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Post by ncsfsgm on Oct 2, 2023 14:48:44 GMT -6
IN THE BEND OF THE RIVER …coming soon…
The RQ-170 “Wraith” overflew the area of destruction to capture the area on film and transmitted it to the Whitehouse Situation Room before heading west to film the area of the Axial Seamount. A computer screen was set up for the Zoom call from Arnold Blakesly, FEMA Director on site at a staging base set up at Portland–Hillsboro Airport. “How in the hell did this happen with no warning!” The Vice President asked. “Cutting the USGS budget last year probably didn’t help any,” An aide mumbled. The FEMA Director sat down at the computer and began the call to Washington when a big tremor almost bounced the computer off the field table. “Mt. Hood is acting up again!” Someone shouted. South of Anderson, Alaska, the Clear Space Force Station and the 11th Air Force and the 176th Air Defense Squadron located at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson, Anchorage, were on heightened alert. With what was going on in the lower 48, It would be an opportune time for America’s adversaries to launch missiles.
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Post by sniper69 on Oct 2, 2023 14:50:53 GMT -6
oh yeah, looking forward to more of your excellent writings.
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Post by gipsy on Oct 2, 2023 15:06:28 GMT -6
Sounds like fun
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Post by kiwibutterfly on Oct 2, 2023 23:06:21 GMT -6
Well!!, I for one will be joining this new ride, many thanks
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Post by feralferret on Oct 3, 2023 2:18:03 GMT -6
Hang on! Here we go!
Thanks for the new story.
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Post by ncsfsgm on Oct 4, 2023 3:49:03 GMT -6
IN THE BEND OF THE RIVER
Chapter 1
Seán Blake wiped the sweat off his brow with his towel as he walked down the hall. The therapist was really wringing him out, but he appreciated that. He wanted to get completely mobile so they would release him. He already had better protheses lined up at a civilian company that would better suit him. The military had him fill out a form telling them about his planned future activities and they had fitted him with the prothesis that would best match his activities, but he had other activities planned that he didn’t want exposed right now. His plans were nobody’s business but his own. The Syme's prosthesis was working well, but there were better ones out there in the civilian world. Sure, they cost some bucks, but he wasn’t concerned about that. Seán went back to his quarters and took a shower after taking off the prothesis and cleaning the sweat off and from in the cup and spraying it with a cleaning solution. He wanted to get over to Temple Hills to get some measurements for a new prothesis to augment what the military was giving him. He would be walking a good deal in the future in the hills and needed a foot that would let him do some hiking over uneven terrain, more sport oriented. What they had given him looked good but wasn’t very efficient for what he was going to be doing. Seán got showered and dressed and went to the parking lot and got into the Chevy pickup he had bought from another patient, a 2015 diesel Chevrolet Silverado 3500 with a Lance 1172 Camper mounted in the bed. He’d also picked up a 7x14 off-road Colorado Cargo Trailer to load his gear into. Not that he had anything to load except what he’d had in his pockets, but he would pick up what he needed later when they released him. He just needed to bide his time. He would gather what he needed and head out when ready. His biggest problem was how to move the plane, and more importantly, whether he could still fly it with a missing left foot. Seán could drive the truck just fine, as well as his Rokon, both had auto transmissions. As soon as he was given release by the doctors, Seán would head out to Jim Moxley’s where he had the plane stored on its trailer and have one of his instructors fly with him. If he could competently put the plane through its motions, he would get the plane down to the farm some way or another.
Seán received a text that the protheses he had ordered were ready, and he needed to come in and get them fitted. Seán had ordered two High-activity Outdoor Prosthetics with Vari-Flex Carbon fiber feet and a Performance/Running Prosthesis. So that would fill in his time in between his physical therapist appointments in the morning and dinner time. He was worried that his stump might become irritated, but it didn’t happen. After four weeks, he was released from Bethesda, he finished the last of his purchases and left Maryland, with a disability rating of 100%. His last action was to go to his bank and transfer the funds to Community One Bank in West Jefferson. He had held an account there since he was old enough to earn money working as a young boy there. He'd called the bank manager to tell him what he was doing, which would be one of the biggest deposits the bank had received in a long time. He wasn’t in a hurry and in taking his time, he planned to head southwest down I-81 through the Shenandoah and George Washington National Parks until he could easily go over to Mountain Lake via Blacksburg. Mountain Lake was where the movie “Dirty Dancing” had been filmed. He used to sneak up there in his Camero and sample the tourist girls once in a while.
