lie down and get some rest.  I’ll slip out the gate after midnight sometime.  Do not open it until I get back.  I’ll tell Frank the same thing since he’s the one who always opens it in the mornings.”

Matt finished his breakfast before anyone else and went inside to gather a few things together.  Max noticed that his father didn’t sit around drinking coffee after breakfast like he normally did.  Matt was stuffing some quart bags of jerky into his ALICE pack.

“What are you doing, Dad?” Max asked.

Well…crap, Matt thought to himself.  He turned to face Max.  “I really didn’t want anyone else knowing, but I’m not going to lie to you.  But you need to swear to me that you will not breathe one word to anyone about this, okay?”

“I promise, Dad.  I won’t tell anybody.”

“Do you remember Amy’s Uncle Bill?”

“Yeah, the guy that did all those things to her.  I remember.”

“He’s here.”

It took several seconds for that statement to sink in.  Max’s eyes grew wide.  “Here?  As in, here?”

“Yes.  He walked up to the gate and left a note.  He intends to kill me, Joe, and Amy.”

“That’s where you’re going?  To find him?”

“Yes,” said Matt.  “I’m going out to find him, and when I do, I’m going to kill him and end this once and for all.”

“Good.  I hope you make it slow.”

“Max!  I’m not going out there to torture him, I’m going to prevent him from hurting any of us.”  He looked hard at Max.  “Don’t ever let me hear you talk like that again.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, I’m going to get some more things together and go get some sleep.  Go about your day like normal, doing your chores and things.  And send your mother in, if you would please.”

Max went back outside and Matt continued his packing.  He filled two canteens and a hydration pack.  When Shelly came in, Matt was checking the action on his two Desert Eagle .50s.

“Max said you wanted to see me?”

“Yes.  He asked me what I was doing, and I wasn’t about to lie to him.  I told him the truth and made him swear that he wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone, especially Amy.”

“And I know that he won’t,” said Shelly.  “Do you have everything you need?”

“I’ll need to go to the cellar and get some more magazines for my .50s and that MP5/40 over there.  Then I’m going to go get some sleep.  If anyone asks, just tell them I’m taking a nap.  Hopefully no one will.”

Shelly walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him.  “Matthew Blaine, you better come back to me.”

“I will, honey.  I will.”

Matt went out the back door and made it to the storage cellar and back without being seen.  When he had everything he was going to need, he went to their bedroom and darkened it as much as he could before lying down.  He awoke just as supper was being served.

“Feeling better?” Emma asked when he came outside.  She had just assumed that Matt had been feeling sick, but didn’t actually ask.

“Much,” Matt replied.  The rest of the evening went as usual; adults sat around talking, drinking coffee and tea, and smoking cigars while the kids played.  Matt went to bed that night fully dressed.  He dozed a little until it was time to go.  Lonnie was waiting for him on the front porch.  They walked to the gate in silence.

“No one is to open this gate until I get back,” Matt said.

“Understood,” Lonnie replied.  “Good luck.”  He gave Matt’s hand a firm squeeze before opening the gate.  Matt slipped through and disappeared into the darkness.

Chapter 18

Matt made his way to the woods a hundred yards away.  All the brush and trees had been cleared so that no one could get close to the enclosure without being spotted.  Now was the time that Matt wished the woods were closer than they were.  The fact that he was dressed in dark clothing and had blackened his face, combined with a moonless night helped cover his movements.  When it got lighter, he would change into jungle camo fatigues and replace the black on his face with earth tone paints.  Matt made his way to a spot he had already picked out, finding his way using a tritium compass.  When he got there, he settled in and waited for dawn.  He was hoping that Bill would give himself away by being careless, such as sunlight glinting off his binoculars or rifle barrel.  But Matt wasn’t going to underestimate his opponent.  He was going to act as if the man he was hunting was a professional.

Two miles away, Bill was sleeping soundly, wondering how much of a shock his note had been to his quarry.  What he didn’t know was that Amy had no idea he was around, and that Matt and Joe weren’t the least bit worried about him.  More importantly, he didn’t know that his status as hunter had changed to that of hunted.  He slept on.

Matt had absolutely no way of knowing where Bill was, and it would have been an exercise in futility trying to find him.  So he wanted Bill to make the first move.  Matt thought Bill might be staying close to the river where he would have plenty of water.  But even then it would have taken precious time to locate him.  Matt decided to wait him out, to see who got careless first.

Dawn came slowly to the farm.  Before it got too light, Matt changed out of his black clothing into his jungle fatigues.  He then wiped most of the black greasepaint off and added greens and browns.  His pistols and MP5 were chambered and the safeties on.  While he waited, Matt chewed on a piece of jerky and sipped a little water.  He didn’t want to drink so much that he had to relieve himself, just enough to keep hydrated.

By the time the sun was almost overhead, Matt had still not seen anything.  If Bill didn’t show himself before sunset, Matt would circle around and see if he could locate his camp.  Bill might or might not be right by the river.  He could be in the woods away from the water.  That would be the smart thing to do.  And maybe Bill had wizened up over the last year.  Matt was going to act like he had, and try not to think of Bill as not knowing what he was doing.

Bill had gotten to his hiding spot just as the sun was coming up.  He stayed well back in the trees and watched the enclosure through his binoculars.  He noticed that the gate hadn’t been opened like it normally was in the morning.  He grinned.  He had gotten to them.  They were worried.  Somebody had to come out sometime, and Bill just might take a shot.  Whether he hit them or not was of no consequence.  They would know that he was out there, biding his time.  He had two large canteens of water that he drank freely from.  Even though Bill got up to relieve himself periodically, he was far enough back in the trees that Matt couldn’t see him.  The thing was, he couldn’t see Matt, either, even though Matt was closer to the tree line.  He had no idea that Matt was even outside the palisade.  Bill sat there against his tree, gloating over the fact that he had them all worried.

Although Matt was well-camouflaged, he still didn’t make any sudden movements.  Nothing attracts attention like movement.  Every move he made was slow and deliberate.  All day Matt lay there, watching for movement through his binoculars, or for any glint of light where it shouldn’t be.  He saw nothing.  Most of the sweat soaked into his hatband, but some of it made its way into his eyes.  He desperately wanted to wipe it away, but lay there instead and did his best to blink it away.  When he judged that it was getting to be around seven o’clock, Matt decided to start circling around and try to find Bill’s camp.  He figured that it would take a couple of hours to get around the property and to the river, as slow as he would be moving.

When Matt got to the south fence, he suddenly changed his plan.  Staying several yards away from the fence and road, he followed the fence line toward the property gate.  Moving slowly, he studied the ground along the fence, looking for fresh human tracks.  Joe had been teaching how to move virtually undetected through the woods and to track better.  Hopefully, Matt thought, the training would pay off soon.  He didn’t have long to wait.  He found where Bill had crossed the fence and followed the tracks to his hiding place.  Bill wasn’t there, but he hadn’t been gone for very long.  Nor had he made much, if any, effort to cover his tracks.  He probably never expected anyone to come looking for him.  Careless, Matt thought to himself.  I hope he continues to be careless so we can end this soon.  Matt followed Bill’s tracks back to the fence, alert for his possible return.

Bill had left his hiding place and walked back to his camp, confident that he had the residents of Matt’s place sufficiently worried.  The thought of anyone finding him never crossed his mind.  Back at his camp, he heated some canned soup and crushed up some crackers in it and washed it all down with some more water.  After he washed the pot out in the river, he once again ran his knife over his sharpener, knowing full well that it really didn’t need it.  He leaned back against a tree and thought about his revenge mission, slowly tapping the flat of his blade against his leg.  His hatred for Matt, Joe, and Amy consumed him to the point that he thought of little else.  He fell asleep thinking of them, he awoke thinking of them, he dreamed about them and the pain he wanted to inflict.  That night would be no different.

Matt followed Bill’s tracks down the side of the dirt road where they abruptly turned and crossed the fence and headed toward the river.  Matt kept going for another quarter mile before crossing the fence.  He backtracked, following the river.  He moved as quietly as he possibly could, aware that he could stumble across Bill’s camp at any time.  By dusk he still had not found Bill’s camp, and he decided that the best thing to do was to go back a little of the way he had come and wait until morning.  Matt ate some jerky and drank a little water before going to sleep.  He lay there wondering exactly what he was going to do when he found Bill.  He didn’t want to shoot him in the back, although he was pretty sure Bill would have no problem doing the same.  Matt drifted off into a troubled sleep.

Chapter 19

Shelly lay awake that night wondering where Matt was and how he was doing.  She didn’t get much done that day for worrying about him.  Lonnie, Joe, and Frank periodically whispered words of encouragement to her, out of earshot of the others.  When any of them were asked where Matt was, the agreed-upon answer was simply that he had something he had to go do.

Shelly had heard no gunshots that day.  She didn’t know what kind of rifle Bill might have, but she knew what Matt had, and what sound it made.  She assumed that Bill had a high-powered rifle of some sort, judging from what the note had said about them never seeing it coming.  He’s going to bushwhack them, she thought, remembering the old term for murdering from ambush.

Lonnie lay in bed wondering how long it was going to take for Matt to find and kill Amy’s uncle.  He would sure like to wrap his big hands around Bill’s throat and squeeze the life out of him.  Marge turned in her sleep and stretched her arm across his chest.  Lonnie put his big hand over hers and tried to go to sleep.

Frank was fast asleep, having faith that Matt was going to be the victor in this manhunt.  He had no trouble going to sleep because he trusted Matt’s abilities and instincts.

Joe was staring at the ceiling and thinking that he should have been the one to track Bill down and kill him.  He was the better tracker and could move more quietly through the woods.  But he also knew that this was something that Matt had to do himself.  Plus, Matt was the leader of their little commune, and his decision was final.  There had been no changing his mind.  Joe wished that Matt would have at least let him go along.  Emma woke to find Joe still awake.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Can’t sleep right now,” Joe replied.

“Do you need a sleepy shot?” she asked, referring to their medicinal whiskey.

“No, I’ll be okay.  But thank you.”

Emma scooted closer and snuggled down into the hollow of his arm and went back to sleep.  Joe lay there for another half hour before drifting off.

Everybody else in the house was oblivious to the manhunt going on outside that day, and therefore had nothing to keep them awake that night.

Chapter 20

Matt woke the next morning alert for anything out of the ordinary.  He lay there for a few minutes listening with his eyes.  A sound came to him faintly, so faint that he almost didn’t hear it.  It came again.  Matt strained his ears to make out what it was.  It sounded like a man whistling softly.  Matt slowly sat up, trying to locate the sound.  He sat stock still until he was sure that the whistler was not close.  He ate a breakfast of jerky and water before trying again to locate Bill’s camp.

Bill got up that morning feeling better.  He dreamed of blowing a hole through Matt’s skull, beating Joe to death with a club, and slicing Amy up with his knife.  He seemed to gain strength from her screams.  He buckled on his pistol belt and set about fixing his breakfast with a smile on his face and whistling a tune.  He heated a can of corned beef hash and some water for instant coffee.  He never had been much of a coffee drinker, so it didn’t really matter to him that it was instant.  After he washed his small pot and cup out in the river, he grabbed his rifle and canteens and set off toward Matt’s place, whistling again.

Matt sat still until he heard the whistling stop.  He faintly smelled something cooking, and then he caught the smell of coffee.  The food and coffee made his stomach rumble with hunger.  He ate some more jerky and drank his water instead.  After several minutes he heard the whistling start up again, then it faded away.  Matt slowly made his way along the river bank watching for Bill or his camp.  Ten minutes later he came across the camp.  Bill’s few belongings were stacked under a tarp near a tree.  The tarp was stretched over a rope between two trees, presumably as a shelter in case it rained.  Matt found a small solid-fuel stove that was still warm.  That explained why he hadn’t smelled any smoke.

