Chapter 9

Friday

Despite staying up later than usual to make up to the women for not being home far too many nights this last week, I was out of the house just after 0500 hours. Twenty minutes later, I was near Port Arthur and the Texas/Louisiana border. After taking a vector on the danger, I sent it and my GPS coordinates to the General. Thirty minutes later, I sent coordinates from near Pensacola. When I called right afterward, the General told me that the vectors intersected about 150 klicks north of the ones from last night.

Something was moving north, or the danger had stayed in the same place and my vectors hadn’t been accurate. He asked me to call back and update Lieutenant Walker with new coordinates and GPS locations at 1200 hours. His meeting was scheduled to start at 1300 hours, and he hoped to have a better read on the situation. He also warned me that he had received a call from the Secretary of the Army this morning, warning that the President seemed intent on making the peace talks happen. The President had warned the top military leaders that heads would roll if they did anything to sabotage the talks.

When I made it home, Josh and Joe were waiting eagerly for me after hearing about the success their brothers had the previous day. Like I did with Kevin and Jack, I explained to Josh and Joe about how I usually hunted now. I showed them my map and explained it to them, showing them how to differentiate between public lands, where they were allowed to hunt, and private lands. I told them that I rarely hunted within ten klicks of any city limits, even if the land was public.

I explained about stopping by and asking permission from farmers and ranchers if I noticed lots of feral pigs on their property. The farmers and ranchers were usually eager for me to kill what they considered both a danger and a nuisance.

I told them how, since most farmers couldn’t afford to pay us to eliminate the pigs, they frequently gave us some of what they grew and raised or gave us an informal IOU for when their crops were harvested. I showed them my log I used to keep track of each farmer and list what they raised so we might buy from them or trade with them in the future and how I got a list from the farmers of the types of things they’d like to trade for that we could provide. Seafood was a common item they wanted, and we’d have enough cheese to trade in a few months.

I stressed that what the farmers offered was voluntary on their part, not something expected in payment. After all, we got the pig meat in payment, although I left as much of that with the farmers as they expressed an interest in. Several farmers I helped were barely making ends meet and couldn’t afford to give us anything. I made sure we contacted them first if we wanted to buy what they raised. That saved them from paying a broker for the sale.

Then I explained how Aunt Peggy used the log to plan ahead. If she wanted fruit to can or to make jelly, she would know who to contact, approximately when the crop would be ripe, and what they wanted in trade; or we could call and ask what their current price was. Finally, I told the farmers and ranchers that I recommended clearing out the feral pigs again in two, or at most three years, warning that, if they waited three years, there would be enough pigs to do significant damage again.

Even after killing every pig over seven kilograms, new feral pigs would migrate into the area and any piglets under seven kilograms that were already weaned would probably survive and reproduce. Prolifically.

We headed back inside to eat breakfast, which the beautiful women in the family were just putting on the table. Once again, Sally was on one side of me, and Gina was on the other. I was surprised that Gina’s parents were here but guessed this was the families formally meeting each other. Since Sally’s mom had already been with us and Wendy’s and Kristen’s mothers lived here, I wasn’t aware of the tradition because we hadn’t done anything like that before. I wondered what else I didn’t know. Hopefully, the predominance of women in the family would keep me from screwing up anything too badly.

After breakfast, I showed Josh and Joe how to use the targeting system on the grav sled, both as an advanced scope for their hunting rifles and for targeting multiple targets. As with their brothers yesterday, I had them practice by targeting our cattle and making an unarmed practice strafing run. I insisted that they wear their battle armor whenever they used the sleds. On the off chance that they fell, depending on how fast they were going and how high they were, the armor provided some protection.

It also provided protection against poachers or irate hunters who thought we were going after the animal they were after. I make it a practice not to hunt with the sled within five klicks of another person, but the hunters don’t know that. Since I’m usually cloaked while hunting now, they rarely see me anyway. One saw me about a year ago and took a shot at me. Fortunately for both of us, he missed by a wide margin.

