by Bobby Akart
Born as Darren Wayne Crump, Stubby’s family had owned all of the land on the west side of the Tennessee River near the original Milo Lemert Bridge, which crossed into Savannah. The bridge was taken down by explosives in 1980 and replaced with a more stable one. During the expansion efforts, the Crump family was paid handsomely by the government for their property and ultimately sold off their remaining acreage located south of the bridge to several Hardin County ranchers and farmers. This two-hundred-acre tract was purchased by Jake and Emily fifteen years ago and the Crumps, despite having enough wealth of their own, chose to work for the Allens as caretakers of the place. Money didn’t mean much to the Crumps. They gauged their worth and success by a good day’s work.
“Well, lookie here what the cat’s drug in.” Stubby laughed. He was followed into the large open living space by his wife of nearly fifty years, Bessie.
Alex sprang out of her chair to greet them. She’d taken a liking to Bessie in the past when they spent a lot of time in the kitchen, whipping up Southern delicacies designed to harden the arteries of any human being.
“Hi, Bessie!” she exclaimed as she ran to give the older woman a hug. They say old married couples begin to look alike and the Crumps were no exception. Bessie was as round as she was tall but a perfect match for her stocky husband.
Bessie gave Alex a hug and then stood back to survey the budding young woman. “Aren’t you somethin’, Alex. And so tall, too! You Ryman women got all the good genes up in the big city.”
Alex gave her another hug and then hugged Stubby as well. Colton noticed the transformation in her demeanor. He must’ve missed the connection that his daughter had made with the Crumps before, but he was glad to see the relationship rekindled.
Colton and Madison exchanged pleasantries with the Crumps as the group moved into the living area to recap the events of the last month. Jake relayed the string of coincidences that had led to their unexpected stay at the ranch.
On the Sunday before the solar flare hit, a drunk driver had careened out of control in his pickup and crashed into the gas pumps at a local convenience store in Branson. The truck burst into flames and instantly ignited the fuel, which spread across the parking lot and into the adjacent fireworks store.
“It was straight out of a Stephen King novel,” explained Jake. “The local fire department quickly became overwhelmed, and the whole block began to burn.”
“Did your place catch on fire too?” asked Colton. “I don’t remember seeing anything about that in the news.”
“No, we were okay, but the extent of the damage caused the buildings to crumble, and the street where many of the venues were located was closed. The local officials announced that it would be unsafe to operate any large-scale music events for a week or so until the cleanup could be completed and the fire department could get back on its feet.”
Colton leaned back on the leather couch and contemplated the ramifications of shutting down Branson for a week. Millions of dollars were lost by the merchants, hotels, and the performance halls.
“That sounds drastic,” Colton added.
“Yeah, we thought so as well, but you can’t fight city hall,” said Jake. “Stubby had just finished another project, and we needed a quick vacation. We loaded up and headed down. It worked out, obviously.”
Alex edged up in her seat. “I feel terrible, but I haven’t asked you about Chase. Did he not come with you?”
“Oh no, he’s around,” replied Emily. “He went huntin’ with the Wyatt boy from the adjacent farm. They love to explore and look for food. I really think it’s because he gets bored around here.”
“He wouldn’t get bored if he’d pitch in with the chores, right, Stubby?” asked Jake.
Stubby shifted uneasily from one leg to another and didn’t respond. Colton surmised the older teen was not interested in the day-to-day activities of running a ranch and would prefer to play in the woods.
The awkward moment lingered, so Colton decided to change the subject. “Last night you said something about a grand tour. I’d love to see what you and Stubby have done with the place.”
“Let’s do it,” declared Stubby, also appearing anxious to move on from the subject of Chase’s contributions. “Bessie, you wanna bring Madison and Alex up to speed on what you’ve got goin’ on?”
“Yes, sir, I do. C’mon, ladies. We’ll tidy up the kitchen and I’ll show you what keeps this place hummin’ along.”