Bill’s tracks were easy to see, and Matt followed them to the fence.  Before he stepped out in the open, Matt made sure there was no one around.  He cautiously climbed the fence and silently crossed the gravel road.  He walked as silently as he could down the fence line to where Bill climbed over and disappeared into the woods.  Matt went a little further down the road before crossing the fence.  He silently made his way through the underbrush, painfully slowly, so as not to make any noise.  Birds were chirping just before he entered the woods, but they were silent now.  Matt stood stock still.  He was afraid that Bill might know the significance of the birds going silent.  Matt stood where he was for a full five minutes.  Nothing happened.  He took two steps forward and a tree exploded beside him.

Matt threw himself down and to the side.  He landed behind a fallen log where he dug bark out of his eyes.  The report of a rifle echoed in his ears.  Apparently, Bill was better in the woods than Matt had thought.  Matt had underestimated Bill after all.  Matt lay there wondering in which direction he should move when a bullet thudded into the log he lay behind, sending a shower of splinters flying.  Matt heard the telltale sound of a bolt being worked, chambering another round.  Matt felt around on the ground and found a rock about half the size of Lonnie’s fist.  He tossed it away to his left.  When it hit the ground, the rifle fired again.  Matt immediately jumped up while the shooter was chambering another round and fired, emptying the magazine of his Desert Eagle. 

In two steps Matt was behind a large oak tree.  He ejected the empty magazine and slapped in a full one.  He drew his other Desert Eagle and waited.  He heard no other sound.  Shifting his weight to his left leg, Matt slowly rubbed the heel of his right boot against the tree bark.  A bullet dug into the oak tree.  Matt quickly stepped out from behind the tree, both pistols raised.  He saw a shaggy-haired man trying to work the jammed bolt on his rifle.  The man looked up and Matt recognized his eyes.  Bill Johnson.  Bill dropped the rifle and went for his pistol like a gunfighter.  His problem was that the strap was still engaged.  Matt waited a split second for him to undo the strap and begin to draw the .45 before sending two .50-caliber bullets into Bill’s chest and out his back.  One bullet took half his heart with it, and the other obliterated a section of spine.

Bill did a backwards somersault and lay still, one arm under him, the other out to the side.  Matt cautiously walked over to where he lay, his blood soaking into the dirt around him.  Matt kicked the .45 away from Bill’s hand and turned him over with his boot.  Bill’s sightless eyes stared up at him, his hatred frozen on his dead face.

Matt stripped Bill’s pistol belt off of him.  He picked up the .45, blew the dust off of it, and holstered it.  Matt took Bill’s knife and rifle and headed toward the palisade.

Chapter 21

Shelly physically jerked when she heard the gunshot.  It wasn’t the MP/5, and she was worried.  Lonnie looked at her reassuringly, trying to bolster her.  Shelly got up and went in the house.  Marge came in and sat down beside her just as they heard a second shot.

“Are you okay?” Marge asked.

“I don’t know if I am or not,” Shelly replied.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s Matt.”

“You two aren’t having problems, are you?” Marge asked, shocked.

“No, nothing like that.  Not at all.”  Shelly paused, wondering if she should say any more.  She took a deep breath.  “Amy’s uncle left a note on our gate the day before yesterday,” she said.  “He said he was going to kill Matt, Joe, and Amy.”

“And you think that was him shooting?”

“I believe so.  Matt went out the gate night before last to find him.”

Just then they heard a third shot and immediately heard a series of gunshots.  Shelly sat a little straighter on the couch.  “That was Matt’s Desert Eagle,” she said.  “I’d know the sound of that anywhere.”

They sat in silence for several minutes, waiting to see if there were any more shots.  Just as Shelly was about to say something, there was a fourth single shot.  Less than a minute later there were two more shots so close together they almost sounded like one.  Shelly looked at Marge.

“That was his Desert Eagle again.”  They continued to sit in silence, holding hands.  Shelly closed her eyes and prayed silently that Matt was okay.  Ten minutes later, Joe came running inside and said that Matt was at the gate.  Shelly and Marge jumped up and ran outside to see Matt walking through the gate carrying a rifle and pistol belt.  Shelly ran to him and saw the dried blood on his face.  Matt handed the rifle and gunbelt to Lonnie and took Shelly in his arms.

“It’s over,” Matt said.  “He’s dead.”

Everybody had gathered around.  “Who’s dead?” Amy asked.

Matt looked at Shelly, then at the ground.  Going after Bill Johnson wasn’t something he enjoyed, but it had to be done.  Knowing that Bill was out there waiting to kill him, Joe, and Amy, something had to be done.  And with the old adage of the best defense being a good offense, he took the fight to Bill.  It had to end once and for all.

Matt looked at Amy.  “Your uncle was here.”

“Uncle Bill was here?  Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I didn’t want you to get upset like you are now.”

“How did he find me?”

“I have no idea how he found you, but it wasn’t just you he was after.  He wanted to kill you, me, and Joe.  He left a note outside the gate saying so.”

“And you killed him?”

“Yes.  I had to.”

“Good.”  Amy turned to walk away but then stopped.  “I suppose I should feel something because he was family, but he killed that a long time ago.”

Matt looked at Shelly and raised his eyebrows.  Shelly nodded.  “Amy,” she said, “come with me, please.”

Shelly led Amy over to the pavilion and sat her down.  “Amy, I don’t know what you went through with him, and I won’t pretend to know.  I’ve never had that happen to me.  I’m not going to tell you how you should feel, but I do know this: at some point in your life, you’re going to need to let go of the bitterness and hatred you feel for your uncle, and forgive him for what he did to you.  If you want any quality of life, and especially if you want a relationship with a man, you’re going to need to do that.”

“You mean Eddie.”  It wasn’t a question.

“I mean with any man you end up wanting a relationship with.  Eddie does seem to be the object of your affections right now, yes, but even if it ends up being someone else, you still need to deal with these feelings you have toward your uncle.  And that’s the end of the sermon.”  Shelly stood up.  “Just promise me you’ll think about what I told you.”

“I’ll think about it,” Amy said, “but I can’t make any promises about Uncle Bill right now.”

“I’m not asking you to right now,” Shelly said.  “Just give it some thought.” 

“Okay, I will.”

As Shelly walked back over to Matt, she had a thought.  She gave Matt a kiss on the cheek and said, “I need to talk to Marge for a minute.  I’m glad you’re back.”

“I’m glad to be back.  There’s something that needs taking care of soon.”  Matt nodded his head in the direction of where Bill had been watching from.

“Okay, be careful.”

“We will.  Joe, Lonnie, I’m going to need your help with something.”

“Sure thing, Matt,” Lonnie replied.  “I’ll get the shovels.”

The three men left Bill’s hiding spot.  Lonnie and Joe dug a shallow grave to put the dead body in.  After they filled it in, they rolled a dead log over it, not to mark it, but to keep any scavengers from digging it up.  Matt led them to Bill’s campsite where they gathered his few things.

“Wait a minute,” said Joe.  “I want to check something out right quick.”  Looking at the ground, he followed Bill’s old tracks along the river to where he had camped prior to the current spot.

“What’s up?” Matt asked.

“Some of that stuff Bill had just didn’t look like what he would have brought on his own.  I’m wondering if there was someone else involved.”  Joe looked around some more and found where Bill had buried the young man he had murdered.

“I know that guy,” said Matt.  “I mean, I’ve seen him around, he’s from here.  I don’t know his name, though.  It looks as if Bill came across him and decided to take his things.  Let’s rebury him and give his description to Mayor Whitely, or maybe even Luther.  He probably knows most everyone in town.”

“Yeah, we’ll do that.  Poor guy didn’t know who he had met.”

Chapter 22

“That was Jimmy Connors,” said Luther after Matt described the body they had found.  “It wasn’t unusual for him to go off for a few days at a time to camp by the river, but when no one saw him for the last couple of days, folks began to worry.  His parents sure will be tore up, but they’ll also not have to wonder anymore.”  Luther scratched his head.  “You say you got the man who did it?”

“Yes,” Matt answered.  “He’s dead.”

“I guess that’s what they call poetic justice, huh?  He kills a man, then he gets killed.  Serves him right.”

Matt needed to change the subject.  “Have you found anyone around here willing to sell or trade some horses or mules to haul the wagons?”

“I found a few, but not many.  Everybody seems to want to hang on to what they have.  However, I did find a man who has quite a number of jacks and jennies.  Maybe, if you’ve got a few mares, we can breed some o’ them jacks to your mares.  For that matter, there’s a few people around here that might lend us their mares for breeding purposes if we give ‘em a little something in return.  Mules are better than horses for haulin’ wagons anyway.”

“Let’s go talk to this man you know.  We do have a few mares, and we’ve even got a couple of fillies, thanks to Joe’s stallion.

“That’s what I’ve always wanted to do,” Joe said sardonically, “run a mule ranch.”

“You know, this is a good idea,” Matt said.  “The mules, I mean.  If the wagon-train idea takes off, then people are going to need livestock to haul the wagons.  And if steam locomotives are put back on the tracks, more livestock could be shipped, as well as other goods.  I have a good feeling about this.  Maybe I’m just doing a lot of wishful thinking, but I don’t think so.  I’d be willing to bet one of my Rocky Patel’s that there are a lot of people who would be willing to get involved in this trade route idea.”

“Let’s get some of these ideas hammered out,” Joe said, “and see what it will take to get this show on the road.”

As Matt and Joe were about to head back to the farm, they heard the sound of hoof beats approaching.  George Mason rode up and dismounted.

“I was hoping I’d run into you,” he said.  “Briggs said he’d like to talk to you some more about your trade ideas.  He has a lot of people in town on board with the idea.  There are some who can’t wait for next spring to start planting grains and other crops.  However, they’re going to need someone to design a horse-drawn plow for them, and I told them I had the perfect person in mind.  I told them about Lonnie and his ability to draw just about anything and make it workable.”

“I’ll pass along the compliment,” said Matt, “and the need for some horse-drawn plows.  It shouldn’t take very long for him to draw up the schematics for one.”

While they were talking, a man rode toward them from the north end of town.  The man stopped in front of Matt and Joe.

“Matt Blaine?” he asked.

“That’s me,” Matt said.

“I’m Jesse Barnes, from Black River.  I’m told you want to start running some trade routes, with trains, wagons, and such.”

“Yes, I do.  Who did you hear it from?”

“Mike Toomey from Greenbush came and talked to us a little while back.  We all think it’s a great idea.  The train tracks run by us, and there are other smaller towns inland that could use wagon train goods.  I also went and talked to the people in Alpena, and they like the idea, too.  Word is spreading, Matt, and spreading fairly fast.”  Jesse took his hat off and wiped his brow.  “By the way, you wouldn’t happen to know a Rondell Mixon, would you?  He said he was coming to Oscoda.”

“Yes, I would.  He’s a good friend of ours, and he’s out at our place right now.  He told us how everybody in Black River was good to them and treated them well.  He spoke very highly of everyone there.”

“I appreciate the compliments.”  Jesse turned his horse to go.  “By the way, when you figure out how to get the train back on the tracks, let us know.  We’ll be waiting to get started.  Also, what would it take to get some wagons built, and what would you charge for it?”

“That is Lonnie Llewellyn’s department,” Matt replied, “and he’s not here right now.  Tell you what, why don’t we meet in Greenbush day after tomorrow, and I’ll have Lonnie and his plans with me.  You can talk it over with him then.”

“Sounds good,” Jesse replied.  “Thanks.  Have a good one,” he said as he left.

“Wow,” said Joe.  “Your idea’s catching on faster than you thought it would.”

“Yeah,” said Matt.  “A lot faster.”

“At this rate,” Luther said, “we should be up and running in no time at all.”