Like their brothers yesterday, the boys were excited about the benefits this type of hunting offered. I warned them about something I learned the hard way. Don’t overload the women with game on any one day or you’ll be out there with them, elbow deep in pig guts, helping until it’s all done. I suggested talking to Aunt Peggy the evening before to see how much she recommends that they bring home or to see if there was anything specific she wanted. Even though I’ve been doing this long enough that I can usually anticipate what we need, I still ask.

Usually, I hunt feral pigs one or two days a week, donating the surplus to charities. I showed the boys my list of charities that would accept and butcher any dead feral pigs I left them. The list was on the sled’s computer along with my map. Saturday, I worked the crab and crawfish traps and tried to have everything done by 0800 or 0900 so the people who arrived early at the farmer’s market didn’t have to wait on me.

I fished once or twice a week, usually deep-sea fishing one day and catfishing the second day. One day a week, I’d hunt deer. Before this revised schedule, I went to school on Thursdays. If I didn’t hunt pigs or fish twice, I might bring home a couple of alligators or hunt for wild cattle and horses to add to our herd.

The boys were excited when I finished covering everything and we headed to Austin to get them hunting licenses. I took a different route this time than I had yesterday, letting the scanners show us what was below us. I’ve programmed the scanners so they ignore cities and towns. What the scanner shows is both the predominant vegetation below us and animals over seven kilograms. Unless the animal is over fifty kgs, the computer only displays them if groups of smaller animals are present. I’ve programmed the computer to use different colors and symbols to display the various animals I hunt, making it easier to find what I want.

Today, much to the dismay of the boys, I was looking for horses. Mrs. Crawford had told Aunt Peggy at the farmer’s market on Saturday that her husband had almost finished breaking and training the last batch of wild horses that I delivered. Mr. Crawford works with the horses until they accept a saddle, a harness, or both. Once they’re saddle broken, he trains the promising ones as cow ponies and the strongest as draft horses. People come from more than eight hundred klicks away to buy his horses and we get twenty percent of what he earns. He offered more since our family provides the horses, but he does most of the real work. Catching several horses is a one-day job for me compared to the weeks and sometimes months he spends training the horses. His oldest boy and now his son-in-law have both started working with him. That allows him to train more horses and helps both boys earn a good living.

We headed for a herd of horses that I had spotted yesterday morning, taking six empty grav sleds with us. Once we found the herd, I was glad that we had decided to catch horses today. The herd had several excellent young stallions that looked like they’d soon be strong enough to challenge the lead stallion. We started by using our tranquilizer rifles to bring down five of the strong stallions and a young mare. They all looked like they had a lot of Quarter horse in their blood. The rest of their genetic makeup was probably Mustang since most of the mares appeared to be Mustangs.

One of the mares in the herd was a Curly, a breed so named for their curly hair. I’d never heard of them before Mr. Crawford exclaimed excitedly when I brought one back last year. He claims they have a much better temperament than other breeds, and actually seem to enjoy being around people. I made sure to tranquilize her, hoping Mr. Crawford could breed her. I also got another mare that looked to be all or mostly Quarter Horse. I knew just enough about the two predominant breeds of wild horses to spot Quarter Horses and Mustangs.

Once the horses were down, we slid a thin, flat strip of composite beneath each horse and used it to pull two, fifty-centimeter wide, spilon cargo straps beneath each horse. The wide straps are ones I designed just for carrying cattle and horses. My mothers had made them for me on their heavy-duty sewing machines.

Both ends of the straps have sturdy metal clips that attach securely to the underside of the grav sled. Once we had all eight horses secured, I had the boys take them to Mr. Crawford, reminding them not to go faster than sixty knots. We already had blindfolds on the horses so they wouldn’t panic if they woke up during the flight and so nothing would get in their eyes. Having done it many times before, Mr. Crawford knew how to release the clips to let the horses loose once their feet were on the ground. They’d either be awake by then, or the boys would have to set the horses down gently, so they were lying down.

