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A Ten Pound Bag
Chapter 181 – Damn the Rooster

Chapter 181 – Damn the Rooster

It was still zero dark thirty when a local rooster and the barn owl started their domination contest. My bladder had summoned me from a sound sleep but I was hoping to doze for another hour before dawn. No such luck this early morning - the sound of a dominant rooster verbally dueling with a male owl was just enough to keep me from drifting off again; they were both that loud.

That rooster was just reminding all the predators that he was here to protect his flock; I’d seen him and wasn’t interested in picking a bare-knuckle fight with him. He looked to be almost a 20-pounder and had some seriously long and sharp spurs, not the kind of critter you want to mess with. That male owl probably wouldn’t make that mistake. Once the owl came to ground he knew he would be at a definite disadvantage; chickens' beaks and talons are sharp also, but those spurs are murder if they manage to sink them into you. But all of that considered, the proud owl wasn’t about to retreat from a verbal duel.

I did manage to doze off for a bit after the avian ‘Battle of the Bands’ ended but I doubt if it was more than a dozen minutes before Mouse started nuzzling me as she woke up. Dawn was upon us and the business of the day beckoned.

I had spent the remainder of the day before visiting public houses and other watering holes to recruit recently separated soldiers. It wasn’t my favorite job but it did involve a lot of beer. Which kind of explains my early piss call the next morning. I was focusing on men with families or looking to start a family and asking the same questions that I did before about race and religion. Obviously some people would lie to me and as the years would go by some people would naturally change; I simply didn’t want to start out with any bible thumpers, bigots or out-right racists.

The most important thing was the way they answered the questions or responded to the jokes; the manner of their response really told more than their words. Again, no guarantees, simply a measurable indicator. Considering the era and the continued rise of fundamentalist Christian theology, it was no surprise that acceptance of LGBTQIPAC+ (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans, Questioning, Pansexual, Intersex, Asexual, Closeted, and apparently Math Geeks) lifestyles was incredibly rare. It was just a fact that wouldn’t start to change until Hoover started prancing around in high heels and stockings.

Personally, I didn’t care about all that. I maintained my rules of ‘No Sex in Public’ and ‘How do you know they are having sex if you haven’t been peeping through their bedroom window.’ So ‘live and let live’ and much more importantly – ‘Don’t be a peeping Tom.’ With those lines and my anti-racist attitudes firmly in control, I still managed to recruit three good families and while there were no guarantees that they’d stay that way, it was the best I could hope for.

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The rest of the day was spent loading the boat and preparing for the return journey home. I took lunch with Henry and picked up my last recruit that way because it turned out that one of his regimental gunsmiths was retiring from the Army. The gunsmith was called ‘Gunner’ and he wasn’t in charge of the armory but everyone swore he was the best they’d ever seen. Henry was sorry to lose the talent but he did loudly comment, “I’ve learned not to expect loyalty from a nigger.” I simply nodded my head and decided that thanking his idiocy would be poor form and I would merely take advantage of the opportunity.

So we added Gunner to our little traveling party. He was a smallish and portly kind of guy but full of humor and seemed to wear a perpetual smile. That kind of recruitment was easy and, like everyone else, I made sure Gunner knew he could always vote with his feet if he didn’t like it there. So we ended the trip by adding three small families - all farmers - and one unattached gunsmith. We also picked up half of our remaining belongings from the warehouse and had a large stash of US greenbacks. My gold and silver hoard was getting small now but we still had some down at the bank in St. Louis if it was needed. My plans were to draw on those funds for major investments back east.

If everything was proceeding to plan back in Rulo, Sheriff and Lucinda would have chosen and written up a few choice patents for me to register and peddle back east. It wouldn’t be easy to choose who to front-run in this manner because many of the inventors were unknowns. So the instructions were to stick to the big names who made their patent money by ripping off their inventive employees.

Our last night at the fort was fairly uneventful. We stuck to camp for the most part and worked on creating relationships with the new recruits, Mouse was thrilled to entertain the children and positively glowed with pregnancy hormones. She also looked sexy as all get out and was enjoying teasing me. One of the families was German and their two children were overjoyed that she could speak their language. They shadowed her all night even during dinner. I sat with the guys to eat that night, no surprise there since Mouse was surrounded by kids.

After dark I saw the two German kids drag Mouse over to their mother and argue extensively including some pouting. I watch the conversation progress until the mother glanced at me and then nodded her head. I wasn’t sure what that was all about but I found out a little while later.

As it turned out I slept alone that night, Mouse was having a sleep over.