Chapter 23

Over supper that night, Matt told Rondell about Jesse Barnes showing up.

“He’s a good man, Jesse is,” said Rondell.  “Helped us out a lot.  He was especially good to Megan, with her expecting and all.”

Pug had finished his supper and was playing with Ronnie.  He was able to walk around as long as he held onto someone’s hands, and Pug was the one Ronnie invariably went to.  He seemed to tolerate Kara, Amy, and Tonya, and he liked the other men, but Pug was Ronnie’s go-to person, other than Megan.  As Pug walked around with Ronnie, Megan watched and again wondered why Tyler couldn’t have been more like that.  Stop it! she said to herself.  He’s gone, he didn’t want a baby, and he didn’t want you after you got pregnant.  Forget about him.  He’s not worth staying mad over.  Besides, it’s been over a year now.  Get over it and move on.

Megan looked over at Marge and wondered what she had done to get past her divorce.  All Megan knew was that it had been an abusive marriage. Taking one last glance at Ronnie and Pug, Megan went and asked Marge if they could talk.

“Is something wrong?” Marge asked.

“It’s…well…I need to ask your advice on something.”  She paused, and Marge waited for her to continue.  “You see, what I’m wanting to know is…how did you get past your anger and resentment of how your husband treated you?  The abuse, I mean.”

“Honestly, it was not easy.  Not at all.  But once I made the choice to forgive him for what he had done, it was as if a giant weight was lifted off my shoulders.”

“But you make it sound so easy,” said Megan.

“It was not easy by any stretch of the imagination,” Marge replied.  “I had to come to the point in my life that it was either I forgive him, or I spend the rest of my life hating him and not ever have a life of my own.  He would have still won.”

“But how did you do it?” Megan asked.

“I made a choice to not get angry about it whenever I thought about him, or if someone else brought up the subject.  It doesn’t happen overnight, that’s for sure, but it can be done.”  Marge thought about the talk she had had with Amy, essentially about the same thing.  They were a band of sisters; they had all been abused by a man.  Or at least by someone of the male gender.  Marge had worked past her issues, and she hoped and prayed that she could help Amy and Megan work past theirs, too.

“I can’t promise anything,” said Megan, “but I will try to do what you said.”

“There’s no magic formula, no chant to perform, nothing like that.  You have to figure it out for yourself.  No two people are alike, so the way that worked for me will be different than what, hopefully, will work for you.  It’s a process.”

“Thank you, Marge, for the talk,” Megan said.  She looked over at Pug and Ronnie.  “He’s so good with my son,” she said.  “I know that I would fall in love with him if I let myself, I just don’t know if I’m ready to.”

“It takes a wise person to know that they might not be ready, rather than jump in with both feet, and to heck with the consequences.  I was the same way.  But by the time I met Lonnie, I was ready.  I wasn’t sure if he would be the one, of course, but that became apparent pretty soon.  And he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  And the fact that Eddie approves makes things so much easier.  I can’t imagine what it would be like if he didn’t.”

“Thank you again, Marge.  You’ve helped me a lot already just by listening.”

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Amy: if you need to talk, I’ll listen, anytime day or night.”

“Thank you,” Megan said.  She headed back over to where Pug was holding Ronnie in his lap.  Megan held out her arms and Ronnie reached for her.  She sat down beside Pug and said, “I really appreciate how kind and attentive you are toward Ronnie.  Thank you.”

“Hey, I enjoy it.  He’s a bundle of energy, but it’s fun.”

Megan sniffed the air and looked at Ronnie.  “Does someone need a new diaper?” she asked him.  Ronnie smiled.  “I’ll take that for a yes,” she said.

“Here, I’ll go change him, if you want,” said Pug.

Megan handed Ronnie to him.  “Thank you,” she said.

“Not a problem,” Pug replied.

Megan watched Pug as he walked into the house, her heart melting at the way Pug laughed and talked to Ronnie as he carried him.  She felt someone looking at her and turned her head to see Marge smiling.

“Give it time,” was all Marge said.

Chapter 24

Matt took Max with him and Lonnie to meet with Jesse Barnes from Black River.  Rondell decided to go, too, to see how things were going with Jesse’s people.  After some small talk about how things were going, Jesse got down to business.

“How many of these wagons can you build?” he asked Lonnie.

“How many do you need?”

“How about four to start?”

“We can do that.  It’ll take me about two weeks to get them all done, but with a man in town helping me, we can get it knocked out pretty quick.”

“Okay, and what do you want for them?” Jesse asked.

“We’ll talk price later.  I’ll get started on them tomorrow.  You’ll need to get some livestock together to haul the wagons back to Black River, though.”

“We have some horses that you can use to pull one of them,” said Matt.  “Joe Kitchner, a friend of ours, can go with you so he can lead them back home, when the time comes.”

“Thanks,” Jesse said.  “Two or four horses to pull the wagons?”

“Two would be enough to get them empty back to Black River,” said Lonnie, “but you’ll need at least four, but probably six, to haul them full.”

Matt spoke up.  “We’re going to start breeding mules for hauling the wagons.  We have some mares, and Luther knows a man with some jack donkeys.  Of course, we won’t have any mules for some time, so horses will have to do, unless you know someone who has a few teams of oxen lying around somewhere.”

Jesse laughed.  “I don’t know of anyone, so I guess we’ll just have to use horses until the mules are big enough.”  He paused, in thought.  “Has anyone thought about maybe a stagecoach-type thing to get people around?”

“I’ve thought about it,” said Matt.  “I’ll need to get Lonnie here to draw up some plans for one first, but I don’t see a problem with it.  People will still need to get around, and few people have horses or anything else to ride.  Especially those living in towns and cities.  Bicycles will do for a lot of people in town, but they would need some other means of transportation for long distances.  But right now, I think I’m going to concentrate on the trade routes and moving merchandise.”

“You know,” said Jesse, “I thought I heard a car driving down the road in the distance not too long back.”

“You may have,” said Matt.  “I had a Willys Jeep that still ran after EMPs caused the blackout.  I had the battery contained in a Faraday cage, same as with my old ’66 pickup truck.  Frank Marshall, another friend of ours, did the same thing with a ’57 Suburban.  Of course, by now, any gasoline without any kind of stabilizer in it probably would have gelled up, rendering it useless.  We used all the gasoline we had before it went bad.  If you were to get some out of a tank at a gas station, it most likely wouldn’t be any good now.  Not for a vehicle, anyway.  And it may not even burn.  It’s not the gasoline that is so combustible so much as the fumes.  So we’ve made do with what we’ve got, which is horses and a wagon.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Jesse.  “Anyway, if you’ll let me know what you figure out about a stagecoach and what you’d charge for everything, I’d appreciate it.”

“While you and Matt have been talking,” Lonnie said, “I’ve been thinking.  If you can come up with a percussion rifle, a hundred caps, ten pounds of powder, a powder flask, a bullet mold, and twenty pounds of lead for each wagon, then I think that would be a fair trade.  Unless someone comes up with something comparable.”

“I’ll look into it,” Jesse said.  “Any particular caliber?”

“.58 caliber would be ideal, but .50 or .54 would be okay.”

They talked some more before Jesse mounted up and headed back to Black River.

“Why percussion rifles?” Max asked.

“Because one of these days, we’re going to run out of ammunition for the rifles and pistols that we use now.  There may be someone, somewhere, that can make cartridge ammo, but right now, I don’t know of anyone around here.  Pretty soon, your rifle and pistol will be nothing more than museum pieces at best, at least until more cartridge ammo is made.”

“Oh,” was all Max said.

Matt smiled as they mounted up to go home.  Max generally accepted explanations from adults that he trusted without too much, if any, question.  They got back to the farm as Shelly and Melinda were getting supper ready.  Emma came out of the house carrying a full stewpot.  Joe ran over to her.

“Here,” he said, “let me get that for you.”

“Joe,” said Emma, “I can get this.  Thank you for being so attentive, but I can still do things.”  She held the stewpot away from her.  “See?  I’m barely even showing right now.”

Joe looked sheepish.  “I’m sorry.  I just don’t want anything to happen to you or the baby.”  He walked with her to the table where she set the pot down.

“Thank you,” she said as she kissed him.  “The day will come when I can’t do a lot of this, but it’s not here yet.  You’ve got other kids, so you know how this works, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re grown.  It’s been so long that I almost don’t remember how to act.”

She patted his cheek.  “It’ll come back to you.  It did with Lonnie.”

“But Eddie’s not as old as my kids, so it hasn’t been as long for him as it has for me.”

“Joe.  Relax.  It will all come back to you, just wait.”

“Okay, I’ll try,” he said.  “So what’s for supper?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Venison stew and cornbread.”

“Mmm, sounds good.”

“It’ll be ready in about an hour, so don’t eat anything right now.”

“Who, me?”

“Yes, you.”

Joe smiled as he went to the fire pit to pour a cup of coffee.  He joined Matt and Lonnie who were talking about the wagons and where all they could go to talk to more people about trading.  When Joe heard them mention percussion rifles, he spoke up.

“What about building a forge to make knives and swords to sell also?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Matt said.  “That’s probably what it’s going to come to.  Einstein said he didn’t know what weapons would be used for World War 3, but that World War 4 would be fought with sticks and stones.  It looks like the time for his “unknown” weapons is now.  The days of bows, knives, and spears are back, it appears.”

“If anyone can make a bow, I’ve got a little know-how about knapping arrowheads,” Lonnie said.  “The most readily available material would be the huge quantity of glass bottles in town, if they haven’t been destroyed by now.  Plus, I could maybe use some tempered window glass.  I’ll just have to try it.”

“You work on that,” Matt said, “and I’ll continue trying to think of other ideas for trade.  As for your forge, Joe, why don’t you go into town tomorrow and see if there’s a blacksmith shop anywhere around, or if there’s someone with those kinds of tools you can buy or trade for.  Mayor Whitely or maybe Luther would know something about that kind of thing.”

“I’ll check it out tomorrow when Lonnie goes to town to work on those wagons some more.”

“And I’ll ask about bottles and tempered window glass,” said Lonnie.  “Preferably from an office building since they had stricter building codes than houses.”

“Door and tabletop glass would also be tempered,” said Matt, “to make it stronger.”

“I’ll ask about that, too.”

“Supper’s ready!” Shelly hollered loud enough for everyone to hear.  To punctuate her announcement, she also rang a brass bell.  It wasn’t long before everyone was present.  They sat down, Matt asked the blessing over the food, and they all dug in.  After supper, when the table was cleared and the dishes washed, the kids did their usual playing, the ladies visited and talked baby stuff, and the men talked more about trade, trains, forges, and archery.

That night, Matt lay awake staring at the ceiling.  His body was tired, but his mind was wide awake.  He was thinking about the new trade routes he was trying to get set up.  Also on his mind was the fact that he had recently killed a man, albeit a bad one.  He knew that everyone there understood why he had to do it, he just wasn’t sure that he understood it.  Why couldn’t he have just stayed away? Matt had asked himself several times.

“What’s wrong, Matt?” Shelly asked.

“I can’t sleep,” said Matt.  “I keep thinking about everything I need to do.  I need to get this trade thing going, I need to be a good husband and father, I need to be a good leader and provider.  It’s a heavy load.  I’m always trying to come up with new ideas to get civilization going again.”

“That is not your responsibility.  Your family is your first responsibility, and everything else is secondary.  When this nation first started, it didn’t happen because of the work of one person.  It was a group effort.  Even getting this state back up and running isn’t solely on you.”  She smiled.  “At least get Lonnie, Joe, Frank, and Rondell to help.  I believe in you.  You just need to believe in yourself.”

“I’m trying to, hon.  I really am.  But I feel pulled in so many different directions that I don’t know which way to go first.”