Then I showed the boys an area where I had spotted a herd of deer. “Once you drop the horses off, run over here and get some deer. Go for two each. Shoot only young bucks since the larger does will probably be pregnant or nursing this time of year. If there aren’t four young bucks with the herd, here are areas for two more herds I haven’t hunted for more than a year,” I recommended as I highlighted the location of all three herds. Once the boys left, I took the first vector reading for the danger I felt to the south and zoomed east to take a second vector. I called Lieutenant Walker just before 1200 hours.

“This confirms it. Your target has moved north again. If they don’t change course, they’ll end up near Port Fourchon in about sixty hours,” Lieutenant Walker warned.

Checking my sled’s nav computer, I saw that my brothers were almost halfway home. The downside to taking live animals home was how long it took. A trip that took twenty minutes on the new grav sleds with just the rider could take four hours at the slower speed necessary with live animals slung beneath the sled. I plotted an intercept and zipped over to meet the boys.

They were excited when I took control of the sleds and tenders that had horses beneath them, freeing the boys to hunt for deer. I also showed them an area filled with manzanita near the first herd of deer. “Before you hunt, stop and fill both of your supply tenders and the supply tenders of the two extra sleds with as much dry manzanita wood as you can load securely. Make sure that you use the cargo straps and nets so that they’re tied down tight, or it will all blow off,” I laughed, remembering once when that had happened to me.

An hour later, I had a feeling that I needed to call Lieutenant Walker. “I’m glad that you called,” he almost whispered. “Evidently, the meeting didn’t go well. The President thinks the military is just trying to sabotage the peace talks. He told them he didn’t want to hear another word about what he calls their fantasy. He even replaced General Conklin as the base commander telling everyone that was what he’d do to anyone else who tried to sabotage the peace talks. He claims that concluding a successful peace treaty will get him re-elected later this year.”

“Damn,” I hissed. “If you can, let General Conklin know that I’m sorry,” I told the Lieutenant.

“He already anticipated that. He said that it’s not your fault the President won’t listen to reason. At least he began surveillance of the area the danger is coming from, but the President won’t even allow that now,” he sighed.

“Maybe I can fly out there and find out what’s going on,” I suggested.

“That would be great, but there’s nobody to tell if you find something,” Walker reminded me.

“We’ll see,” I replied as an idea began forming. “Thanks for the heads up.”

I called Don and warned him about what happened. “He’s a stupid idiot,” Don sighed. “Even though he’s only in his first term, three other candidates in his own party are planning to run against him and all three are polling better than he is. The public is tired of his unwillingness to commit the troops and resources necessary to end the war in Colombia and Nicaragua. I guess he thinks he can regain their support if he signs a peace treaty with the Nicaraguan rebels,” Don explained.

“Idiot,” I muttered. “Even I know that the population won’t be happy with anything less than a total surrender by the Nicaraguan rebels.

I was in a lousy mood all the way home. Even Mr. Crawford noticed when I arrived with the horses. I also had to make a sugar delivery for Old Man Spencer. He’d called me shortly after I spoke with Don.

“What’s got your panties in a wad?” Spencer chuckled at me.

“The President’s being an idiot,” I replied.

“No, he’s not,” Spencer replied with a smirk.

“He’s trying to arrange a peace treaty with the Nicaraguans thinking that he’ll get people to vote for him,” I replied.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t an idiot,” he laughed at me.

“But...” I tried to protest.

“You said he was being an idiot. Being indicates that it’s a temporary or transitional state. He is an idiot, all the time,” he laughed. I had to admit, that was pretty funny.

Then he stepped closer and looked around before talking to me quietly. “I understand that you just got married,” he said.

“Yup, married Sally Phillips last Saturday, as well as Kristen and Wendy, two of my stepsisters,” I replied.

“I know that you’re a good and decent man, and an exceptional provider. I was wondering if you’d consider my granddaughter Helga,” he said nervously. “I know she’s got a bigger build than most of the girls in town, but she’s a hard worker, she’s strong, and she’s got a heart of gold,” he said, almost pleading.

He was right, Helga was nearly as tall as I was and probably outweighed me. She wasn’t fat, per se, just big boned. I mean, really, truly, and actually big boned. The bones in her wrists are as big as mine are. Her weight is muscle and a pair of boobs that any two girls in town would love to share between them. She was also smart as a whip and always did well in her classes. She graduated last year, and I wasn’t sure if she was attending college or not.

