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Post by cavsgt on Dec 29, 2021 8:02:07 GMT -6
Thank You!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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tsam
New Member
Posts: 8
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Post by tsam on Dec 29, 2021 9:38:37 GMT -6
Thanks!!!
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Post by freebirde on Dec 29, 2021 10:23:39 GMT -6
Thanks!!
I like to use those little paper condiments cups from fast food places to make fire starters.
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Post by udwe on Dec 29, 2021 11:32:38 GMT -6
Wow, what a story!
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Post by ydderf on Dec 29, 2021 21:36:01 GMT -6
Thanks for the updates.
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Post by ncsfsgm on Dec 31, 2021 17:27:53 GMT -6
Chapter 159
Gil, Colt, Brad and Trace unboxed the crossbows and checked each over thoroughly. After disassembling one completely, they determined the parts they couldn't manufacture and ordered replacement parts along with 1000 extra bolts for each crossbow. This was going to be tedious because they wouldn't order the parts or bolts from just one supplier.
"What's left?" Brad asked.
"I'd say that just about does it. Let's pack the cases back up and get it all stored in the Dungeon." Gil replied.
"We need to set up a time for training with these things." Colt said.
"You're the man." Gil said. "Set up a schedule for us that doesn't interfere with the harvests."
Colt and Brad went down to the forge and began making the wall lamp bases for the alcohol lights in the chambers. Gil and Trace headed to the shop to fabricate reflectors out of sheet metal for the alcohol lamps. It didn't take long to make 36 of the wall sconces. He would have the ladies pick the locations to hang the lamps. Grace had ordered another bunch of the lamps for spares and he finally had finished filling one of the two 55 gallon drums he had purchased with distilled alcohol. That would give them enough fuel for the lamps for a lot of months.
Gil was cooking with the still as quickly as the mash fermented. Grace was asking him what he was going to do with all that whiskey.
"This isn't whiskey. I'm making alcohol. Legally, in order for whiskey to be called whiskey, it must be distilled below 90% alcohol. Now Vodka, must be distilled at or above 90%. I'm making this for burning in the alcohol lamps and as a solvent."
"Is there anything else you can use it for?" Grace asked.
"Sure, you can put it on a mosquito bite for instant relief, treat cold sores, help relieve sore muscles, make your own hand sanitizer…."
"How do you do that?
"I can't remember the exact recipe, but it is a mixture of aloe vera gel, glycerine and alcohol. I read something about adding essential oils to make it smell nice. You can look it up online and get the recipe."
"I was wondering what we could do with those gallon pump jugs we got sanitizer from Sam's for that I had been saving."
"You can also use alcohol to remove ticks, kill bedbugs, and sprayed in shoes can eliminated odors, but yours might take some extra work."
"Shut up! I'll look up the recipe for the hand sanitizer and we can make some. I like having it handy."
"You might see about ordering pump jugs and spray bottles. Those jugs go brittle if they have just been setting around."
"Okay. I'm going back to the house and finish preparing dinner. Mollie is making au gratin potatoes and I'll fry up the ham steaks."
Gil poured the last collector cup in the new drum and capped it. He'd get another batch of corn mash started tomorrow and clean the still.
The men were harvesting the oats when the next container Shannon had bid on came in. This one was coming from the port of Chicago. It was a forty-footer and had cost her $10,000 to win the bid. Shannon was nervous about its contents. It could be nothing more than scrap metal, but the weight indicated it might be something else. When Shannon broke the seal, she looked at the shipping documents on the inside of the door.
Bangladesh! They might just have something good.
"There's no inventory sheet." Shannon said.
"Well, I'll get a trailer and we can inventory and store it in the conex up top." Allie said
Shannon pulled a four foot long box out of the top of the container and sat it end up on the ground. She turned the box and looked at each side trying to make sense of the writing on the box, but gave up. Taking her multi-tool out, she slit the taped seam and opened the end of the box up. Grabbing the plastic bag, she pulled the package out and looked at the bolt of cloth. She slit the bag and looked at the cloth.
Muslin…. and it's the good stuff. Shannon thought.
Allie came back with the Gator and trailer and Shannon re-packaged and marked the box with its contents then loaded it into the trailer. The checked the other nine like-size boxes and they contained the same. They began pulling out twenty larger sized boxes of the same size and sat them on the ground, side by side and opened them up.
"Looks like work pants." Allie said.
"Give me the size, color, and amount." Shannon said, picking up her clipboard.
"I count twenty-five pair, labeled small, color is dark gray, I guess you'd call it Charcoal."
"Check. Are they hemmed?"
"Nope."
"Good."
At the end of the count there were fifty pairs of charcoal-gray pants each in small, medium, large and extra-large. They loaded them up and stored them in one of the large, empty shipping containers. They'd only unloaded less than a third of the container when the men came back from the fields.
"What do you have?" Gil asked.
Shannon handed him the inventory list. "So far, ten bolts of fine muslin, two hundred pairs of charcoal gray work pants and shirts in small, medium, large and extra-large, and two hundred pairs of coveralls in small, medium, large and extra-large."