“You’ve taken onto yourself more than anybody needs to.  You have a lot on you, but I know that you can do it.  You are just bullheaded enough to not quit, even when it looks hopeless.  Especially when it looks hopeless.  Our trip up here looked hopeless at times, but you simply would not stop until we got here.  And you won’t stop until you get the trade routes up and running.  I know you.”

“So, is that a good thing?  Being bullheaded, I mean?”

“Yes, honey, it’s a good thing.  With this, anyway.  Arguing with me, not so much.”  She kissed him on the cheek.  “Now try to get some sleep.  You need the rest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Chapter 25

Matt woke up the next morning just as dawn was breaking.  Shelly sighed and shifted in her sleep as Matt slid out of bed.  He dressed quietly and went outside to make coffee.  He was sitting there working on his first cup when Joe and Lonnie walked outside.  Filling their cups, they joined Matt in his silence.  One cup wasn’t enough to get the talking started.  After the third cup, Matt spoke up.

“So.  What are we doing today?”

“Same thing we do every day, Matt,” Lonnie said.  “Try and rebuild our part of the world.”

“I guess we better get started, then.”  Matt drained his cup.  “Right after another cup.”

As he was pouring, Shelly, Melinda, and Emma came out to start breakfast.  The aroma of venison steaks and onions broiling perked them all up.  By the time breakfast was ready, everyone had come outside.  Afterwards, Matt took Max, Lonnie, Joe, and Eddie and headed for town.  Luther was waiting for them at the latest house they had torn down, where a partially completed wagon sat.  Lonnie and Eddie had driven the buckboard to town in order to take the appliances from the houses to a warehouse that Mayor Whitely mentioned.  Eddie’s leg still twinged some, but not enough to slow him down too much.  He and Joe got the stove, refrigerator, and washer and dryer loaded up and took off.  Lonnie and Luther continued work on the freight wagon while Matt and Max picked up odds and ends lying around and threw them on the trash piles.  Just then, a man rode up on a horse.

“Which one of you is Matt Blaine?” he asked as he swung down from the saddle.

“That would be me,” Matt replied.

“I’m Mike Jessup,” the man said, extending his hand, “from Au Gres.”

“Pleased to meet you.  This is my son Max, and over there’s Luther Braun and Lonnie Llewellyn.  What can I do for you, Mr. Jessup?”

“Mike.  We had a visitor from East Tawas come down and tell us about you wanting to get some trade routes started.”

“That’s right.”

“We would like to get in on it, if that’s okay.”

“You bet.  The more we can get involved, the better.”

“Others in Delano, Turner, Twining, and other small outlying towns want in, too.  They’ve been getting cabin fever, so to speak.”

“What all do the towns down around you have to trade?”

“There are some abandoned coal mines not too far south of us.  Some guys went in to see if it might be worth trying to reopen, and they say they are.”

Matt looked over at Lonnie.  “Coal is just what Joe would want for his forge.  His next problem is to find some steel to use.”

“Steel?  There’s a steel mill in Flint,” Jessup said.  “I’m sure there’s still a lot of it lying around there.  Not much of anyone would know what to do with it right now.”

“We’ve got a friend who wants to build a forge and start making knives and swords, and anything else he can think of to sell or trade.  He’s looking for some blacksmith tools here in town.  By the way, is anyone still using money anymore?”

“Not many people have any of that.  Most everything’s done on the barter system.  I would say that most people’s money was just numbers on a computer.  Now if someone could get inside a bank vault, that might be a different story.  But I don’t know of anyone who could do that.”

Luther stopped sawing the board he was working on and walked over.  “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” he said, “about money in a bank vault.”

“Yeah, there’s no way to get to it,” Jessup said.

“Got any dynamite?” Luther asked.

“There’s no way dynamite would blow the door off a bank vault.”

“No, but it’ll blow the floor out from under it.”

“Come again?” said Matt.  “The floor?  How would you blow the vault floor?  You can’t get inside.”

“You can get under it.”

By this time, Lonnie had joined the conversation.  “Under?” he asked.

“It would take a lot of work,” said Luther, “but it could probably be done.  Dig a tunnel under the bank, use a sledge hammer and drill to knock a hole in the concrete, and plant a stick of dynamite.  Or half of one.  It shouldn’t do too much damage to the contents of the vault, and it might make a hole big enough for someone to crawl through.  If it’s not quite big enough, a hammer and chisel would widen it.”

Jessup scratched his head.  “That’s not a bad idea,” he said.  “We might just try that.”

“When did you come up with that idea, Luther?” Matt asked.

“Just now.”

Matt chuckled and shook his head.  “One thing, though,” he said.  “We might want to get a general consensus as to whether people would even want to go back to using money or not before doing all that work.  It might turn out that no one wants to.  It does sound like a good idea, though.”

“How would we find that out?” Jessup asked.

“We could all send out riders to various places to see what people think about it,” Matt said.  “They might even be using it now as we speak, who knows?  I guess for now, we’ll just trade goods and services for as long as we can until we find something out.”

“I suppose we’ll have to,” Jessup agreed.

“What would it take to get some coal and steel up here?” Lonnie asked.

“Time and patience is all I can tell you right now.  What would you have to trade for it?”

“Right now, not much.  We have a stack of hides and furs, but not much else.  I’d be willing to trade some wagons for it.  We’ve been given permission to tear down some houses here.  That’s where the materials for the wagons come from.”

Jessup looked at the one that Lonnie and Luther were working on.  “Looks good and sturdy.  How much will it hold?”

“A ton or better at this size.  I could make them bigger and stronger, but they would take more livestock to pull them.”

“Tell you what.  I’ll send a rider to Flint to see what they would want for some of their steel, and I’ll ask the miners how many wagons they might want for the coal.  Give me a couple of weeks to get back to you on that.”

“Sounds good.  Thanks.”

“Not a problem.”  Jessup shook hands with them all and headed back home.

“Well,” said Matt, “it’s a start, anyway.”

Chapter 26

When Joe and Eddie returned from their task, Matt told Joe about the possible trade for coal and steel.

“I found some blacksmith tools on the edge of town.  Tongs, hammers, a bellows, and a couple of different sized anvils.  Lonnie, I’m going to need some help with the second anvil.  It weighs about two hundred and fifty pounds.  Mayor Whitely told me where to look and said I could have them in exchange for a sword.  The house and shop were abandoned, and he said I could have whatever I found in there that I could use.  There was quite a bit of stuff in there that we could use at the farm.”  He pointed to the back of the buckboard where there was a large assortment of hand and bench tools.  “I’ll need to build another shop for the forge, one that can be opened up in the summer to keep from getting too hot.  And so it will ventilate properly.”

“Matt’s the one to draw it up for you,” Lonnie said, “but we’ll all build it.”

Lonnie and Luther did some more work on the wagon before calling it a day.  Lonnie told Max to take his horse and go with Matt while he went with Joe and Eddie to go get the other anvil.

“We’ll see you at the house,” Matt said as he and Max headed home.

“Dad, what do you think will become of us?” Max asked as they walked their horses.

“Us?  Who do you mean by “us”?”

“This country.  What do you think will happen?  I mean, do you think it’ll be like it was, with governments and laws and stuff?”

“Well, I hope so.  It’s been a little over a year since the blackout, and some things are starting to settle down, I’m thinking.  Around us they are, anyway.  As for laws and governments, we can only hope that some law and order will prevail.  There’s been no word as to what’s going on in Lansing, or Washington, or if they’re even still standing.  The way people felt about Washington right before the blackout, it wouldn’t surprise me if there is no more Washington, D.C.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m talking about the political corruption that had most of the people in this country extremely distrustful of anything anyone in D.C. said or did.  It seems to have gotten to the point that if you didn’t lie and have double standards, you didn’t belong in politics.”

“But why?” Max asked.

“Because people are naturally selfish, and they want what they want, and everything else is secondary.”

“You mean like Abe and Little John?”

“Exactly like Abe and Little John, and anyone else who wants to take other people’s things simply because they want them.  This world is and always will be full of Abes and Little Johns.  And Bill Johnsons, for that matter.  It’s the people who strive to look out for others and help them that need it that are the decent ones.  People who fight against the Abes, Little Johns, and Bill Johnsons of the world.  As for law and order, it seems as if the smaller towns relatively close to us have their system of laws and enforcement.  We don’t have a police force here in town, but there doesn’t seem to be much need for one right now.  But, it will be needed at some point, and I hope a competent police chief or marshal or sheriff, whichever title is used, is put in place.”

“What about the military?”

“I don’t know.  They’re probably more concerned with the bigger cities right now to worry about us out here in Podunkville.”

They traveled in silence for several minutes before Max spoke up again.  “Would you want to be the town marshal?”

“That’s not really my area of expertise, son.  I draw and build houses and buildings.”

“But you’re a good leader.  You don’t think you would make a good marshal?  You know the basic laws, and people around here know you.  You’re not a stranger to them.”

“I realize that, Max, but it’s just not something I would be comfortable doing.  Joe would be better at that than I would, with his military experience and all.”

“Mr. Joe’s a fighter, but I still think you’re a better leader.”

“Thank you, son, I appreciate that.”

“You’re welcome, Dad.”

They rode the rest of the way home in silence, each lost in his own thoughts.

Chapter 27

Before Matt and Max arrived at the palisade gate, they smelled venison roasting.  When they entered the gate, they saw half a deer on a spit being rotated by Mannie and Garvin taking turns.  Rondell had some marinade in a small bucket that he mopped onto the meat periodically.  Matt and Max were already hungry, but smelling the roasting meat made their mouths water.  Fifteen minutes later, Lonnie, Joe, and Eddie pulled up in the wagon.  Eddie jumped off as Joe steered it toward the barn to offload the tools.  As Joe took the hand and bench tools inside, Lonnie carried the big anvil in by himself.

“I would have helped you with that,” said Joe.

“I know, but I wanted to get it done because my stomach thinks my throat has been cut, and I want some of that venison.  Besides, it’s not that heavy.”

“Not that heavy?” Joe asked incredulously.  “It weighs two hundred and fifty pounds!  Remind me to never wrestle with you.”

“Sissy.  Eddie wrestles with me.”

They both laughed as they headed toward the fire.  It was going to be about thirty to forty-five minutes before supper was ready, they were told.  That being the case, they poured cups of coffee, lit up cigars, and sat down to rest and enjoy the aromas.

Kara ran around playing with Max, and Jeremiah and Beth Marshall, and Tonya and Nikki Mixon.  Hide-and-seek was the game of the moment, and there were a lot of places to hide.  Kara was “it” and was still trying to find Jeremiah.  She had found the rest.  Jeremiah was proving to be quite good at the game.  Jim Hartley was watching the kids run almost nonstop.

“I wish I had half that much energy,” he commented.

“Wait ‘til you get my age,” said Joe.  “Then you’ll wish you had just a quarter of it.”

“What are you talking about?” Matt asked.  “You have plenty of energy.”

“I wouldn’t be able to play that game for as long as they’ve been at it, I can guarantee you that.”

“Yeah, well, you are kind of old, aren’t you?” Matt replied, and dodged a punch to the arm from Joe.

“I’m not that much older than you, buddy,” said Joe.

“But the fact remains that you are older.  And by ten years, I might add.”

Joe lunged out of his chair and Matt jumped up and ran.  Joe chased Matt twice around the fire pit before Shelly hollered.

“Children!  Time for supper!  That means you two big children, as well.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Matt and Joe said in unison.  Just as they were about to punch each other in the arm, Lonnie picked them up, one under each arm, and carried them to the table.

“Hey!  Put me down, you big lug,” Joe said.  Lonnie dropped him.

“I said put me down, not drop me,” said Joe as he got up and dusted himself off.