“She’ll need to talk to Sally about it,” I replied. “I know that she’s still collecting more wives for our family. I told her that I’d pretty much accept anyone she suggested. I know she and Helga are friends.”

“Thank you,” he replied, releasing his breath almost explosively. “She’s eighteen and has never even been on a date before. Guys don’t line up to ask a girl out when she’s bigger than they are and could probably break them in half if they got a bit too grabby.”

“Not a problem, I keep my hands to myself until a girl lets me know she wants them someplace else. Sally may ask her to stay with us for a few days to see how she fits in with everyone,” I warned.

I made the sugar delivery, laughing at the comment about the President the rest of the afternoon. I even ran back to Texas and loaded the supply tenders for the extra sleds with manzanita. Manzanita is great for smoking meat, and even better if burned to make a bed of coals before putting steaks right on the coals to cook.

“You’re in a surprisingly good mood,” Mom teased when I finally got home. “Don warned us that you’d probably be in a foul mood.”

I explained about what Old Man Spencer had told me and the women in the kitchen preparing dinner thought it was funny, too.

I saw the four bucks the boys brought home and congratulated them. Having heard last night from their brothers what I expected, they’d already cleaned the sleds, removed the ammunition, cleaned their weapons, put the cloaked sleds away in the barn and put the clickers for the sleds in my bedroom. Then they hurried in and started on their schoolwork. I double-checked the sleds anyway, and then did the same for mine. Then I supervised while the boys refilled the 10 mm magazines.

Then the boys helped me clean the sleds that I had used to transport the horses. They also helped unload the manzanita onto the pile of manzanita wood we used for cooking and smoking meat. We have a separate pile for each type of wood we use for smoking meat, but mostly manzanita, hickory, and apple. We also have smaller piles of peach, and cherry, and we keep a bit of oak.

“If you can, go do any chores that were planned for tomorrow. All four of you are going to help me with the crab traps and crawfish traps early tomorrow morning. I want to finish by seven o’clock at the latest. Six o’clock would be even better so the early birds at the farmer’s market don’t have to wait for us,” I told the boys.

Since the sleds were clean and put away, I went outside and helped Sally and several of my stepsisters wrap six hams and ten slabs of bacon for the farmer’s market tomorrow. Even though we smoked the pork, we sold it extremely cheaply since it was such a plentiful by-product of the hams and bacon. Bacon and ham were the parts of the pigs that were most popular. We had a few people who wanted pig’s feet to pickle and other odd parts, and they got those far cheaper than the pork.

Sally let me know that someone had just commed Aunt Peggy asking if we could have an alligator for them tomorrow morning. They wanted one to barbecue for a family gathering tomorrow. Aunt Peggy assured them that we could deliver one. They asked for one two and a half to three meters long if possible. My mouth watered thinking about Mom’s BBQ gator ribs. The way she prepared them, the meat fell off the bones.

I realized that Sally being here meant that the rest of the kids were also home from school, so I sent Josh to find Kevin and Jack. They, too, got busy doing some of tomorrow’s chores so they could help with the crabs and crawfish. All they would have left to do tomorrow was muck out the stalls and clean the milking parlor, and they could do that after we finished.

“I hear that you talked to Mr. Spencer today,” Sally said.

“I was there to make a delivery for him. He asked if I’d consider Helga for one of my wives. I explained that he’d have to ask you,” I replied.

“What do you think about her?” she asked.

“While I will readily admit that she doesn’t have the same slender, sexy figure that you and the others do, she has everything else that I’d look for in a wife. She’s smart, strong, and works hard. Even though her family isn’t well off, she’s always trying to help anybody who has a problem. I know that she loves to hunt. She’s asked me before about going hunting with me. As long as you and the others get along with her, I think she’d be a good addition,” I replied.

“Good, I’ve always liked her even though she’s three years older than I am. I’m going to com her,” she said excitedly.

