Rest time was over and I wanted to get on with my evening. I started by handing him my 'carry about' copy of the rules of Rulo. It was written on a rolled length of deer skin. I had lightly sprayed some shellac on it to protect the ink. Yes. I still had my really old rolling tool box from before the lotto. And yes, it still had all kinds of stupid odds and ends in it.

He wasn’t faking the reading. That became obvious by the way he looked over the paper at me with an inquisitive cocked eyebrow. His questions, after he handed it back to me, were direct.

“What does this mean to me?” He had a deep voice that matched his size.

“This means that, when we get to my land, you are only beholden to that document and ideas. You are not beholden to any human. Well, except your woman…”

That got me a chuckle.

“How do we live? Right now, someone feeds and gives us shelter because we are slaves.” That was a valid concern and precisely what happened to the freed slaves after the civil war.

“Each citizen is granted land from my holdings and you are allowed to hunt and fish all of my wild holdings,” I was ready with the answer.

“How much land does each man receive?” Another valid concern.

“An equal amount to that granted to each woman,” I answered with a wry smile.

“Regardless of color?” he asked.

“No," I answered flatly, "I like the color green so green colored citizens always get extra.” And I earned myself another chuckle. This guy was quick in the head.

At that point, I wanted to get on with my day, so I wound up the conversation.

“I need to know how much food you and the rest of the people I bought today will need for tonight and tomorrow morning. Also, tell the women to look through the goods I purchased and find enough cookware to feed everyone. Set up any tents you can find.”

I slid him a $10 pile of coins.

“That’s in case you need it. Send Amos back to me with a list of the food you will need and I’ll have it sent to you. And last of all, you haven’t given me your name, so I’m just going to call you the Sheriff. Go take care of our new people, Sheriff, and send me a head count.”

With that, I got up and left the room, Brin trailing behind with his fresh bone in mouth. Brin didn’t have pockets.

**** ****

The main dining room was filled and business was booming. That was good news for the Byrnes and they were smart enough to realize that it was happening because of me. I drank and ate free from then on. They had set aside a table for me in the corner. The door to the kitchen and residence was behind me, offering a handy escape route. Not a bad setup, and the ability to quickly escape appealed to my sense of privacy.

I took my seat at the round table. Amos had a chair on the wall behind me. Brin was hanging out with him, gnawing on his bone. It was comforting to know Brin was at my back. Timmons and Jeb were already sitting at the table, on my left and right, respectively. I took my seat and Amos brought me a fresh beer. It was cold and smooth and I simply sat and enjoyed the beer and a cigarette. All I needed now were some peanuts or popcorn and a ballgame to watch. Well, a beautiful woman wouldn’t hurt either.

I managed one cigarette and most of a beer before things got busy again, Sheriff showed up, as did Patrick, almost at the same moment. I dearly wished I had brought Sonya because my notetaking was truly abysmal and I needed help, fast. On a whim, I decided to ask Mrs. Bryne for advice and our luck held once again.

Mrs. Bryne suggested a young schoolteacher who was fairly new to town. She currently subsisted on odd jobs and appointments. She was presentable and an excellent writer. Mrs. Bryne sent for her. Well, it appeared John was in the same boat I was - just mention something around his woman and it got done and done well. Mrs. Byrne was definitely not a delicate flower, despite her comely good looks and occasional girly behavior.

This also gave me time to hold off everyone for a bit and relax some more. I could see from the looks I was getting throughout the room that my respite wouldn’t last long. Thankfully, it didn’t have to.

Mrs. Bryne had a somewhat frazzled but beautiful young woman in tow when she reappeared after about twenty minutes. She made quick introductions, then she was gone into the kitchen again to maintain good order and discipline. At least, that was what I assumed she was doing. She could have been peeling potatoes for all I knew.

I had risen to greet her, as was proper. Even in modern times, it is proper to rise to greet a lady when introduced. After the introductions are finished, you can do what you like, but initial greetings demanded you rise in respect. I shooed Timmons over a chair and bade Clara to have a seat, Sheriff had returned and I needed to get on with this.

“Clara, do you have writing equipment with you?”

“I do, sir.” She opened her bag and pulled out several pieces of paper, ink, and an etching pen, all of which she set in front of her.

“and so we start…” I stated solemnly and Clara scratched that out at the top of the paper. She was fast but not superspeed. That was fine by me because it gave me time to think before I responded to anything. I’m a quick thinker and rapid to speech or action when needed, but it was best to at least pause over decisions and give the question a second thought before I answered.

“Clara, I need you to write down any request I receive and the response that I give. I need a finalized list of the people and the promises after the meeting is done.” She nodded in response so I put a dollar coin down in front of her.

“One dollar per day for the duration of my stay. Will that be acceptable?”

She nodded quickly, which didn’t surprise me. A temporary worker was lucky to make twenty cents a day; a dollar a day was a windfall.

…and so it started.