“Then you need to be more specific,” said Lonnie.  All the kids laughed and giggled and the ladies just rolled their eyes.

“Children,” said Emma.  “Boys will be boys, I suppose.”

“Yes,” said Marge, “they most certainly will.  You don’t act like that, do you, Frank?”

“Who, me?  No, I am much too sophisticated to play silly kid’s games like that.”  As he walked to his place at the table, he reached out and punched Pug in the arm.

“I thought you were too sophisticated for that kind of thing,” Pug said as he rubbed his arm.

“And you believed me?  Really?”

“Boys!” Shelly said.  “It’s time to eat.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Frank.

After supper, everybody helped with the cleanup, and went about their usual routines.  As the adults sat around talking, Mannie, Garvin, Max, and Jeremiah ran over and plopped down to rest.  After a few minutes, Jeremiah spoke up.

“Mr. Lonnie, you wanna wrestle?”

“Wrestle you, Jeremiah?”

“No, sir, wrestle all of us.”

“At the same time?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sure, why not?”

Lonnie got up and walked over to a grassy area.  Just as he turned around, all four boys pounced.  They did their best to get Lonnie down on the ground.  He moved around, lifting Garvin off the ground and swinging him around.  As he set Garvin back on the ground, Jeremiah latched onto one leg with Max on the other.  Mannie and Garvin each grabbed an arm and were lifted off the ground.  Suddenly, Eddie jumped on Lonnie’s back.  Lonnie walked around with the five boys hanging off of him, all laughing.  It was as much fun as any of them had had in a long time.  Finally, Lonnie let them take him down, simply so he could rest a little.

Lonnie sat back down in his chair.  “That was invigorating,” he said.  “I guess Eddie thought he could take me down from behind like that.”

“Okay, so I was wrong,” Eddie said.  “At least I tried.”

They all laughed.  Pug sat holding Ronnie in his lap while Megan sat and talked with the other ladies.  Megan looked over at them and her heart melted when Pug lifted Ronnie in the air and Ronnie laughed and gurgled, cooed and drooled.  Megan finished her part of the conversation and carried her chair over to where the men sat.  She sat down with her leg almost, but not quite, touching Pug’s.  He was extremely aware of Megan’s close proximity, and so were the others.  Pug had taken a romantic interest in Megan almost as soon as he had laid eyes on her a year ago.  When he heard the story of how Tyler had treated her, though, he kept his distance.  Now, he couldn’t be sure if her sitting that close was an accident or not.  He would have to wait and see how she acted after this.  He didn’t have long to wait.  When everyone got ready to call it a night, her fingers lingered against his when she took Ronnie from him.  He looked at her, and she looked at him and smiled.  He smiled back.

And that’s how he fell asleep that night.

Chapter 28

The next morning after breakfast, the sound of a number of horses was heard coming down the lane toward the palisade.  The ladies grabbed the children and ran inside.  Matt waited for whoever it was to appear.  No one else was in sight.  A group of men in military uniform stopped at the gate, and the one in the lead dismounted.

“Good afternoon, sir.  I’m Colonel Blanton of the United States Army.”

“Matt Blaine.  How can I help you, Colonel?”

“I’m afraid I’m going to need all of your horses, Mr. Blaine.  For the Army.”

“I’m sorry, Colonel, but we don’t have very many, and we need the ones we have.”

Blanton looked at the ground as if in thought.  “Mr. Blaine, I’m trying to be polite about this.  I’m requisitioning your horses.  I’m not asking.”

“Again, Colonel, we need our horses.”  Matt kept his tone even although he was not feeling very much on an even keel.  He sure didn’t appreciate being told that the Army was essentially going to steal his horses.  If Colonel Blanton had offered to pay or trade for some, it might have been different.  But Blanton wasn’t one to be nice and ask.  He expected the uniform to cause anyone who saw it to submit without question.

“Mr. Blaine, I am authorized to use whatever force necessary to procure your horses.  Up to and including deadly force.”  As soon as Colonel Blanton said that, ten rifles were leveled at Matt.

“Colonel,” said Matt, “I must warn you that right about now, there are no less than seven, and maybe as many as twelve or thirteen rifles aimed at you.  I don’t want any trouble, but I’m not giving up my means of transportation, either.”

Blanton looked around, trying to spot anyone with a rifle, but couldn’t see anyone.  He had his hand on his pistol, wondering if this Matt Blaine was bluffing.  He didn’t seem the sort to bluff, but one never knew.  However, discretion was the better part of valor, he had heard, and decided to wait for another time.

“This isn’t over, Mr. Blaine.  I’ll be back with more men, and more firepower.  We need those horses.”

“I hope for your sake, Colonel, that you don’t come back.  I’m sure that there are horses running free that you and your men can round up.  Please don’t come back and threaten me.  I’m a peaceful man, but I won’t be threatened.”

Colonel Blanton was a seasoned veteran, but something about this man gave him pause.  He had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that Matt Blaine had guts.  He had kept his cool even though ten automatic rifles were aimed at him.  Blanton signaled his men to lower their weapons.  Without another word, he mounted his horse.  He looked at Matt for a long moment and left.

Matt watched until they were out of sight before looking away from the gate.  Even then he didn’t fully turn his back in case someone decided to return.  Lonnie, Eddie, Jim, Joe, Rondell, Frank, James, and Pug came from where they had been concealed, each one of them aiming a rifle at Colonel Blanton or his men.  Shelly, Max, Marge, Emma, Melinda, and Amy came out of the house carrying rifles, and Megan had her .38 in her hand.

“Do you think they’ll be back?” Shelly asked.

“I hope not.  I’m hoping I made my point,” said Matt, “and that they’ll go look for horses running free.”

“They didn’t strike me as the round-up types,” Frank said.

“They may have to learn,” said Matt.  “People have had to learn new things for the last year now, and I don’t see why they should be any different.”

“I don’t know if the colonel would have made good on his threat or not,” Lonnie said, “but a couple of his men struck me as hotheads just itching for a fight of some kind.”  He flexed his fingers.  “I’d like to teach them a lesson in manners.”

“Lon, do you really think that would accomplish anything?” Marge asked.

“It would make me feel better.”

Colonel Blanton called a halt to water the horses.  His sergeant took his horse to care for it and Blanton stood there in thought.

“Sir?”

Blanton turned.  “What is it, Corporal?”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“What’s on your mind?”

“I was wondering why we didn’t just take their horses and be done with it.  I mean, we could have just cut him down where he stood.”

“You’re right, Corporal, we could have.  However, it might have also gotten several or even all of us killed in the process.  He claimed that there were several rifles pointed at me, but they could have been pointed at the rest of you just as easily.  He could have been bluffing, but I wasn’t willing to take that chance.”

“I would have.”

“Then you’re an idiot.  You have a lot to learn about tactics, about when to attack and when to wait, and about when to cut your losses and go somewhere else.  This was not a decisive battle that had to be fought.  We are looking for mounts for the Army.  Mr. Blaine is probably right in saying that there are horses running free that can be caught.”

“But sir, I think…”

“It’s not your place to think, Corporal.  Your job is to follow orders.”  The rest of the men were watching the exchange, wondering what was going to happen.

Corporal Young’s face grew red.  “I didn’t sign up to take orders from someone who won’t do what is necessary to get what he needs.”

“You had better stand down, Corporal, and remember who you are addressing.”

“And why should I stand down?  Are you going to put me on K.P.?”

Colonel Blanton’s eyes narrowed.  “Do you really have that much of a problem with me, Corporal?  Because if you do, then how about you and I go off in the woods over there and talk about this problem of yours?”  Two heartbeats later Blanton said, “On second thought…” and punched Corporal Young in the jaw.  Young landed flat on his back, and Blanton stood over him with his pistol drawn.

“We’re a little short on military tribunals out here, but if you ever talk to me like that again, I will not hesitate to put a bullet in you for sedition.  Do not question my decisions.  There is a reason I’m in command and you’re not.  So unless you want to wind up in a hole in the ground, remember your place.”

Blanton took a step back to let Young get up.  Young stood there rubbing his jaw, hatred boiling in his eyes.  Blanton holstered his .45 and turned to walk away.

“Colonel!” someone shouted.

Blanton whirled around in time to see Corporal Young coming at him with his combat knife in his hand.  He had it up, ready to stab Blanton in the back with it.  Blanton grabbed Young’s wrist and swung his knife hand down, burying the blade in Young’s gut.  Corporal Young fell to his knees, then rolled over on his side and tried to pull the knife out.  He died glaring at Blanton, cursing him.

Blanton stood looking down at Corporal Young, his face impassive.  Without a word he turned and got his entrenching tool and began to dig a shallow grave.  Others joined him, and soon Corporal Young was buried with a crude marker at the head of his grave.

Colonel Blanton’s men mounted up and left, and didn’t look back.

Chapter 29

Sometime after lunch, Joe Kitchner walked in through the gate.

“Where have you been?” Matt asked.  “I didn’t see you leave.”

“I decided to follow the colonel and see what his plans might be.  They won’t be coming back.”

“And why is that?” Matt asked.

Joe told them about the altercation between Colonel Blanton and Corporal Young, and how it ended.  “They headed west, and I don’t think we’ll be seeing them anymore.”

“I hope not.  We have enough things to keep us occupied right now.  Lonnie’s in town finishing up that last wagon that he and Luther were working on.  He should be back around supper.”

“In that case,” said Joe, “I’m going to take the buckboard into town and see if I can find some fire brick and cement to build a forge with.  I’d like to have it ready to go when and if I can get some coal and steel to work with.”

“It’ll be at least another week before we hear back from Jessup about the steel,” said Matt, “but he seemed reasonably sure that we could trade a couple of Lonnie’s wagons for a load of coal.”

“I hope so.  I’d like to get started as soon as I can, making some blades.  I think they would do well with this trade thing.  If bullets don’t completely run out, they’re going to be at such a premium that no one will want to use them unless they just absolutely have to.  Well, the smart ones, anyway.”

“Go ahead and go do what you need to, but don’t be late for supper if you can help it.  You know how the ladies get if anyone’s late without a good reason.”

“Yeah, I know.”

After Joe left, Matt went to the library and began drawing what was basically an open-air shop with walls that would swing up instead of out.  He worked on it for a few hours, drawing here, erasing there, until he was satisfied with the final product.  Shortly after that, Lonnie and Joe arrived at the house.  Matt went out and saw that Joe had indeed found some brick and cement.  He drove the buckboard over to the barn, unhitched the horses, and he and Lonnie pushed the buckboard into the barn.

“Good news,” said Lonnie as he came out of the barn.  “Jesse Barnes sent someone to tell me that they’re ready for the four wagons to be delivered and that they have what I wanted in trade for them.”

“Good,” said Matt.  “When are you wanting to take them up there?”

“I thought I might go tomorrow, if I can get three more guys to help drive them.”

“Oh, I think we can find you enough drivers for that.  Shouldn’t be too much of a problem.  I’ll go, but the others will have to speak for themselves.”

“I’ll go, too,” said Joe as he walked over to them.  “I’ll tie my horse to the back of a wagon to ride back.”

“We just need one more, then,” said Matt.  “I’ll mention it to the guys at supper.”

“Speaking of which,” Shelly said as she came out of the house, “it will be in about an hour.”

“Okay,” said Matt.  “Joe, come on inside and I’ll show you what I’ve got drawn up for you for a shop.”

They went in and looked over what Matt had drawn up.  Lonnie sat out on the porch and began knapping a piece of broken bottle into what was going to hopefully be an arrowhead.  He used a piece of eight-inch steel rod, a little longer than his palm was wide, to press flakes of glass off the piece of broken bottle.  It was slow going, but an hour later he had what was beginning to look like an arrowhead.  He was all too happy to stop what he was doing when the dinner bell rang.  He went in and washed the blood off his fingers, applied some antibiotic ointment, and wrapped cloth bandages around his fingers.