Five hours later Seán pulled into Blacksburg and a Food Lion to buy some hotdogs, buns, a yellow onion, a small tub of Cole slaw, a small tub of Amish potato salad, a sixpack of Coors, and three bundles of firewood. He had called ahead and made reservations at Eggleston Springs Campground where he would stay overnight. He missed eating campfire cooking and wanted something other than the MREs he had as emergency rations.
Seán found his hookup and got out his hatchet and trimmed some kindling from a stick of firewood, building his fire. He lit the fire with a ferro rod and went to get his portable radio to listen to while the fire burned down to coals. He got a small folding table out of the trailer, his cleaning kit, and spread a cloth over the table. Disassembling his Glock 17, he began going over the weapon. Seán cleaned the barrel and slide, then applied the appropriate, but minimal, lubrication on the parts. He then reassembled the pistol, picked up the cartridge he had ejected from the weapon when he cleared it, and loaded it back into the magazine. He worked the action a couple of times to make sure things were working properly, then slid the magazine into place, pulling the slide once again. Seán holstered the pistol, then put the cleaning supplies back in the trailer. He had a nice bed of glowing coals, so he got the food out. Cutting a couple of willow sticks down by the creek, Seán skewered the hotdogs and set them where they could cook. He got out his cutting board from the camp box and chopped up the onion, scraping it into a container with a lid. He gave the sticks a turn and wrapped a couple of buns in aluminum foil to warm on the edge of the fire pit. Rushing to his camper, Seán brought back plasticware, and squirt bottles of catsup, mustard, mayonnaise, and relish, then gave the sticks another turn. He opened his Coors and took a deep swallow. Being out from under the government’s thumb was refreshing. Seeing the skin of the hotdogs starting to blister, Seán gave the sticks one more turn and unwrapped the buns, spreading mayonnaise in the buns, he added catsup and mustard, then spread out the relish, wrapped the bun around a hotdog on its stick, pulling the dog off, Lastly, he spooned slaw over the top of the hotdog and took a bite, setting the bun down on a paper plate. He spooned some of the potato salad onto the plate and took a swallow of beer. Halfway through his second hotdog, Seán realized he hadn’t come out even and opened another beer. Seán was satisfied and settled back with his back against the bench and tuned the radio to some bluegrass music being broadcast on a local AM station.
Seán dozed for a few minutes then woke up quickly, glancing around.
“Man! I can’t hold my beer anymore!” Seán thought, getting up. In the light of the coals, backed by the moonlight, Seán gathered up his trash, burned what he could in the campfire and took the rest to a nearby trash receptacle. He took what was left of the slaw, potato salad, and the condiments back into the camper and put them into the fridge. Seán took a quick shower and as he was drying off a thought flashed through his mind, “Don’t ever forget. It’s how you get lost,” Grady had said.
Seán flipped the lock on the door, took his pistol out of his holster, and laid it on the table in the slide out. He sat down on the bench and began his nightly ritual of cleaning his “wooden leg.” When he was done, he left the prothesis at the table and grabbing up the pistol, hopped over to his bed in the cabover. Taking the grab bar above the edge of the bed, hopped up the ladder and pulled the sheet and jungle blanket down and slid the pistol onto the bed, then pulled himself up onto the bed. Seán placed the pistol into a cubby hole and pulled himself onto the bed. Seán pulled the sheet up to his chest and thought of days gone by when he cruised these mountain roads. Sleep creeped up on him and the next thing he heard was the laughter of children playing in the RV park.
“There should be a damn bounty on them!” Was Seán’s first thought. Seán reached over to the wardrobe and taking out clothes and underwear laid them to the side at the foot of the bed, swung his legs off the bed, one hand pulling the pistol out of the built-in shelf and taking his right hand, grabbed hold of the grab bar and eased himself down to the floor. He leaned against the bulkhead and slid his boxers and his old “I made Linda Lovelace Gag” T-shirt on, lacing his belt into the loops of his pants, and swapping the holster to his clean pants, Seán pulled them on and hopped over to the bench to pulled on of his high-activity outdoor prostheses on. He wanted to do some walking today.
After holstering his pistol and moving to the cooktop, Seán fried three slices of bacon and mixed-up egg powder and water to make scrambled eggs and put on two slices of bread to toast. Placing his percolator on, he got the Miracle Whip and grape jelly out of the fridge. When the bacon was crispy, he took it out of the pan to cool and drank a glass of water. Crumbling the bacon into the egg mixture, he scrambled the eggs in the bacon grease and made a sandwich, Miracle Whip on one piece of toast and grape jelly on the other.