“Okay, Colton, time for the nickel tour,” said Jake as he led the men out into the bright morning sun.
Chapter 3
10:00 a.m., September 28
The Grounds
Shiloh Ranch
“We’re up to a hundred Holsteins now,” said Stubby as Jake and Colton followed along. “When I convinced Jake to add the dairy operation to the ranch, his first question was who’s gonna milk ’em?” Stubby paused the tour as one of the Mexican farmhands ran up to him with a bottle of warm milk. He took a sip and smiled.
He offered the bottle to Colton, who hesitated.
“It’s safe,” said Stubby. “A lot of folks think that drinking milk straight from the cow isn’t healthy because of E. coli. That may be true on those big corporate farms, but we take care of our dairy operation and the cows. They’re all grass fed and monitored for sickness.”
“Well, I hadn’t thought about that,” started Colton apologetically. “It’s just that I’ve never drunk warm milk before, especially straight out of the cow.” Colton took a sip and then another.
“Whadya think?” asked Jake.
“Not bad. Does it come in chocolate?”
Stubby laughed. “Give me that!” He took the bottle and finished it off before handing it back to the young man.
“I was hesitant when Stubby recommended the dairy cows,” said Jake. “The Wyatts offered to set us up with their beef cattle, but Stubby had an overall plan.”
Stubby motioned them toward the barn. “I felt like the Wyatts had enough beef cattle, so I decided to go in a different direction. The Holsteins are one of the best milk producers in the country. Most of the dairy farms are located in Middle and East Tennessee. That set us apart.”
“So you started this as a commercial operation?” asked Colton.
“In part, with other possibilities in mind,” replied Stubby. “The average Holstein cow produces about nine gallons of milk per day when they’re lactating.”
“That’s a ton of milk!” exclaimed Colton.
“Well, more like ten tons over the course of a year,” added Jake. “They lactate for around three hundred days.”
“You can’t possibly drink that much,” said Colton.
The men approached a pair of the doe-eyed black and white dairy cows and rubbed their soft muzzles.
“That’s true, but we have a lot of uses for the milk produced,” said Stubby. “We lop off the cream, which is great for desserts and fruit. Bessie has a number of yogurt recipes, and Maria, whom you haven’t met yet, is an expert cheese maker.”
“I’m impressed, guys,” said Colton.
Stubby pulled a block of cheese wrapped in red wax out of his pocket. He handed it to Colton. “Try this later,” he said. “After they make the cheese, it’s dipped in hot wax to seal it. Some is stored in the root cellar around fifty degrees. It’ll last for nearly twenty years that way. We leave some at room temperature, which accelerates the aging process and creates sharper flavors. That’s what you have there.”
“How much do you have?” asked Colton.
“A day’s milk production of roughly nine gallons will produce a one-pound block of cheese. Since the power went out, we’ve accumulated several hundred pounds.”
“Good grief,” said Colton. “Now I see why you have all the help.”
The three men walked through the barn, where a couple of cows were isolated in pens. Stubby stopped to check on them.
“They’re ready to calve,” said Stubby.
“How do you know?” asked C
olton. “They look just as fat as the others.”
“Without getting too technical with a description of cow parts, you can first tell by their behavior,” replied Stubby. “Initially, they separate themselves from the herd during calving season. But once they’re really ready to calve, they’ll pace a lot and paw at the turf. They become restless, constantly getting up and down. That’s when I bring them in here.”
“Are you nervous about birthing a calf without a vet around?” asked Colton.
“Yeah, a little,” replied Stubby. “The Wyatts offered to help. Emily went to nursing school and trained in an emergency room, so we told them we’d trade her doctorin’ for their vet experience courtesy of Lucinda Wyatt, who grew up on a cattle farm.”
Jake led the group from the barn and turned to Colton. “The world has gone to crap, Colton. I don’t think I need to tell you that. We all have to rely upon each other to survive. Stubby had some excellent foresight and led me into a direction of self-sustainability without me knowing it.”