“One of these days you might get the hang of that,” Joe said when he saw Lonnie’s fingers.

“I hope so,” Lonnie replied.

After Matt asked the blessing and everyone started eating, he mentioned driving the wagons up to Black River and asked for another volunteer.  Rondell immediately responded that he would go, and Pug said he would like to go just for the trip.

“It’s settled then,” said Matt.  “We’ll carry four saddles and the panniers in one of the wagons so we can ride back and lead the rest of the horses.”

“What are the panniers for?” Emma asked.

“To carry back what they’ll be trading for the wagons,” said Joe.  “The percussion rifles, caps, powder, lead, and bullet molds.”  He grinned.  “We’ve made our first big trade.”

“Yes, and I hope it continues and gets bigger,” Matt replied.

“You and me both, bro,” said Lonnie.

“By the way, James,” said Matt, “have you decided on what you’re going to do yet?”

“Yes.  I’m going to move into one of the houses in town.  Mayor Whitely showed me a few that I could choose from.  I’ll probably move into one in the next few days.”

“Well, just know that you’re welcome here anytime,” said Matt.

“Thank you.  I appreciate that.  I also appreciate you letting me stay here for a while, too.”

“After what you did for my wife and children,” Frank said, “it was the least we could do.  I will be forever grateful.”

“Tell you what,” James said.  “Buy me a cup of coffee and a cigar and we’ll call it even.”

“Really?  That’s all you want?” asked Frank.

“Well, maybe one of those swords that Joe’s been talking about making.”

“Done,” said Joe.  “Just tell me what specs you want.”

“I guess it’s settled then,” Matt said.  “Let’s try to get to bed a little earlier tonight because we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Chapter 30

The next morning, the five men got into town just as the sun was peeking over Lake Huron.  Joe tied his black stud to the back of the wagon he was going to drive and helped hitch up the rest of the horses.  Two horses per empty wagon were sufficient to haul them.  They were on the road by the time the sun was fully off the horizon.  Breakfast consisted of leftover biscuits, jerky, and coffee, followed by cigars for Matt, Lonnie, and Joe.  The horses’ hooves had been fitted with hard leather coverings for better traction on the pavement.  They arrived in Black River just after noon, and were greeted by several townspeople.  Jesse Barnes came out of an old diner and shook hands with them.

“Rondell, good to see you again,” Jesse said.

“Likewise,” Rondell replied.

“So how’s little Ronnie doing?”

“He’s a year old and thinks he owns the world,” Rondell said.  “To be honest, Ronnie thinks Pug here is his daddy.”

Jesse looked over at Pug and nodded.  “That girl could do a lot worse,” he said.

“Pug’s a good man,” said Matt.  “That baby took to him like nobody’s business.  They’re not an item yet, but I’m thinking it’s just a matter of time.”

“Good.  Ronnie’s going to need a good father figure.  Anyway, we have the things you wanted in there.”  He pointed toward the diner he had come out of.  They all went in and found everything stacked on a couple of tables, the rifles standing butt-first on the floor.  “If you’ll pull the wagons around to the side parking lot, we’ll leave them there until we can get horses over here to move them.”

“Not a problem,” said Matt.  They went out and moved the wagons to the side of the diner and unhitched the horses.  Joe’s stud was already saddled, so the other four were saddled and the panniers put on a fifth.  Two rifles and half of the lead, powder, percussion caps, powder flasks, and bullet molds were put into each pannier to distribute the weight.

When they headed back toward Oscoda, Matt and Joe led the way.  Rondell and Pug followed, each leading two horses, and Lonnie brought up the rear.  Matt, Joe, and Lonnie all rode with their rifles resting butt first on their thighs.  Pug and Rondell held the lead ropes in their left hands, and kept their right hands close to their pistols.  Thieves and highwaymen were not a thing of the past by any stretch of the imagination, and the men were alert for any.  They made it back to the farm just after supper was served.  They took care of the horses, took the trade goods inside, and sat down to eat.  After supper, Lonnie wanted to see how well the rifles would shoot.

“They’re .58s,” he said, looking at one.  “Just what I wanted.”

“What kind of kick do they have?” Pug asked.

“Let’s load one and you can find out,” Lonnie replied.  He poured a measure of powder down the barrel, then placed a lubricated cloth patch over the hole.  A lead ball was centered on the patch and pushed into the barrel.  Using the ramrod, Lonnie shoved the patched ball all the way down until it was seated properly.  He then cocked the hammer and put a percussion cap on the nipple.  Holding the hammer with his thumb, he pulled back on the trigger and slowly let the hammer move forward.  Just before the hammer touched the percussion cap, Lonnie let off the trigger and pulled the hammer back until it clicked once.  It was now on “safety” and could be handed to someone.

Lonnie handed the rifle to Pug.  “You’ve shot a rifle before, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Pug replied.

“Then you know how to stand.  Just plant your back foot firmly and tuck the stock against your shoulder.  Fire when you’re ready.”

Everybody stepped back behind Pug as he got his stance settled.  He had paid enough attention to know that you didn’t pull the trigger, you squeezed it.  He gently squeezed the trigger and the rifle bucked against his shoulder.  When the smoke cleared, Pug could tell that he had at least hit the target.

“Not too bad for a first-timer,” said Lonnie.  “Who’s next?”

Joe went next.  He was closer to the center than Pug was, but still no bullseye.  They all took turns, with Lonnie waiting until last.  Several holes were in the target, none of them in the center.  Lonnie loaded the rifle, took aim, and fired.  He set the butt of the rifle on the ground while Pug ran and checked the target.

“Almost dead center!” he hollered.  “Just a little to the left!”

“I need to pull to the right some more, then,” said Lonnie.

“How did you know to pull to the right in the first place?” Pug asked when he got back to the group.

“I’ve been watching the rest of you shoot.  I figured that you were trying to hit the bullseye and saw that the bullets were hitting up high and to the left.  So I pulled it down and to the right.  Simple deduction.  Tomorrow I’ll see how the others shoot and do some sight adjustments when necessary.”

Marge met them coming back to the house.  “So how does it shoot?” she asked.

“Not too bad,” Lonnie answered.  “It needs a little adjustment on the sights, but that’s about it.  I’ll be checking the others tomorrow.  I hope we can get some more of these rifles.  I sure like them.”

“Why don’t we talk about that some more tomorrow.  You need to rest after a long day of riding.”

When they got back to the fire pit, he sat down and she brought him a cup of coffee and a cigar.  Pug sat down and Megan brought Ronnie over and sat down beside him.  Megan sat so close to Pug that their arms touched on the armrests of their chairs.  If anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything.  The rest of the evening was passed talking about various subjects before everyone turned in for the night.  Pug carried a sleeping Ronnie in for Megan and put him in his crib.  As Pug stood back up, Megan kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you for being so good to Ronnie,” she whispered.  “He has really taken to you.”  She paused and looked at the floor before looking at him again.  “And so have I.”

He didn’t know how to put into words what he wanted to say, so he simply said, “May I…?”

“Yes, you may.”

He kissed her, and she returned it.

Chapter 31

The next week was spent tearing down another house for the materials and building a shop for Joe.  With all the men working on the construction, it was done in no time.  They were still waiting to hear from Jessup down in Au Gres about the coal and steel.  Joe set about building a forge so it would be ready when they got the hopefully good word.

After the shop was constructed, the men began cutting more firewood for the coming winter.  It was late July, but they wanted a good supply of wood cut and fairly seasoned before winter set in.  By the time they were finished, there would be eight to ten cords of wood cut, split, and stacked.  After another week, Jessup came up from Au Gres.  He met Matt, Joe, and Lonnie at a partially torn down house where another wagon was under construction.

“I’ve got some good news, and I’ve got some more good news,” Jessup said.

“Let’s hear the good news first,” said Matt.

“The good news is that I spoke with the miners, and they said they would take two large wagons in exchange for a ton of coal.”

“And the other good news?”

“The steel mill in Flint will take a large wagon for a ton of steel.  I’m guessing the difference in the two prices -the wagons, I mean- is that the miners have to work for the coal, but the steel in Flint is already lying there.  It’s been collecting dust for a year.  At first, they wanted two wagons, also, but I talked them down to one.”

“Thank you,” said Matt.  “Is there anything you’d like for your broker’s services?”

“A sword and a good hunting knife, maybe?”

“Not a problem,” said Joe.  “How do you want them done?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Jessup.  “You decide.”

“So when are they expecting us to do the pick-ups and deliveries?”

“As soon as they hear from me.  I’ll send riders with word about your arrival.”

“We’ll need about three weeks to get the wagons built, and then whatever time it takes to get them there,” said Lonnie.

“Then I’ll tell them about a month, give or take,” Jessup replied.

“Sounds good,” said Lonnie.  “We’ll get right on it and see you in about a month.”

Even though they were over halfway to the top of Lower Michigan, the days were still hot.  The nights, on the other hand were getting a little cooler.  With the days starting to get shorter, Lonnie had to work faster on the wagons to get them ready for delivery.  It took less than the projected three weeks, which was an outside estimate.  Lonnie, Matt, and Joe would drive the three large wagons while Frank and Rondell drove the two smaller ones to haul the coal and steel back with.

The day before they left, equipment was gathered, weapons were checked, and food was packed.  Matt, Lonnie, and Joe put their saddles in the back of one wagon; their horses would be bareback until they were needed.  Jim Hartley and Eddie went along as outriders.  The morning that they left, hugs and kisses were exchanged along with well-wishes and be-carefuls.  Eddie led out riding point, while Jim brought up the rear.  Three uneventful days passed as they traveled the almost sixty miles from Oscoda to Au Gres.  When they reached the center of town, Matt jumped down from his wagon.

“You guys stay here with the wagons,” he said, “while Joe and I go find Jessup.”

Matt and Joe saddled their horses and rode to Jessup’s house.  He had a map drawn out for them showing the directions to the coal mine.

“Just tell them that you’re the ones I told them about,” Jessup said.  “Of course, they’ll probably figure it out when they see the wagons.”

“Much obliged,” said Matt.

As they headed back toward the wagons where the others were waiting, two men stepped off a porch and walked toward them.  Stopping in the middle of the street, the older of the two raised a hand.  Matt and Joe pulled up and waited.

“Afternoon,” said the grizzled man.

“Hello,” said Matt.  “Can we help you?”

“Yeah.”  The man pointed at Joe.  “I want him.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want him,” the man repeated.  “I’m going to beat him to death.”

“Have we met?” Joe asked.

“Not directly, no.  My name’s Don Cochran, and you killed my son Barry.”

“And when did I do this?” Joe asked.

“Last year.  You shot him down by the water.”

Joe thought for a minute.  “I remember.  He was shooting at us for no reason whatsoever.  We never did anything to anybody here.  We stayed the night and left out the next morning.  Next thing we know, someone’s shooting at us.  So I shot back.”

“He was my son.”

“I’m sorry it was your son, but he brought it on himself.”

Cochran squared his shoulders.  “As you can see, I am unarmed.  But I don’t need a gun.  I’m going to beat you to death with my bare hands.  Now get down off that horse before I pull you off.”

Joe looked at Matt.  “There’s only one way to end this,” he said.  Joe dismounted and unbuckled his pistol belt.  He hung it on the saddle horn and handed the reins to Matt.  Cochran grinned evilly.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” he said.

The words had no sooner left his lips when Joe hit him in the mouth.  Cochran wasn’t expecting it.  He was expecting Joe to try and talk him out of a fight.  Joe followed the first punch with a second.  A third swing was aimed at Cochran’s midsection.  By that time, he had recovered from his initial surprise.  He dropped his right arm to absorb the punch while he swung at Joe’s head with his left.  Joe ducked the swing and swung again at Cochran’s midsection.  Cochran rushed him, trying to drive him to the ground.  They stood there grappling until Cochran threw Joe to the pavement.  He landed near the feet of Cochran’s friend who tried to kick him in the side.  Matt drew his Desert Eagle.

