by N. C. Reed
“Greg and Pancho will be responsible for teaching defensive tactics to all able-bodied people, and forming the best teams from the people able to fight. Hopefully things will never get to the point that we need everyone involved, but if it does then it's better for everyone to be trained and able from the start.”
“There are some other areas that will have people in charge of them, specifically food storage and preservation, making and repairing clothes, and of course gardening and animal husbandry.” He closed his small notebook and looked at the group.
“Leon was right about something else, too,” he decided to side with caution instead of his own confidence. “We've all, at least for the most part, been guilty of thinking short term. Surviving this disaster until things returned to normal. Unfortunately, we're pretty sure this is the new normal. It's time for us to remember that and start working to incorporate all we know of the old ways into what we do. Misses Webb for instance knows no telling how many home remedies that work as good if not better than modern medicines, and what medicines we have are going to run out at some point. We need to be ready for things like that. There are plenty of other examples and I'm sure you all will come up with things I missed.”
“We proved with the fire that we can work together and make things happen. We need to continue to build on that. We have to, or we won't survive. It really is that simple. And I'm as guilty as any and more than some of not thinking long term enough. I flattered myself that I was, but. . .I never planned for all this,” he waved his hands to encompass the enlarged version of the Sanders ranch.
“I planned on surviving like I did in the bush, not the way things are set up now. I failed completely to take into consideration the fact that so many people would be unable to live like we do, myself and the other soldiers I mean, and so my plans were woefully inadequate. My fault, and I can't go back and fix it. All I can do is move forward.”
“If we encounter a problem no one has a solution for then we will gather together and brainstorm until we find on. We've got the twins, JJ, and Janice. They're all individually brilliant and together they can likely do anything. We have some extremely capable people in this group and while we don't have everything we might ever need, we do have a good resource base, at least for now. We can do this, people. We have to.”
He sensed reluctance in some to shouldering so much responsibility, but no one objected. Along with the reluctance to embrace that responsibility he sensed an equally reluctant air of acceptance. This was the way it had to be if they were going to have any kind of normal life at all.
Whatever normal was going to be once it was all said and done.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
-
For the next week the smell of burned wood, grass and other materials permeated the air around them. Many found themselves reluctant to venture outside, the stench was so strong. Abigail had warned them that would be the case, but as with so many things, experiencing was believing.
“Man, I doubt I 'll ever not smell that crap,” Jake complained after five straight days of smelling ash.
“Gets old in a hurry,” Abigail agreed. The two were trying to get her fire plow working again, so far without luck. They just could not find the problem. Added to that was the fact that they couldn't work only on the plow since Jake was also working to make sure the little fire truck was running well enough to be put into service when needed.
Those who could stomach the smell worked to get things back into shape. Preparations were also under way for planting season. Starter plants were being raised in Angela's greenhouse to be placed in gardens while Gordon worked with Ronny to decide what would be planted where when the time came. Meetings were held to decide what crops were needed the most and to estimate how much food it would take to get the group through the next year.
It seemed ridiculous on the face of it. Not even time to plant yet, and already they were worried about making it through the next year's harvest. As that thought hit home, Clay could hear Leon's words echoing again in his mind. They had to adopt a different mindset. They had to, as a group, leave their old way of thinking behind and forge ahead in learning, developing and implementing different ways of doing things. Even their thinking and planning had to change, as evidenced by the decision making they were faced with now. As much discussion as that required right now, how much harder would it be without tractors? When the last tractor went down, how much more difficult would it be to maintain the farm and produce the food to feed so many people?
The headache this thinking had spawned had led to his current meeting with Teri Hartwell and Samantha Walters.
“You two are probably the best animal husbandry experts we have on this place,” he told them. “We have got to start thinking long term on everything, and one of those things is horses and mules. Sooner or later our working vehicles will be finished, including our tractors. Before then we better have enough draft animals to pull plows and wagons.”
“Where are you going to get the plows and wagons?” Samantha asked, curious.
“I haven't gotten that far, yet,” Clay admitted. “You two know as well as I do, no…you know far better than I do that breeding programs don't produce results over night. It takes three years for a horse or mule to reach an age where it can shoulder a burden like plowing or pulling. And they have to be trained to do that, too. Realization has only begun to dawn on me just how much food we're talking about to feed us all and still have silage for the cattle. We'll need dozens of horses and mules in the future. To plow with, to haul with, and to ride. One day, assuming things stay the way they are now, we 'll be riding horses to get where we're going. Even if we can keep one or two vehicles running, it won't be enough for all of us.”
“So, what do you want us to do?” Teri asked, curious now. So far, her contributions to the general welfare had been rather limited.
“I want you two to take charge of the breeding program,” Clay said simply. “For everything. Horses, jacks, mules, and the cattle. I said everything but we can let Mister Jessup deal with his piglets I think,” he snorted in amusement. “He can keep us in bacon and sausage I'm pretty sure. But the rest, we need someone smart and knowledgeable in charge.”
“Clay, have you talked to your dad about this?” Sam asked. “I mean, no offense, but is he going to be okay with the two of us managing his herd like that?”
