Chapter 3

I picked the damned thing up and pressed the button.

"Yes Frank, are you having problems already?"

I started to say something smart assed but changed my mind. It would probably be lost on him anyway.

"If you want me to catch and train a horse or two you should have left me a lariat, a bridle, a saddle, and a pair of boots. I might be able to do it without them but I'm not going to try. Breaking a leg down here will not help anything," I said, doubting that talking to them was going to help a thing either.

There was no response for nearly two minutes and then the greenie came back on the line.

"You have made an excellent point, Frank. We will construct and deliver what you requested. Do you have any particular specifications in mind?" he asked.

"Did you do any poking around at my house while you were inspecting me for this little adventure?" I asked.

"As a matter of fact, we did quite a bit."

"Then check back over what I had in my storage building. I'll need at least several of the bits for the bridle, depending on what size the horses are here, and my former cowboy boots won't fit me either. Don't forget a couple of saddle pads and horse blankets," I said.

"Very well, you should have them when you wake tomorrow," he said.

"Oh yeh, I'll need a few sizes of bosal and a headstall. Send me some five-eights braided soft nylon rope too if you can," I said, adding to my list since I now thought I might get some of it.

"We will take care of it," greenie said, and then the little conference was over.

The note had also let me know what the bow, arrows, and spears were for. They felt I'd be better served to learn to hunt with them, especially if I were among others here.

They had a point, but I didn't think they really had much of one. It wasn't like anyone alive here could copy my firearms if they did see them in action. They probably couldn't even figure it out if they happened to steal it from me somehow.

One thing was certain though; if I fired it they would hear it for miles around. Of course no one could have any idea what it was, but there'd be no missing the sound of firing if they were within a mile or two. Hell, even the tiny sonic boom the bullet made as it traveled would be noticeable, albeit as a completely different sound.

And I was going to have to fire some shots sooner or later, and most likely sooner. I'd already enjoyed damned near all the oatmeal I could stand and I fully intended to kill something I could chew on, soon.

When the sun rose I left my cave with my Glock strapped around my waist and the rifle in my hands. I didn't have any idea what part of pre-europe Europe they'd put me in and it didn't really matter to me. I wasn't going to be wanting to take a look at any of the local tourist attractions, since there weren't any yet.

I moved as quietly as I could, on the off chance that I would see something edible I could kill. I noticed a couple of squirrels about a hundred yards from my cave's entrance but they were hardly worth the two thunderclaps I would release if I shot.

Checking out the top of the rather high wooded hill my cave was in seemed a good first step and after finding what looked like an easy way I started up. Thirty minutes or so later I was near the highest portion and it had been well worth the climbing. I was on the highest point for a good distance, several miles in any direction it seemed.

I could see that there was a small river about a mile and a half from me and I even saw a small deer drinking from a stream maybe half a mile off. So, if I kept my eyes open and moved carefully today chances were that I could down it or one like it without much bother.

Hunting had moved to the back burner as I was making my way up the hill though. What I really needed to do was learn to use my bow. Even though it was slightly a pisser, the bow made good sense here and now. It wasn't nearly as effective a weapon as the rifle, but it wasn't nearly as loud either.

People native to this time would be just as surprised to see it though, and even the primitive bow was miles ahead of throwing a spear. Trouble was I hadn't had a bow in my hands for years and they weren't nearly as easy to stay proficient with as a rifle or pistol.

Using a bow required complicated coordination for proficiency while a rifle's biggest requirement was that you be still to use it, and that you use a gentle pressure to pull the trigger. A rifle also had an accurate sighting mechanism while with a bow it was always a best guess sort of thing. Using a bow effectively required a lot more practice than a rifle did.

I headed for my cave again at once. When I reached it I signaled greenie again.

"Yes?" greenie asked.

"I'll also need a practice target and suitable backstop for the bow," I said.

"We were sure that you already knew how to use one."

"I do, but proper aiming requires practice with the particular bow and arrows you are going to be using," I said.

"It doesn't look that difficult."

"I'm sure operating your space craft doesn't look that difficult either. You come down and shoot the bow and I'll drive the spaceship," I said, knowing I was being a smart ass.

"Very well, what are the specific requirements?"

"Look it up," I said, and canceled our connection.

Wasn't that just like a desk jockey? Some fucking things don't change no matter what world you're from I guess. It doesn't look that hard, for fuck's sake.

I gave up my exploring for a while, gathered some wood for a small fire, and after I had it going well I heated up a bowl of oatmeal.

I was happy to discover that my no-doubt custom made cave had an updraft that took the smoke away. I went back outside after I downed my gruel and looked for the exit hole. It was hard to find and somehow the smoke was being dissipated very effectively before it came out. There would be no telltale smoky finger pointing down to my location even if I used wood that produced a lot of smoke.

I spent the rest of the day poking around in my cave and going through my supplies. Damned if I didn't find a few more pots and pans for cooking and even a big hundred-quart stockpot. That would be great for cooking up a big stew.

The real find was a couple of boxes of MRE style entrees. You know, the kind that have been treated somehow to last for years without refrigeration. Mine were mostly pork chops and beef patties, albeit larger ones than you'd think. They were also cooked already so I grabbed one and warmed it up in a skillet over my small fire. It was the first thing I'd had that wasn't oatmeal in months.