The group didn’t even know about the three times Craig was able to head off attacks before they came while he was out scouting.
Craig got the group to the western shore of Lake Michigan and left them there to their own devices. Several of them had learned much under Craig’s tutelage and he didn’t fear too much for their success without him.
From what he got from the wagon train in payment, which wasn’t much, what he had left, and what he managed to trade for at a good advantage, Craig was able to restock both his ammunition supply and stock of trade goods, both of which were lower than Craig liked to have on him. He’d been able to trade the empty cartridge cases he always policed up after a battle, if he could, five to one for the loaded ammunition. He used only a small portion of his coin reserves during all the bartering.
Feeling a bit better after the trading spree along the lake, Craig began looking for deals for the Retreat. One of the places where Craig had traded for some excellent cheese, he was able to get to contact Quentin about supplying the Retreat with cheese. The Retreat members made enough for their own consumption and a bit more, but there was a market for much more. Craig thought the Retreat should be the one with the supply for that market.
Finally deciding to head for home, Craig turned Clyde south. He swung wide around what little remained of Chicago. It, like several other major US cities, had taken multiple warheads, from multiple countries.
But as he reached a point southwest of Chicago, his mind turned to fresh fruit, as he chewed on a slice of dried apple. “Michigan is known for fruit…” Craig told Clyde. Clyde turned left, due to the unconscious knee movement Craig made.
A rather surprised Craig again spoke aloud. “You understood that? Clyde, you’re a wonder.” He leaned forward and patted Clyde fondly on the neck. “If you agree, it must be the right thing to do. Of course the Retreat produces a lot… But you can never have enough, if you are trading it away.”
Craig went on alert when he caught movement out of the corners of his eyes. Keeping an eye out for any kind of cover, he picked up Clyde’s pace slightly. Whoever, or whatever, it was didn’t follow them, as far as Craig could tell. But the same thing happened as he went east while still south of Chicago.
Craig nearly ran into the camp of a group of people on the southwest side of Chicago, far enough away from the city to be safe from radiation. He eased back, found a place to cache his goods and hide the rest of the horses. He turned Clyde back toward the group. Craig checked them out, which wasn’t difficult. The camp didn’t have very good security.
Convinced it was a simple salvage party, Craig approached and made contact. Several weapons came into view, but it looked cautionary to Craig. He would have done the same thing. “Come on in. Keep your hands where we can see them,” said a man. From his demeanor, Craig took him as the leader of the group.
“Passing through,” Craig said, “Saw your camp and thought I’d see if there was news of how Michigan was faring now.”
“We just happen to be from Michigan.” The group leader’s voice was more than a bit brusque. “We don’t need any cowboys up there, Cowboy. Got plenty of our own people to take care of.”
“I see,” Craig said softly, his back up a bit at the man’s attitude. “Well then. I’ll just move along.” He started to turn Clyde around, but his conscience wouldn’t allow him. “Just so you know, there are some skulkers around. Haven’t had any tro…”
“We don’t need you to tell us about security,” said the man. “We know all about the skulkers, as you call them. They’re harmless. We’ve been coming here for years to get things from the city and we’ve never had any trouble with them.”
“I see,” Craig said again. “That’s good to know.” He just couldn’t help it. Before he turned Clyde he just had to ask, “Anything you all need? I have a few things to trade.”
Before the leader could urge Craig away, one of the women near the back of the group spoke up and asked, “You have any salt?”
“A little,” Craig said. He looked at the leader and asked, “Okay if I do a little dickering here?”
Before the leader could say no, several people moved forward and began asking Craig what he had and what he wanted in return. He always kept a few things in his saddle bags and made a few small trades and then heard one of the men say, “Sure wish we could find sugar. Don’t suppose you have a couple tons of good sugar in those saddlebags?”
It was the opening Craig needed. Their need for salt might or might not have been enough to get a trade route going with someone in Michigan, but by the comment, Craig realized sugar very well could be. He wondered if it was to preserve their fruit harvest.
Craig didn’t have to wonder for long. The same man spoke again. “We need sugar by the ton to make jelly and preserve some of our fruit. And salt so we can preserve fish and meat.”
“Now, listen up, folks,” the leader said, wading into the group to confront Craig. “We don’t need to be discussing group business with a stranger. It’s none of his business.” Looking at Craig he ordered, “Get on your horse now, Cowboy, and be on your way.”
Craig saw that the man had enough power over his group that they wouldn’t interfere any more. He started to swing aboard Clyde, intending to hurry a bit and get to Michigan to see what kind of deals he could set up when a clear voice came from behind the crowd. “Wait,” was the only word said.
It was enough to open a path between Craig and the woman who had spoken. And it was a woman. She was old, Craig could see, but still had quite a presence. Craig glanced at the Leader. He didn’t like it, but he wasn’t doing anything about it.
