Amen.
Maybe? i kknew too little to speculate about that.
Back to story - clans are coming back,and Mark would be asked to tell again about them.
And Catherine could get farm life !
It's a Peaceful Life
- Thread starter MarkWarrior
- Start date
Back to story - clans are coming back,and Mark would be asked to tell again about them.
And Catherine could get farm life !
gral
Well-known member
Seconded.
Chapter 24
MarkWarrior
Well-known member
One of the first things I’d done with the property once I’d bought this old farm and the acreage around it was use the old tractor to create a berm on an isolated field. I occasionally allowed the herds and flocks to graze the tall grass down. Mostly though, I went over those fields with the tractor to keep them clear of debris or tall grass.
When I’d first set up the berm, I’d paced out distance shooting for five to six hundred yards. Sure, I could have done eight hundred or a thousand yards for distance. But I mostly did this for fun and for trying out the antiques I’d been collecting, so I wasn’t too concerned about further ranges.
After doing the long range distance measurements, I’d set up close range markers for pistol shooting at the three yard, seven, ten, twenty-five, and fifty yard ranges. The same way that the local ranges had been set up in the town I’d grown up in.
All of this led to what I was currently doing. The room that I’d set aside in the farmhouse for an ‘armory’ of sorts. There were guns from the centuries hung across the walls, work benches with spare parts and tools, and a small table with various handguns and sidearms I’d collected were laying.
“Over a thousand years, and of all the things to be found in an antique shop,” I laughed. “A Mosin Nagant and an M-16A4.”
Both of the rifles were in decent shape for their age. Sure, there were some scuff marks and wear, but the bolts were still in immaculate shape, and the barrels were fine aside from a bit of wear.
My goal for today was to strip, clean, and lubricate the antiques before taking them out to the range and seeing how they performed.
The Mosin went first, I’d removed the bolt and wiped it down before running a barrel snake down it, pulling any carbon or other remnants out of the rifling grooves. Then I grabbed a bottle of lubricant and dropped a few drops on the bolt and into the receiver before rocking it back in.
I tripled-checked that the rifle was clear before racking the bolt a few times. I listened and felt how much smoother the motion was before flipping the safety off and gently squeezing the trigger.
“Nice,” I reset the trigger once more to ensure functionality and then set the old rifle back down.
Then I turned to the M-16. This particular rifle was clearly a product of the difference in this universe versus my original one. The stock was made out of a lighter and more durable material than I’d expected, the quad rail and front sight post were about what I’d expected though. Unfortunately, the carry handle hadn’t been a part of the package, leaving the flat top bare until I’d found a new model ACOG to complete the look.
The biggest difference wasn’t in the materials construction though, it was in the select-fire capability. Where I’d come from, the M16A4 had a three round burst option that was widely debated on. Here in this world though, it didn’t have that option. You had semi, or fully-automatic fire.
While it was interesting though, it didn’t change the way that the weapon handled, or was cleaned. I pushed the bolts through, separated the upper and lower receivers and got to work.
I rang a small rag through the lower receiver, carefully cleaning the springs and other small parts before leaving small drops of lubricant behind. Then, I pulled the bolt carrier group out and winced. The thing was filthy, and I wasn’t willing to test fire or shoot this until I’d verified that it was clean and functional.
Grabbing a small tub, I filled it with a chemical and dropped the parts into it, they’d do the hard work of breaking down the build-up on the more delicate parts until I could get back to it.
Then the doorbell rang.
“One minute!” I yelled upstairs before closing the door behind me.
Sage and Thyme got up from their beds and stretched before bounding ahead of me to the door, their barks both a threat and a welcome to anyone who might be there.
I reached the front door and swung it open, revealing a handful of people.
“Good morning,” Hanse fucking Davion smiled at me. “Mind if we come in?”
But he wasn’t the one that caught my attention. No, my attention was on the blond whose head was currently buried in my chest.
“Hey Kat,” I smiled, gently patting her on the back. “It’s been a while.”
She didn’t respond, but I could feel some warm tears staining the front of my shirt.
“Come on in,” I stepped backward, bringing the young woman with me. “Let’s get settled down in the living room.”
I gestured towards a room of the house, nodding at the small security detail to indicate that they were welcome as well.
“Puppies!” the smaller Steiner-Davion squealed in the other room.
“Y’Know,” I looked at the hair that was all I could see of my friend. “I appreciate hugs as much as the next person. But we should probably go to the living room.”
