I could smell the beef cooking in the kitchen from where I was standing out by the barn. It took all of my willpower not to bolt for the kitchen door at a dead run. Instead of running, I put my arms around Tonya and Sonja and we strolled up to the front door. Tonya laughed and patted my belly when my stomach rumbled in anticipation.
"Sonja, I think we are going to lose our man to my mother as soon as he sits down at the table," Tonya said.
Sonja nodded glumly.
"I know. How can we stay with him, knowing he'll cast us aside for the first woman who tosses a piece of dead cow his way?"
Well, I did not cast either of them aside, but for about fifteen minutes, my entire attention was centered on the absolutely delicious beef stew Carol ladled out. Carol said that stew was an excellent compromise between those of us who ate meat and those who did not. She showed what she meant by only ladling vegetables out of the pot for Sonja. Carol said she had a dozen or so recipes for meals like this one that she would be happy to share.
I gave Carol an enthusiastic hug in gratitude for the excellent meal. She stiffened in my arms at first, then sighed and snuggled close. Except for her much longer hair, holding Carol was the same as holding her daughter. Yes, the physical similarities were that close. I let go of Carol and stepped backwards when it became apparent that she was not going to do it.
"She even feels like you in my arms, Tonya. I'm telling you, the pair of you could be twins."
Tonya nodded and replied.
"It's that way with most unaltered daughters. For some reason, unaltered females are almost clones of their mothers. Coleen has theorized that more of the weakened male DNA is shunted aside by the more robust female genes with each succeeding generation."
I could see how it would be tough for the gelded men of this time to pass on any sort of legacy. People of the future were selectively breeding themselves into oblivion as far as I could tell. I had to admit that the altered women were all beautiful and well constructed, but they were not a bit more appealing to me than Tonya or Sarah Hunnicutt. I could never see myself happy in this civilization.
After lunch, I vetoed the idea of us immediately departing for the outlands.
"We will move out at first light tomorrow morning. This afternoon, I want to check the equipment that was sent with us, and figure out how we will load our pack animals."
Two of the metallic silver colored trunks were in the conveyance that brought us out to Carol's farm. I could guess that the trunks contained my weapons and some of the future men's camp equipment. I wanted to go through what was sent and distribute it between us and the pack animals. The women signed on to my plan, so we opened the trunks in the shade of the front porch. The first trunk had two sets of the light weight bedrolls, sleeping pads, packages of foodstuff and eating utensils. For all I know, it could have been the same gear the time traveling women had with them when they visited 1869.
The second trunk had a set of the field camp equipment for me and the items I had brought from the past. My fiddle was in there, along with my pistol and my stage gun. Tonya's eyes went wide when I pulled the pistols out of the trunk to load them.
"Instruments of death," she whispered in awe.
I corrected her immediately.
"That is not true, Tonya. I am the instrument of death, these weapons are just tools."
I let Tonya heft the pistol, she knew the basics of how it operated, but she had never held one before. Tonya's experiences as a member of the security service, made her less afraid of the idea behind the pistol. I made a mental note of that fact. While we were in the outlands, I would try to teach her to shoot. The idea of Tonya toting the shotgun as she watched my back was more reassuring than her holding only a stunner. The outlanders demonstrated that they did not put the value on human life that the citizens did. You could hoot and holler about peace and brotherhood all you wanted, but without the resolve to fight for your beliefs, you were destined to end up in the service of someone who would.
Sonja's reaction to my weapons was the same as it had been back in Wyoming. She refused to even look at them, let alone touch one. I had a thought then that something in the process of genetic alteration caused an aversion for lethal weapons. If it was programmed into the basic nature of men, why couldn't it also work on women?
We sorted through the gear and stacked it into five piles. The two biggest piles were destined for the pack mules. Those piles included most of the camp site gear. The three smaller piles were items we would wear, carry on our person, or pack into our saddle bags. I had each of us carrying enough gear to survive in an emergency if we lost the pack animals.
I spent part of the afternoon training my new 'command' on how to travel and react while in enemy territory. I showed them hand signals and maneuvering techniques I had learned when JC and I served with Colonel Mosby's Raiders in 1864.
