by Reed, N. C.
“Well, they may not have thought it out the way you have,” Shane replied after thinking it over. “I would imagine it's been many a year since they bought beef at the grocery store, so they know what it takes to feed themselves, at least. But there are a lot more people here, now, so they may only now be taking that into consideration. What made you think of it?” he asked.
“I was listening to Dee Talbot and Terri Hartwell talking about limiting the breeding for the cattle to make sure they didn't wind up with more than we could feed,” Kandi informed him. “It made me think about how many we would end up harvesting during the winter, or until their cows come in season again, which I have no idea how long will take,” she admitted. “Do you?”
“All I know about cows is how I like them cooked,” Shane was shaking his head. “Nor do I know how long the gestation period is, comes to that.”
“Neither do I,” Kandi agreed. “It's probably not a big deal, or they'd be more worried about it. Right? I mean, they are professionals at that sort of thing.”
“I suppose, but remember that neither of them, nor any of the Sanders in all likelihood, have your experience in supplying large numbers of people and worrying about how to do it. I'm sure Clay's family knows what they need to feed themselves, but the rest of us?” he shook his head. “About all they can do at this point is guess. I suppose they can extrapolate it based on numbers, but I don't even know how that works, myself.”
“It can be done, but the accuracy would be dependent on other variables as well,” she replied absently, her mind already working on the problem. “Different people have different dietary requirements. Some will eat more beef or other meats because they're available, while others will prefer less meat and more vegetables or fruits. We can't simply take a head count since so many of us are children and their meat intake would be next to nothing compared to some of the younger people working the farm every day. The children need meat, yes, but they also need dairy and vegetables and bread, too. A balanced diet to help them grow. It's difficult to just throw a number around and make it work like that.”
“Well, maybe you should talk to them about it,” Shane suggested. “I mean, you are a supply expert, are you not? You're probably trained to think in ways they aren't. All they see is a field full of cows. How long will it take for a cow to come to term and deliver a calf? How often is a calf born with defects or maybe stillborn and the meat unusable? How often does a cow miscarry? If they breed one hundred cows, how many calves can they expect from that number? That kinda thing.”
“I don't know any of that,” she said quietly, frowning in concentration.
“Neither do I, but I assume they do,” he pointed out. “Sounds to me like you guys should be working together. Something else to consider is the fact that Jordan is more or less back on its feet and will almost certainly want beef in the future. We've been giving it to them for free so far, but I'm pretty sure those days are at an end, or soon will be. They're going to want enough beef to trade or sell at some point. How long does it take a calf to reach the age where it can be slaughtered, or else where it can take the place of a cow that's slaughtered? Cause I don't know that one, either.”
“Nor do I,” she nodded slowly, pausing to take a drink of water. “You're right,” she said as she placed the bottle back on the ground. “I need to at least warn them to think about that.”
“That's my girl,” Shane raised his sandwich in salute, and Kandi blushed at that.
“I'm your girl, am I?” she asked him, flirtatiously.
“I sure hope so,” Shane lost his playfulness at that. “Like, big time.”
“Big time, huh?” Kandi let out a delicate snort. “Is that an exact measurement?”
“It's an expression of the amount of desire,” he chuckled slightly. “Which in this case is a lot,” he added with a grin.
“I see,” she nodded slowly. “Well... under the circumstance, I suppose that will do.” She had been leaning slowly toward him as she spoke, and now closed the distance between them quickly to kiss him softly. Shane returned it carefully, telling himself not to move too fast or too suddenly.
“Such a gentleman,” she teased as she withdrew, and laughed lightly as Shane actually blushed at that. “Did I embarrass you, Shane?” she asked playfully.
“No,” he shook his head. “I've never been called something so nice, to be honest,” he admitted. “I liked it. More so since it came from you.”
“If that's the case then I'll have to think of other kind things to say to you, won't I?” she told him as she got to her feet, brushing her pants off and collecting her gear. “I hate to tell you, soldier boy, but lunch is over,” she winked as she pulled on her tunic, vest and harness.
“I'd love to watch you take that off again,” he said without thinking, then instantly cursed himself. But to his relief she only grinned at him as she finished buckling her gear and slung her rifle.
“Play ya cards right, and ya will,” she drawled in a way only a Texan could. “I gotta go and chase down Dee and Terri. Can you return this stuff to Troy House?” she indicated the blanket and basket.
“Yes, my lady,” Shane had stood and now bowed deeply.
“Such a gentleman,” she repeated as she started on her way. “See ya later, alligator!”
“Indeed, you will,” Shane agreed as he gathered their things. “Indeed, you will.”
-
Samantha Walters was bored. She was bored, she was hot, she was borderline mad at how little time she'd had with Gordy over the last... month? Maybe? She was so many things that were threatening to interfere with her job of sitting Tower One while Heath Kelly was helping with the rails. As she moved her binoculars absently across the landscape her brain registered movement even as the glasses passed it by. Jerking the glasses back, she focused on the spot where she thought the movement was, seconds away from calling the communications room.
She stilled, however, as she realized what it was she had seen. In the far distance, she estimated it to be five hundred yards or so, was something that she was delighted to see.