“It’s warm here,” she whispered, her voice barely audible to my strained ears.
“Home usually is,” I smiled as her face turned towards me, revealing red eyes from the tears. “And you’re safe here.”
I might not know what exactly was going on. But Kat reacting like this meant that something bad had happened. I didn’t need to know what it was, I just needed to be there for her.
Of course, Sage and Thyme had been ignored for far too long. Sage nudged at Kat’s hands while Thyme sat staring at the two of us, her head cocked as if to criticize us for not paying enough attention to her.
“Of course,” Kat pulled away from me and knelt, her hand stretching towards Thyme. “How could I forget the two of you? The most important people on the farm.”
The twins wagged their tails and tucked in close to Katherine.
“We should probably meet in the living room,” I said after a few minutes. “I don’t want your sister to make off with my new minions before I’ve even started training them.”
“Minions?” Kat asked, standing up and drying the last of her tears.
“Someone in my church had a dog pay a visit to their Great Pyranese that was in heat,” I replied, heading for the living room where peals of laughter were heard. “I haven’t tested to see what mix they are, but they’re all a bunch of fluffballs.”
The living room had two couches, and a pair of recliners facing a fireplace. A handful of lone bookshelves dotted the walls and a small corral/playpen was currently containing the furry minions in a corner of the room.
Hanse was sitting on one recliner, a smile on his face as he watched his youngest daughter play with the three month old puppies.
“See,” I pointed at the puppies who were doing their job of containing the teenager in my living room. “Perfect minions. They’re keeping the teenage angst far away from here.”
“Teenage angst?” Hanse asked as I sat down on another recliner and Kat wandered over to the puppies.
“Most teenagers want to be dark, edgy, and counter to what their parents were,” I shrugged. “It normally runs its course with their hormones and levels out once they hit adulthood. That said, angsty for your kids might be them deciding to attend Blackjack instead of NAMA or the Nagelring. I dunno, I’m not exactly from around here. When I was a kid, it was listening to music your parents wouldn’t approve of and trying to break curfew. But whatever I know is a thousand years out of date and a universe away.”
“I had actually meant to speak to you about that,” Hanse said after a moment of processing what I’d just said. “However, I think it can wait for a while. She hasn’t been as peaceful as this in months,” his gaze wasn’t on me but was on Katherine. “I’ll let her tell you when she’s ready. But I think you’ll need to hear about some of the other things that have been going on.”
“First Prince,” I stopped him. “I don’t need to know what’s going on in the rest of the Federated Commonwealth. I’m not responsible for any of it aside from properly stewarding my property, and I don’t have a need to know. Regardless of how I came to be a citizen of your nation, I’m here and want to be treated as one. You did what you had to as the leader of a nation, I’m not upset about it. I’m content here.”
“It does seem a peaceful life,” Hanse looked around at the restored farmhouse.
“It is,” I smiled, meeting Kat’s eyes as a handful of puppies slept in her lap. “That it is.”
Author’s Note: Eye surgery went well. I’m still a bit tired, but I think that the week I spent stewing on my ideas is reflected pretty well in this chapter. Also, I apologize for allowing my inner gun nerd to dive into the weapons. But there’s no version of me that exists that doesn’t think firearms are cool. Even the cursed gun images are interesting to me. Just to see how they get to some of those ideas.
When I’d first set up the berm, I’d paced out distance shooting for five to six hundred yards. Sure, I could have done eight hundred or a thousand yards for distance. But I mostly did this for fun and for trying out the antiques I’d been collecting, so I wasn’t too concerned about further ranges.
After doing the long range distance measurements, I’d set up close range markers for pistol shooting at the three yard, seven, ten, twenty-five, and fifty yard ranges. The same way that the local ranges had been set up in the town I’d grown up in.
All of this led to what I was currently doing. The room that I’d set aside in the farmhouse for an ‘armory’ of sorts. There were guns from the centuries hung across the walls, work benches with spare parts and tools, and a small table with various handguns and sidearms I’d collected were laying.
“Over a thousand years, and of all the things to be found in an antique shop,” I laughed. “A Mosin Nagant and an M-16A4.”
Both of the rifles were in decent shape for their age. Sure, there were some scuff marks and wear, but the bolts were still in immaculate shape, and the barrels were fine aside from a bit of wear.
My goal for today was to strip, clean, and lubricate the antiques before taking them out to the range and seeing how they performed.