In return, the two women taught me how to use the equipment sent out by the Pleiad. I thought most of the items were almost luxurious, even though they held common uses. I especially liked the sleeping pad that would keep my big muley butt off the ground while I slept. The item I appreciated most, though, was the future's version of the common spy glass the women called binoculars. The ability to see objects magnified seven times with both eyes was outstanding.
Tonya had maps of the area in which we would be operating that were even more astounding in their detail than the ones Sonja had of Wyoming when she visited there. Once she taught me the basics of reading the map and using the compass that came with it, I was much better disposed towards our trip. We sat down with the map and plotted out our first day's journey. Tonya had some precise knowledge of the area from when she had served on the Fringe, and the Pleiad had a fair idea of where Elizabeth Smith was located. It didn't come as much of a surprise to me to learn that Elizabeth had named the settlement she founded as 'New London'.
Oh yes, I forgot to mention that one of the items in the trunks was my fiddle. It had made the trip in good shape. The instrument was traveling even better now, because someone had fitted it into a case made of the silver color metal. Taking the fiddle with us into the outlands was a luxury, but what the heck, we had the room, and the women did not mind.
One thing we did not take was the second tent that the Pleiad provided. Sonja picked it up and frowned. Tonya took the tent out of her hands and tossed it aside.
"That thing is superfluous, unless you are planning on sleeping in it by yourself," the bigger woman said.
Sonja grinned and shook her head.
"Not on your life," she said with a laugh.
We finished our repacking by six that evening and walked back into the house. The place smelled wonderful again, this time my nose discerned chicken and dumplings. As good as the food smelled, I forgot all about it as soon as I saw Carol Larson standing at the stove. She was wearing a snug-fitting calico print dress that showed off her splendid figure. Her long chestnut hair cascaded down her back in a wavy riot of red, brown and blonde high-lights. When she turned around to greet us, it was obvious she had rouged her cheeks and lips. Her smile was big and bright, and obviously meant for me. My eyes were locked on Carol's, and her smoldering look was quickly arousing me. Tonya broke the mood by noisily clearing her throat.
"That's dirty pool, Mother," she carped good-naturedly.
Carol had the grace to blush before replying.
"Whatever are you talking about, My Dear? You know I like to look my best when we have guests."
Tonya laughed and gave her mother a hug.
"Of course you do," Tonya said unconvincingly.
Supper was even better than lunch. After the meal, Carol joined us
in her parlor to share the latest she knew about the outlanders'
doings. I was not that surprised that Carol traded with the outlanders.
It seemed only natural, given her location on the fringe. According to
Sonja, trade with outlanders was common among fringe dwellers. The
activity was also strictly legal and even somewhat controlled by the
government. Outlanders were the source of much useful salvage.
Carol told us that the charismatic "Queen Elizabeth" had consolidated four or five bands of outlanders into one town she had names 'New London'. She had also proclaimed all the area under her control 'New England'. The area of the United States that once bore those names had been vaporized early in the dark times. The results of Elizabeth's organizational skills were readily apparent in the quality of the materials the outlanders now offered Carol in trade. The outlanders were buying breeding stock from Carol in an effort to become self sufficient.
Carol speculated that they had raided the experimental farm for the same reason. She had no idea why the outlanders had resorted to such violence. She said she was not worried that they might turn that violence towards her.
"I know all the livestock breeders in the interior, so I am their go between for obtaining what they need that I don't have. The Pleiad allows me to keep trading, because I am one of their best sources of current information about the outlanders," she said.
Shortly after ten that night, Tonya yawned and stood up.
"I think it's time to turn in. Mother, can you give me a hand with the linen?"
Carol looked at her daughter curiously, but nodded and stood up as well. It did not take some sort of genius to know that Tonya was filling her mother in on our sleeping arrangements. Just the thought of Tonya telling her mother about us was making me blush.