He placed the sandwich on a paper plate, poured a cup of coffee, and moved outside to eat his breakfast. The air had that cool mountain crispness to it and birds could be heard through the cacophony of the RV park. Several vehicles pulling travel trailers were leaving out. Seán decided to wait a while for the tourists to clear out. Going over to his trailer, he got out his portable freezer and four stainless-steel water bottles. Placing the freezer on the rear seat of the extended cab he plugged it in and set the temp to 48 degrees. Going back to the trailer, Seán took out the Travel Berkey and filled it with water, setting it on the picnic table.
Seán got another cup of coffee and went back out to sit at the picnic table. Glancing over to the Berkey, he remembered he had purchased it before his first trip to the Mid-east. He had made a box for it at the post craft shop that would hold the filter, spare ceramic elements and two stainless water bottles. That Berkey had covered many a mile with him. Thankfully, the team had rescued all his gear when he had been wounded. They even had a little brass plate made and attached to the box that said, “World Travel Berkey”. A wave of nostalgia washed over Seán as he sipped his coffee. No greater band of men had ever served together. Shaking it off, Seán tossed the rest of the coffee in the dirt and went back inside to wash the pan and stuff he’d used to make breakfast. When he went back outside, an older gentleman was walking up. Pointing to the decal on the side of the camper he asked, “You were in the Legion?”
“Yes sir, until I caught one in Iraq,” Seán replied.
“Bad?” The man asked.
Seán reached down and pulled his left pant leg up, exposing his prothesis.
“Sorry about that,” The man said, looking away.
“My Team Sergeant used to say during P.T. that “Pain builds character.” I used to think I had a pretty good character before I got hit, but I guess the good Lord thought I needed a little more,” Seán said.
“I’m Bill McDonald, spent a few years with 3/5th. Spent too many days on Doña Ana Range Complex.”
“I’m Seán Blake and I want to thank you. The things you guys learned there in the desert really helped out in Iraq.”
“Well, that makes me feel better. We didn’t know if our Lessons Learned reports were being read by anyone.” Bill replied.
“Yesh, they helped a lot but I wish there had been a little more about how to dodge a 12.7mm round.” Seán said, grinning.
“Well, fortunately, we didn’t have the luxury of having people trying to shoot us.” Bill grinned back. “So, you on vacation?”
“Headed home, or at least what’s left of it.” Seán replied.
“Well, welcome home soldier boy. Glad you made it through, mostly in one piece.” Bill said.
“Thanks Bill, Enjoy yourself in these great mountains.” Seán said, shaking Bill’s hand.
Seán emptied the filtered water into the bottles and placed them in the cooler on the back seat. Repacking everything, he closed the slide-out and prepared to get on the road, stopping at a convenience store outside the campground to fill his tanks.
As Seán arrived at the entrance to Mountain Lake Lodge, memories ran through his mind. A few years after the movie “Dirty Dancing” was released, a girl he was seeing got him to take her up there. She was a real cinephile of the movie. Of course, she was a sucker for any romantic movie. That night, he put Baby in the corner, but it was in the corner of the back seat of his car. She had been very appreciative.
The lake was still down some. It was a strange lake. About every 400 years, the lake naturally flushed itself of sediment through fissures in the bottom of the lake, almost completely draining the lake. It would eventually refill again through rainfall and natural springs. The people currently managing the property had not overbuilt, but maintained the property much as it had been for decades, giving it a special charm.
Seán had another 108 nerve-wracking, dangerous miles before he got home. If he were flying his plane, it was only 71. THE switchbacks, drop-offs, and blind curves weren’t what made the trip dangerous…it was the rubberneckers looking at the scenery instead of where they were going. You learned real quick to slow down and be prepared at every curve. Rubberneckers would come around the curve, cross the center line and give you a windshield full of steel, or fiberglass, depending on what they were driving. He had to negotiate the roads to get the Bend so he was extra careful. Every few miles, the state had cut in overlooks next to the road and Seán had the overlooks plotted to pull over and take a break. Seán had rather take a run through a Jihadi ambush than encountering the tourists that plagued the area. At least you knew what the diaper heads were planning to do. It was a toss-up at what a tourist would do.
Seán pulled into the Happy Hog parking lot when he was passing through Pearisburg to have lunch and take a break. He almost backed out when he stepped in. The place looked like beachballs had raided the place. Practically every table had at least one person whose ass overlapped the chair seat when they sat down. Seán paid for the buffet and picked though it. Collard greens, BBQ chicken, Potato salad, cornbread and a dish of banana pudding filled his tray. A waitress met him at the small two-person table.
“What can I get you to drink, Sugar?” The hefty waitress asked.
“Unsweetened iced tea, please,” Seán replied. “She could stand to back away from the buffet between customers.” Seán thought.
