Arrival at Fort Defiance

Previously:

“We need more help, boss. Them fellers operating north of here are gettin’ frisky—I heard some talk about them coming here to put us outa business.”

“I’ve already put the word out that we need some more guns, and we have some coming with those mountie horses we got coming on the train.”

“You heard from them fellers?”

“A coupla weeks ago when they stole the train, they sent a telegraph message from the station—the stationmaster earned his pay that night.”

Meanwhile—ten miles away on the trail… “Wow!”

“Wow!”

“It sure is beautiful, Susan,” Boomer agreed.

Season 8—Chapter 6—O Canada—Episode 9:

Continuing our story—five miles from “Fort” Defiance… They’d been riding the barely discernable trail for several hours climbing ever higher into the mountains—high enough for these flatlanders to discover they had some difficulty breathing, it would be a while before they acclimated.

“Can we talk now?” Pal wheezed, “I don’t sense any non-sentient humans around.”

“Can we talk now?” Pal wheezed

“Go ahead, buddy, whinny away,” Boomer was a little surprised the usually talkative Pal had waited so long to speak.

“I’m glad our canine friends were left behind, much as I love Daisy—she would be wheezing something fierce about now.”

“Oh yes,” Jay Cooper’s Achilles walking just in front of Pal agreed, “And Pepper would be barking his complaints for all to hear, let me tell you.”

“Stallions!” Sarah’s Windy harumpfed, “And they say mares gossip. Honestly, you two!”

Several hours later—Susie’s “posse” arrived at Fort Defiance… “It’s certain, Susie, that these 19^th Century men have not experienced women leading a gaggle of gunslingers.”

“Jay,” Susie knew Sarah was right—she’d learned that lesson in Hartle’s Corners back in 1866, “You’re the boss.”

“It looks quiet, and they’ve left the gates open, just for us,” Jay quipped as he assumed the lead position, “Can we mosey down on horseback?”

“Can we mosey down on horseback?”

With the men-folk in the lead, they did, in fact “mosey on down” to the stockade.

The question in my mind, GENTLE READER—what’s gonna happen when Johann Schwartzkopf greets them?

To be Continued…