Once the meat for tomorrow’s farmer’s market was ready, I helped the girls get eggs ready for tomorrow. We have sturdy plastic egg cartons. Some hold six eggs while others hold twelve or thirty. The girls know how many of each they usually need each Saturday and fill that many cartons and then a few extra of each.

The girls already had the chickens that they’d take to sell tomorrow separated from the rest of the flock. The old-style grav sleds were loaded with everything they could tie down on them. They’d install the batteries tomorrow and fly them to the farmer’s market, setting down near the center of our customary stall. They’d shut the sleds off until it was time to go home. Using the grav sleds to carry so much meant they only had to make one trip with the pickup truck, and it made the job of setting up faster and easier when they arrived. All they had to do was set each sled down across two sturdy sawhorses.

When I went inside to shower before dinner, I saw Helga. She was hard to miss in the crowded kitchen since she’s at least half a head taller than most of the women. She blushed when she saw me and returned my smile when I smiled at her. I told Sally that I’d be back in a few minutes; I had to shower before dinner.

I was checking the water temperature when the bathroom door opened. “Want a hand in there?” Helga asked.

“I’m not going to turn it down, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I replied.

“Are you kidding?” she laughed. “There aren’t many girls in town who would turn down a chance to shower with you, or to do anything else with you,” she said as her voice suddenly turned husky. She was out of her clothes in less than a minute. I realized that she’d already shed her boots before coming into the bathroom.

She was stunning. Even though she didn’t fit the classical depiction of one, my first thought when I saw her blonde, nude body was of a Valkyrie. “All you need now is a horse and a spear to be a Valkyrie,” I told her, making her blush.

“Sally told me I could be as clean or as dirty with you as I want to be in the shower,” she purred.

I don’t think that anyone in my family old enough to have two digits in their age misinterpreted the gleam in Helga’s eyes and the grin on her face when we got back to the dining room. Even Gina seemed to understand the family dynamics now and shifted one seat to her left so Helga could sit next to me.

After dinner, I was nearly dragged to the bedroom, not that I struggled, and the women had their way with me.

“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Helga sighed as she snuggled against me when I was done for the night. “The only thing that would make it better is for you to take me hunting tomorrow,” she sighed.

“Unless Sally or Aunt Peggy have other plans, you can go with us in the morning except we won’t be hunting. Saturday I pull my crab traps and crawfish traps starting before sunrise so we can take crabs and crawfish to the farmer’s market,” I explained. “Although I do have to bring back a gator in the morning,” I added.

Saturday

Helga grumbled when I woke her up. “We don’t even get up this early to do chores on the farm,” she complained.

“We need to get going early so we can be done in time to get the crabs and crawfish to the farmer’s market,” I reminded her.

“Can I go with you when you hunt for an alligator?” she asked.

“Sure, come on,” I said. She headed for the bathroom, and I woke the boys up. They got up without complaint and got ready while I joined Helga in the shower.

“Holy smokes!” Helga gasped when she saw the boys and me geared up. Even though we were pulling traps today, we wore our combat armor and carried our rifles.

“Where did you get all of this?” she asked, waving her hand from my head to my toes to indicate the body armor and assault rifles.

“We don’t talk about it much, but Don works for the Reynolds Military Research Group. He tests new military equipment and makes suggestions to improve it. These are all older models that are already obsolete, except for the combat armor. We wear that mainly as protection in case we fall off the sleds or someone takes a pot shot at us,” I explained.

I left her sled in slightly restricted mode for now, until I could show her more about the advanced controls and systems. Once we had the two crates and everything else we needed, and I made sure everyone was safely strapped on, we were off.

“What the...” Helga gasped when we took off. “These are a lot more advanced than the one I’ve seen you use before,” she commented questioningly once we leveled off at fifty meters.

“I’m not really sure how high they go. I’ve been up to three thousand meters, and I know they go faster than Mach 2. Once again, this isn’t discussed with outsiders,” I reminded her.

“Oh, yeah, the sleds can cloak, too. Nobody can see us when we turn on the cloaking.”

“You can fly right up to your target when you’re hunting,” she laughed.