Tonya led Sonja and me to the bedroom she still maintained in her mother's home. Of course the bed was one of those giant ones that everyone seemed to own. I was prepared for a good night's sleep after discussing our departure schedule with my traveling companions. I figured that the way Tonya spoke in front of her mother had been a tease designed to embarrass the older Larson woman. It was most definitely not, and sleep was not on the agenda either, for me or anyone else in a thousand yards of that bedroom. I swear that the two women made enough noise that night to scare off any outlander raiding party. I guess I should admit right now that I was a more than willing co-conspirator in what went on that night. The sight of Sonja absolutely ravishing her much larger friend assured that happening.
All three of us were chipper and happy the next morning, despite sleeping so little. We had a nice breakfast that featured ham and eggs, then we saddled and packed up. By eight-thirty, we were on a well worn trail that led towards the east. Carol was riding with us, acting as our guide to the end of the fringes.
The trail we followed led due east through areas cleared for ranching and farming. We rode for a couple of miles before the terrain became rougher, and we started up hill. As we moved up in elevation, pastures gave way to neatly planted stands of spruce, pine and fir trees. I asked Carol about the trees.
"This is land reclaimed by the Civilian Conservation Corp about fifty years ago. Every citizen between the ages of sixteen and twenty one serves six months in the CCC. The Pleiad resurrected the CCC idea from a similarly named organization from the early twentieth century. The CCC has reclaimed thousands of acres of fallow land, while leaving large tracts undisturbed as wild life habitat," she said proudly.
Sonja added to Carol's explanation.
"Reclamation is important to us, because for every square mile cleared and put to use, the Pleiad adds an additional birth permit. Population control is a major issue, and has been for nearly a century. Keeping the birth rate low is an unpleasant fact of life because of our limited resources and long life spans."
I nodded my understanding, but did not comment on what they said. Needing a permit to have a child just added to my growing list of reasons why I did not like the future. As far as clearing and reclaiming land went, why did they have to conscript people into doing that? Why not just open the land up to settlement? To me, the lack of pioneering spirit was another indictment against altering men the way they had.
I put those thoughts out of my mind and took out my map to orient myself.
Paradise Valley encompassed more than a thousand square miles. It was a low mountain valley, oriented northwest to southeast, twenty miles wide and fifty miles long. The mountains that formed the western side of the valley were higher than the eastern peaks, and snow covered for much of the year. Snow melt, a receding glacier and natural springs created the headwaters for the Paradise River. The river flowed down the western side of the valley and spilled out of the valley into the high plains.
We were moving up the eastern wall of the valley, about halfway down its length. We were headed for a small pass between two saddleback ridges; a climb of about two thousand feet of elevation. The slope was becoming progressively steeper, but the trail was passable and the animals were not laboring. We did not see any wildlife, other than an occasional squirrel, but there were signs aplenty of deer, wolf, mountain lion and even bears. I pointed out some mountain lion tracks to Carol and she smiled and nodded.
"Many animals native to this area that were almost extinct in the twenty-second century have repopulated nicely. Because we have left them there natural habitat, they seldom venture into populated areas."
We dismounted and took a break at the fifteen hundred foot mark. When we were ready to move out again, Carol hugged and kissed us all and headed back to her ranch. My companions and I remained dismounted, and led our mounts up the steeper trail. It took a hard forty-five minute march to reach the summit of the pass. As we climbed, the trees gave way to scrub oak and stunted cedars. I was winded by the time we hit the summit, and I was chagrinned that Tonya and Sonja were not.
The view for the crest of the mountain pass was spectacular in every direction. Sonya and I stood there gawking as Tonya smiled at our obvious awe.
"I've seen this view dozens of times, and it still raises goose bumps," Tonya said softly.
I think what made the views so spectacular was the incredible contrast between the neatly cultivated and settled valley, with its mottled green checker board look, and the brown, treeless, undeveloped high plains that stretched to the east.
The trail was rougher coming down the eastern side of the mountain, but the slope was gentler, so we were able to ride. At the base of the mountain, the trail spilled out on to a well defined road that ran north-south. We turned and followed the road south.
We openly traveled on the road, because we were attempting to blend in as outlanders. We were dressed in jeans, nondescript shirts, boots and hats. Except for the shirt, everything I wore was my own. Imagine that, I had traveled over six hundred years into the future, yet I was still on the back of a mule, dressed the same and carrying my same weapons. It was almost as if time had stood still for seven centuries.