The Mosin went first, I’d removed the bolt and wiped it down before running a barrel snake down it, pulling any carbon or other remnants out of the rifling grooves. Then I grabbed a bottle of lubricant and dropped a few drops on the bolt and into the receiver before rocking it back in.
I tripled-checked that the rifle was clear before racking the bolt a few times. I listened and felt how much smoother the motion was before flipping the safety off and gently squeezing the trigger.
“Nice,” I reset the trigger once more to ensure functionality and then set the old rifle back down.
Then I turned to the M-16. This particular rifle was clearly a product of the difference in this universe versus my original one. The stock was made out of a lighter and more durable material than I’d expected, the quad rail and front sight post were about what I’d expected though. Unfortunately, the carry handle hadn’t been a part of the package, leaving the flat top bare until I’d found a new model ACOG to complete the look.
The biggest difference wasn’t in the materials construction though, it was in the select-fire capability. Where I’d come from, the M16A4 had a three round burst option that was widely debated on. Here in this world though, it didn’t have that option. You had semi, or fully-automatic fire.
While it was interesting though, it didn’t change the way that the weapon handled, or was cleaned. I pushed the bolts through, separated the upper and lower receivers and got to work.
I rang a small rag through the lower receiver, carefully cleaning the springs and other small parts before leaving small drops of lubricant behind. Then, I pulled the bolt carrier group out and winced. The thing was filthy, and I wasn’t willing to test fire or shoot this until I’d verified that it was clean and functional.
Grabbing a small tub, I filled it with a chemical and dropped the parts into it, they’d do the hard work of breaking down the build-up on the more delicate parts until I could get back to it.
Then the doorbell rang.
“One minute!” I yelled upstairs before closing the door behind me.
Sage and Thyme got up from their beds and stretched before bounding ahead of me to the door, their barks both a threat and a welcome to anyone who might be there.
I reached the front door and swung it open, revealing a handful of people.
“Good morning,” Hanse fucking Davion smiled at me. “Mind if we come in?”
But he wasn’t the one that caught my attention. No, my attention was on the blond whose head was currently buried in my chest.
“Hey Kat,” I smiled, gently patting her on the back. “It’s been a while.”
She didn’t respond, but I could feel some warm tears staining the front of my shirt.
“Come on in,” I stepped backward, bringing the young woman with me. “Let’s get settled down in the living room.”
I gestured towards a room of the house, nodding at the small security detail to indicate that they were welcome as well.
“Puppies!” the smaller Steiner-Davion squealed in the other room.
“Y’Know,” I looked at the hair that was all I could see of my friend. “I appreciate hugs as much as the next person. But we should probably go to the living room.”
“It’s warm here,” she whispered, her voice barely audible to my strained ears.
“Home usually is,” I smiled as her face turned towards me, revealing red eyes from the tears. “And you’re safe here.”
I might not know what exactly was going on. But Kat reacting like this meant that something bad had happened. I didn’t need to know what it was, I just needed to be there for her.
Of course, Sage and Thyme had been ignored for far too long. Sage nudged at Kat’s hands while Thyme sat staring at the two of us, her head cocked as if to criticize us for not paying enough attention to her.
“Of course,” Kat pulled away from me and knelt, her hand stretching towards Thyme. “How could I forget the two of you? The most important people on the farm.”
The twins wagged their tails and tucked in close to Katherine.
“We should probably meet in the living room,” I said after a few minutes. “I don’t want your sister to make off with my new minions before I’ve even started training them.”
“Minions?” Kat asked, standing up and drying the last of her tears.
“Someone in my church had a dog pay a visit to their Great Pyranese that was in heat,” I replied, heading for the living room where peals of laughter were heard. “I haven’t tested to see what mix they are, but they’re all a bunch of fluffballs.”
The living room had two couches, and a pair of recliners facing a fireplace. A handful of lone bookshelves dotted the walls and a small corral/playpen was currently containing the furry minions in a corner of the room.
Hanse was sitting on one recliner, a smile on his face as he watched his youngest daughter play with the three month old puppies.
“See,” I pointed at the puppies who were doing their job of containing the teenager in my living room. “Perfect minions. They’re keeping the teenage angst far away from here.”
“Teenage angst?” Hanse asked as I sat down on another recliner and Kat wandered over to the puppies.