Gil walked over and looked into the shipping container. "Well, don't kill yourself doing this. We'll be through with harvesting the oats in a couple of days. We can all pitch in then. You think you'll make any money on this?"
"We take it down to Kodak and we'll make a killing."
"Okay, let's all go home." Gil said, getting into his Gator.
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Post by ncsfsgm on Dec 31, 2021 17:29:30 GMT -6
Chapter 160
The women only had a half of the shipping container unloaded when the oat harvest was completed. Once they had everyone working, it took them a day to finish the inventory and unloading.
"Well, what does the final inventory look like?" Gil asked.
Shannon peeled back the sheets on the clipboard.
"Well, we've got work clothes, including shirts, pants and coveralls, all sorts of towels, bath robes, wash cloths, work gloves, dish cloths, napkins, bed sheets, bed covers, pillow cases, bundles of jute sacks and rolls of jute cord."
"Clean up the inventory sheets and we'll all set down and talk about what to keep and what to sell."
Gil called Jack's father-in-law and sold him the shipping container sight unseen. Those things were becoming clutter.
The next morning, Gil, Billy and Brad went down to the equipment barn and pulled maintenance on the combine and changed the cutters to harvest corn. Brad checked out the grain wagons and greased up the grease points. When they finished, Billy went to the house to complete his modules and Gil headed to the shop with Brad.
What are you going to do with this thing?" Brad asked, looking at the mess of iron and rotted wood.
"Thing! Why I paid $10 dollars for this at the sale last Saturday!"
"Well, just what is it?"
"It is a pedal-powered grinder. I'm going to clean it up, repair the wood and get it in working order again. A non-electric grinding wheel with three grinding stones, fine, med., and coarse, plus a water tray for wet grinding. It's pretty near a hundred years old. I'm going to replace all the wood with oak. It will be around long after we're gone."
Gil began measuring and taking pictures of the grinding machine. After reviewing his notes, Gil went and began selecting wood. Brad began to disassemble it, taking pictures as he went along. Soon, he had everything laid out on the floor of the shop. Brad went to the hardware bin and selected replacement bolts rather than try to reuse the original bolts. It was to be a work piece, not a museum piece.
Gil was thinking as he was cutting the wood to size, When he had finished cutting out the side pieces on the bandsaw, he shut it down and leaned up against the saw table.
"What's up Gil?" Brad asked.
"I was thinking about buying a portable sawmill. It would come in handy. They come with gas engines but maybe I can find someone to convert it to alcohol, if it can be done."
"You should check the bulletin board up at Tractor Supply. Lots of people put stuff up there for sale."
"I'll do that."
Gil did some sanding on the pieces and put them aside. He began working on the legs and the end pieces. Brad was taking the stones off the shaft and was cleaning the metal of rust. In three or four days they could have that thing like new.
The look of terror was on the clerk's face when Grace and Mollie walked into the fabric shop. Grace turned to the side and slid her hand in her purse and kept walking. The man jumped out from behind a tall shelf with a knife in his hand and lunged toward her. She put three rounds into him, two in the groin and one in his forehead. Mollie raced over to the clerk to calm her and have her call 911. Grace pulled her phone out and called Gil.
"Gil, I just killed a man."
"Where are you?"
"Betty's Fabrics."
I'll be right there."
Gil and Brad raced to the fabric shop. When they arrived the police were already there. Gil jumped out of his truck and raced inside.
"GIL! GIL CALM DOWN! EVERYTHING IS ALL RIGHT!" Glen Wells shouted, grabbing him by the arm.
Gil turned as Grace came rushing out of a side room. Gil grabbed her and pulled her to him.
"Are you all right?" Gil said into her hair.
"Yes, I'm better now. It all happened so suddenly."
Gil looked at Glen, who stepped over.
"Grace, I'll have to take your gun until I get word from the DA. It shouldn't be a problem getting it back though."
"What happened?" Gil asked.
"Mollie and I were coming into Betty's and this man jumped from behind those shelves over there waving a knife and running toward me. I did the 'Failure to Stop Drill' and stopped him."
Gil looked at Glen and Glen nodded.
"Grace, could you step in the office? I need to get your and Mollie's statements." Glen asked.
Grace nodded and a female officer led them into the office.
"Glen, is this man known?"
"We're still checking who he is. He's not from around here though."
Gil nodded. "Thanks for calming me down."
"Don't mention it. As soon as we get the statements, they are free to go. Damn, Grace is a hell of a shot, but why did she shoot into the groin and not into the chest?"
"Protective vests don't usually cover the groin area."
"But he wasn't wearing a vest!"
"She didn't know that. She assumed and took action."
"Okay, I can see that. Still, it was good shooting and a righteous kill."
"Glen, nothing is going to be righteous until we get these scum progressives out of political offices."
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Post by ncsfsgm on Dec 31, 2021 17:31:07 GMT -6
Chapter 161
They tightened the last bolt and Gil looked at Brad.
"Don't look at me! It's your contraption!" Brad said.