Our disguises went untested for the first day, as we passed nary another soul traveling in either direction. We stopped and made camp in a grassy little glade by a small spring-fed pond. It was only four in the afternoon, but the campsite was ideal and my companions were saddle weary. We unloaded the pack mules, then Sonja set up our bed rolls and mattress pads, while Tonya and I tended our stock. We were not erecting the tent; the weather was too nice for that.
Sonja picked an excellent spot for our sleeping gear. It was underneath a cottonwood tree, about thirty feet from the pond. Once the stock was watered, hobbled and grazing, both women stripped off their clothes and jumped into the pond. They tried to entice me in with them, but as tempting as the offer sounded, I declined so I could keep an eye out. We were not going to be inhospitable if we received visitors, but I was not going to be caught unawares. While they were washing away the trail dust, I walked around the pond.
The pond was flush up against a small escarpment of exposed rock about fifty feet high. The spring that fed the pond was fifteen feet up the cliff face. The water gurgled down the rocks at a rate of a few gallons per minute. A couple of feet above the spring was a wide ledge about fifteen feet across. A few gnarled, ten-feet-tall junipers grew out of cracks in the ledge. If I could climb up to the ledge, I would have a nice vantage point with a commanding view, so I slung my shotgun across my back and gave it a try.
Climbing the cliff proved to be amazingly easy, because there were hand and foot holds right where I needed them. It was obvious that someone long ago had painstakingly carved the niches into the stone. I received a second surprise when I walked onto the ledge, because tucked behind the dwarf junipers was an opening in the rocks about five and a half feet tall and two feet wide. After carefully studying the ground around the cave entrance for animal signs, I pulled out my pistol, slowly poked my head into the cave ... and discovered nothing. The interior of the cave was about twelve feet square and was empty save for a few bones scattered around the floor. I gave a snort of amusement at my high melodrama.
I pulled my head out of the cave just in time to hear a man chuckle, then speak in a deep booming voice.
"Well, well, well, what have we here?"
I cautiously pushed aside a bough of the juniper that was in front of my face, and looked down at the pond and glade. Two riders were dismounting, both of them very stocky. One carried a rifle type weapon of a design I had never seen before, but the other, to my jaw dropped amazement, held a bow in his hand with an arrow already nocked. The man holding the rifle-looking thing had a threadbare beard and stringy hair. The man with the bow was beardless, but had the same wispy, oily mop of hair.
Although stark naked, both of my traveling companions were out of the pond and standing by their clothes. Cool and calm as you please, Tonya answered the man.
"We are travelers seeking to join with Queen Elizabeth," she said.
The bearded man gave another rumbling chuckle.
"A worthy cause for sure, unfortunately though, your plans just changed. There is a different place waiting for you, and a better purpose for that big strong body. Hell, we'll even find a place for your scrawny friend and fatten her up," he said.
Before Tonya could answer, I cut into the conversation. I was still screened from their view by the Juniper tree, and I was using a well placed limb as a rest for my pistol barrel. It was at least thirty yards down to where the men stood, that was the outside effective limit of my pistol.
"Drop your weapons," I yelled, "or prepare to die."
The bearded man chose the second option. Quick as a flash, he snapped his weapon in my direction and pulled the trigger. The weapon did not make a sound, but a hole gaped open in the foliage to my left and a big gout of rock blasted out of the escarpment behind me. Just as I pulled the trigger of my Colt, my backside was peppered with shards of jagged rock. My back stung like Hades, but I recocked my pistol and realigned my sights. The big man staggered back a step and looked at his companion in confusion, as a dark crimson stain spread across the front of his tan chambray shirt.
Before I could fire another round, Tonya blasted both of the men with her big stunner and they dropped like rocks. I scrambled off the ledge and hurried around to where Tonya and Sonja stood rooted in shock.
"Are you two okay? I am so sorry I was distracted and let those two surprise us."
The women said they were fine, but they kept cautiously looking at the pair on the ground. I noticed that Tonya still had her stunner pointed at them.
"Who the hell are they anyway? I thought you said men had all been genetically altered."
Sonja trembled slightly and took a shuddering breath.