“He 'll still handle the day to day operation,” Clay assured them. “Your job will be to make sure that we maintain a healthy and efficient reproduction program. We need foals and need them strong, healthy and above all as soon as possible. We have a limited time frame to produce a strong herd of equines. Without them I doubt we can make it.”
The two young women looked at each other, each one weighing the other. They didn't know each other particularly well, having only met the first time when the two of them found themselves in Tobias Peyton's tender care before winter.
“I think we can do it,” Sam said suddenly. “I've dealt with our cattle for a long time. Granted I wasn't in charge, but I've participated in the planning. Horses I am not as familiar with. We didn't use horses at all for cattle work. Just ATV's.”
“I can do horses,” Teri told her. “And the rest. It was my love of horses that sent me to vet school,” she added.
“Outstanding,” Clay made a note in his book. “I 'll tell my dad and he can turn over breeding records to you for the herds. Gordy has been working hard on that for probably two years so I 'll leave him there to help. You may need a strong back and weak mind at some point,” he winked at Sam who laughed even as her face pinked a bit.
“When you guys are out,” Teri said, “keep your eyes open for stock of any kind. Horses and cattle of course, but the jacks, too. Goats and sheep would also be a big plus. And it would help if we could find stock dogs, since you don't have any. At this point, even high dollar animals would sell or trade cheaply I imagine. A week of food would be worth a lot right now.”
“Okay, but.
. .we would need you to go and have a look at them,” Clay said. “And I have no idea where to get anything like a good stock dog. I'd give anything reasonable for a whole pack so we could raise our own, but. . .no one has known where to find any.”
“Maybe I can help with that,” Teri smiled a little.
-
“Trip laid on?” Ronny asked as he looked at the convoy assembling on the pad at the Troy farm.
“Going to look for stock dogs,” Clay nodded. “And stock,” he added, nodding to the trailer behind the Beast.
“Where at?” Ronny was curious.
“We're following Teri Hartwell's directions,” Clay pointed toward the slight veterinarian student. “She made the rounds with Doc Wells during last summer and fall as a student intern. Says she knows a family that had some dogs, or at least had them last year. Maybe we can trade them out of some.”
“Couldn't hurt I guess,” Ronny nodded. “You found that calf killed a bit back. A few good guardian dogs would help stop that I imagine. We never had that trouble before. We discussed getting a dog or two over the years but there just never seemed to be a need for it,” he shrugged. “I don't know why none of us thought of it for this.”
“Twins did,” Clay sighed. “But they couldn't find anything in the time we had after the CME. Anyway, if these folks still have them, we may can get a couple, or more.”
“What kind of dogs are they?”
“I never heard of them.”
-
“They're called Karabash dogs,” Teri explained as the short convoy rumbled along. The Cougar, with Zach driving, carried Clay, Teri, Gordy, Samantha and Kade. The Beast followed with Ellen and Tandi as usual, and finally the Hummer, with Mitch Nolan, Vicki and Corey.
“Never heard of them,” Clay admitted. “What are they like?”
“They generally run large, up to one hundred fifty pounds or so for a male,” she replied. “Short haired but with a double coat so it's thick. They're strong, loyal dogs with a protective streak, but they're pretty independent. You have to have a firm hand with them and make sure they know you're in charge.”
“I've seen K-9 guys in the Army wrestle with their dogs and hold them on the ground,” Clay nodded. “I always assumed that was their way of asserting dominance.”
“Yes,” Teri nodded. “You don't have to hit the dog to train it. Dogs are smart and will respond to proper cues and training if you give it to them. Karabash dogs are also called Kangals. A lot of people lump them in with Anatolians, but they're not. The breeds are similar, but not the same.”
“Anatolians I've heard of,” Clay told her. “Never had one but I've heard good things about them from the Duo. Are these Kalabash dogs as good as them?”
“Karabash,” Teri corrected with a small smile. “And yes, they are. Honestly both are excellent Livestock Guardian Dogs. I believe the only difference comes from personal preference. Either one would do an excellent job on a farm such as yours.”
“And someone around here just happens to raise them?” Clay knew he sounded dubious.
“You don't 'just happen' to raise Karabash hounds,” Teri shook her head. “Somewhere or another this couple had gotten one and liked it so much they opened a kennel and began raising them.”
“So, they're rare?” Clay asked.
“Here,” Teri nodded. “They're used in many countries around the world, though. It's similar to Caucasian Shepherds. They are very uncommon here, but in Europe they're a lot more well known. Karabash hounds aren't nearly as aggressive as a Caucasian, but can do the job of guarding livestock equally well. Kangals have been known to battle wolves, lions and even bears.”
“Damn,” Clay whistled. “There were a few dogs in Africa that could stand up to a lion, but none I could get near. Hated everything around them, usually.”
“What breed were they?” Teri asked, interested.
“No idea,” he replied honestly. “I don't think the people using them knew. Dogs were tools to them for the most part. Where we take dogs as companions and protectors, a lot of places just use dogs like tools. If they get hurt, they put them down, or even eat 'em.”
“I know,” Teri sighed. “It's a cultural thing, so there's no way to try and stop it.”