“Most teenagers want to be dark, edgy, and counter to what their parents were,” I shrugged. “It normally runs its course with their hormones and levels out once they hit adulthood. That said, angsty for your kids might be them deciding to attend Blackjack instead of NAMA or the Nagelring. I dunno, I’m not exactly from around here. When I was a kid, it was listening to music your parents wouldn’t approve of and trying to break curfew. But whatever I know is a thousand years out of date and a universe away.”
“I had actually meant to speak to you about that,” Hanse said after a moment of processing what I’d just said. “However, I think it can wait for a while. She hasn’t been as peaceful as this in months,” his gaze wasn’t on me but was on Katherine. “I’ll let her tell you when she’s ready. But I think you’ll need to hear about some of the other things that have been going on.”
“First Prince,” I stopped him. “I don’t need to know what’s going on in the rest of the Federated Commonwealth. I’m not responsible for any of it aside from properly stewarding my property, and I don’t have a need to know. Regardless of how I came to be a citizen of your nation, I’m here and want to be treated as one. You did what you had to as the leader of a nation, I’m not upset about it. I’m content here.”
“It does seem a peaceful life,” Hanse looked around at the restored farmhouse.
“It is,” I smiled, meeting Kat’s eyes as a handful of puppies slept in her lap. “That it is.”
Author’s Note: Eye surgery went well. I’m still a bit tired, but I think that the week I spent stewing on my ideas is reflected pretty well in this chapter. Also, I apologize for allowing my inner gun nerd to dive into the weapons. But there’s no version of me that exists that doesn’t think firearms are cool. Even the cursed gun images are interesting to me. Just to see how they get to some of those ideas.
Glad to hear it's gone well for you! As for cursed gun images...do you watch The AK Guy's stuff? That can be pretty hilarious.
MarkWarrior
Well-known member
I do watch that stuff. Some of its more cursed than others.
Thanks for chapter.
About old weapons - when i still watched tv,i watch some documentary on Discovery about americans buing old arsenal of Nepal army,and how many dudes were happy to have working musket,one-schoot breachloader rifle or even gatling.
P.S your Mark should get musket here,too!
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PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Vatnik
Puppies are really good for mental therapy.
And I can totally understand the need to not bother with wider world beyond the bare neccesities and just enjoy a peaceful life, without worrying about events you cannot change.
And I can totally understand the need to not bother with wider world beyond the bare neccesities and just enjoy a peaceful life, without worrying about events you cannot change.
And when they try to get away...are eaten by the dogs.
Why not sheeps or horses? i remember some Evangelion fanfic with mutated sheeps from Australia eating humans !
PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Vatnik
He has sheep, along the bovines.
It's a good combination, bovines are picky eaters, they will only eat grass, couple of types of flowers and anything you don't want them to eat(apples, textile, rubber and plastic), while leaving the weeds to prosper, sheep however eat almost all the weeds.
It's a good combination, bovines are picky eaters, they will only eat grass, couple of types of flowers and anything you don't want them to eat(apples, textile, rubber and plastic), while leaving the weeds to prosper, sheep however eat almost all the weeds.
Goats are better than sheep for that, and they are much smarter and trainable. Sheep are just D U M B.
depends on if you want wool or dairy I guess. I haven't done much beyond poultry and rabbits.
Dairy goats are pretty awesome. Mother-in-law has a small goat dairy operation. Makes her own cheese and soap, and the milk is much better for human consumption than dairy (cow) milk. Something to do with the fat structure in goat milk being less complex and thus much easier for humans to digest.
PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Vatnik
Sheep are dumb and predictable, while goats tend to get ideas, usually about getting out or causing damage. For a single person, not doing it full time, sheep are a less demanding option, as long as you leave the shearing to professionals.
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Chapter 25
MarkWarrior
Well-known member
“No, don’t paw my face,” Katherine tried to sternly correct one of the puppies but felt her heart give way to the cute and innocent face. “Fine,” She jokingly sighed. “C’mere,” She pulled the white fluff into her lap and scratched behind his ears.
His pink tongue lolled out of his mouth, and the puppy panted in joy, his leg occasionally trying to scratch at his ear before pausing as Katherine got to it first.
Eventually, the puppy got bored and stood up, leaving her lap to wrestle with one of his brothers or sisters. Pouncing on one and rolling around, nipping and yipping at each other.
Looking up, she noticed her father and Mark talking about something, their voices low among the loud puppies. She saw the expression on her father’s face. He was initially troubled before his expression smoothed into calm at something Mark said. An odd look was on Hanse’s face as he considered something.