Stubby protested. “Now listen up, Jake. There wasn’t any trickery here. Everything had a valid business purpose too.”
“Oh, don’t get your hackles up, old man, or I’ll whoop ya.” Jake, who towered over Stubby by a foot, laughed. “The decisions you made the last couple of years will save all of our lives. All I’m sayin’ is if you’d come to me two years ago and said we need a hundred dairy cows in case the world comes to an end, I would have probably run ya off!”
“But Bessie could stay, right?” asked Colton, laughing.
“You betcha!” replied Jake. “Her cookin’ skills allow for being opinionated.”
Two men rode by on horses at a pretty quick pace. They were headed out towards the northern part of Shiloh Ranch, where the cows grazed.
“Do you think everything is okay?” asked Colton.
Jake led them to three cut tree stumps where they could sit and talk some more. “I’m sure it is. I would’ve been told if there was a problem.”
“This was a pretty big operation before the grid collapsed,” said Stubby. “Now, we have our regular chores in addition to securing two hundred acres. Jake and I’ve been very concerned about people wandering onto the ranch by accident, or intentionally. I want to believe the best in our fellow man, but you never know.”
Colton uttered a nervous laugh and then shook his head. He spent the next twenty minutes recapping the trip to Shiloh Ranch in detail. It was the kind of frank discussion men had without unnecessarily frightening everyone.
“Memphis has the largest population of any city in the state, and it has the highest crime rate,” said Jake. “It’s a matter of time before refugees spill out of Shelby County in our direction.”
“Or tribes will form,” interjected Stubby.
“What do you mean by that?” asked Jake.
“Well, look at it from our point of view first,” replied Stubby. “Around Shiloh, Pittsburg Landing and throughout West Hardin County, landowners are binding together to protect their farms, exchange services, and trade goods. The same type of arrangement will be taking place in the cities.”
“We came together in our neighborhood eventually,” added Colton. “Then everyone got scared or weary of the effort and turned to the FEMA camps for protection.”
Stubby walked over to the barn and grabbed a rake. He began to push the dirt and rocks around and created several piles. He continued to doodle in the dirt while he spoke. “It won’t take long for the city dwellers to realize there’s strength in numbers. Tribes will be formed for the purposes of looting, murder, and creating criminal gangs to survive. As is the case here, like-minded people will flock to one another, which is where things will become incredibly dangerous.”
Stubby began to drag a pile of rocks away from the other piles to the edge of some fescue grass. He continued. “The smart looters will parlay their early successes in the first couple of days into employing junior mercenaries or pirates to expand their operations. Career criminals will turn into career post-collapse pirates, pouncing on the weak and taking their supplies. It’s just a matter of time before they take their show on the road, leading them right to our neck of the woods.”
Stubby caused the rake to scatter the pebbles into the tall grass by fanning out the rocks until they became hidden from sight.
“If they come in large enough numbers, we’d have a heckuva time turnin’ them away,” said Jake, who stood to take a turn with the rake. “Here’s our problem.”
He drew a line with the end of the handle through the dirt. Then he crossed the dirt and drew a line all the way to Stubby’s piles of debris. Using the end of the rake handle as a pointer, he expressed his concerns. “Our problem is that we have our backs to the Tennessee River,” started Jake, pointing to the first long line. Then, referencing the many piles of debris in the area Stubby identified as Memphis, he continued. “When these piles of human debris venture out in our direction, we’ll be trapped with only one exit, the bridge into Savannah.”
“I can assure you that we won’t be welcome there,” said Colton.
Stubby spoke up as Jake continued to push the small stones through the rich river-bottom soil. “I’ve known the Durhams and the Pussers my entire life. None of us will be welcome there, and Savannah will never be an option for us unless things change drastically. This leads me to my next point. While the threat from these pebbles is a potential future problem, the immediate concern I have is Ma and her son.”
