Why not me?

Why Not Me? BannerPreviously: Lar? You are the overall crew-chief, that position requires you to hire and train crew chiefs for each airplane, they will be assigned the rank of ‘Staff Sergeant,’ and you will hold the rank of ‘Master Sergeant.’ Now, who am I leaving out?”

“Me,” Larry replied.

 “Ah—you get that nifty Mustang MKII, to fly, and alas, that requires the rank of ‘Captain,’ as you will also be the Mustang Squadron executive commander.”

“What about me ?” Continue reading

Ranks

Why Not Me? BannerPreviously: “Originally, it was called the Confederate Air Force, and all members were called colonels after the pre-Civil War Southern Colonel plantation-owners. The airplanes were all painted gray with, I believe, red trim. This was because they weren’t allowed to put military markings on the aircraft. That changed some years ago—and the name was changed to the more all-inclusive Commemorative Air Force—but they retained the colonel rank for all members.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Cujo said, “We’ll leave you humans to get organized—but hurry—there’ll be an emergency situation coming-soon and you MUST be ready!”

And with that—Cujo, Ringo, and Karma disappeared. Continue reading

Great Northern Beagamute

Why Not Me? BannerPreviously: “Where’s my Mustang?”

“Wal, don’t fret too much,” Lar Farkleberry said as he joined them, “That Mustang’s gittin’ a complete overhaul—the FAA won’t certify her to fly ‘less that’s done. ‘Sides, you got a P-38 ta play with—that-there one with th’ blue stripes on th’ tail.”

“I have no back seat in my Hellcat…”

“No worries, Larry, I got a Mustang Mark II comin’ fer ya,” Lar grinned, “It will be here in a week or two, I s’pect.”

“I still wonder why we were called away from 1874?”

“I can answer that,” a voice, seemingly from thin air was heard to say… Continue reading

A voice from thin air

Devil Track Trading BannerPreviously: Roughly an hour later the wounded were all patched-up, warned to get the hell outa the territory—because the next time—the marshals wouldn’t shoot to wound . . .

This warning was not lost on the wounded men as they, with remarkable alacrity skedaddled. They didn’t stop until they left—not only the area—but Minnesota altogether.

“Okay, folks,” Mac rumbled, “It’s time we hunted-down the escapees.”

“How do we notch our rifles to show wounded, instead of killed?” Chris asked.

“Scratch a ‘w’ into the stock?” Mac laughed.

With that they (big surprise coming—a cliché) they rode off into the sunset. Continue reading

Cliché

Devil Track Trading II Banner Previously: Lefarge and his two lieutenants did not hear their approach until, “Don’t move—and don’t make a sound.”

Mac spoke so quietly they barely heard him and turned to face the voice. Before they could speak, “Drop your weapons; quietly, if you will.”

LeFarge was not a brave man and knew if he cooperated he would likely live another day—and find a way to get out of this. He did what he was told to do and his lieutenants followed his lead.

After securing their prisoners and untying Goodfellow, the marshals moved ahead knowing there was no chance of avoiding gunfire—prepared themselves.

The outlaw traders fired on the marshals. Continue reading

Gunfight

Devil Track Trading II Banner Previously: “Very well, Flutters, thank you; rest, eat, and be ready to fly in an hour,” Mac was certain they needed to move quickly, “Hiram? You and the K-9 deputies find us a way around the wall—a stealthy way.”

“We should move deeper into the woods and leave no trail,” Wyatt Earp IV suggested, “Just in case.”

“Let’s do it,” Mac agreed.

Within minutes, there was no sign they’d been there, as each of our heroes was quite skilled at covering their tracks, GENTLE READER—as I’m quite sure you already know.

Fifteen minutes later—a large force of outlaw traders passed-by.

The good news—they found no tracks.

The bad news—they had orders to take Outpost Waanaki`. Continue reading

They had orders to take Outpost Waanaki`

Devil Track Trading BannerPreviously: Once or twice he had to untangle himself from a jack-pine or birch tree—sounding not unlike a flabbergasted Donald Duck.

Finally he found the marshals riding at the gallop towards him.

AR-ROOO!!” Daisy bayed, “Incoming Bird-Brain!”

The marshals slowed to a walk to meet Flutters.

Isn’t this Friday?” Pepper asked.

Yes,” Sarah replied, Why?”

Continue reading

“YIKES!”

Devil Track Trading BannerPreviously: I have news. The remaining outlaws have hooked-up with Pierre LeFarge, and Goodfellow is indeed still alive.”

“Great news, Flutters!”

“There’s more, Mac,” Flutters continued, “Goodfellow has convinced LeFarge he has a large amount of money—but refuses to say where. For now, that seems to be keeping him alive.”

“That won’t last long—torture, anyone?” Chris had a point.

“Let’s ride—at the gallop.”

Meanwhile—some five miles up-lake… LeFarge and his men had set-up camp in a very defensible position—with Devil Track Lake anchoring his right flank—and granite wall running across the trail and extending a mile inland.

“It is time you tell me where is this money you spoke of, mon ami, no?” LeFarge had decided now—in this natural fortress—was the time to force Goodfellow to reveal his secrets, “Secure heem to the tree, mes-amis, c’est vous plait.”

“Hey boss! I’ve seen that hat-wearing pigeon before!”

Flutters had been told to skip the hat—he now understood why as one of the outlaws took aim with a biggass shotgun! Continue reading