Gil grinned and took the grinding wheel dresser off the counter and sat in the seat of the grinder. He started peddling and held the dresser to the fine grinding wheel first, dressing it in probably for the first time in 75 years. He did the same to the medium and course stone wheels. When he was finished, Brad handed him an axe and Gill ran it through each stone and sharpened it.
"This works good!" Gil exclaimed.
Brad sat down and sharpened a bush axe and tuned up a pick axe.
"Yeah, this works good. Where are you going to keep this?"
"Down in the forge building."
"I'll go get a trailer." Brad said.
They lifted the grinder onto the trailer and sat it in its place in the forge building.
Gil looked over the hand written ads on the bulletin board and wasn't seeing anything much he was interested in.
"Lookin' for something special Gil?"
"Not really Dave. Just checking if someone might have a portable sawmill for sale."
"Well, those don't pop up every day."
"Yeah, I suppose you're right."
"Hey, wait! I heard this morning my cousin Josie Cleaver's husband was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He's not going to be using the mill he has for a long time, if ever again, and they're going to need the money for bills. You want I should ask Josie if they want to sell it?"
"Yeah Dave, do that. Here's my number. If I can do anything else, let me know."
"Sure thing Gil. Give me a week."
Glen grinned as he read the computer screen. His new TV and blueray player didn't make a blip on the charge/discharge process of the battery bank. Of course, it may have been because he had put in a "kill switch" to the outlet the electronics were plugged into to eliminate any "ghost" usage of power. Of course, this meant the satellite tv system had to do its several minute startup when it came on but he didn't watch it that much anyway. He had a devil of a time finding a tv small enough that didn't feel like he was standing in it. The customer service person recommended he try pawn shops. It seemed as though people were trading up to "bigger and better" these days. He finally found a 19" flat screen he could mount on the wall and be out of the way.
The used 15" laptop computer he found at a pawn shop ran Blake's monitoring program just fine. Grace did order a new battery for it for him. Satisfied, he went outside and cut and split more wood for his cookstove. He had more than enough to last the winter but he wanted to stay ahead.
Gil walked around the sawmill and looked at it closely. It looked almost new. The bandsaw blades were sharp and there was very little paint rubbed off the bed. Mrs. Cleaver walked out to the shed and handed Gil the manuals. The sawmill had a 14 horsepower gas engine, had a 26" cut and could handle logs up to 21' long. There were two extra blades also.
"How much are you asking, Mrs. Cleaver?"
"Well, here is the receipt when he bought it back in the Spring. I don't think he's used it but a couple of times since."
"Mrs. Cleaver, I'll pay you $13,000 for the mill."
"Well, that's a better offer than I got over the phone this morning. I need the money as not to get behind on the doctor's bills."
"How is Mr. Cleaver doing?"
"Not too good. He's on drugs to keep the pain manageable but the doctor says he won't last that long. He was just too far gone when they found the cancer. I don't want him to suffer so I make sure he has the best medicines available. I had to put him in a care facility near the hospital so they could manage the pain around the clock. It gets mighty expensive.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?"
"Well, you ain't interested in any land, are you?"
"Well, I don't know. Where is it located?"
"It's near the river, but not on it. Wait, Jay has a map in the house. Let me get it."
"It's right here on old highway 11 West. It's got lot's of trees. Jay was going to cut some of the hardwoods off and sell the lumber."
"Well, over in that area, I believe land is going for about $7500 an acre. The legend says this is around 245 acres, I'll give you $1,877.200 for the parcel. That's $7600 per acre."
"Land's sakes. That should be more than I'll need to pay bills."
"Well If you're agreeable. I can get our lawyers together to draw up the paperwork, if you can give me your lawyer's information."
"Yes, I have one of his cards in the drawer."
Mrs. Cleaver went into the house and returned with the business card.
"This is sure going to help and is a burden lifted from my heart. If you don't mind I need to go to the care facility and see Jay."
"No problem. We'll come back to pick up the mill and I'll bring you cash, if that's okay."
"No, that won't be a problem.
"Good day, Mrs. Cleaver.
Gil got in his truck and headed back toward Rogersville. Pulling over in a layby, He dialed Abe's number.
"Abe? Gil. Two things. I want the Trust to buy some property across the river owned by Jay Cleaver. Platt number 865443. Price is $1,877.200. His lawyer is Edward McDermott Second thing…. make sure no more medical bills go to Mrs. Josie Cleaver. Yeah, have the accountant write it up, I guess to charity. Yeah, I'll talk to you later."
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Post by ncsfsgm on Dec 31, 2021 17:32:44 GMT -6
Chapter 162
The corn harvest was non-stop from dawn to dusk. They only hesitated starting some mornings if the dew was heavy. Billy worked every day, taking a turn driving the combine after getting his modules done. Grace made sure she checked his work before releasing him to head for the fields.
The ladies made sure the 5-gallon water cooler was kept filled and an extra one on hand for the grain haulers to take back out to the fields. They filled the silo and still had more corn to harvest so they began using the option of filling the grain sacks directly on the combine. It was a slower operation and required two more people to fill and sew the sacks shut.
