On the Banks of the Bighorn Chapter Twenty Seven – by Tracker

Meanwhile Back at the Ranch

 

(oh come on, as if anyone thought I was going to write chapter after chapter about goings on in and around a ranch without at some time using that expression…)

 

Wilson Frick and his nephew Woodrow were holding their early morning war council with two of the assistant foremen, Jim Hawkins and Randy Schlesinger. The Ranch Foreman, Buddy James, who was too old for battle, and anyway was not a wartime foreman, was holding a council elsewhere with the cattle foreman and the facilities foreman.  Since the death of Trelawney Hawkins in the earlier assault there was no arms foreman at the War Council. Such an absence was missed.

 

“There is only a small band of the enemy contractors at large on our range,” began Wilson Frick.  “Woodrow and Hawkins can take a couple of groups and try to corner them; hunt them down.  I don’t think we are missing any of our human livestock, which is good, with the Silver Ship scheduled for Friday.”

 

“Randy, I want you to make a list of supplies and replenishment we urgently need.  Send Smith in a truck to town to pick them up later this morning.  Call the order in as soon as our shopping list is ready.  Then it will be ready for pickup. I don’t want trained hands off the ranch for too long.  Smith is a fighter.”

 

Woodrow leaned forward, “Not all our people are fighters. Should we be adding to our fighting strength, in case we are attacked again?”

 

Randy answered him.  “We need cattle herders, people who are primarily livestock workers, members of the ranching caste.  Some of us are both of course, and men like Smith can turn their hands to anything.  This attack has spooked some of our people who were not born to serve our Home Stone and we will likely lose them.  We need fighters and ranchers, if we can get men who are both, good; but we will need both.”

 

Wilson told him, “We will staff up at leisure later.  We need to vet our off ranch hires more carefully. This spy we have still has me worried.  There are still about seven recent hires it could be. We need people we can trust.”

 

Woodrow added, “It is not just the attack on the ranch.  I was talking to Commander Willard Frick in Pittsburgh early this morning.  He told me that London was getting both uppity and careless of security. They even have women handling some of the operations!  He may have to go over there in a couple of weeks to check things out personally. We are expecting a bumper shipment of English Roses and don’t want anything to go awry or to get short changed on quality.”

 

Hawkins added, “we need to make sure we are only shipping Grade A livestock.  We don’t want to lose our reputation for supplying only top-quality merchandise. We are shipping to Ar.  The standards there are the highest on Gor, unrivalled except for maybe Port Kar, and nobody wants to deal with those pirates.”

 

“Hawkins, I will want you to take over Processing and Shipping for Human Livestock when we reorganize after this battle. Our own stock we can ensure the quality on, but some of the stuff the Other Families send us is sometimes not the highest quality. London needs to up their game as well.”

 

“Thank you, Mr Frick. I will not disappoint you.”

 

Wilson Frick nodded and continued.  “One last thing.  The Silver Ship coming on Friday has two medical pods. The two youngsters that were so badly hurt rescuing the horses from the barn during that attack are still in Intensive Care in Billings.  The Intensive Care doctors tell me that things are not going well, and neither Alex Jameson nor Donna Black are likely to come out of their comas, indeed if something doesn’t happen soon, they will be turning off life-support.”

 

“Once we get them into the medical pods, they will go into travel stasis, and can be revived and healed on Gor.  We have contacts with some of the finest members of the Physicians Caste in Ar, which means, as far as I am concerned, on Gor. I am sure they can be totally healed there. I have spoken to the parents of the youngsters.  Alex Jameson’s parents are willing for him to go, as is Donna Black’s father.  Her mother has dared to disagree.  She does not want her daughter going to Gor on a Silver Ship.”

 

Randy Schlesinger asked, “not even to save her life?”

 

“Donna’s father as the patriarch has the final word of course. The Blacks are a proud, free Family, and the mother wants to guard her child. I have stressed that going in a medical pod is different from travelling in a regular cylinder, but she still has her doubts.  I have told her that either Donna travels alone, with our best guarantees for her safety and virtue, or her mother can accompany in a regular cylinder and watch her grow up.  Of course, she will watch Donna grow up as Donna’s collared maid.  When Donna achieves her adulthood and either returns here or enters into a Free Companionship on the Counter-Earth, the mother will be sold as would any unneeded kajira.  I have given her until noon to make up her mind. Either Donna travels alone with our agents to guard her as best they may, or the mother is branded and collared to travel with her. My word is final.  We owe the youngsters our best efforts for their recovery. I will not be thwarted by a foolish female.”

 

Slave Fliss’s Narrative.

 

I spent the morning trying to help the new captures learn the skills that may save their lives, and certainly their hides on Gor. The ship comes soon for them, although they are not to know that. By the Priest Kings, they are slow to learn things.  When I was Florence ,and Tiffani was Teresa, we were learning and picking up the things we needed much more quickly. Once our slave names were put on us, we learned even more quickly. Even before our collars, we had learned our duties quickly in the Navy.  This lot will never be more than mat and kettle girls, I am sure.  Perhaps Inge and Reading will make the grade.