Mark’s eyes then wandered around the living room and met hers. His eyes shone with mirth as he smiled and responded to her father's words. Then he walked over to the playpen gate.
“These little fellas are a bit overdue to go outside,” he said, looking at Kat’s younger sister, who was buried in a pile of white fluff. “Can you help me corral these youngsters outside before they have any accidents?”
“Sure!” Yvonne poked her blond head out of the pile, the broad grin never leaving her face as she began to help the puppies out to the yard, one or two at a time.
“Sage, Thyme,” Mark whistled. “Outside!”
The two Australian Shepherds ran out the door, following Yvonne and the puppies.
“So,” Mark turned to Hanse and Katherine. “We can take this outside in the sunshine while it’s still warm out. Or, I can start the fireplace and prepare some dinner for you and your detail. He shrugged. It was apparent Mark hadn’t hosted in a while and was uncertain how to move on from here.
Kat moved closer to her father and nudged him with her foot before moving for the front door.
“Dinner would be nice,” She called over her shoulder as the screen door flung open.
Mark’s farm wasn’t the perfect paradise people thought of when they saw farm live depicted in movies or on the Tri-Vid. There were piles of old wood and junk from cleaning up the farm that Mark hadn’t dealt with yet, old vehicles and projects in different places, and plenty of more overgrown fields to contrast the flat pasture and neat rows of planted vegetables and root vegetables.
But it was definitely a home. The local star was beginning to shift below the horizon just behind the barn, casting a warm glow over everything. Yvonne and the puppies played in the front yard closest to the house while the Twins kept the puppies from ranging too far away in their exploration.
Katherine shivered, hugging her arms tight around her. Her heart leaped into her chest, her eyes unfocused on the scene before her. Maybe this was all just conjured up in her imagination. She had wanted something warm, so she dreamt it to keep the cold at bay. She might still be in that cell, and this was all one giant simulation her brain had invented to try and make sense of the white walls and the mismatched time.
She was still shaking when she heard the boots on the wooden deck of the front porch.
“Hey,” A friendly voice nudged her on the side. "Whatcha thinking about, Kat?”
Mark leaned across the front porch railing and looked out over his property. Even when surprised, he radiated peace with himself and his place in life. A calm in the storm.
She swallowed and exhaled before stepping forward and bumping his shoulder with her own.
“About how much junk is on your farm,” She snarked, reaching for sarcasm to disguise the fear still buried within.
“It’s a work in progress,” Mark gave a short barking laugh. “You should have seen how the rest looked when I bought the place. Instead of the nice piles for me to sort through, they were scattered throughout the fields. There were a bunch of extra lean-twos, broken tractors, you name it.”
Mark paused and looked at the cleaned and freshly painted barn, then at the puppies and Yvonne Steiner-Davion playing in the yard.
“In a way, the farm is a lot like myself,” He continued, his voice taking an odd wistful tone. “When I first started here, I was a mess. No purpose, no meaning, and no plan on how to go from broken to whole again.”
Mark then looked at her, seemingly staring into the fear of her heat.
“But then, with time, effort, a lot of elbow grease, and patience, the pieces started to come together,” Mark’s voice then firmed up. The wistfulness left, leaving someone with purpose behind. “The farm, like me, isn’t finished yet. It may never be finished. Everyone is made up of broken pieces; we’re all just trying to fit them back together again.”
“I-” Kat cut herself off from explaining what had happened. The fear was now replaced with an odd twisting feeling in the pit of her stomach. It prevented her from saying what she wanted to.
“Talking about things can help,” Mark continued gently, noting her paused words with a nod. “But not always. Sometimes, it’s better to just take things as they come.”
Katherine let the feeling dissipate and leaned into the farmer, momentarily resting her head on his shoulder and enjoying the peace he radiated.
The sun had set about an hour ago, allowing the cool air of autumn to set in across my farm. The Steiner-Davions sat in my living room, enjoying the warmth of my hearth while I moved around the kitchen under the watchful eyes of one of their security detail.
I laid steaks out across the pan on the bar, a jar of salt in my hand as I pre-salted them before turning and preheating my oven to the right temp while I let the steaks rest. Then, I peeled open two garlic bulbs, stripped the outer coating, and threw it in a pan with a stick of butter. That would need to break down over time while I set the rest of dinner to cook. I pulled out a bunch of smaller potatoes I’d harvested earlier in the year and put them on the stove with water and a touch of vinegar. The plan was to use the garlic paste on the roasted potatoes and serve them as a side to go with the steaks.