A herd of whitetail deer, at least eleven that she could count, grazing the back side of the hay field that fronted the farm. She could barely make them out among the taller grasses, but they were definitely there. A large buck stood nearby, watching as the rest ate, grazing slowly across the field. The buck would move every so often, and would pause to eat a bit, but then resume his watching.
Sam smiled as she lowered her glasses. No one had seen wild game to amount to anything since before the fire. There were still a few squirrels around, since many of them had lived on the farm and hadn't been driven from their homes. A few rabbits had been seen as well, though not many. The birds were limited to what had been on the farm before the fire, and most were songbirds rather than game birds.
But no one had seen deer or turkey at all since the fire. It seemed that a few deer at least were beginning to move back into the area, drawn here by the green grass and promise of planted vegetables.
Perhaps by winter, they could hunt a bit, and bring fresh meat to the table that wasn't beef, for a change. They would have to hunt carefully, she knew, or else they would ruin the game population again, perhaps for good this time. With some careful management and some corn and minerals, however, they might in time restore the whitetail population to something they could depend on as a reliable, constant food source.
A bit happier now, a bit lighter of mind, she resumed her scanning of her surroundings, trying not to miss any movement that was less welcome than a herd of whitetail deer.
-
The third day of rail duty, the flatbed suffered a flat tire, discovered only after it was loaded with rails. Overloaded would have been a better description as they tried to finish their job that day.
“You have got to be friggin' kidding me,” Jake almost whined as he sat down heavily on the side step of the truck. “I mean, is there some cosmic force at work here?” he asked no one
in particular. After three days of using his brute strength everywhere, he was spent.
“Look, it's just a flat,” Mitchell told him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We just need a big jack and a spare.”
“Got a spare,” Jake jerked his thumb at the carrier beneath the bed. “But with all that shit piled on there? We'll need a ten-ton jack, probably.”
“You got one?” Mitchell asked.
“At the shop,” Jake nodded. “We'll need it and a four-by-four or bigger board to brace it with. I doubt it will reach high enough to get this thing off the ground.”
“We'll send someone after it while we keep rolling rails,” Mitchell promised. “No problem. An hour at most. Right?”
“Sure,” Jake nodded. “I need a drink of water,” he said absently, rising to his feet to get his water jug.
“You okay, big fella?” Tandi asked, concerned with Jake's behavior.
“Peachy,” Jake nodded tiredly. “Fucking fantastic.” Jake rarely used profanity and almost never harsh profanity.
“Jake, you're not sweating,” Tandi noted.
“Yeah, lucky me,” Jake replied absently as he grabbed his water and chugged it.
“No, it's not luck,” Tandi shook his head. “Sit back down, man. I need to take a look at you.”
“I can't sit down, man,” Jake snorted. “I got too damn much to do.”
“You can and you will,” Tandi's voice became more forceful. “I think you're on the verge of a heat stroke, Jake, and that ain't nothing to play with. Thug, get him in one of the trucks that still has air conditioning and get him cooled off. Take him home,” the medic ordered. “Take him straight to the clinic before you get the jack. We'll circle up here til you get back.”
“Alright,” Mitchell nodded. “C'mon Jake, you're done for the day, buddy.”
“I don't feel so good,” Jake admitted. “Hard to breathe.”
“It's the heat exhaustion, man,” Tandi nodded. “Just take it easy, okay? You're gonna be okay, you just have to take it easy until we can get some fluids in you and get you cooled down. That's all.” Tandi followed them to the truck Mitchell chose and helped Jake into the seat. The medic lowered the bib on Jake's overalls and removed his tee shirt, both of which were damp, but not nearly as wet as they should have been. Tandi wet the shirt from the water jug Jake had been carrying and began to swath the bigger man with water.
“This with the a/c on high should cool him off enough to get him home,” Tandi was telling Mitchell. “He's probably gonna go to sleep, but that's okay. It's not a concussion so let him rest if he can. But don't spare the horses. Titus, go with him,” Tandi ordered. The younger man nodded and climbed into the back seat of the truck with Jake, taking over Tandi's duties.
“This is on me,” Tandi said grimly. “I should never have missed something like this.”
“We're all give out, man,” Mitchell reminded him. “We'll be back.”
-
“Home Plate, this is Thug, how copy?”
The call was scratchy but clear enough.
“Thug, this is Plate, we have you four-by-four,” JJ replied.
“Inbound with one suffering from heat exhaustion bordering on stoke. We're applying water to the skin and have the a/c running wide open. Request medical to be standing by. ETA is twenty minutes, tops.”
“Roger that, Plate copies all.” JJ wrote furiously as he spoke, making a note for the clinic. “I'll be right back,” he told Gwen Paige before bolting for the clinic door.
-
“Who is it?” Clay asked when he got to the clinic.
“Didn't say, Boss,” JJ shook his head as he checked his watch. “They should be less than ten minutes out.”
“We're ready,” Jaylyn Thatcher said quietly. Her husband was on the crew that was out. She could only hope that the truck now running for the farm didn't have her husband in it.