 

At the other end of the corral, a couple of young lads were training some calves for their 4H show.  They were getting their prize stock ready to be exhibited in the ring.  They were getting them accustomed to being led and shown.  They had them stand still at command, how best to stand for the judges, how to walk slowly forward at command.  The honest truth is that they were doing better with their charges than I was doing with mine. But I am not a Thorn, just a girl doing the best she can. And I think that the boys’ trainees may be more advanced in their training than mine.

 

While I put my trainees through some simple paces, I was able to talk to Master Smith.  He is older, but very interesting.  I think he likes me. Perhaps someday Master Willard will give me to Smith.  I would like that.  Mistress Chelsea goes on about how she owns me and can dispose of me, but she really can’t. I belong to Master Willard - it says so on my collar - Mistress Chelsea just gets to have me serve her by her father’s order.  She doesn’t really own anything; even her trust fund is only in fact her dowry. I have heard them argue about it, even though I shouldn’t be listening at doors.  But we kajirae are proverbially curious.

 

Master Willard has been to Gor.  I wish I could go to Gor. To be slave on a whole planet of strong men and live forever or at any rate for a long time. I bet being owned by Master Smith would be like being owned by a Gorean. But a slave doesn’t get to pick her owners. But Master Smith is so dreamy.

 

Smith’s Secret Diary.

 

Fliss is so curvy, and intelligent too, under all her fluff.  If I owned her, I would change that silly name though. A slave with a silly name reflects poorly on the owner in my opinion. After all, the owner names the slave.  Putting a silly name on a slave, unless it is a punishment, only makes the Master look silly. Although I haven’t met either of them, Mr Willard Frick seems overindulgent with that daughter of his. By what I hear, she is very spoiled and wilful.  I overheard Granny Mowbray speaking to another Granny about her. They agreed Chelsea Frick needs to be reasoned with, but with a strap!

I am just waiting for Randy Schlesinger to finish his list of supplies we need, so I can go to Town.  I hope I will be able to get off my accumulated reports. If I am lucky, my old fashion spy craft should be able to get them off.

 

Meanwhile it is pleasant just to watch the new slaves being put through their paces in the corral. They are all acquiring nice all over tans and looking sleeker on their diet of Nutri-girl. The millions of girls around the world who happily put down money for the flavoured versions would be so surprised if they knew the real source of their diet food.

 

The sun is shining, the view in the corral is lovely.  It is a great morning to laze around and dream of owning Fliss.

 

Slave Fliss’s Narrative.

 

Master Smith was called to the truck compound.  It is too bad.  I would like to talk to him all day, even if we talked about nothing. But I belong to another as they used to say in the old romantic movies my Mom used to watch on Turner Classic Movies. Of course, in my case it is the actual literal truth, not a metaphor.  I do belong to another.

 

It had been a long session and the slaves I was instructing were thirsty.  I was responsible for their well-being, so I lined them up to take them to the watering trough. I had just got them lined up in front of the trough, on their knees, hands behind their backs, ready for the order to drink, when the boys with the calves arrived. Of course, their beasts took priority over mine, so I moved my girls away and put them in a circle.  Time to tell them some truths.

 

“Gather around, kneeling in a semi-circle, you sluts.  Kneel with your legs apart wider than that, Dirt Four.  You should know better by now. When you get to Gor, you will realize that the men there have high standards and any girl who doesn’t meet them is in for a world of hurt.”

 

“I need to talk to you about Slave Panic.  Men don’t know about it; or they don’t really believe it exists. It is that panic, that moment of stark fear that occurs when a girl totally realizes and accepts inside herself that she is a slave, that it is her fulfilment, it is what she is, what we all are, in our collars.  In many girls it is physically painful.  It is painful like Death and Birth.  It is the final death of the free woman and the birth of the slave.”

 

“It usually happens when a man is inside you, and you realize you want him there forever, that you are a receptacle for man’s desires.  Any man, not just a lover.  You want to be owned; you need to belong to someone, and you need to be used regularly, just for your health.  It is the rising of your slave fires, that men have lit in your belly, burning away the free woman, and the kajira, the needy, curvy, natural woman, kajira, that is born from the ashes.”

 

“You think that is funny, Harvard?  It is real.  The Slave Panic is the last fear of the Free Woman as her constricted life ends and the joy of slavery overcomes her. Once you get through that, you will oil at a man’s touch, you will oil at the thought of a man’s touch, you will become physically ill if deprived of a man’s touch for too long a period. You will feel pleasures a free woman doesn’t dream of, that she doesn’t dare dream of.  But the Free Woman inside her puts up a fight for her constricted life because she finds it hard to accept the freedom that submission brings. Many girls have to be whipped through their slave panic, forced to give up their constricting life and moving towards accepting her natural role.  It is hard at the end, but oh so worth it.”