"You're going to have to make a heap of sour-mash to use up all this corn!" Brad said, grinning.
"I'm not making that much. I need to make four or five more runs to get that other 55-gallon drum filled. We'll up the rations to the hogs and cows a little and I can always use it for deer corn."
They left the oat and corn fields alone for a couple of weeks to allow the wildlife to forage any grain that had been left behind. During this time, Gil managed to ferment more mash and got another 15 gallons of alcohol. He put a spigot on the full drum and attached a Rock-It Drum Dolly to it and tilted the drum to a horizontal position. He positioned the other barrel a little closer to where the condenser normally sat and placed the funnel on top of the drum. It would be a couple of weeks before he'd be able to run another batch.
When Gil went down the ridge to check out the shed that Brad, Colt and Trace were building for the sawmill, he ran into the women coming back from raking up the pecans that had fallen from the two big trees next to the old home pace.
"What did you get?" Gil asked Grace.
"Two tow sacks filled. There's still more on the trees."
"Yeah, give 'em about four more days and they'll all be off. I'm going down to the sawmill."
"Okay, I'll see you at the house."
When Gil pulled up, they were putting on the last sheets of tin roofing on the shed. Gil walked down the center, of the floor, inspecting everything.
"This looks good guys!"
Brad chuckled. "Once we figured out what we were dining, it was easy."
"Well, it's a damn fine job. The cambered trusses make it seem bigger, don't they?"
"I'm glad you had someone else build those things. We'd have been all fall building this thing."
Gil looked at the floor. They had plowed this area up then set the poles. After the concrete had set, the dropped a layer of 4" river rock down and compacted and leveled the soil and stones, adding them as needed until the floor was as hard as a cliff face. After that, it was a matter of putting up the plates, braces, trusses and putting the roof tin on. It was nothing but an open sided pole barn, a little fancier than some, but it would do the job.
"All we have left to do is ditching for the roof Gil, Why don't you go bring the mill down and we can get it set up and leveled."
Gil went and got his Power Wagon and hooked the portable sawmill up then towed it down to the shed. It was open on both ends so he drove right through, stopping fifteen feet from the open end. They dropped the stabilizers down and got the frame leveled.
"Well, all we need is some logs." Colt said.
"I've got four or five twenty-footers down at the base of the ridge on the other side of the equipment barn. We'll hook up the skidding arches later and haul them down here. Right now, let's call it day. It's Friday and you deserve getting off early."
"Gil, you know a Tate Gibson?" Don said when Gil answered the phone.
"The name strikes a bell, but I can't place it."
"Says his Daddy was Sergeant Major Burl Gibson."
"Oh hell yes! I think I probably met him at Burl's house at one of his cookouts. He must have been fourteen or fifteen around that time."
"Well, he applied for a job and he's won me over. He wants to meet you."
"Well, we're having a cookout tomorrow evening. Why don't you and Annie come over about 4:00 and bring him with you."
"We'll do that. I'll see you tomorrow."
Gil touched the disconnect icon, ending the call. Burl Gibson. That's a name from far in the past Gil thought.
Gil had the kebobs going when Don and Annie arrived, Tate following in his own truck. They walked up onto the deck, Annie heading inside while Don introduced Tate to Gil.
"So, you're SGM Gibson's son. Last I saw you, you were round 13 or 14. I'm sorry about Burl's passing. What would you like to drink There's beer, mead, iced tea, and spigot water. We'll hold off on the whiskey 'til later."
"I'll take a beer for now, Mr. Conner."
"No mister stuff around here. I like people to call me Gil." Gil said, handing Tate a cold beer.
"Okay Gil, thanks."
Gil finished the ritual burning of the meat as the ladies came out with bowls full of roasted vegetables and fresh homemade bread. When they had eaten all they could, the men moved off to the edge of the deck and told war stories, some of them about Burl's exploits.
"Tate, I'm sorry I couldn't come to the funeral. By the time I heard, it was too late."
Tate nodded and got up, then walked out to his truck, coming back with a guitar.
"I wish you could have been at the funeral, so I hope you don't mind me bringing a little of it to you. Some of the guys from the teams got together and played this, Dad's favorite song. If you don't recognize it, it was in the movie, 'The Unforgiven' and was written by Clint Eastwood. When I play this song, it does remind me of one of the saddest days of my life, but it also reminds me what a powerful, but gentle man Dad was."
Tate then began playing 'Claudia's Theme.' The women, hearing the guitar, came back out on the deck. The group was silent as the soulful notes echoed in the night. There was more than one pair of glistening eyes watching the strings being plucked that night on a deck near the Holston River.
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Post by gipsy on Dec 31, 2021 18:53:35 GMT -6
Thanks for a fine update. Hope you have a great New Year.
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Post by danielsga01 on Dec 31, 2021 19:51:28 GMT -6
Thank you, great story
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Post by udwe on Dec 31, 2021 19:58:44 GMT -6
Story is getting better all the time.