“Well, I always figured as long as there was a single child being mistreated somewhere, the dogs could wait,” Clay admitted.
“That's the usual sentiment, and I won't say it's wrong,” Teri said. “But. . .I've seen dogs that were loyal to their owner be abandoned at a shelter and cry and whine for days. People think dogs aren't expressive or don't feel things, but they're wrong. Dogs aren't people, and we shouldn't treat them that way, but dogs are far better than most of the animal kingdom. No other animal will put your welfare above its own like a good dog will.”
“That is very true,” Clay agreed. “How far is it again?”
“We still have a ways to go.”
-
'A ways' translated into an hour of travel. To be sure, part of that hour was spent moving cars out of the way that had stalled on the highway when the Storm had hit. The Beast proved its worth over and over as Ellen Kargay piloted the massive vehicle through the traffic with the push bumper deployed, clearing a path for the others as well as herself.
“Here,” Teri said, pointing to a side road that had several signs around it. Clay noted that one of them read “Daniels Kennel”. The convoy turned and slowly made their way another three miles until Teri had them slow down.
“Might be a good idea to have the rest hang back?” she looked at Clay. “If they're still here they might not want to come outside to a group our size. Not to mention there may be a whole pack of dogs roaming here.”
No sooner had she spoke than they heard a braying wail, answered in kind a dozen times as large dogs that Clay assumed were these Kangal hounds, began to appear from seemingly everywhere.
“No kidding,” Clay grunted. “You guys hang here for a bit,” he called into his radio. “We're going to try and speak to these folks and see if they 'll talk to us. If we can make a deal, or we need help, we 'll call.”
“Beast copies,” Tandi said at once.
“Scope copies,” Nate answered next.
“All right Zach,” Clay said next. “Pull us into the drive, but only in and then stop. Don't go any closer. Teri,” he turned to the vet student, “use this to talk to them over the PA,” he handed her a mike. “Rest of you be calm. I think it's safe to say we're not getting out. At least not yet.”
“Works for me,” Gordy nodded, sitting at the back and keeping watch behind them.
“I sure ain't getting' out,” Kade said from the turret. “No way, no how.”
Teri took the mike and held it a minute, thinking about what she needed to say. Finally, she took a breath, keyed the mike, and started to speak.
“Mister and Misses Riddner, this is Teri Hartwell. I don't know if you remember me or not but I was here last year with Doctor Wells to look over a group of pups that had just arrived? I'm sorry to drop in on your like this but friends of mine who had helped me out need to find some stock dogs and…well, I thought of you. If you're interested in trading some of your pups away, they will make you a good offer, I promise.” She stopped lowering the microphone.
“What if they don't answer?” Teri asked Clay.
“We 'll leave,” he said simply. “We can't make them sell us a dog. Or trade for it I guess would be more accurate. I hate to make a long trip like this for nothing, but there's always the chance we can find a few horses or cattle on the way back.”
Teri waited two minutes and tried again, trying to reassure the couple that they meant no harm and were just trying to get a dog or two if possible. She was running out of faith that the two would respond when the front door of the house opened.
“Oh,” Teri gave an involuntary start as a rail thin woman with graying hair stepped outside, wrapped in a blanket and wearing an orange toboggan on her head. As they watched she called the dogs t
o her side and all of them obeyed, forming most of a line behind her and sitting down. None took their eyes off the Cougar.
“I guess I'm going to have to get down,” Teri said softly.
“I 'll go with you,” Clay promised. “Let’s go see a lady about a dog, huh?” he made a small joke and everyone laughed. Clay opened the side door and stepped out, then helped Teri down. His rifle hung loosely at his side as the two walked slowly into the open. While Clay knew he could kill several of the dogs should they charge, he was under no illusion that he could get them all. There was no point in false bravado of brandishing his rifle. That wasn't the message they wanted to send anyway.
“Mrs. Riddner, do you remember me, ma'am?” Teri called from the front of the Cougar.
“I remember you, child,” the woman nodded slowly. “I do believe you were with another man the last time you visited here, though.”
“Yes ma'am, I was,” Teri nodded. “After things fell apart, I ended up in a bit of a bind. To make a long story short I was taken in by the Sanders family since I had no way to get home and nowhere else to go.”
“Same Sanders that raise cattle over Jordan way?” Riddner asked.
“The same, yes ma'am,” Teri replied.
“This man one of 'em?” the older woman looked at Clay.
“Yes ma'am, I am,” Clay answered for himself.
“Your family came through all this a little better off than most people around here,” she noted.
“We were lucky,” Clay admitted. “Our vehicles were inside when it happened.”
“Well, you look more like a soldier than a cattleman,” she said.
“I was a soldier up until a year or so ago,” Clay confirmed. “I had been home a few months when this happened.”
“I see,” Riddner nodded absently. “So, you've decided you need dogs, do you?” she asked Teri.
“For the ranch, yes ma'am,” Teri nodded. “I've been placed in charge of managing the herd, including horses and other equines, and the cattle from at least one other farm. Predators have already killed one calf and are sure to kill others. We've been extraordinarily lucky, but that can't last.”