“No, animals can sense us when we’re within fifty meters or so. Besides, the sleds have an advanced targeting system that integrates with our assault rifles or sniper rifles. By zooming in the enhanced targeting capabilities, I can hit a knothole from seven hundred meters with the 10 mm assault rifle, and from sixteen hundred meters with the sniper rifles.

“No wonder you’re so successful,” she commented.

“Oh, no, he was a great hunter even before Don brought home the new stuff. Now, he’s an extraordinary hunter,” Joe interjected.

“He showed us how he does it. Kevin and I shot more than thirty feral pigs Thursday,” Jack added.

“Is that why you have so much to sell at the farmer’s market?” she asked.

“We only kept four of them. We donated the rest to people who lived in the area where we shot them. Jim also got us a list of the charities in Texas, which is where we were hunting. We already have a list for Louisiana,” Kevin said proudly.

“Do you donate a lot of game?” she asked me.

“Usually, just feral pigs,” I replied. “I’ve met with a lot of farmers within a thousand klicks of here and ask if I can hunt feral pigs on their farms knowing that most of them are excited to have help getting rid of them. The pigs usually repopulate and become a menace again in two or three years and they call me again. Many of them call us when they harvest their crops and give us one or two hundred kilograms of whatever they grow. I keep a list for Aunt Peggy so she knows what will be coming in and when. She also knows who to contact to buy the items from in the future if she wants more. I only bring home enough game to keep our smokehouses full. We still donate a lot of what we smoke, too, usually to the VFW or the church.

“Jackie said that she couldn’t believe how much food your family donated,” Helga said.

“It’s a lot, but again, we don’t usually discuss that with anyone outside the family,” I told her.

“Did your family have anything to do with the equipment donated to the clinic?” she asked.

“You have to promise not to tell anyone about what our family donates,” I warned. “If they think we’re rich, who knows what sorts of unsavory characters it could attract. Outside of our family, only one person knows who donated the equipment. Don and I raided two compounds where organized criminals had weapons and drugs, and took women they kidnapped to force them to be sex slaves. We helped the army and the FBI and got to take whatever we wanted from the compounds. We got two dozen old style grav sleds, lots of medical supplies, and donated the big medical equipment to our clinic,” I explained.

“You and Don attacked two compounds?” she asked incredulously. “Weren’t you scared?”

“I was too busy to be scared. Besides, we both knew what we were doing. I’m the only one of us that got hurt,” I said, pointing at the scab on my wrist.

“What about the other guys?” she asked.

“A few were captured, most died. We rescued the eight women they were holding,” I told her.

“What about the army troops or the FBI agents?” she asked.

“They were fine. The army formed a ring around the compound to keep anyone else out and to keep the people inside from escaping. The FBI waited for Don and me to finish inside since we had the best technology,” I replied.

By then, we were in the area where the crab traps were. Helga followed me and watched as I pulled up four traps half filled with blue crabs. I carried them over to the big crate and dumped them. With so much help, we were done with the crabs by sunrise. Joe took the crate back home while the rest of us started on the crawfish. Even Helga helped to pick up and empty the traps, resetting them according to the GPS coordinates on her sled’s nav screen. We finished emptying the crawfish traps and arrived at the farmer’s market with the crate about 0645.

While the boys headed for home to muck out the stalls and to clean the milking parlor, Helga and I went gator hunting. I already knew where I wanted to go for the gator. There were several larger gators in that part of the swamp. The gator hunt was anticlimactic. I found several sunning themselves on the muddy bank, chose one three meters long, and let Helga fire the one shot with the large caliber 13 mm sniper rifle. His friends all slipped into the water when we suddenly appeared from nowhere.

Once I secured the rifle in its rack, I zoomed lower and got a loop of spilon cable around the gator. I commed the person who had asked for it and they told me where to take it. Fifteen minutes later, Helga and I were on the way home. When we got there, Mom took Helga into the bedroom and did a full-body scan. That way, Don could buy the right size combat armor and helmet for her like he had for everyone else. He also had extras for us teens to grow into, as well as for my growing ten and eleven-year-old brothers.