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Post by ncsfsgm on Dec 31, 2021 20:29:31 GMT -6
I'd like to wish everyone a Happy and Prosperous New Year. I don't see a lot of prosperity in store for us though. With the policies the cretinous putative leaders of our nation have implemented, they have possibly killed more Americans than since the Vietnam war, I figure it is going to be a rough row to hoe, and a long one. God Bless You All and stay safe.
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Post by texican on Dec 31, 2021 22:04:14 GMT -6
Happy New Year to all. May 2022 be more abundant to everyone and America than 2021 was.
God bless and keep you and ours safe.
Texican....
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Post by bluefox2 on Jan 1, 2022 8:40:16 GMT -6
I'd like to wish everyone a Happy and Prosperous New Year. I don't see a lot of prosperity in store for us though. With the policies the cretinous putative leaders of our nation have implemented, they have possibly killed more Americans than since the Vietnam war, I figure it is going to be a rough row to hoe, and a long one. God Bless You All and stay safe. Already sharpening my hoe and other skills "Just in case"
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Post by ydderf on Jan 1, 2022 14:45:42 GMT -6
Thanks for the update. A happy and fulfilling New Year to all.
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Post by ncsfsgm on Jan 2, 2022 13:00:02 GMT -6
Chapter 163
Since she received her pistol back from the police department, Grace practiced at least twice a week, along with Mollie. Mollie also wanted a shotgun to carry but Gil didn't want her to get charged with inciting so the best he could come up with was one of the Bond derringers he had. The Cowboy Defender would shoot .45 Long Colt bullets or .410 gauge buckshot. Mollie shot it a few times to get the spread of the rounds. It was a little heavy, but she liked it.
It wasn't just Mollie and Grace. Everyone was spending more time on the range. Even Billy and Carrie were practicing hitting matchheads at 15 meters. Most of the time all the shooting turned into friendly matches between shooters, after they had practiced their defensive shooting. Glen came across one day when they brought out the clay thrower and used the 870s. They offered Glen a turn and he hit every clay then started coaching the other shooters. Billy and Carrie also got into the clay shooting using 20 gauge 870s. They all had a lot of fun that afternoon.
After the shooting was done, Gil called Glen over.
"You want a road to your house?"
"What? How?"
"I bought the Cleaver tract behind you. You can now have an access to your land."
"I don't know Gil, I kind of like the setup I have now. I'm isolated, but I'm not. You know what I mean?"
"Yeah, I know what you mean."
"Well, just to let you know, I'm going to be harvesting some timber out of there but only to make a roadbed. When I get to your property line, I'll stop."
"That's fine. I like the solitude though. Are you going to gate the road?"
"Absolutely! You won't be able to get through there with an M1 tank."
"Good."
Okay. You hear anybody working over there, don't go shooting."
Glen grinned. "You got it Gil."
Grace filled the quart jars three quarters of the way full of the apple spiced mixture as Gill came along and filled the jars with the 140 proof vodka. Once they had the sixteen quart jars filled, Grace set the Tattler lids in place and screwed them down.
"I hope this is worth it." Grace said.
"Well, we can always dump it and experiment some more."
"How soon can we drink it?"
"You can drink it right now. It's not an infusion."
Gil and Colt were hooking up a log Gil had cut about four months ago, extending the range, when Colt spied something scrambling through the woods, heading for the river.
"What the hell was that! Colt yelled.
Gil chuckled. "Probably a river otter. There's a couple of dens on this side and they sometimes come up here looking around."
"But this thing was huge!"
"Well, river otters can grow up to three to four feet long including its tail and weigh between 11 and 30 pounds. The larger ones are usually males. If you look around, you'll probably find a slide they've built to slide into the water when they are playing. I've told Billy to leave them alone. They are trapped extensively as it is."
"Well, as long as it isn't alligators. What kind of wood is this?"
"Ash. I wanted to get it out of here because if it's damp or in contact with the ground, ash wood is prone to rotting. That's why I have it propped up off the ground."
"What can you use it for, except firewood?"
It's used for furniture, flooring, doors, cabinetry, architectural molding and millwork, tool handles, baseball bats, hockey sticks, oars, turnings, any number of things."
They hauled the log to the sawmill and rolled it up on the bed. After dogging the log in, Gil checked the fuel and oil and started the saw and made the first cut. Taking the slab off, they tossed it in the firewood pile. Flipping the log over, they made the next cut and repeated the process until they had a rough-cut 12"x12" beam 18 feet long. They ripped out ten 1"x12" boards and a thinner board, stacking them with spacers in between each board to let the air circulate around them.
"What are you going to build with this?" Colt asked.
"Nothing, right now. I'll take this down to the kiln when I get a chance to get it dried out. Chances are, someone will want to buy it before I can haul it away, but I want to try making some furniture pieces out of it. Though I may sell the ash I get from the Cleaver tract if anyone is interested."