“Sir, if you are of a mind to do business with us, other than simple trades, please come to my tent and we will discuss it over a cup of tea.”
“Mother!” the leader said, in protest.
“That is enough, Raoul. You take care of your responsibilities and I will mine. Come along, Cowboy. Someone will tend to your horse.”
Craig had a difficult time not making a childish face of triumph at Raoul, but decided it would be unwise. He followed the woman to a large, family camping style tent. She held the flap back and Craig entered.
The tent was furnished simply, with a small table and four chairs in the center section. There was a cot in each wing of the tent. The curtains to close off each wing were tied back.
“Please sit.”
Craig did and she sat across the table from him. “Now, sir, what do you have in mind?”
“I act as representative for my home, a Retreat near Sullivan, Missouri. We’re in need of some things on an on-going basis, such as salt. I’ve been traveling around; setting up initial trade routes that I hope will expand to the point of having a true economy going again, with resources from widely spread areas available to all.”
“I see. A very ambitious endeavor.”
“Not so much. It all starts with one small deal and provides opportunity for others to join in.”
“And do you have many of these trade routes open?”
“A few. A very good one for salt. Another for sugar. I would certainly like to set up trades for your fruit and fish. We have a pretty good thing going for meat.”
“We could use a bit more meat. Our consumption has held pace with the increases of game. Moose gets rather old after a few years of it. And certainly the salt and sugar.” Looking at Craig rather intently, she continued, “You sound very positive about being able to get us sugar. You say you don’t make it yourself, or the salt. Very presumptuous of you to offer in trade what you do not make yourself.”
“I believe my suppliers will come through on their end of the deals. I’m very good at what I do,” Craig said simply.
“I think you probably are. We are a week away from going back to our family holdings. If you would assist us in our salvage work, and then accompany us back home, I can make you a good personal trade. And you will have a chance to see what we have to offer as a community.”
“Just
have someone tell me where to put my camp. I’ll go get the rest of my rig.”
“So you do have more than the clothes on your back, and what you carry on your horse.”
“That I do.”
The woman dismissed him and Craig went out. Raoul immediately entered the tent. Craig hurried away and found the man that had spoken up about the sugar. “The lady…”
“We just call her Mother,” said the man.
“Well… Mother asked me to join you for a while. Where should I set up camp to be out of your way?”
The man laughed. “One man and a horse aren’t going to be in the way.”
Craig smiled. “I have a small pack train hidden away near here.”
The man’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh. I see. Well then, Cowboy, I think we’d better put you over on the downwind side of our camp.”
“I’ll be back,” Craig said then. He mounted Clyde and headed off to get Mule Ears and the pack horses with his gear and supplies.
Raoul didn’t like Craig’s presence, but Mother kept him in check. Plus Craig made a point to avoid him as much as possible. Raoul really didn’t like it when Craig made the same deal that the Retreat used for salvage operations with Mother. Those doing the work got a share of the spoils, or the equivalent in other goods, and had a reasonable amount of time to salvage on their own. For Mother’s group, it was all for the group. Except for Craig.
Another thing that upset Raoul was Craig’s refusal to go close to areas that still showed moderate levels of radiation. Several members of the group willing did so. To Craig, the risks were nowhere worth the few things they found useful in the badly damaged areas just outside the craters.
Craig worked just as hard for Mother’s group as he did for himself. He had a knack of interpreting yellow page listings, finding sources for items that simply didn’t occur to those in the group, despite their years of salvage work around Chicago.
From what he was hearing at the end of the week of salvage operation, the group had doubled what they’d located the prior three weeks they’d been there, primarily due to Craig’s assistance.
Craig did well for himself, too, when he was working on his own. He gave the group things they were looking for when he found them when he was on his own time. It was just right, Craig decided, despite Raoul’s constant badgering. None of the group asked him about the items, taking them eagerly, without questioning how he managed to acquire some of them.
One of the first things Craig did on his own was to find a welding supply shop that hadn’t been completely stripped. It was more than a bit awkward getting an oxygen tank aboard one of the packhorses for use with the burning bars he’d been looking for.
Using the burning bars or thermal lances as they were called by some, allowed him to keep the small stock of black powder he had, and still get into well secured buildings and vaults.
Chicago had been in the throes of total elimination of firearms just before the war and had very few gun stores left in the suburbs. Craig hit every one he could find, despite being told, gleefully, by Raoul, that they had cleaned them all out years before.
Craig checked anyway. Sure enough, two of them had vaults that hadn’t been breached. The thermal lances took care of that chore easily. He gave the group most of the guns, and a bit of the ammunition he found, keeping a few guns to take with him, along with some ammunition. He found a good place to cache the rest. Chicago wasn’t that far from Sullivan. He’d be back for the rest of the guns and ammunition.