"I've never seen anything like them, they are abominations. There eyes were even more hate filled than the Indians who attacked us in your time," she squeaked.
Tonya was more controlled, but she nodded emphatically.
I watched over the two unconscious men while the women hurriedly dressed, then Tonya watched them while I tended to the man I wounded. I tore open his shirt and was amazed at the sheer mass of muscles I uncovered. He was the most powerfully built man I had ever seen. My bullet was lodged somewhere in those thickly corded muscles on the right side of his chest. As I was tearing his shirt into bandages, Sonja was checking his partner. Neither woman wanted anything to do with being near the man I shot.
"I think this is a woman!" Sonja suddenly yipped.
It was a woman alright, at least down where it counts the most. The rest of her was as curiously over-muscled as her companion, plus she had a nicer, fuller mustache than I had ever been able to grow. The mysterious man and woman took on a secondary importance when Sonja noticed blood on my back. I insisted that we truss up our new prisoners before they treated my scratches. I asked about the weapon that threw the shards of rock against my back as they fussed over me.
"What is that thing he shot at me with? It did not make a sound when he fired it, but it hit the rock face like a cannon shell," I said.
Tonya nodded and patted her holstered stunner.
"It is a particle beam weapon from the mid twenty-first century, and works on the same principle as our stunners. The charged particle rifle fires a thread thin stream of hydrogen atoms at near the speed of light. Our stunners fire a wide slower moving stream of nitrogen atoms. The particle beam rifle had limited range, because the beam was too difficult to focus past about a hundred meters and because an inexpensive counter measure was developed as soon as they were fielded. There are lots of these around, but all of them are inert because of the age of the power supplies in them. The Pleiad is going to be interested in how our ugly friends here overcame that problem."
I finally convinced the women I was fine so they would leave me alone for a minute. I really was not injured that badly, anyway. Of more immediate concern to me were our prisoners. We needed to get the one I shot some medical attention pronto. Plus, I just was not comfortable with trying to sleep with them awake, no matter how tightly we trussed them up.
Finally, we just hog-tied both the wounded man and the strange woman and divvied up guard duty throughout the night. When the woman woke up, we had to gag her to shut the string of invectives flying out of her mouth. The man stayed unconscious.
We were up and moving at first light the next morning, our prisoners slung across the backs of our pack mules. The additional weight of our stocky prisoners meant that most of our gear was on my mule, and I was hoofing it. Me having to walk meant that it was dusk when we arrived in New London. I was actually impressed with the town, it was clean, well laid out and surprisingly normal looking.
Our arrival was the occasion of some excitement. We were only a few blocks into town, before a boxy looking self-powered carriage slid to a stop in front of us. A man hopped out of the vehicle and threw up his hand to halt us. I noted with some amusement that he wore a five-pointed star pinned to his shirt pocket, and wore a stunner in a flapped holster similar to Tonya's.
"What's going on here citizens?" He asked.
I gave him the story the women and I had worked out.
"These two miscreants attacked us yesterday, Sheriff. They tried to kill me and abduct my women. One of the attackers was seriously injured when we resisted. We were headed here to request an audience with the Queen, so we brought them along, hoping there was some authority to turn them over to."
The lawman walked over for a closer look at our prisoners. He lifted the woman's chin up and looked at her face for a few seconds before snatching his hand away in revulsion.
"What are these creatures?" Sonja asked.
The sheriff looked disgusted and spit on the ground.
"They call themselves Juicers," he snarled. "Members of a cult that ingest huge doses of testosterone and other steroids, in an effort to make them more like our ancestors."
Our original plan had been to infiltrate into Elizabeth's followers and find an opportunity to abscond with her. We figured it would take some time to work ourselves into the outlander's good graces. Instead, because we captured some of the 'Juicers', we had instant credibility. The Sheriff pulled out a vid-phone, walked a few feet from us and called someone.
The lawman talked for a few minutes, closed the phone and came back over to us.
"Help me put these things in my paddy-wagon and I'll take them off your hands. They match the description of the suspects in a couple of robberies and assaults. And Liz wants to see you right away, so wait here and someone will be by for you."
And just like that, we were in...