“I'll help with the gurney,” Clay said absently. There weren't many able bodies left on the farm because of the work detail. “JJ, call Kurtis and get him over to help, please. He's working at the barn, I think.”
“Will do, Boss,” JJ nodded and took off.
-
“Damn it,” Clay cursed under his breath as he saw Jake Sidell's bulk in the rear seat of the truck. The only reason for him to be there was because he was the one in distress. The truck slid to a stop and Titus Terry bailed out at once, running around the rear of the truck to open the door even before Mitchell managed to step down.
“Easy, big guy,” Titus soothed as he helped Jake from the truck. Between the four of them, Titus, Clay, Mitchell and Kurtis managed to get Jake onto the gurney and into the clinic. Jaylyn and Patricia set to work at once, assessing his condition and beginning his treatment.
“His temperature is a little high, but I don't believe he's suffered a heat stroke as yet,” the doctor said after five minutes. “He needs fluids and rest, and we've got to cool him off. We need some ice in bags,” she told Clay.
“I'll get it,” he promised. “Thug, that's it. This operation has already been a nut buster. Pull the plug and get everyone home.”
“Love to, but we got a flat on the truck,” Mitchell told him flatly. “Titus and I need to go to the shop and get a ten ton jack and a block and then get back. I don't know how long it will take.”
“Ten tons?” Clay was almost bewildered.
“Truck's loaded already,” Mitchell nodded as he and Titus made their way out. “We gotta go, Boss. We'll be back as soon as we can. And there's no sense in leaving the rails we've already stacked up to move. One more trip to get them and we're done.”
Clay didn't reply to that one, putting off the decision until they had returned with what they had already.
This was costing too much.
-
“And heave!” Gordy ordered as he and Zach, arguably the strongest of the former football players, muscled the flat off of the truck. Titus and Corey were there with the replacement, taking the flat tire and returning it to the rack beneath the truck as Gordy and Zach put the spare in place and tightened down the lugs.
“I need an assessment,” Mitchell said to Tandi as that work was going on. “Are we still mission capable? Boss want's to pull the plug. I don't know that we can carry everything we've already got loose in one load. That shit is heavy.”
“I don't know about the truck, but this crew is pretty shot,” Tandi said at once. “I gave everyone the once over after what happened to Jake. I can't believe I didn't notice that, man,” he was shaking his head.
“Too many people for one medic to watch, and you been helping, too,” Mitchell shut that down at once. “And he should have been watching himself for signs, too. All of us should have been watching ourselves and each other. Now, are we good to keep going or do we need to pack it in?”
“I'd say we're okay to load whatever else we can get on the truck,” Tandi said finally. “But after that? This crew has got to have some rest, man. I mean got to. They're spent.”
A five-minute discussion with Roddy Thatcher determined that he believed the truck could haul the remainder of the rails more or less safely. Probably.
“Can you at least give me a percentage?” Mitchell asked. “How likely are we to make it?”
“Fifty, fifty,” Roddy said at once. “Truck is in good shape and other than the one flat the tires are good, too. The engine is a strong one and Jake has it running like a Singer. But I still have to get it off the tracks. That means going forward on the bed to the factory and turning down their road, or else backing all the way to the railway crossing before pulling onto the road. Neither will be easy.”
“Which do you prefer?” Mitchell asked. “You're the one who has to drive it.”
“Forward,” Roddy replied at once. “I can see easier, and the rails are gone ahead of us. I still have to deal with the ties, but if we're careful that won't be a problem. It's only a mile, give or take.”
“And you think we can safely hau
l the rest of the rails, too?”
“That's an even odds thing, man,” Roddy held out a hand and waggled it back and forth. “We either can, or we can't. And I won't know til I try.”
“Are you willing to try?” Mitchell asked.
“Of course,” was the immediate reply. “It's what I do.”
-
Thirty minutes later the entire stock of rails and spike were loaded. The rails were strapped down as tight as possible to avoid them moving in transit, and the spikes were spread among the trucks that had hauled the work crew.
“I need a volunteer to ride in the truck with Roddy,” Mitchell told the group. “Someone to help him watch that side and navigate down the rail bed to the factory. It'll be dangerous-,”
“I'll do it,” Zach was already moving toward the truck.
“Zach, this is dangerous,” Mitchell began, but Zach was already nodding.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Truck could slip off the track, turn over, kills us both, so on and so forth. I get it,” the teen promised. “I'll still do it. You ready?” he asked the trucker.
“Absolutely,” Roddy nodded. He liked this kid.
“You guys go then,” Mitchell ordered. “The Cougar will follow you, and we'll be waiting at the crossing. I really want us to get home as soon as we can, but not at the expense of a rolled vehicle, so take your time. We'll be waiting. Good luck.”
“Make your own luck,” all six friends said at once, then laughed as they remembered that being drilled into them by their coach. “See ya at the tracks, man,” Titus added, giving Zach a fist bump.
“Y'all better be there or we'll leave ya,” Zach shot back before pulling himself onto the truck.
The big flatbed rumbled to life and Roddy put it into motion, moving slowly down the rail bed. The Cougar followed at a short distance, Sienna waving as she drove by, Heath having crawled up behind the gun.