Gil had a family-owned logging business to harvest a 30' swath on the surveyed area Gil was putting a road in over on the Cleaver tract. They only harvested a few dozen yards at a time. A couple of Don's men would come in and remove the stumps and placed them between the roadbed and the forest, placing gaps every 50 yards to allow wildlife to pass through. He paid the logging family in cash because normally, they took their pay in wood and sold it to the mills. Mills weren't buying much because of the economy. Gil could build up a stockpile and by-pass the mills and sell directly to buyers that couldn't afford the minimum buys from the mills. He only used the mills to kiln dry the lumber and they were glad to do it, as money wasn't just rolling in these days.
Brad brought down a banding machine and the three of them banded up three bundles of oak boards they were taking to the mill for drying when Don could free up a lowboy to haul it.
"You going to sell this?" Brad asked.
"One of them. I'm going to keep two bundles and sell one to that guy over in Russellville that makes turnings."
"I wouldn't think there was much of a market for turnings right now." Colt commented.
"Oh, the underground economy is doing just fine. Everything done on a cash basis without government overwatch. There are a lot of cottage industries making a good living despite the government."
They scooped and vacuumed the sawdust into burlap bags and hauled it over next to the chicken coop to be used as bedding. The mixed sawdust and chicken manure composted quickly and when the coop was cleaned the sawdust and manure were dumped in its own pile in their composting area to further decompose. The pigs liked to wallow in the clean sawdust also when the weather got cold.
They got everything cleaned up and were headed back to their houses when a nondescript box truck came down the drive, driven by Bill Casey.
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Post by ncsfsgm on Jan 2, 2022 13:01:01 GMT -6
Chapter 164
Gil watched as Bill pulled to a stop beside them.
"Hey Bill! What's up?"
"Oh, I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop off a couple of things for you.
Bill went around to the back of the truck and opened up the door. Inside were cases of ammunition.
"What's all this?" Gil asked.
"Just replacement ammo. Shotgun, a lot of buckshot but also many other loads, plus 5.56, .22 and 9mm. I figure you all would keep up your practice. Oh, there's three or four boxes of practice arrows and crossbow bolts too."
"Why?"
"I want to bag at least an 8-point buck this year."
Gil grinned. "Setting your sights kinda low aren't you? I think the bucks around here automatically have at least ten points."
"Well, beggars can't be choosers."
"Season starts next week. Come down on Wednesday and I guarantee you'll get your buck, all packaged up to take back with you. Hell, stay through the weekend! I can even arrange to have the head mounted, but Billy gets to keep the hide."
"Deal! Where do you want the ammo?"
"Brad, go get the tractor and the big dump trailer."
Bill came back and bagged a twelve pointer and was elated. They field dressed it and took it to Mr. Hirschfeld and had it processed and the head was sent to the taxidermist. Of course, Billy got the hide. "Gil, I really appreciate this. The biggest I've ever shot before was a six pointer."
"Well, it is little compared to what you've done for us."
"Ahhhh, that's built into the program. Boy, I can't wait to sink my teeth into some of that venison!"
"Well, it didn't come from your deer, but Grace is cooking deer sausage with sweet garlic kraut for dinner."
Gil poured another two fingers of River Bank into Bill's glass.
"I swear, you could make a fortune selling this stuff." Bill said, taking another sip.
"Excuse me." Gil said and went inside, returning with a walnut box and handed it to Bill.
Bill slide the lid open and nestled inside was a bottle of River Bank.
"Thank you Gil. I'm telling you, you could get rich, or richer."
"Don't need the money, or the aggravation. I've been building a road on some property I acquired on the other side of the river. A family logging company cuts the timber off of it and hauls it here. I pay them in cash. I take the lumber and process it, only having the mill kiln dry it for me. I found a furniture builder over in Limestone that buys the lumber from me for his projects. I sell it to him just above breaking even after paying for everything, which is still well below current market prices. The man and his family are making a good living and he's selling cheaper than he had before. They even come and pick the lumber up. Yes, I could be making a lot of money, but I have enough and it's keeping a part of the local economy above water."
"Really, but why?"
"Proverbs 16:27. 'Idle hands are the devil's workshop.' And that pertains especially to me and the people here at Bluff View. Hell Bill! I have to turn the radio and TV off so I don't start making a targeting list of people who should be selectively eliminated."
Bill chuckled. "I see the Devil is going to have a hard time around you, and as far as targeting lists, looks like someone beat you at the blocks on that one."
"Yeah, but at least he's had the right class of people on his list."
Mountain Creations came for a load of lumber. John Grainger, the owner's brother, was there to select the lumber.
"Hello Gil! What do you have for us?"
"Take a peek. It's all rough-cut but I think you'll like it."
John went through the stacks and made notes on what he saw.
"God! I'd like to take it all but we couldn't afford it."
"Here's the price list. Take what you want. Joe and I have a deal. I know he will pay me when he can. Your family is one of the few in this state who are honest."
Jon and his men checking what they could carry.
"If you want the whole bundle, we'll get the forklift and load the whole thing."
"This might take a few loads Gil."
"I'll be here 'til the meteor strikes." Gil said, grinning.
John looked at him oddly.
Gil had called Don to see about using the forklift and Don had Tate drive it up. Colt jumped on the forklift and loaded the bundle of Red Oak and one of Maple onto the flatbed truck.
