Tag: long barrel

My Land | Chapter IX (day 1176)

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Rick-John told me how earlier on their journey they had lost two of the girls to a couple of cowboys promising a thousand acres and the most beautiful country a man had ever seen.

I suggested that maybe that wasn’t a loss and maybe it was a beautiful thing. He didn’t seem to understand what I was getting at. Perhaps he was getting greedy.

This reminded me of a legend I once heard of a man living in the wilderness with his daughters because he didn’t trust anyone and couldn’t handle losing a piece of his stead. I can’t imagine what it was like for his daughters as they birthed his children. I had always hoped that one of them was educated some how. Legend has it that his wife slit her own throat with his prized knife. The bastard didn’t even know she was missing until he looked for his knife.

Rick-John, of course, was as innocent as any bank-teller yet as foot loose and wagon jumping as any Iroquois I’d ever met.

I oiled my long barrel thinking about this, John-bo neighed softly in the darkness nearby.

[note: to read the full epic track my land]

My Land | Chapter V (day 1128)

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XX

I had started my journey West by myself. Myself and John-bo my trusty steed. John-bo was a donkey. John-bo carried my two wooden packs on each side, day in day out. I walked beside.

For the first seven days of travel I came upon pioneers of all sorts. Some just starting out, some coming out. One day I reached a sign that said: “End of the road. New York back that way. If you’re walking this way you have 15 days until you will reach the next post.”

I knew trading posts were common along these routes.

I checked John-bo’s packs. We had enough rice for four months. I was glad I didn’t have to pack his food too.

It took me a while to get used to the walking. I was used to light stepping through city streets by this time wearing awful fashions I hadn’t really enjoyed. I hadn’t been able to get a proper pair of mukluks until I was well into Iroquois land.

I had walked into a friendly Seneca village who hadn’t been expecting me. I must have slipped past their scouts with my light stepping – not likely. Like I said, they were peaceful.

There were a few other white men there in the village. Some were drunk and chasing women. The Seneca men cringed when we both caught site of one. I think they eyed me suspiciously because of this. I hoped I wouldn’t find this in all the villages I would come along.

I should have taken my long barrel to the drunks. I could tell they wanted me to.

I had kept my long barrel next to me for the first fortnight. I didn’t enjoy walking without it, for fear of the unknown. Perhaps because of laziness I found a slip to hold it on ol’ John-bo.

Ten days after I left Iroquois land, the Seneca, I came upon a line of twelve women and nine men. Only seven married couplets among them and four rascals, each old enough to know which end of the shotgun to look down. They talked a lot and moved slower, though I enjoyed the company. It was nice to not communicate in grunts and gestures.

[note: to read the full epic track my land]

My Land | Chapter II (day 1125)

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It wasn’t long before I could see the dust kicked up in the distance from the pack I had been following. I knew they were hurt and could see it in their movement. They moved quick but I was moving quicker.

My long barrel could have taken them all there and then, and really it should have. I hadn’t time to be wastin’ away from the stead as I was.

I thought of simple things as I headed uphill; my fire stoked oven, hard chair, dust particles changing the hue of the room to match my lonely heart.

From here I knew a trail that tracked the edge of the ridge along the length of the valley. Before we were half way across I would be upon them with a vantage point to pick every single one of them off before they knew where I was. I was a fast shot, even with my long barrel.

I wondered how Tim and Casey Johnson were getting along, just East of my trail, just over the ridge. My trail ran North-South. I had come from the North and was heading South following this rogue pack of wolves that had taken two of my lambs. I was born a tracker, and these were my lands. The wolf was my birth sign, but my lambs were my right.

[note: to read the full epic track my land]