The waitress soon returned with a glass full of ice and a half-gallon of iced tea. Seán tasted the tea and added one packet of sugar to the glass. Most of the tea in this part of the country had so much sugar in it you could almost feel your teeth rot as you drank it.
The meal was delicious, especially the collard greens cook with onions and a smoked ham hock. The lunch crowd was slowly leaving, sparing up tables, so Seán poured the last of tea and enjoyed the banana pudding. He paid the $12 bill and left the waitress a big enough tip to help her get started with Weight Watchers. Seán took Va-100 south out of town. It was fairly straight in most areas, so he picked up speed and rolled the windows down. He didn’t stop again until Dublin where he planned to refuel and visit his parent’s graves in the Southwest Virginia Veterans Cemetery. His father had been a Korean war vet and his mother a nurse in the early stages of the Viet Nam conflict. They had one of those May-December marriage things. He asked around for a florist and found one a few streets away and bought two arrangements. The cemetery allowed fresh flowers, but no artificial ones. After he’d paid his respects, Seán checked the time and the distance and decided not to drive the rest of the way in the dark. There was an RV park outside of Pulaski on Gatewood Lake so he decided to stay there for the night.
Before going out to the lake, Seán stopped at a Food Lion and bought a Ham & Cheese Sub, a jar of garlic stuffed olives and a six-pack of Coors. After backing the trailer into the parking space just as the sun set over the ridge, Seán pulled a lounge chair out and ate his sandwich and olives, enjoying the cooling evening. Seán was a little apprehensive about his arrival at the old home place tomorrow. He hadn’t heard from Grady or Maggie since he got wounded. He had gone through a period of self-pity and more than enough nightmares and just didn’t want to talk to anyone. Grady and Maggie had been the place’s caretakers since his father died. Grady knew every secret the land had to conceal, and Maggie kept the big house up like it was hers. Seán wanted to do something with the property, but he didn’t know just what yet.
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Post by kiwibutterfly on Oct 4, 2023 4:18:04 GMT -6
That was a nice surprise before I hit the sack, thank you
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Post by cnk479 on Oct 4, 2023 4:27:58 GMT -6
Great start looking forward to the rest.
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Post by gipsy on Oct 4, 2023 8:57:11 GMT -6
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ahsga
New Member
Posts: 32
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Post by ahsga on Oct 4, 2023 12:31:32 GMT -6
I can’t stand yellow mustard. Ketchup for me on a hotdog.
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Post by gipsy on Oct 4, 2023 18:12:54 GMT -6
I prefer a good spicy mustard myself
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Post by feralferret on Oct 4, 2023 22:31:31 GMT -6
Either yellow mustard or Miracle Whip. Not both. No ketchup. A dill pickle spear and a couple of tomato wedges would be nice. If unavailable, a little bit of sweet pickle relish.
Thanks for the chapter.
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Post by gipsy on Oct 5, 2023 8:34:32 GMT -6
That is a Chicago Dog or very close
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tzr
New Member
Posts: 10
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Post by tzr on Oct 5, 2023 8:38:24 GMT -6
I lived a few years in Virginia and encountered Amish Slaw for the first time. I thought the locals were nuts putting slaw on a hot dog...........until I tried it. It was heavenly! Now I am living, as Rush used to say, on the Left Coast and no one has ever heard of it. By giving out the name of the slaw I have found recipes so now I can enjoy it again. Thanx for the heads up. I have been trying to figure out how they made that slaw for years.
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Post by ncsfsgm on Oct 5, 2023 12:29:31 GMT -6
Chapter 2
South of Mouth of Wilson, Virginia, Seán turned off Va-767 onto Va-718. Two hundred and twenty-three yards later, he crossed the North Carolina border and began going down the slope to the New River and into Ashe County, North Carolina, the old stomping grounds of the Cherokee, Creek, and Shawnee Indian tribes. Historical trading and warpaths went through this area in times past. As a boy, Seán had an extensive arrowhead collection of artifacts he had picked up along the old trails and by the river. Seán’s father had even found an arrowhead embedded in a tree he had cut down for firewood. The familiarity of the area seeped back into Seán’s mind as he drove down the road to the confluences of the New River and the North and South Forks of the New River. Then he rounded the bend and there was Grady and Maggie’s house. Seán’s heart skipped a beat as he pulled into the yard. When he slammed the truck door, Maggi came out on the porch wiping her hands on her apron and squinting at him. With sudden recognition, she ran down the steps and hugged Seán.
“Oh, my goodness Seán! You’re back!”
“Hello Maggie, it’s good to be back.” Seán said, choking on the words.
“Well, come on in.” Maggie said. “Grady is seeing to the cows on the upper pasture, but I’ve got coffee on, and I made a blueberry pie.”