Then, I began chopping up the herbs I’d set out earlier in the day. I chopped until I had a small pile, then tossed them into a bowl before going to the fridge and pulling out the ingredients I needed. Some lime juice, Worcestershire sauce, and a small jar of local honey from the cabinet. I mixed it all into the bowl with the other ingredients and turned it into a paste that would go on the steaks right before I put them in the oven to roast to prep them for the reverse sear.
By that point, it had been ten minutes since I’d salted the steaks, and they were ready to go in the oven after a quick dab of the paste I’d just made and a bit of rosemary laid on top.
“Why are you putting the steaks in the oven?” The guard asked, his eyes tracking the steaks as I placed them in and set a timer.
“It makes the reverse sear better if some of the meat breaks down beforehand,” I replied, moving back to the stove, pulling the potatoes off of the stove, and cutting them in half. “When I pull them from the oven, they’ll look ugly but end up tasting and looking way better after I sear them. Too much of a sear, and the steak won’t be as good. You’re looking for that happy medium.”
I cut the potatoes in half and threw them into a pan with olive oil to brown. “So, what we’re going to do here is brown the potatoes, and then once they’re at a nice, crisp point, I’ll put some chicken stock in here along with some butter. We’ll end up with almost a gravy that goes with the potatoes and the garlic topping.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” the guard laughed.
It took about thirty minutes to bring everything to a finish. The steaks, potatoes, and other veggies I’d cooked were all laid out on plates. Each steak was a perfect seared brown outside, and the largest one I’d cut into for testing was a perfect medium rare.
Washing my hands and wiping them off on my apron, I stepped into the living room.
Hanse, Katherine, and Yvonne were all on the couch, asleep. Katherine’s head was leaning on her father, and Yvonne’s head was on her lap. The fireplace crackled softly in the background. Even the Twins had decided that it was time to rest. They’d curled up next to Kat’s feet and gently snored along with the Steiner-Davions.
I smiled. My heart felt so full at the sight that I almost didn’t wake them up. But I knew they would be hungry after a day like this.
“Can you wake them up?” I threw the security detail under the bus with a grin. “I’ll set the table.”
After a few moments, the sleepy family joined me at the table.
Once everyone was seated, I blessed the food, and we all began to dig in.
“It’s been a while since I had steak,” Hanse mused as he cut into the meat,“Don’t tell your mother or the doctors,” He winked at Yvonne. “They might get mad at me.”
After everyone started eating, though, the room grew silent. This filled me with a sense of accomplishment. Everyone knows the food is good when the conversation stops so that everyone can enjoy the meal.
“It’s starting to get fairly late out there,” I glanced out the window at the now-darkened skies. “If y’all don’t need to return to the Mountain tonight, you can spend the night here.”
“I think,” Hanse yawned, not bothering to cover his expressions with the mask he usually wore. “That we’ll take you up on that offer.”
After everyone finished eating, I collected their plates and piled them into the sink with some soapy water to soak.
“Let me go get the rooms set up for you,” I jerked my head toward the upstairs area where most of the bedrooms were. “Though, I do have to warn you. I get up early in the morning to care for all the animals.”
With that, I vanished upstairs. I hadn’t had guests stay in my house since I’d renovated it, and I wasn’t sure if I’d made the beds after the upstairs was finished.
Thankfully, past-me had the foresight to make the beds and set the rooms up correctly. I just needed to do a bit of dusting, and I was set.
I ran the duster over the solid surfaces and then went downstairs.
“Yvonne, Kat, there are four rooms upstairs and a bathroom. I have some basic toiletries up there, but nothing fancy. You’re welcome to use whatever I have or pick whichever room you want to sleep in,” I then shifted focus to the security detail. “You two can pick wherever you need to be to accomplish your jobs. Hanse, you can have the master bedroom. Now, I’ve got some chores to get to.”
I hugged Katherine and wished everyone goodnight before whistling for Sage and Thyme to follow me out the door. Farm chores could be postponed. But they always came due by the end of the day.
So, flashlight in hand and an old song on my lips, I stepped out into the darkness of the farm.
His pink tongue lolled out of his mouth, and the puppy panted in joy, his leg occasionally trying to scratch at his ear before pausing as Katherine got to it first.
Eventually, the puppy got bored and stood up, leaving her lap to wrestle with one of his brothers or sisters. Pouncing on one and rolling around, nipping and yipping at each other.
