I lay in bed and listened to the rooster crow. Staring up at the tent ceiling I reflected on the month that had just passed. This had without question been the most challenging time of my life; it had also taken my definition of weird to an entirely new level. The good news was that the world had already changed on me. Once the leak of the lottery money had happened everything in my world had undergone a sea change, things would never be the same after that. Nobody would ever look at me or speak to me the same again with the change that money brought. Well, I guess the exception to prove the rule would be Matilda.

I was still wealthy but I wasn’t there any longer, now I was here and my brain was still struggling with that.

So here I was in a tent in 19th century Nebraska listening to that jerk of a rooster reminding me it was time to get up; I finally gave in to the rooster’s demands and rolled out of bed, good times indeed.

The camp was fully alive when Michelle and I staggered out of the tent seeking coffee. That traitor Brin had gone out earlier leaving me to fend for myself against the spring morning air. So much for my faithful canine companion I thought as I watched Brin loving up Esther as she fed them. I simply sat and enjoyed my morning coffee and the warmth of the fire. There is something special about spring mornings and the bright promise that they bring, those first rays of sunshine in a clear sky as they shine down on everything with the golden light of newness and promise. Spring simply washes the harshness of winter away with happy colors and fresh smells.

For the first time since we got here I simply took the morning off; I sat in my chair sipping my coffee and watched the morning bustle of the camp happen around me. The sun was shining on my face and my cigarette had the right acrid bite to offset the sweetness of the day. Matilda was fussing over breakfast filling the air with delicious aroma and the sounds the morning chores being done without me was calming. They didn’t need me to survive on a day to day basis nearly as much anymore.

Even Sonya was working hard without comment or complaint and out in the distance I could hear the sweet sound of Michelle’s voice as she talked to and tended our livestock. Our situation was currently pretty good if we considered everything; we didn’t know the particulars but we had a very good idea of what would soon come our way. Our time in solitude would be short lived and I knew that we had some tough times ahead, but having some knowledge of what the future held was of great advantage to us. It was up to me to leverage that knowledge properly. With that the dinner bell rang and it was time for breakfast.

After breakfast Michelle took Amos and Holder and went down to the Nemaha river to do some fishing, I took a ride up and down the bank looking for a good place to ford. I felt I’d be able to cross about a mile upstream once the waters receded a little more, there was a shallow cove where the river ran wide I should be able to cross in a few weeks’ time.

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The St. Louis travel plan was to cross the Nemaha river directly south of us and then find a trail to follow east until we got to the Missouri River. We’d follow the Missouri down until we found the nearest settlement and get our bearings from there. I was sure that once we found the first trading post we’d be able to make better decisions from that point. The problem was that the St. Louis plan was based on a lot “If’s and Maybe’s”. In other words a bad plan.

The better bet was the Omaha plan because history told me that there was a trading post located there but for some reason I was fixed on St. Joseph which I had no guarantees about. I knew there was an old French Fort and trading post near the future St. Joseph but that was really a roll of the dice when viewed in the harsh light of my new reality. The problem was that I really didn’t want to go near the US Troops which I knew already had a small garrison located at Fort Atkinson in the Omaha area.

I headed back to camp to do a little more research from the information we had about this in our archives. I had the sinking feeling that I was headed north to Omaha in then end. I started planning my shopping trip journey in my head including who I would take with me and where we would go. In my head I still wanted to believe I could just pop down to St. Joseph and get what I needed but the truth that option was a few years in the future. I really wanted to go to St. Louis or Chicago but either of those would be a major excursion and I just couldn’t afford to be away that long.

I kept searching my archives for alternatives and kept coming up frustrated; this decision would have to keep for another week but that would be the limit of my dithering. I resolved to come to a decision this week.

It was mid-day and time to eat, the dinner bell said so and everyone started to gather at the camp again. Our fishing team had done well and I foresaw an hour of cleaning fish ahead of us, the rivers here were fertile. Matilda and Esther had been gathering and showed off some fresh spring berries and greens; I had a couple of young rabbits I had taken as I explored the river. Sonya had stayed behind to mind the camp and prepare our Sunday dinner.

After eating we prepped our harvest and began to prepare a celebration, we’d survived for a full month and actually almost doubled in population. Rulo, Nebraska – Population 7. In my head I still thought of this place as Rulo, I imagined that wouldn’t change and so I just went ahead and thought of it that way.

As celebrations went this one was pretty quiet and full of reflection for everyone. Not a soul in the camp hadn’t left folk behind, Holder broke down and told us a story of family togethers back home. The food was amazing though, we had a prairie version of surf-n-turf which was fresh fish and venison. We all shared a toast to the future but the echo of our recent pasts was still too prominent to be drowned out.

The night ended gently and we all helped clean up and simply went off to bed.