Seán followed her into the house, sat down at the table and quickly got up again.
“Maggie, could I get a glass of water first? I’ve been dreaming about the taste of Bend water for a long time.”
“Of course, Seán!” Maggie said, getting a glass out of an upper cabinet.
The water on the property came from an aquifer filtered through limestone that gave it a unique flavor. Once you drank it, you would never forget the fresh tasting water. Seán’s grandfather had drilled the first well at this house, and one up at the edge of the upper pasture near where he made ‘shine. Then his dad had one drilled at the big house further up the hill.
Seán and Maggie heard the Gator 6x4 Diesel pull up in the yard. Maggie smiled and placed a mug of coffee and a piece of blueberry pie down in front of Seán. “Grady’s back,” Maggie said, turning to cut another piece of pie for her husband. Seán stood up when Grady came into the house.
“SEÁN!” Grady yelled, Giving Seán a man hug.
“Where ya been boy? We hadn’t heard from you in a while!"
“I got shot up a little and lost my left foot. I’ve been in rehabilitation for a while.”
“Oh my!” Maggie said, covering her mouth with her hand.
“Looks like you’re getting’ around all right.” Grady commented.
“Thanks to the wonders of modern technology,” Seán replied. “I’ve got three different protheses I can use to get around.”
“Well, thank the Lord you’re vertical and above ground. What’s your plan? Are you back home for good?” Grady asked.
“That’s my plan. Grady, I’ve seen the best in men, and I’ve seen the worst. The worst are taking control of this country, and the situation is changing,” Seán said. “I’m going to settle in here and keep my head down.”
“The house is ready. I dusted up there yesterday and put fresh sheets on the beds,” Maggie said.
“Thanks Maggie,” Seán replied. “It’s good to be back home. How are the fish biting Grady?”
“We’re having Brown trout for supper, ain’t we Maggie?” Grady asked.
“Trout, mustard greens, and pan fries,” Maggie replied. “And I expect you down here at 6:00 PM ready to eat, Seán.”
“Yes ma’am!” Seán replied, taking the last bite of his pie. “I’d better go up and get unpacked then.”
Seán got up from the table, gave Grady another handshake and Maggie a hug. She reminded him to be back at six o’clock and he assured her he would be. Getting in his truck, Seán drove up the steep drive to the big house and parked, sitting there for a few minutes scanning the terrain and buildings. Everything looked normal and the buildings looked in good shape. Getting out of the truck, Seán made his way up the steps and opened the door. The inside smelled of lemon Pledge and Pine Sol. Seán made his way to the den and gathered kindling from the wood box and built a fire in the stove. It was getting chilly in the house.
He would need to make a grocery run down to West Jefferson, but he had enough freeze-dried food to last him for a while and would depend on Maggie to make him some biscuits until he had bought staples. Seán got his clothes out of the camper and trailer and placed them in the closet and bureau in the main bedroom.
Seán placed two of his last three Coors in the fridge and one in the freezer. Glancing over to the corner of the den, Seán spotted the gun cabinet and walked over. Opening the glass door, he took out his grandpa’s old Winchester Model 1886 45-70 Lever Action Rifle. Seán never understood why Grandpa liked the rifle. It was a little overkill for deer, it was good for bears, but they weren’t that common around here. The gun kicked like an ornery mule even though he reloaded the cartridges with reduced loads. It was a beautiful gun and was a tool Grandpa had carried with him each time he went to the grotto. It looked as though Grady had been keeping the guns oiled, he saw no rust on any of them and the stocks and forearms were all polished. Sniffing the stock, Seán caught the smell of Maggie’s lemon Pledge and smiled.
Checking his watch, Seán took the Coors out of the freezer and placed it in front of the ones down in the fridge. Going out to the garage, Seán checked out the Gator ATV and cranked it up. The diesel engine kicked over and ran smoothly. As he rode down the drive to Grady and Maggie’s house, a sense of familiarity creeped in, and all was right with the world.
The trout was delicious as only Maggie could cook it. Everything was perfect. While Maggie cleaned up the kitchen, Grady, carrying a bottle and two glasses. led Seán out on the screened-in porch, that had storm windows installed, and poured them a drink.
Grady lifted his glass and said, “To the Blake family, I know they’re sitting up there, feet dangling off a cloud, cheering you coming home.”
“That’s good bourbon!” Seán said.
“That’s from the same 5-gallon barrel your daddy gave me 20 years ago. It sits in the pantry and is not tapped unless there’s something to celebrate. Not been much of that in a while."
Grady poured another finger measure in their glasses as Maggie came out to join them.