He had the same kind of luck with coin and jewelry shops. Though he wasn’t specifically looking for one, Craig ran across a beautiful engagement ring and wedding set that really caught his eye. He pocked it. It wasn’t for sale or trade.
The quality jewelry he bagged up. There wasn’t all that much of the really good stuff. He took all the jewelry making equipment from one of the stores, and all the loose stones and raw materials and cached them, too. Sometime in the future people would again buy jewelry. Might as well have the means to make it as not.
He was disappointed in the lack of gold and silver coins in the shops he found. While he knew he had plenty, one could never have too much gold and silver. So Craig looked for it on his own time. The shops showed the signs of looting, with high dollar numismatics littering the floor. But they were coins with no precious metal content.
Craig expected the displays to be empty, but he found three coin shops with intact vaults. The inventories were very low. Craig decided to check the sales records he could find in one of the stores where he found a few bullion coins.
Sure enough, in the days preceding the war, the coin shop had sold down their stock. Apparently some people had decided on the worth of having gold and silver. Just in case. And this time, the just in case came true. He took what there was and didn’t worry about it anymore.
When Mother’s group was ready to head back to their holdings in Michigan, Craig was ready to move along with them. They traveled differently than the other groups Craig had been with. The vehicles loaded with the salvaged items, and most of the salvage team, took off at their own speed, leaving those on horseback, including Craig, to get there at their own slow pace.
Craig kept a careful watch, but those in the horse group assured him that there was little, if any, banditry in the small section of Indiana they crossed to get to the Michigan border. And assured him further that there were even fewer problems in Michigan. Except for around Detroit. That was a bad place and more than one of the group had warned Craig about traveling that direction.
It wasn’t so much that there was a group or two of bandits, it was more that it was just mean town to be in. As the bad element had been chased away by the locals all up and down the Lake Michigan side of the state and the central and northern areas, many of them wound up going east, taking up residence near the partially destroyed city of Detroit.
Craig thought about setting out on a campaign, but decided to let predators fight other predators. The good people of the area were holding their own. If those in and around Detroit preyed on each other. Craig didn’t care. They would eventually die out. As it was, several of the group said there weren’t nearly as many ‘over there’ as there used to be.
Craig had to admit he was pretty impressed with Mother’s holdings when he got to the place on Lake Michigan, west of Kalamazoo. One of the men of the horse group had taken to Craig and was a willing well of information.
While the winters were even more ferocious than before, the Lake tempered them somewhat, and the varieties of fruit in the area continued to produce, though with more losses than before the war. There had been heavy losses in the UP of Michigan, and the northern areas of the section of the state between Lake Michigan and Lake Huron.
There were a few people eking out a living in the northern areas, but it had mostly reverted to wild woods, with good populations of wild game, especially moose, which was the meat staple for many in Michigan, if they didn’t raise beef themselves.
Shortly after the horse group and Craig arrived on the holdings and got settled, Mother summoned Craig. She got right down to business. Craig gave her the communications protocols of the Retreat and Craig got Quentin involved immediately.
Mother was a hard negotiator and Craig had to work for what he wanted personally and for the Retreat. But they finally cut a deal for the Retreat to get plenty of fresh and preserved fruit for distribution in the area, in return for steady supplies of fuels, salt, beef, buffalo, and sugar.
The sugar was the deal breaker. If Craig couldn’t come up with a steady supply, the deal would eventually fall through. Though the Retreat was getting plenty of sugar for local needs, and to supply the wider area around it, they didn’t have the quantities that Mother wanted.
Craig packed up and headed for southern Louisiana. He almost veered west enough to stop at Sullivan but decided business came first. The sugar producers were surprised to see him again, at the least. It took some fast talking and some coin to get the own
er to make the changes in production that would provide the new, much higher quantities that Craig now wanted.
With Sally and home on his mind, Craig turned Clyde northeast. “Never know what kind of horseflesh we might find in western Tennessee and western Kentucky.” There was always quite a bit going on along a major river, like the Mississippi.
He could see what he could do, trade wise, just because, and take a look around the western side of Tennessee and western tip of Kentucky before crossing the Mississippi River at Cairo, Illinois, for the final leg of his journey to Sullivan, Sally, and his home.
Indeed there was some activity along the river. At least until he got to the border between Louisiana and Mississippi. He was warned about traveling the east side of the River through the southwest side of the state. It was too dangerous.
When Craig asked about bandits, every person lowered their eyes as they responded in the negative. He couldn’t get anyone to tell him what was dangerous in the area. Craig, assuming it was bandits, despite what he was being told, and determined to break up any gang he ran into, set out north, keeping the Mississippi River in sight much of the time.
Cowboy Page 15