"We'll be back in an hour or so. I'll try to scramble up a couple more trucks."
"No problem John. I'll see you later."
They watched the truck travel up the drive.
"How in the world can he sell his furniture around here?" Colt asked.
"He doesn't. It's those people from the big cities who have summer homes in the mountains. More money than sense."
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Post by ncsfsgm on Jan 2, 2022 13:02:34 GMT -6
Chapter 165
John and his men came back and got what Black Walnut, Hickory, White Oak, White Ash, Pine and Maple Gil had on hand. He didn't care, he'd already picked out what he wanted. It cleared out the space he needed to process the other logs stacked near the sawmill, which he would do when they had nothing else to do. He wouldn't be hearing from the Grainger brothers for a while.
Gil and Colt rode into town to pick up the meat from the two steers and two hogs they had taken in to get slaughtered and processed. They had just finished loading all the meat when two black Escalades pulled up in the parking lot, the Mayor and another gentleman getting out of the lead vehicle.
"Gil! I'm glad I caught you in town! Let me introduce you to Congressman Simmons, the representative of our district."
The Congressman held out his hand as they approached Gil. Gil just stood there, a look of contempt plainly showing on his face.
"Oh, another one of those beltway wine and hors d'oeuvre philosophers who postulates to their news lapdogs what great things they have done for the people. The name Simmons rings a bell. Oh! You are one of those esteemed beltway slugs who took money from the budget for the VA, pushing men and women veterans aside to support social programs for those who won't work. Yeah, I know you. You act so conservative when you're back here in your home district but as soon as you return to D.C. and cross the 495 beltway, your blood turns blue and your spine turns to rubber. I'm no longer in the business of doing what Congress mandates for their own political and financial gain. As a matter of fact, I plan on helping finance your removal from office or see you dragged so low you'll have to resign before your term is up. None of you ass-wipes engender confidence in our present administration and I refuse to support the likes of you."
Gil and Colt turned and got in the Power Wagon and drove out of the parking lot.
"Dang! Why didn't you just come out and tell him how you felt?" Colt said, grinning.
"Those bottom feeders do nothing but rob the people blind. It makes no matter that they are spending and indebting almost this country's entire GDP, but they do it while wheeling and dealing to line their own pockets and secure their offices. He's lucky I didn't drill him between the running lights."
The ride back to Bluff View was quiet, but the two reporters who were along with Congressman Simmons both had their recorders running when the spur-of-the-moment meeting took place. They held back expressions of glee until that evening when they sent their stories back to their news organizations.
Gil was coming back from filling the wildlife feeders the next morning when he was met at the equipment barn by laughing Brad.
"What's wrong with you?" Gil asked.
"Man, you lobbed that grenade right through the middle hole of that three-seater!"
"What are you talking about?"
"Your little run-in with Congressman Simmons yesterday. It's all over Fox News and a lot of people in fly-over country have their hackles raised. They're calling for investigations. But that's going to be a dead end. That's like a judge prosecuting himself."
"Well, the people in Washington will treat it like a bad fart in the bunkhouse. Open up a window and blame it on someone else. It'll soon enough go away. The press will come up with some other big story to pull the attention away from those criminals."
"What's on the agenda today?" Brad asked.
"I thought I'd run a few logs through the mill."
"Well, let's do it. Weather's getting a little chilly."
Colt and Trace came down to join them and together they only cut the logs into square beams and stacked them by species with spacers to let them air dry taking the slabs and cutting them to firewood size. They were cleaning up the sawdust and bark when Gil's phone rang.
"Gil, there's a reporter at the gate wanting to do an interview." Grace said.
"Tell him I said I have no comment."
"Okay, but this isn't gong to go away soon. All it's going to do is build speculation."
"I don't care. No Comment."
They stacked the firewood on pallets and called it a day.
Gil walked into the house to some delicious smells. Walking to the stove, Gil lifted the lid on a cast iron pot and flinched when the hot steam rose up, revealing green beans with pieces of country ham. Setting the lid back on the pot, he cracked the door on the oven and saw a meatloaf cooking.
"CLOSE THAT DOOR!" Grace said, poking him in the side.
"Just checking, seeing if I need to hire a cook."
"You go right ahead, but I provide other services also." Grace said, grinning and heading for the stairs.
As Gil watched her going up the stairs, clad in in her jeans, refrains of Mel McDaniel's 'Baby's Got Her Blue Jeans On' echoed in his mind.
Tate cleaned the frying pan and wrapped the left over pork chop in aluminum foil and placed it in the refrigerator. He liked this trailer. It suited him just fine. He was lucky he had tucked money away in a Credit Union account Betty never knew about. He came out so-so in the divorce but her lawyer didn't do his due diligence and check all of Tate's finances.
Betty had fooled him. She thought she knew he had money and he'd showered her with gifts, but she didn't get everything. She had not cared for the marriage or apparently him, only the comfort and security he could provide.