“How are Billy and Pauly doing?” Seán asked.
Grady took a big breath and let out a sigh. “They are both in prison,” Grady said quietly.
“WHAT?! WHAT HAPPENED?!” Seán asked.
“They got into them drugs and were driving us crazy.” Grady said. “They ended up robbing a bank in Mt. Airy, to buy drugs, but didn’t get caught. They got struck with Righteousness and turned themselves in. They went to Central prison in Raleigh for three years and then were moved to Craggy in Ashville. They both have to spend a total of 7 years. They’ll be out in another year.”
“They’re exactly where they needed to be,” Maggie said quietly. “We couldn’t get them to listen. They were lucky. They could have ended up dead. Seán, I hate to tell you this, but they got into your grandpappy’s aging room and stole 50 gallons to sell for drugs.”
“I don’t care about that. We all couldn’t have drunk all that whiskey in our lifetime, although I’d have rather had them drink every drop than doing drugs,” Seán said.
“Bless the Lord they are better now,” Maggie said. “We go down to see them every three months to leave them some money for essentials.”
“Well, I’m glad they are doing better now,” Seán said.
“Both boys are taking college courses and are involved in the prison’s religious studies program,” Grady said, reaching over to pour a drab of whiskey into Seán’s glass.
“May the angels watch over them,” Seán said, raising his glass.
The next morning Seán got up, took a shower, and got ready to go down to West Jefferson. He fixed a 2-person pack of Mountain House Breakfast Skillet and polished it off with coffee. On his way out, he stopped by Maggie’s to see if there was anything she wanted him to pick up.
“Can you pick me up four cans of Clabber Girl Baking powder?” Maggie asked. “All I can find are those 8-ounce cans since Dabney’s closed down.”
“I sure can,” Seán said, getting into his truck.
The 17-mile trip in foggy weather was uneventful. Seán headed straight for the Walmart Supercenter and began his grocery shopping. He talked the manager into selling him a 12-can case of Clabber Girl and picked up enough food for a couple of weeks, which included two dozen brown eggs. He didn’t care what some flatlander know-it-all sitting behind a desk said, there was a difference between brown and white eggs, even if it was only in his mind. He picked out ten pounds of bacon, then put it back. He would stop by Wilson’s Smokehouse and get a side or two of bacon. Seán add to his cart some stew beef, steaks, a nice roast, pork loin, frozen green beans, okra, a bag of apples, potatoes, carrots and three raw turnips, a 25-pound bag of flour, ten pounds of sugar, ten pounds of yellow cornmeal, and one of just about every spice bottle they had. On second thought, he bought vegetable oil, olive oil, grape seed oil (to season the cast iron cookware) and three buckets of lard. A case of Coors fit neatly under the cart basket. Packing his groceries in the truck, he headed over to The Honey Hole and picked up jams, jellies, and Locust Honey, then to Wilsons to get the side of bacon.
When he got back to the Bend, Maggie fussed when he wouldn’t let her pay for the baking powder.
“Make me a blueberry pie the next time you’re baking,” Seán told her, laughing.
Going back to the house, Seán unloaded and put the groceries away, peeling a turnip to eat raw. He remembered a magazine he’d read in the firebase one time about living off the grid. Most of it was common sense and was what they had done most of his life. However, he was interested in the communication aspects of the article. You could now get satellite systems to have internet even out in this remote location. He could do without staying in constant communications with the world, but it would be nice to stream a movie once in a while and be able to order things online to be delivered instead of driving long distances to shop. He’d need to go into a bigger town to get cellphone coverage to research it. He could probably find out everything he needed to know in the Winston-Salem, Greensboro, High Point area, so he made plans to leave Sunday and head down that way. It was only 91 miles to Winston-Salem, but it was a circuitous route up through Virginia and then back down.
Seán finished the turnip then got out a Dutch oven, washed it out and began preparing a pot roast dinner.
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Post by gipsy on Oct 5, 2023 15:05:11 GMT -6
Fine update for sure
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Post by feralferret on Oct 5, 2023 16:40:06 GMT -6
Thanks!
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Post by ncsfsgm on Oct 5, 2023 19:08:02 GMT -6
Chapter 3
On Saturday, Seán searched and found the aluminum scoop net and a bait bucket and went down to the river to search for hellgrammites. They were the perfect bait for small mouth bass, but you had to be careful with them, they would bite the crap out of you. He’d seen people run their hands under rocks and logs, let the hellgrammites bite them and drag the things out while they were sill holding onto their skin. If that was some indication of manliness, Seán decided he would just stay a wimp and use his net. Hellgrammites were the larva stage of the Dobsonfly. They spent about three years living in the water after hatching, before crawling out and turning into a large ugly winged creature that didn’t eat for the rest of their lives, just looking for mates and screwing their lives away. Hell of a way to live, but the bass liked them.