 

“The calves have finished with the water.  Line up again to drink, on your knees like the sexy beasts you are.”

 

Smith’s Secret Diary.

 

When I got to the truck compound, Wayne Hayes, the lead hand there, gave me the list of supplies to be picked up in Town.  Ammunition of various sorts headed the list, followed by movable fencing, barbed wire, razor wire for compounds, and building supplies.  Replenishing the food supply would come later.

 

“Fred took a pickup truck and said he would meet you in Town to help you load.”

 

“What’s this about Fred? I thought I was going alone, that no one else could be spared?”

 

“I guess plans have changed.  He showed up here about twenty minutes ago, said he had orders to help you load, and that he would meet you in Town.”

 

“I don’t like the sound of this. If plans were changed, I think Randy Schlesinger would have let me know.  You call the gate to see if Fred is already off the ranch, while I call Randy to confirm plans have been changed.”

 

Wayne reached for his phone to call the gate.  He looked worried now.  I used the phone on the wall of the maintenance shed to reach Randy Schlesinger. He was alarmed at what he heard.

 

“No, I didn’t send Fred to Town. I don’t think anyone changed the orders.  He was supposed to be helping with the cattle at the stockade corrals.  We have a shipment of them going out on Friday as well. This place is far too busy to spare more than you to go to pick up supplies. Get him stopped at the gate.  I will have men head down there to find out what he is up to.”

 

Wayne Hayes shook his head. “Just missed him at the gate.  The guys there said he went through in an almighty hurry, barely stopped to speak to them. He showed some paper, but they didn’t get a good look at it. Think he is our spy?”

 

“Looks like it.” I jumped into the big two-and-a-half-ton truck and took off for the gate.

 

The guards pointed out the way Fred had gone, and I took off after him.  I was not too far along the road when I was overtaken by Randy Schlesinger in a pickup, with a crew of men in the cab.  They roared past my lumbering truck and headed off down the road.

 

When I got to Town, they were parked by the little motel surrounding the stolen truck Fred had taken.  It was still running but it was empty.  There were a good number of cars in the parking lot; some of guests of the motel, but more of hikers who had booked parking for their vehicles, while on daily or overnight hikes.  Fred had likely stolen one of the hiker’s vehicles from the side lot where there were no cameras.  Until a hiker returned and reported his car missing we would have no idea of the vehicle Fred was currently driving or where he had gone or how to track him.  Seemed like the bastard had got clean away.

 

Randy cursed up a storm!  I had to admire his fluency.

 

“Smith, you continue your pickups of supplies; I will have the deputy sheriff report to us any reports of stolen vehicles. The rest of us will go back to the Lazy F and report to Mr Frick. It looks, though, like our spy made his getaway.  Long term we will find him; we have good networks.  In the end he will pay.”  There was more cursing.

 

I continued on my pickups of supplies. I thought the uproar and confusion was a good time to get off my accumulated reports.  With Fred identified as the spy, it was a good time.  I am nearly done reporting on the Lazy F.  I intend to settle down as a good ranch hand.  I doubt there will be any repercussions for the Lazy F about human trading.  Those parts of my reports seemed to come as no surprise.  In any case, my loyalties have shifted.

When I had arrived in Montana, I was a free-lance reporting on the Lazy F.  Now it is my Home Stone. With a nice cabin for a cosy home, and a girl like Fliss, I would be very happy living out my life here.  After forty-five years of life, I think I have found a home.

 

Emergency War Council on the Lazy F

 

“It looks pretty sure that Fred was our spy.  He left some undestroyed notes on the Ranch layout in his bunk.” Woodrow reported to his uncle Wilson. “Our networks should catch him.  We have DNA and fingerprints, and our contacts at Homeland Security are trying to find out who he really is. We need to make him pay, and more importantly, to find out who he was working for.  That is who planned and funded the attack on us here at the Lazy F.”

 

“Just a matter of time then.  But we don’t have time to wait. They will be planning another attack.  We must work all our contacts.  Willard and Wyandotte in Pittsburgh have to work our law enforcement contacts, our government contacts, our underworld contacts, and our contacts in the Families for answers.  And it all has to be done discreetly. We don’t want outsiders to know how badly we were hit here. In our position, we can’t look weak.”

 

“Smith should get a bonus.  Due to him, we almost caught Fred. Wayne Hayes at the vehicle compound though, he let us down.”

 

“Smith should get a bonus, but as for Wayne… there are a lot of our older employees who need to retire. We need to look at all the management team. There will be many dangers over the next ten years as we mould society more to our liking. We must be prepared.”

 

Wilson added. “Donna Black’s mother has decided that she cannot bear to not watch her daughter grow up. Donna will go to Gor to be healed and brought up to be a Free Woman, there or here.  Donna’s mother shall be branded and travel to Gor in a cylinder.”