“I wouldn’t try that again,” he said.  The man raised his hands and backed away.  Cochran rushed forward as Joe was getting to his feet.  A large fist aimed at Joe’s head barely missed as Joe jerked to the side.  Before Joe could regain his balance, Cochran hit him in the jaw with an uppercut.  Joe staggered back a couple of steps and shook his head.  The man could hit.  Cochran followed the uppercut with a fist to the mouth.  They went back and forth trading punches to the body and face, trying to wear each other down.  Joe wiped blood off his face and grinned.  He was actually enjoying the fight.  Cochran rushed him again.  Joe grabbed Cochran’s arm and used his own momentum to throw him to the ground.  He stepped back to let Cochran get back up.

Cochran slowly got to his feet and raised his fists.  The two men circled each other, with Cochran looking for an opening.  Joe’s hand came down a little, and Cochran swung.  Joe was expecting it.  He had dropped his fist on purpose, wanting Cochran to take the bait.  As soon as Cochran swung, Joe ducked under his fist.  Dropping to one knee, Joe’s fist came up and caught Cochran in the crotch.  He doubled over with a loud grunt and Joe grabbed a leg and jumped to his feet, pulling the leg up with him.  Cochran’s feet came out from under him and he fell backward, his head thudding on the pavement.  He didn’t move.  Joe reached down and felt for Cochran’s pulse.  It was good and strong; he was only knocked out.

Joe looked at the other man.  “Tell your friend when he wakes up not to come after me.  I don’t want to have to kill him.”

Matt and Joe rode back to the wagons.

“What happened to you?” Lonnie asked when they got back.  Matt relayed the story as Joe poured some water from his canteen onto a rag to wash his face.  His jaw was swollen, his lip was split and swelling, and there were cuts above his left eye and on his right cheekbone.

“You need Eddie or Jim to drive your wagon for you?” Matt asked.

“No, I’ll be alright,” Joe said.  “But I am going to be sore for a while.  That guy packs quite a punch.”

Matt and Joe tied their horses to the backs of their wagons and set out.  A few miles west of town, Matt called a halt for the night.  Lonnie built a cook fire while Eddie and Jim got out the food and pans.  Frank and Rondell watered the horses and picketed them where they could get plenty of grass.  After supper, they sat around talking over coffee and cigars.  When it was time to turn in, Lonnie took the first watch.  After two hours, he woke Matt.

“Everything’s pretty quiet,” Lonnie said.  “Nothing unusual.”

Matt spent the next two hours listening to the night and watching the horses.  They would hear something long before he would.  His watch passed without incident.  He woke Frank for the next watch, who was followed by Jim.  The night passed quietly.  After a breakfast of coffee and jerky, they hitched the teams, saddled the horses, and headed toward Kawkawlin and the coal mine.

Chapter 32

They traveled to Standish without incident.  All the cars and trucks they saw had been moved off the road which made for easier going with the wagons.  Some vehicles were still in one piece, others had various parts missing.  Matt’s group kept a wary eye out because the vehicles provided places for others to hide and attack from ambush, if they were so inclined.  When Standish was out of sight behind them, Matt called a halt.  Joe climbed down from his wagon and winced at the pain in his ribs.  He was a lot stiffer than he thought he would be.

“You okay?” Matt asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright,” Joe said.  “I just need to move around some.”

After the horses were unsaddled, unhitched, and cared for, Matt checked his state map.

“We have about twenty-five miles to go before we get to Kawkawlin.  According to the directions, the mine we’re looking for is east of town.”

Supper was fixed and eaten, and the fire was let to die down to coals, enough to keep the coffee pot hot.  As they talked about trading with other communities, Frank looked over at Pug.

“So, Pug, when are you going to kiss that girl?” he asked.

Pug’s face grew red.  “I already did,” he answered.  A smile spread slowly across his face.

“He’s got a Cheshire grin on his face,” Lonnie said.  “She must not have slapped him.”

Pug’s grin got even bigger.  “He obviously enjoyed it,” said Joe, “and she must have, too.  Did she kiss you back?”

Pug’s grin was all the answer they needed.

“You do realize, don’t you,” said Matt, “that you are not going to hear the end of this for quite some time, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s okay,” Pug said.

“Seriously, though,” said Matt, “I’ve been watching you with Ronnie, and I think you would make a good dad.”  The others agreed.

“Thank you,” said Pug.  “That means a lot to me.”

Later, when they had bedded down, Matt took the first watch.  After two hours, he woke Pug for his turn.  Pug looked down to make sure his rifle safety was off when lights exploded behind his eyes and then everything went black.  He had a slight sensation of falling, but never felt himself hit anything.  Shortly thereafter, Joe woke to the feeling of something hard and metallic pressed against his forehead.

“I told you I was going to kill you,” whispered Don Cochran.

“You should have never followed me,” Joe whispered back.  “I told your friend to tell you that.”

“He did.”

“Then you were warned,” Joe said just before he fired his .45.  The hollowpoint round ripped through Cochran’s chest and took a chunk of lung with it as it exited.  Cochran jerked as the bullet tore through him and knocked him onto his back.  Joe got to his feet and stood over Cochran as he bled out.

“I said to leave it alone, but you just had to keep coming.”  Joe sighed heavily.  “Your blood is on your own hands.”

Cochran’s mouth worked as he tried to say something, but no words came out, only blood.  Within a couple of minutes he was dead.  Everyone else had jumped up, weapons in hand, when Joe’s pistol went off.  Lonnie got his entrenching tool to bury Cochran.

“Where’s Pug?” Eddie asked.

“He was supposed to be standing watch,” Frank said.  “I’ll go look for him.”  Half a minute later, Frank called out.  “He’s over here!”

Pug was lying on his face, blood drying on the back of his head.  Frank turned him over and felt his pulse.  It was good, and within a few minutes Pug began to come around.  He tried to sit up but grabbed his head instead and rolled over in a fetal position.

“Oh, man, that hurts,” he managed to say.

“How’s your vision?” Lonnie asked as he walked up.

“I’ll let you know when I open my eyes,” Pug whispered hoarsely.  He lay there for several more minutes waiting for everything to stop spinning.  Pug managed to struggle to his feet with Matt’s and Frank’s help.  He stood there swaying drunkenly, trying to focus his eyes.

“How’s your vision?” Lonnie asked again.

“Blurry,” Pug replied.

“Let’s hope it clears up soon,” Joe said.  “His speech seems okay, though.”

“Let’s get him back to camp,” said Matt.  “Lonnie, why don’t you finish his watch, and Eddie can take the next one.”

“Will do,” said Lonnie.

They got Pug back to camp and washed the dried blood off the back of his head.  His vision was beginning to clear up, but he also felt nauseated.  As soon as he mentioned that, he got sick.  Matt gave him a little water to rinse his mouth out with, and a little bit more to sip.

“You’ve probably got a concussion,” Matt said.  “Jim or Eddie, one of you may need to drive his wagon tomorrow, until he’s able to again.”

“I’ll do it,” said Jim.

Matt had Pug lie down on his side with a saddle against his back.  “We don’t want you to choke if you get sick in your sleep,” Matt explained.  “You may not, but I’m not willing to take that chance.”

Lonnie finished Pug’s watch and woke Eddie for the next shift.  Matt lay awake to keep an eye on Pug, in case there was a problem.  There were none, and the rest of the night passed quietly.

Chapter 33

Matt had coffee brewing when Pug awoke and sat up.  He immediately grabbed his head and hunched over.

“How’s your head this morning?” Matt asked.

“It feels like Joe’s stallion stepped on it.”

“Here, see if you can keep some aspirin down,” said Matt, holding out his hand.  Pug took the aspirin and a few swallows of water.  He waited to see if everything would stay down before trying to stand up.  He got up and almost fell back down.  In two long strides, Lonnie was at his side holding him up.

“How’s your vision this morning?” Lonnie asked.

“Better than last night.”

“That’s good,” said Matt.  “Do you think you can make the twenty-five miles to Kawkawlin today?  Or do we need to take a couple of days getting there?”

“I can make it,” said Pug.  “There’s no need to slow down on my account.”

“You sure about that?”

“I’m sure he can do it,” said Frank.  “He traveled pretty well with a broken ankle last year, so I think he can do this.”

“Can you?” Matt asked Pug.

“Yeah, I can make it.”

“Okay, then.  After breakfast, we’ll head out.  Hopefully, we can make it before it starts getting dark.”

Pug decided to forego the coffee that morning, sipping only water.  He wasn’t sure he could keep anything else down.  They saddled and hitched the horses and set out.  The day was uneventful except for the two times that Pug leaned over the side of the wagon and got sick.  After that he felt better and had no more problems, other than his headache.  They made it to the  Kawkawlin mine before dark.  As Matt was climbing down from his wagon, a man came out of the office building.

“Evening,” he said.  “I’m Hank Rollins, the mine foreman.  Been expecting you.”

“Matt Blaine.  Pleased to meet you,” he said as they shook hands.  “Where would you like the wagons put?”

“Just put them over there beside the office building,” Rollins said.  “We’ll put them to use starting tomorrow.  It’ll be tomorrow before we can load your coal.  We don’t run twenty-four-seven right now.”

“That’s okay,” said Matt.  “I was wanting to talk to you about that anyway.  We’re on our way to Flint to pick up some steel and I was wondering if we could leave our wagon here and pick it up on the way back through.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Rollins said.  “Just put it over there with the others, and I’ll tell the men to leave it there ‘till you get back.”

“Thank you,” said Matt.  He told Lonnie, Jim, and Joe to park the wagons beside the office.  “We’ll take some of the horses with us to haul our steel back.  If we could leave the others here, I’d appreciate it.”

“Not a problem.  I sleep here in the back of the office building anyway.”  He pointed to another building off to the right.  “That’s an old bunkhouse the miners used to use back in the day.  You and your crew can bed down there for the night if you want to.”

“’Preciate it, thanks.”

Supper consisted of canned stew.  Pug was able to keep it down.  As a matter of fact, his appetite returned with a vengeance, and he wanted to eat more than he knew he should.

“Take it easy,” said Lonnie.  “Slow down some and take time to taste it.”

After supper came the usual coffee and cigars.  They turned in early in order to get an early start in the morning.  They still had at least two more days before they got to Flint.  Hauling a ton of steel back was going to slow them down some, but hopefully not too much with the extra horses.  The next morning, after a quick breakfast, they were saddled and hitched as the first workers were arriving at the mine.  After introductions were made, Matt led out.  Eddie, Frank, and Jim were driving the wagons; Pug rode with Frank.  Matt, Joe, and Lonnie rode their horses, and the rest were tied to the rear of the wagons. 

They made good time that day, reaching the south side of Saginaw as the sun was going down.  I-75 had been cleared of vehicles over the last year and was being used for quite a bit of travel.  They met a few other travelers going the other way.  Each time, Matt asked how it was back behind them, and was told there hadn’t been any problems.  They made camp, ate supper, and went to sleep.  Lonnie took the first watch, followed by Matt, Eddie, and Jim.  The night was quiet.

Chapter 34

As preparations were being made to head out the next morning, a group of men rode up on horseback.  The leader had long hair and a shaggy beard that looked as if they hadn’t been combed or washed in a month.

“Mornin’,” said the leader.  “This is our territory, and if you want to pass through, you gotta pay a tax.”  His men fanned out in a semicircle around him.

“A tax?” Matt asked.  “What kind of tax?”

“Your guns and ammunition.”