Seán ended up catching a dozen nice bass and headed back to the house, cleaning the fish by the river so the creatures in the water could have the guts. He pulled up to Grady’s and offered him some fish, and Grady accepted gladly. Grady went inside to get a Ziplock bag for his fish. Maggie came out with Grady and took the fish. “Just take me out three fish and ya’ll keep the rest,” Seán said.
“Are you sure? That doesn’t seem like much,” Maggie said.
“It’s enough for me. I don’t eat THAT much,” Seán said.
“Well, okay then. Sally and Fala are coming by and we can feed them some,” Maggie said to Grady. Seán took his fish and drove back up to the house.
Seán put the fish in milk to neutralize the Trimethylamine that gave the fish that fishy odor and taste, and sat down to make a list of things he wanted to do. He wanted a diesel and a gas tank put in most of all. He noticed Burl Harper up the river on Deacon Road had fuel tanks installed. It was six miles to any store that sold fuel and sometimes they ran out of diesel. He needed to talk to him and find out who he bought his fuel from. Next was a satellite internet system. He knew Hughes had a system and Viasat sold systems that used the INMARSAT satellites. Both were comparable so he didn’t really care who he leased from. He also wanted to get more ammunition for some of his guns. He needed to stock up on food for the winter, and he needed to off-load the camper and winterize it. He could get the toilet chemicals at Walmart, usually. He could put the camper in the barn until he could build, or get built, something to park it under. Seán checked his watch and the fish had been soaking for 30 minutes; so he got up, drained and rinsed the fish, then got out the ingredients to bread them. Seán fried the fish and let them drain on paper towels, then put together some hushpuppies and fried them in the same oil. Cole slaw would have been good, but he munched on the fish and hushpuppies and drank a beer.
The next morning, Seán put on his blade prosthetic and went for a walk up to the upper pasture. He put on a jacket to block the wind, got his trekking pole, a bottle of water, and headed up the old cattle trail. When he got to the bench at the top of the hill he glanced around and headed for the barn, zipping his jacket up as he went along. The barn was in good shape and Seán noticed some recent repairs to the fencing. Grady had taken good care of the place. Seán’s dad had offered Grady a job as caretaker after Grady had gotten back from Viet Nam. Grady had been shot up pretty bad and took a while to convalesce, but he worked hard. The mountain living had been good for him, and he was soon back to his old self, or that was what Maggie had said anyway.
Seán walked back into the trees hiding the limestone bluff and walked right up to the opening. His grandfather had found and improved the cave, building a thick wooden door and had used it to run two 50 gallon stills there for years. He always ran both stills, selling half of the run and storing half in oak barrels for aging. One of the improvements he had made in the cave was cutting two rooms into the limestone to be used for aging rooms. Taking down the old kerosene lantern that was still hanging where it always had, Seán took one of the kitchen matches out of the Prince Albert can and lit the lantern after giving it a shake. Seán went to one of the aging room doors and opened it. Inside were stacked kegs of aging whiskey that would probably bring a good price if he were to sell it, which he had no intention of doing. Seán took a bung puller off of a shelf and pulled the bung out of a one-and-a-half-gallon keg. He took a spigot and a mallet off another shelf and drove the wooden spigot into the bung hole. Looking around, Seán found a rope and configured a harness for the keg so he could carry it back like a backpack. Slinging the keg on his back, he stepped out of the room, secured the door, and walked out of the cave. He broke out of the Junipers and was walking down a cow path when he saw someone in the distance. He could make out the woman but didn’t recognize her. When he reached her, he stopped and asked her if she needed some help.
“Hi, you must be Seán. Aunt Maggie said you might be up here. I’m Fala, her niece.”
Seán looked her over. Fala was around 5’ 5”, slim, with a nice athletic looking body, as far as he could tell through the loose chamois shirt and blue jeans. She had those classic cheekbones of Native American heritage, framed with black hair, almost showing purple tints when the sun shined on it at an angle. She had green hazel eyes, and was quick with a smile that was inviting and generous.
Seán smiled. “Well, thank you for coming up and escorting me down.”
“Well, Aunt Maggie was worried you might have problems with your wooden leg, but I see it isn’t wooden and you don’t seem to have a problem getting round.”
Seán grinned. “No, I don’t have any problems at all, In fact, I’m thinking of having a leg built with a pogo stick in the bottom so I can hop across the pasture like a cottontail.”
Fala grinned, then giggled. “You’re nuts!”