His father had won him over on having more than one job skill. In his earlier years, soldiers could have more than one military occupation specialty and his father had accumulated five. All closely related in combat arms, but he was never without a job in the military. By the time Tate had entered the Army, things had changed. When Tate was in Iraq, they were on a firebase next to an engineer battalion and with a few trades of 'war mementos', persuaded the guys over there to train him on how to drive and use most of the heave equipment. Once the military and civilian politics began leaving a bad taste in his mouth, Tate bailed out. He got a job with a construction company and stayed a few months in his home town, met Betty, married her, and life was good, for a while. After his father died and Betty wanted to spend up his inheritance, things came to a head. Betty hit him with a divorce, so he gave it to her, and hit the road with his newly purchased Montana fifth wheeler, desolation following him all the way to Missouri. Over the past year his love for her cooled dramatically and he tried not to show the hurt, but sometimes he had to get away, so he'd jack up the stabilizers and hit the road again. When he stumbled on Rogersville, he felt comfortable and after securing a job with Gray Construction, felt at home. Don took him under his wing, allowed Tate to park the fifth-wheel at the edge of the property and ran utilities to the camper. All Tate really needed was water and sewer. Don ran the water line and Tate paid to have a septic system put in. The trailer had it's own solar system that provided more than enough power for the setup. After finishing cleaning the kitchen area, he got the folding five foot table out and set it up in front of the theater seating. Getting the ammo box out of the closet, he removed the cleaning mat out of the can and began disassembling his Glock 19.
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Post by ncsfsgm on Jan 2, 2022 13:03:33 GMT -6
Chapter 166
Gil was taking Grace and Mollie into town to the fabric store to see if they could interest Betty in the muslin fabric. They had just passed the TRW plant when flashing blue lights enveloped the Power Wagon.
""What did you do?" Grace asked.
"Nothing. Maybe a tail light or something."
Gil looked in the side mirror at a grinning Glen Wells walking up to his door. Gill rolled down the window.
"Hiz Honor the Mayor is pissed at you."
"Tough nookies, he should watch who he endorses."
"Well, you sound good on radio. Just go easy on Merl. He means well and was just trying to dig up grant money for downtown redevelopment."
"Is he in his office?"
"Should be."
"Okay, I'll see you later."
"Keep a cap on it Gil."
"Yeah, yeah."
Gil pulled out and headed on down Main Street.
"I'm going to get out and go see the Mayor. You two go ahead a get your business done and meet me at Oh Henry's for lunch."
Gil double-parked and Grace slid over and drove on down the street. Gil went into the city office building and went into the mayor's office. His secretary grinned when she looked up and saw who it was.
"You come to whip his ass, Gill?"
Gil grinned. "No nothing like that, but I would like to talk with him if he is free."
Shirley picked up the phone and buzzed the mayor.
"Mr. Mayor, Gil Conner is here to see you."
"Go right in Gil."
Gil tapped on the door and walked through, closing it behind him.
"Have a seat Gil."
"Look, I'm sorry about stepping on your toes. I didn't know you were trying to squeeze money out of the congress critter."
"Yeah, it is distasteful trying to get money out of Washington."
How big of a grant were you looking to obtain anyway?"
"Well, I was asking for ten million, hoping for five."
"Well, to smooth feathers, I want you to call Abe Gates about the grant that the Jim Conner Endowment Foundation is offering the city."
"I've never heard of it."
"That's because it was just founded it three minutes ago."
"Are you serious?"
"Absolutely. I've got to call Abe and get the ball rolling, but you'll get your ten million."
"Gil, I don't know what to say."
"Then don't say anything that has my name in it. This is strictly between the Foundation and you."
"But what can I say in the press announcement?"
"Talk to Abe. I just don't want my name mentioned."
"Okay Gil, you have my word."
They both got up from their chairs and shook hands. Gil left and winked at Shirley as he left the office and walked the three blocks to Oh Henry's.
Gil was sipping on a cup of coffee when Grace and Mollie walked in.
"Did you make amends with the Mayor?" Mollie asked.
"Yeah. His tail feathers aren't all ruffled up any more."
"What did you do?" Grace asked.
"Arranged a grant for $10,000,000."
"WHAT!"
"Well, that's what they said they needed."
"I'm not even going to ask." Grace said.
"How did it go with you two?"
"She bought all three bolts."
"Great. Has Betty calmed down any?"
"She's now got a .38 under the counter."
"Well, better than nothing. Mollie, you should have shown her the derringer. Now that would get some attention!"
"Maybe later. I want a BLT right now." Mollie said, picking up a menu.
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Post by cavsgt on Jan 2, 2022 14:17:48 GMT -6
Thank You!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Post by gipsy on Jan 2, 2022 14:27:39 GMT -6
A fine start to 2022 for sure. Thanks for the update.
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Post by 9idrr on Jan 3, 2022 13:23:36 GMT -6
BLT first, huh? Somebody's got their priorities straight...
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Post by udwe on Jan 3, 2022 20:40:48 GMT -6
Thank you!!!!
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Post by ydderf on Jan 4, 2022 9:36:00 GMT -6
Thank you.
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