Chapter 7

We arrived back at the farm with no fanfare, except from Bob who smelled the meat in the wagon and was trying to get some. Billie gave him some of the less tender parts, and he was happy.

We set about preserving the meat. We canned some and dried most of the rest of it. We ate some fresh for a couple of days. The beef stew with some of our grits was very good, but the steaks were a bit on the chewy side.

While we were waiting for the fields to dry and get ready to harrow and plant, Billie asked if she could work on my van to see if she could make it work for us. Of course I agreed and Joy and Night said they would help when they could also.

I tried to keep up with what Billie was doing, but I am not an engineer or even a decent mechanic, other than on my gun collection.

Billie had a simple list of things we needed to get on our next trip to town. She had started the van and let it run to charge the battery and see how it worked. She said she understood internal combustion engines, but her people didn't use this type of fuel. She hoped she could convert it over to a more common fuel.

Being around these girls who were obvious in their desire for sex was good for my libido and I had an erection two out of three mornings. Joy and Night were happily blue, and Billie was just happy to be having regular sex without the rough treatment her people's men seemed to need along with the sex.

Joy, who seemed to always be watching my dreams, awoke me in the middle of the night one night with a nice blowjob. Of course, I got a hard on very quickly. She sent "Fred, I am glad that I can help you have more sex now."

"If you girls make me have it much more than I already am, I might become fatigued and not be of much help during the days," I told her.

"Fred, I know all of us would like sex more often. Would you be willing to try?" she sent.

"Yes, Joy, we are family, and I am willing to do what I can to help you girls feel better."

It was getting good to me then and I just enjoyed it, and so did she. I considered pregnancy, but Joy thought we were too genetically different for that to happen. She figured that the red people and I were fairly close in genetics, but didn't know about that either.

Our family life went along happily. We planted our crops and our garden.

Bob was turning out to be a good watchdog. Considering the fact that most of his species were lone hunters, Bob was very family oriented. He got along well with everyone in the household. He also kept all the would-be predators of our livestock run off. I talked about our need for a rodent catcher with my family. Billie said that there was a small animal that normally fed on those animal types. We began looking for a den of the small skunk-like animals when we were hunting. They didn't have the scent glands; they just looked like spotted skunks.

After a month or so we found what we were looking for, and adopted the two little ones we found. They were both females, one had many spots and one had almost none. So they were named Spot and Blackie. They lived out in the barn and storage buildings. We all took time and petted them up.

They were very cute and sweet natured with us and very vicious with the rats and mice around the farm.

One morning early, I awoke to the sound of Bob growling. I grabbed up a shotgun and ran outside. All of the girls were right behind me and spread out and covered the front and rear of the house; just like we had practiced. Night had made Bob a collar and I caught him by the collar so he wouldn't attack as soon as we came out and he felt like he had support. Night and I quickly found the source of the problem. There were a couple of the wolves stalking our team of cattle in the small pasture where we kept them. Night passed that information on to Joy and Billie. Both of them came around to flank the wolves. Joy quickly shot one of the wolves with an arrow and Billie began trying to frighten them away. Joy's shot was good, and one quickly coughed its last, while the other one began to move away from the cattle. Night fired one shot and hit the last one hard. Her .243 didn't hit like a sledgehammer, so the last wolf moved off about 75 yards and expired.

I skinned the animals and cured the hides to make nice coats for my frozen partners.

After the harvest, we needed to make a trip to town to trade. I had a long talk with my family about causing trouble in town. I particularly talked to Billie, as I was afraid that she would try to do something to help some of the other women. They all agreed that they would keep a low profile.