Looking up, she noticed her father and Mark talking about something, their voices low among the loud puppies. She saw the expression on her father’s face. He was initially troubled before his expression smoothed into calm at something Mark said. An odd look was on Hanse’s face as he considered something.
Mark’s eyes then wandered around the living room and met hers. His eyes shone with mirth as he smiled and responded to her father's words. Then he walked over to the playpen gate.
“These little fellas are a bit overdue to go outside,” he said, looking at Kat’s younger sister, who was buried in a pile of white fluff. “Can you help me corral these youngsters outside before they have any accidents?”
“Sure!” Yvonne poked her blond head out of the pile, the broad grin never leaving her face as she began to help the puppies out to the yard, one or two at a time.
“Sage, Thyme,” Mark whistled. “Outside!”
The two Australian Shepherds ran out the door, following Yvonne and the puppies.
“So,” Mark turned to Hanse and Katherine. “We can take this outside in the sunshine while it’s still warm out. Or, I can start the fireplace and prepare some dinner for you and your detail. He shrugged. It was apparent Mark hadn’t hosted in a while and was uncertain how to move on from here.
Kat moved closer to her father and nudged him with her foot before moving for the front door.
“Dinner would be nice,” She called over her shoulder as the screen door flung open.
Mark’s farm wasn’t the perfect paradise people thought of when they saw farm live depicted in movies or on the Tri-Vid. There were piles of old wood and junk from cleaning up the farm that Mark hadn’t dealt with yet, old vehicles and projects in different places, and plenty of more overgrown fields to contrast the flat pasture and neat rows of planted vegetables and root vegetables.
But it was definitely a home. The local star was beginning to shift below the horizon just behind the barn, casting a warm glow over everything. Yvonne and the puppies played in the front yard closest to the house while the Twins kept the puppies from ranging too far away in their exploration.
Katherine shivered, hugging her arms tight around her. Her heart leaped into her chest, her eyes unfocused on the scene before her. Maybe this was all just conjured up in her imagination. She had wanted something warm, so she dreamt it to keep the cold at bay. She might still be in that cell, and this was all one giant simulation her brain had invented to try and make sense of the white walls and the mismatched time.
She was still shaking when she heard the boots on the wooden deck of the front porch.
“Hey,” A friendly voice nudged her on the side. "Whatcha thinking about, Kat?”
Mark leaned across the front porch railing and looked out over his property. Even when surprised, he radiated peace with himself and his place in life. A calm in the storm.
She swallowed and exhaled before stepping forward and bumping his shoulder with her own.
“About how much junk is on your farm,” She snarked, reaching for sarcasm to disguise the fear still buried within.
“It’s a work in progress,” Mark gave a short barking laugh. “You should have seen how the rest looked when I bought the place. Instead of the nice piles for me to sort through, they were scattered throughout the fields. There were a bunch of extra lean-twos, broken tractors, you name it.”
Mark paused and looked at the cleaned and freshly painted barn, then at the puppies and Yvonne Steiner-Davion playing in the yard.
“In a way, the farm is a lot like myself,” He continued, his voice taking an odd wistful tone. “When I first started here, I was a mess. No purpose, no meaning, and no plan on how to go from broken to whole again.”
Mark then looked at her, seemingly staring into the fear of her heat.
“But then, with time, effort, a lot of elbow grease, and patience, the pieces started to come together,” Mark’s voice then firmed up. The wistfulness left, leaving someone with purpose behind. “The farm, like me, isn’t finished yet. It may never be finished. Everyone is made up of broken pieces; we’re all just trying to fit them back together again.”
“I-” Kat cut herself off from explaining what had happened. The fear was now replaced with an odd twisting feeling in the pit of her stomach. It prevented her from saying what she wanted to.
“Talking about things can help,” Mark continued gently, noting her paused words with a nod. “But not always. Sometimes, it’s better to just take things as they come.”
Katherine let the feeling dissipate and leaned into the farmer, momentarily resting her head on his shoulder and enjoying the peace he radiated.
The sun had set about an hour ago, allowing the cool air of autumn to set in across my farm. The Steiner-Davions sat in my living room, enjoying the warmth of my hearth while I moved around the kitchen under the watchful eyes of one of their security detail.
I laid steaks out across the pan on the bar, a jar of salt in my hand as I pre-salted them before turning and preheating my oven to the right temp while I let the steaks rest. Then, I peeled open two garlic bulbs, stripped the outer coating, and threw it in a pan with a stick of butter. That would need to break down over time while I set the rest of dinner to cook. I pulled out a bunch of smaller potatoes I’d harvested earlier in the year and put them on the stove with water and a touch of vinegar. The plan was to use the garlic paste on the roasted potatoes and serve them as a side to go with the steaks.
