Chapter 203: Bonding with the Boys

Editor: nnpdad

There is nothing quite like hanging out around a campfire with friends. It was a warm autumn evening and we had prairie chicken and fish on the coals slowly bringing our dinner and eventual breakfast to fruition. We had potatoes, carrots, mushrooms and onions roasting as well. The food had all been cleaned & prepped and then wrapped in wild cabbage leaves; we then packed river clay around them and set them on the coals to cook. No need for aluminum foil here, Lady Gaia doth provide to those who know where to look.

The campfire was my usual oblong affair, allowing me to scrape coals away from the happy campfire flames for the slow steady need of the roasting food. To be truthful there were some strips of bison and venison snuck in there to cook also. I’ve never been much of a fish fan and there isn’t much to a prairie chicken once you get the feathers off of its carcass. Those prairie chickens were the dominant ground fowl in North America until the pheasant was introduced as a game bird in the late 18^th century. But the parasitic pheasant would mark the end of the native North American ground fowl like the colorful and noisy ‘Prairie Boomer’. The pheasant was definitely an invasive species. Turkeys were around as well but they thrived more near human population centers than out here on the frontier where the coyote, wolf and big cat still hunted.

It was a nice autumn evening and the heat of the day was bleeding off slowly. The food was cooking and the beer had been chilled in the river for the better half of the afternoon. The Browne kids were full of cheer and telling everyone thrice how they had battled and defeated this or that fish, Dad Browne was suitably proud and amused by his offspring. Mrs. Browne didn’t say a word and any time she tried to rain on the kids’ parade, Doc hushed her right up and went back to drinking beer and telling stories with Sven and me. Amos turned out to be a spectacular babysitter and the kids just adored him; of course, Brin was thrilled by the attention he got.

As soon as dinner was finished and the last story told, the kids were packed off to bed accompanied by the seemingly perennial party pooper currently known as Mrs. Browne. The bourbon came out which was enough to send Amos packing as well. It was just us three old fellas now; well us and a bottle. We didn’t hit it hard but we talked and told stories. I felt bad because I couldn’t tell them the real truth but I did tell them that I occasionally had visions in my dreams that repeated themselves. I blamed a vision and told them that vision showed me where coal was located near our new town.

That was the only bit I shared with them but it was enough to get Sven excited, if we had our own coal our profits would soar. He excitedly dug into his travel bag and pulled out a section of the Baton Rouge Gazette, he pointed out an ad offering steam engines to fit any need, it included a contact name and address. Well now, that offered up a plethora of opportunity for us and just that information itself deserved another pour for each of us and a hearty good night.