“You’re not getting our weapons,” said Matt, “but we’ll give you the bullets out of them.”  Shaggy and his men reached for their pistols and were instantly covered by several pistols and rifles, two of which were Thompson submachine guns.

“You need to just go ahead and leave,” said Matt.  “We don’t want any trouble, but we’re not paying any tax, either.”

“This ain’t over,” said Shaggy as they turned their horses to leave.

“I hope we have seen the last of you,” said Matt.  “We’re peaceful, but don’t provoke us.  You won’t like the outcome.”

As the wagons headed down the road once more, Joe rode over to Matt.  “I think I’ll hang out here for a while to see if those guys decide to follow us or not.  I’ll catch up later.”

“Alright,” Matt said.  “Just be careful.”

“Oh, I will.”  Joe veered off and headed toward the trees lining the road.  Once inside the tree line, he cut back and headed back close to where they had camped.  He dismounted and sat down to wait.  Ten minutes later, Shaggy and his gang returned, running their horses beside the highway.  Joe stepped his horse out of the trees and fired a round off in the air.  The men reined in their horses at the sound.  One of them turned to cross the highway, but his horse lost its footing on the pavement.  Horse and rider went down, the horse rolling over the rider.  The horse got back up, but the rider stayed down.  The saddle horn had crushed his sternum.

Shaggy pointed his pistol in Joe’s direction and fired.  He shot went wild, and Joe responded with a burst from his Thompson.  The .45-caliber bullets knocked Shaggy and another rider from their saddles.  One other man took a potshot at Joe before turning his horse and taking off; the rest followed.  Joe waited to see if any would return.  Half an hour later, no one had come back, and Joe rode to catch up with the wagons.

“Problems?” Matt asked.

“A little bit,” Joe answered.  “They were coming back, so I let them know I was there.  One guy tried to run his horse across the highway.  The horse’s hooves slipped on the pavement and went down.  The rider didn’t get back up when the horse did.  The leader took a shot at me, so I returned fire with the Thompson.  He and another guy went down.  One other threw a shot at me and the rest of them took off.  They just left their friends lying there.  No honor among thieves, huh?”

“Apparently not.  Did you get hit?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Good,” said Matt.  “If you got hurt any more than you already have, Emma would never let me hear the end of it.  She’d say I wasn’t a very good babysitter.”

“Yeah, right.”

The outskirts of Flint were just coming into sight as the sun was setting.  Matt called a halt for the night, saying that they would go to the steel mill the next morning.  The horses were picketed and watered, and the evening routine finished.  Matt took the first watch.  He had a hard time staying awake since he had stayed awake the night before to make sure Pug was okay.  He was glad when his two-hour shift was over.  He woke Lonnie for his turn.  Matt was out like a light as soon as his head hit the makeshift pillow.  As tired as he was, a Howitzer could have gone off beside him and he would barely have heard it.

The next morning, Matt was the last to wake up.  Everybody else was nursing a cup of coffee when he sat up and stretched.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Joe said.

“What time is it?” Matt asked.

“Around nine, I think,” said Lonnie.

“Nine?  Why didn’t someone wake me?”

“Because you looked so peaceful lying there, and Shelly says you need as much beauty sleep as you can get,” Lonnie said. 

Matt threw a rock at him.  “At least I don’t have to hide my ugly mug behind a beard,” he said, and everyone laughed.

“We just finished the second pot and started a third,” said Frank.  “You better get up and at ‘em if you want any.”

Matt got up and shook his boots out before putting them on.  He poured a cup of coffee, clipped and lit a cigar, and got out his directions to the steel mill.  Judging from the exploded view of Flint, Matt judged that they were about an hour away from the mill, barring any more complications.

Jim and Pug doused the fire while the horses were saddled and hitched.  Soon, they were on the last leg of their southbound journey.  Within a couple of hours, they hoped, they would be heading home.  People stopped what they were doing to watch the new wagons roll by.  A handful of children ran alongside, laughing and waving.  When they pulled up in front of the steel mill office, a man came out to greet them.

“Bob Doohan,” he said holding out his hand.

“Matt Blaine.  Been waiting long?”

“Not really.  Didn’t know exactly when to expect you, so I guess you’re not late.  Anyway, the steel’s inside there.”  He pointed to a large overhead door.

“Where do you want your wagon put?” Matt asked.

Doohan pointed to another building.  “Over there’s fine,” he said.

“Okay.  The side stakes for taller loads are in the back of the wagon,” Matt said.

“It’s a good-looking wagon, that’s for sure.”

Lonnie and Eddie hitched the additional horses to the wagon before driving it through the overhead door.  Lonnie was directed toward a pile of steel bars of various lengths, widths, and thicknesses.

“Will that do?” Doohan asked.

“That’s perfect,” Joe answered.

“What are you going to do with it?” a worker asked.

“I’m going to make knives and swords with some of it, and other tools with some of it.  Not exactly sure what right now, though.  I’ll figure that out when it happens, I guess.”

The men got to work loading the steel.  It took about half an hour to load it by hand and lash it down with ratchet straps.  Lonnie climbed onto the seat and picked up the reins.

“Het-het!” he hollered to the horses as he flicked the reins.  With six horses pulling, it didn’t take much to get the wagon moving.  He drove it straight through the warehouse and out the opposite side.  When they were on the road heading back home, Joe rode up beside the wagon.

“I’ve already got a few swords and knives to make,” he said to Lonnie.  “You want to put in an order, too?”

“I’ll wait,” Lonnie said.  “Take care of the other ones first.  That’ll also give me time to decide on what I might want.”

“Good enough,” said Joe.

Travel was a little slower going back, hauling a ton of steel.  But the fact that they had more horses, the lost speed wasn’t much.  The first day of travel put them a little south of where they had spent the night outside of Saginaw.  The trip back to Kawkawlin was uneventful.  On the outskirts of Saginaw they had seen the remaining members of Shaggy’s gang, but they kept their distance.  They wanted no more of Joe and his Tommy gun.

Because of the added weight slowing them down, Matt’s group didn’t get back to the coal mine until mid-afternoon the day after they expected to arrive.  Hank Rollins let them stay in the bunkhouse again in order to give the horses a rest overnight.  The next morning, the other wagon was hitched up and loaded with a ton of coal.  With six horses pulling each wagon, there were only two left, which Joe and Eddie rode.  Pug and Frank rode with Matt while Jim rode with Lonnie.  They headed out with Joe riding point and Eddie bringing up the rear, both keeping alert for trouble.

Matt decided to cut off a little distance by taking the county road from Pinconning to Omer instead of going through Standish.  Another reason was so that they would be closer to the lake where they could get water for the horses.  They stopped a few miles outside of Omer for the night.

“I’ll be glad when we get home,” Pug said.  “This ground is starting to get hard.”

“I’ll be glad, too, but not because of the ground,” said Matt.  “I just miss my wife.”

“I miss Melinda’s cooking,” said Lonnie.  “I’m tired of yours.”

Lonnie was walking by the coal wagon when two men came out of the trees on horseback, one holding a rifle across his saddle.  The other man had his hand on his pistol which was still in its holster.

“Nice wagons you got there,” said the first man

“Thank you,” said Matt.  “We like them.”

“That’s too bad,” said the second man, “because we’ll be taking them off of your hands.”

Lonnie had stopped beside the coal wagon.  “You two are going to take these wagons from all of us?  Really?  How do you think you’re going to manage that?”

“It’s simply a matter of none of you wanting to die, so you’ll give the wagons over instead.”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Lonnie said.  “I am really getting tired of this!” 

In a blur of movement, he threw a large chunk of coal as hard as he could.  The coal struck the lead man’s horse in the flank.  The horse started bucking, causing the man to drop his rifle in order to grab onto the saddle horn.  The second man’s horse started bucking too, from being hit with a chunk of coal.  The two men were not accomplished riders and were soon thrown to the ground.  They got to their feet only to be staring down the barrels of four rifles and five large pistols.  They slowly raised their hands.

“I have lost count of how many times people have tried to rob us,” Matt said, “but like my friend said, we are getting awfully tired of it.”

The two men swallowed hard as Lonnie holstered his .45s and walked over to them.  He looked down at them for a few seconds before suddenly cracking their skulls together, knocking them out.  When they came to, they found themselves tied belly-down to their saddles, their horses running for all they were worth.  That was the last that they saw of Matt Blaine and his friends, and the last they wanted to see of them.

Back at camp, Lonnie was fuming.  “I’m about ready to start shooting anyone we see coming toward us that we don’t know.”

“You and me both, bro,” Joe said.

The next morning, the twenty-eight miles to East Tawas was covered without stopping.  No one seemed inclined to want to approach the wagons or horsemen, especially the big guy that looked like an angry bear.  The horses were completely worn out by the time Matt called a halt.  They camped down close to the water where the horses could eat plenty of grass and drink lots of water.  Instead of being picketed, the horses were hobbled.  That way, they could roam a little without going too far.  If they tried to run, they would simply trip and fall.  But, they had no wish to go anywhere; they just wanted to eat grass, drink water, and rest.

The night passed and the next day started.  Coffee and jerky for breakfast, and a slow day of riding to give the horses a break.  Three and a half days later, Oscoda came into view.  As they rode down the middle of town, Mayor Whitely came out of his office and waved as they rode by.  An hour later they rode through the palisade gate and up to Joe’s new shop.  The horses were unhitched and led into the barn where they were fed and watered.

Rondell, James, the ladies, and the kids came running out of the house.  Shelly, Marge, Mary, and Emma kissed their husbands, Megan kissed Pug, and Amy smiled shyly at Eddie.

Emma pulled away from Joe and looked closely at him.  “What happened to you?” she asked.

“I fell down,” he said.

Emma put her hands on her hips, pursed her lips, and raised her eyebrows.  Joe told the story of what happened with Don Cochran.  “But I’m fine,” he finished.  “Really.”  He looked over at Pug.  “Besides, he probably needs more looking after than I do.”

Megan put her arms around Pug and held him close.  “I’m just glad that you’re okay,” she said.  Matt caught Pug’s eye and winked.

“Stop it,” Shelly whispered to Matt.

“Stop what?” he asked innocently as she rolled her eyes at him.

“Well, I don’t know about anyone else,” Matt said, “but I am going to go inside and take a long, hot shower.  I’ll see everyone in about an hour.”

“Dibs on the other shower,” Lonnie called.  “The rest of you can fight over who’s next.”

Three hours later they were all showered and feeling much better.  Coffee and cigars were waiting for them while supper was being prepared.  After supper, the talk didn’t last very long before the men were falling asleep in their chairs.  They all managed to stagger to their respective bedrooms where they fell across their beds and stayed where they fell all night.

Chapter 35

A few days later, as Matt sat writing in his journal, the sound of Joe’s hammer striking hot steel could be heard through the open window.  They had made a couple of good big trades; Lonnie’s wagons for percussion rifles and accompaniments, coal, and steel.  Joe had orders for knives, swords, and other steel tools coming in.  More news of other communities wanting to join the trade routes kept pouring in.  The future was looking bright for Matt and his family, all twenty-three of them.

There had been hard times, yes, but not anything they hadn’t overcome.  There would be more hard times, to be sure, but they would overcome them as well.  The ones who had seemed the least likely to last -Jim Hartley and Pug Mills- had made huge progress and were valuable additions to the family.

There were a couple of budding romances as well.  Pug and Megan Williams were falling for each other, and Amy Johnson had eyes only for Eddie Llewellyn. 

The family was growing, too.  Lonnie and Marge Llewellyn had a daughter, Lilian, and Joe and Emma Kitchner were expecting. 

Matt desperately wanted to make the world a good place for his own children, as well as the children of his friends, his extended family. Yes, things were looking up, but they still had a long road ahead of them.