Then, I began chopping up the herbs I’d set out earlier in the day. I chopped until I had a small pile, then tossed them into a bowl before going to the fridge and pulling out the ingredients I needed. Some lime juice, Worcestershire sauce, and a small jar of local honey from the cabinet. I mixed it all into the bowl with the other ingredients and turned it into a paste that would go on the steaks right before I put them in the oven to roast to prep them for the reverse sear.
By that point, it had been ten minutes since I’d salted the steaks, and they were ready to go in the oven after a quick dab of the paste I’d just made and a bit of rosemary laid on top.
“Why are you putting the steaks in the oven?” The guard asked, his eyes tracking the steaks as I placed them in and set a timer.
“It makes the reverse sear better if some of the meat breaks down beforehand,” I replied, moving back to the stove, pulling the potatoes off of the stove, and cutting them in half. “When I pull them from the oven, they’ll look ugly but end up tasting and looking way better after I sear them. Too much of a sear, and the steak won’t be as good. You’re looking for that happy medium.”
I cut the potatoes in half and threw them into a pan with olive oil to brown. “So, what we’re going to do here is brown the potatoes, and then once they’re at a nice, crisp point, I’ll put some chicken stock in here along with some butter. We’ll end up with almost a gravy that goes with the potatoes and the garlic topping.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” the guard laughed.
It took about thirty minutes to bring everything to a finish. The steaks, potatoes, and other veggies I’d cooked were all laid out on plates. Each steak was a perfect seared brown outside, and the largest one I’d cut into for testing was a perfect medium rare.
Washing my hands and wiping them off on my apron, I stepped into the living room.
Hanse, Katherine, and Yvonne were all on the couch, asleep. Katherine’s head was leaning on her father, and Yvonne’s head was on her lap. The fireplace crackled softly in the background. Even the Twins had decided that it was time to rest. They’d curled up next to Kat’s feet and gently snored along with the Steiner-Davions.
I smiled. My heart felt so full at the sight that I almost didn’t wake them up. But I knew they would be hungry after a day like this.
“Can you wake them up?” I threw the security detail under the bus with a grin. “I’ll set the table.”
After a few moments, the sleepy family joined me at the table.
Once everyone was seated, I blessed the food, and we all began to dig in.
“It’s been a while since I had steak,” Hanse mused as he cut into the meat,“Don’t tell your mother or the doctors,” He winked at Yvonne. “They might get mad at me.”
After everyone started eating, though, the room grew silent. This filled me with a sense of accomplishment. Everyone knows the food is good when the conversation stops so that everyone can enjoy the meal.
“It’s starting to get fairly late out there,” I glanced out the window at the now-darkened skies. “If y’all don’t need to return to the Mountain tonight, you can spend the night here.”
“I think,” Hanse yawned, not bothering to cover his expressions with the mask he usually wore. “That we’ll take you up on that offer.”
After everyone finished eating, I collected their plates and piled them into the sink with some soapy water to soak.
“Let me go get the rooms set up for you,” I jerked my head toward the upstairs area where most of the bedrooms were. “Though, I do have to warn you. I get up early in the morning to care for all the animals.”
With that, I vanished upstairs. I hadn’t had guests stay in my house since I’d renovated it, and I wasn’t sure if I’d made the beds after the upstairs was finished.
Thankfully, past-me had the foresight to make the beds and set the rooms up correctly. I just needed to do a bit of dusting, and I was set.
I ran the duster over the solid surfaces and then went downstairs.
“Yvonne, Kat, there are four rooms upstairs and a bathroom. I have some basic toiletries up there, but nothing fancy. You’re welcome to use whatever I have or pick whichever room you want to sleep in,” I then shifted focus to the security detail. “You two can pick wherever you need to be to accomplish your jobs. Hanse, you can have the master bedroom. Now, I’ve got some chores to get to.”
I hugged Katherine and wished everyone goodnight before whistling for Sage and Thyme to follow me out the door. Farm chores could be postponed. But they always came due by the end of the day.
So, flashlight in hand and an old song on my lips, I stepped out into the darkness of the farm.
PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Vatnik
Also, once they get their needle teeth, it becomes a fun game of ''keep their maws away from me''.