Chapter 4
11:00 a.m., September 28
The Grounds
Shiloh Ranch
Madison was in awe at the extent that Shiloh Ranch had changed from a weekend getaway into a fully operational farm complete with dairy cows. She no longer looked at Bessie as an older woman who was an expert in Southern cooking. This lady had skills learned through years of practice that would be critical to their survival.
“This is the garden,” said Bessie. “It doesn’t look like much now because we’ve harvested all of the spring and summer crops. We’ve just finished planting spinach, lettuce and radishes to produce a little somethin’ during the early winter months.”
“There are some things growing over there,” said Madison, pointing toward three plots of the garden adjacent to the horse stalls.
“That’ll be next week’s project,” said Bessie. “Our ground crops like potatoes, carrots and onions will be ready to harvest then.”
“You seem very well organized,” added Madison. “None of this was here before.”
“Well, we did have the container gardens behind the house, but they were used primarily for flowers. Now, they are part of the overall growing program. Each one contains a variety of foods like tomatoes, peppers, and cucumbers. We use companion gardening so they all play well together.”
A covered pavilion was in full use by some of the Allens’ employees. Fires were burning, and a full-blown canning operation was underway.
“Come on,” urged Bessie. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
Madison followed along and watched in amazement as the vegetables were prepared and the fires were stoked. A woman wiped her hands on her apron and approached the group.
“Hola!”
“Hey, Maria, please meet our friends from Nashville,” said Emily. The woman shook Madison’s hand.
“I’m Maria Garcia,” she said. “It is my pleasure to meet you.” Madison noticed that Maria enunciated her words very deliberately. Although she had a heavy Spanish accent, she spoke slowly to use proper English.
“It’s nice to meet you, Maria. I’m Madison Ryman.”
“Oh, bueno! Your husband is a country star too, like Mr. Jake?”
Madison and Emily laughed. “Oh, no. Colton, my husband, only sings around the campfire. We’ll leave the good singing to Mr. Jake. Goodness, it’s very hot in here.” The heat from the fires was staying within the pavilion, as there was very little breeze.
Maria smiled and nodded before walk
ing back to a long concrete countertop covered with canning supplies. Ball jars, Tattler lids, and other tools were all in use, as Maria had a very organized crew performing the difficult task of canning without electricity.
“We have to keep the fires hot and at a fairly even temperature to keep the water at a rolling boil,” said Bessie. “Before the lights went out, we could use the propane gas grills or even the kitchen stove to heat the pressure cookers. Propane is in short supply and we use the solar power primarily for refrigeration. Burning a fire makes more sense.”
“There’s no shortage of trees,” said Madison as she looked around the perimeter of Shiloh Ranch.
“That’s true, but we didn’t cut enough wood in the spring to anticipate this,” said Bessie. “Seasoned firewood may become a problem if we have a harsh winter.”
“Can’t you just cut more?” asked Madison.
“We can, but pine takes about six months to season and hardwoods like oak take as much as a year. Plus, there’s the problem of fuel for the chainsaws. We don’t have the manpower to send the ranch hands out foraging for gasoline. Stubby has plenty of diesel for the farm equipment, but gas is a scarce resource.”
Madison shook her head as she looked around the ranch. “We had four extra cans of gasoline, but those fools shot holes in the cans and most of it drained onto the highway.”
“You were shot at?” asked Emily, unaware of the details of the Rymans’ journey to Shiloh Ranch.
“Emily, you’ve no idea what it’s like out there. We’ve been shot at and we had to shoot back.” Madison looked at the ground and became teary-eyed. Only the sight of Alex riding on the back of a beautiful spotted Appaloosa in the horse pen prevented her from becoming more emotional.
“Really?” asked Emily, appearing to be shocked at this revelation.
“Unfortunately, yes. It’s a different world out there, Emily. It’s a different world just across the river too.”
The three women stood silently for a moment until Bessie suggested they walk over toward the horse pen. Madison regained her composure as Bessie, who sensed what Madison was feeling, comforted her and led her by the arm.