They began walking back down the cow trail toward the house.
“So, did you and your mother spend the night last night?” Seán asked.
“Nope, just me. I’m staying for a week. I like to come up once in a while to fish the river.” Fala replied.
“Do you live in Cherokee?” Seán asked.
“Yes. I’m a costume designer for the Oconaluftee Indian Village and the theater.” Fala replied.
“Unto these Hills?” Seán asked.
“Yes, have you seen it?”
“Years ago.” Seán replied.
“It is a beautiful play,” Fala said. “I designed and made all of the period clothing using the local natives to make the traditional ornaments and crafts used in the sets.”
“Wow, a creative woman. I liked the food gathering dance. I thought it was sexy.” Seán said, pulling her leg.
Fala grinned. “The women or the men?”
“Touché!" Seán grinned back at her.
When they got to the house, Fala followed Seán in. Sitting the keg on the kitchen table, Seán opened a door and went down the steps into the basement, soon to return with an end table in his hands. Getting out some furniture polish, Seán cleaned the table of years of built-up dust and asked Fala to carry it into the den for him. Seán picked up the keg and followed her. Placing the table under the window next to an easy chair, Fala moved out of the way as Seán placed the keg on the table. Going into the kitchen, Seán returned with a linen towel and three Rocks glasses. Folding the towel lengthwise, he laid the towel on the tabletop and placed the glasses upside down on it.
“Great! Now you can sit here and drink yourself in oblivion every day,” Fala said facetiously.
“I don’t drink except to celebrate, and I’m not ready just yet." Seán replied. “Excuse me for a minute.”
Seán returned wearing a different prothesis that was better for driving the Gator.
“Come on, I’ll run you back down to Maggie’s,” Seán said.
Maggie twisted Seán’s arm to stay for dinner of Country Fried Steak and fixin’s. When the Sunday dinner was over, Grady and Seán adjourned to the porch and fought to stay awake from the effects of the filling meal. The chilly air helped. Soon, Maggie and Fala came out to join them.
“I assume that’s your fly rod,” Seán said to Fala, pointing to a leather bundle propped in a corner of the porch.
“How did you know?” Fala asked.
“Grady fishes spin cast.” Seán replied. “Down across from the mouth of the South Fork, there is a sycamore tree. If you look you can see the difference in the color of the water. Just south of the discoloration there is a rock ridge that comes halfway across the river. If you drop a wet fly with a #14 hook just above the ridge, the water will roil the fly round, right into a trout’s mouth.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Fala said. “Thank you.”
Grady went inside and came back minutes later carrying a tray with four Rocks glasses on it.
“Old Fashioneds,” Grady said as he handed them out.
“I thought you only drank to celebrate,” Seán said.
“Believe me, anytime we can get family together is a celebration for us,” Grady replied.
Fala took a sip of her drink. “Not bad. It’s not a Sazerac, but it’s good.”
Seán gave Fala a wondering look and took a sip of his drink.
“Do you want to go fishing tomorrow?” Fala asked Seán.
“Can’t. I’ve got to go to Winston-Salem tomorrow to do some things,” Seán said.
“Oh, okay.” Fala replied, taking another sip of her Old Fashioned.
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Post by cavsgt on Oct 5, 2023 19:29:30 GMT -6
Another FANTASTIC STORY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank You and please keep them coming. phill
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Post by gipsy on Oct 5, 2023 21:28:04 GMT -6
Great thanks
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Post by ydderf on Oct 6, 2023 0:19:37 GMT -6
I'm liking it. Thanks
If I can restart the hot dog discussion they should have mayo not miracle whip fresh onion and fresh tomato dice the onion and tomato.
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Post by feralferret on Oct 6, 2023 1:36:08 GMT -6
I'm liking it. Thanks If I can restart the hot dog discussion they should have mayo not miracle whip fresh onion and fresh tomato dice the onion and tomato. There is a reason that Der Weinerschnitzel sells more than one kind of hot dog! To each their own.
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Post by gipsy on Oct 6, 2023 8:33:49 GMT -6
That name disappeared around here a long time ago. Do you still have one?
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dannab1
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Post by dannab1 on Oct 6, 2023 11:46:46 GMT -6
That name disappeared around here a long time ago. Do you still have one? We still have them scattered around Texas!
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Post by feralferret on Oct 6, 2023 13:24:26 GMT -6
Last one I saw was back in Texas before I moved to Missouri in '96.
Their website shows one in Illinois:
Wienerschnitzel West Springfield & South Country Fair in Champaign 2102 W. SPRINGFIELD AVE. CHAMPAIGN, IL 61821 217-378-5100
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