Free OUTNUMBERED (Book 5) by Robert Schobernd

awake? You're awfully quiet over there."
    "Yeah, I'm just thinking about where we've been, where we're going, and what we're doing." I extended my cup for a refill.
    Kira returned my cup to my hand as she said, "We'll be fine. Whatever happens, we'll deal with it and make it work."
     
    A blustery, cold, wind driving moderate rain ahead of it enveloped our group two hours into the trip. We took our time due to the convoy pulling three trailers loaded with everything from provisions and guns and ammunition to personal items.
    Several hours later, we ran out from under the rain clouds, and the sky resumed its dreary gray pall. We stopped and paused long enough to stretch while we talked with the crews of three trucks and trailers returning to Deliverance to load up and ferry more goods.
    The sky was dark again when we arrived at our new compound. Our rugrats had fussed and squabbled at times during the tiresome ride, but all three eventually dozed off an hour before we reached our new home. 
    I started a fire in the cast iron, wood burning cook stove located in the cabin's main room. The kids were still asleep in the car while I carried items we'd need to get through our first night in our new home. Thick blankets were made into pallets for sleeping on the floor before Kira heated food on the hot stove top. We carried the twins inside, and they woke slowly. I knew from experience that they'd be rambunctious and full of energy long into the night after being confined all day and taking long naps.
     
    After we ate, I found Vince and Tony. Vince was apologetic, "I thought extracting the saplings would go much faster, but I've had to adjust the ripper down to a twelve-inch depth to get the biggest roots so Tony can come behind me and plow without getting hung up."
    I turned to Tony. "And how is the ripper doing as far as prepping the ground for the plow?"
    "It's not perfect, but it's working. There are still some fair-sized long roots loose in the ground. Before I plow at nine inches depth, two of the youngsters go ahead of me with a pickup and pull the longer roots out. Some they have to cut with an axe to get free."
    "Earlier, you'd said you might want to postpone the disking and harrowing to spring. Is that still your plan?"
    Tony spoke right up, "Yes, I still think it will be best to leave the rough ground turned till spring then do the final work before planting. That ripper is doing a super job of breaking ground and not leaving big clods. The ground has just enough moisture that it works well. That lets the plow blades turn the soil better than I thought it would." Before I could speak, he continued, "Ed's crew started cutting down the trees in the field. That's slow, because we need the trunks and bigger branches for firewood."
    Vince inserted, "Otherwise, I could have dragged the whole trees down into the woods with the dozer."
    Tony turned his head to spit. "Ed said he'll be ready to blow the stumps out in four or five days."
    I thanked both men and praised their efforts. From experience, I knew plans seldom went as smoothly as the steps were estimated and laid out.
     
    After learning the details on the land clearing progress, I sought John and Anthony. John had made drawings, material lists, and cut sheets for the two new barns. He and Anthony spent three days as members of a four-man crew gathering lumber from two nearby lumber yards and a sawmill. The sawmill was an unexpected resource, and it was close by; drying sheds on that property contained large dimension oak beams in long lengths that would enable the storage of hay and straw on the barn's second level above the livestock.
    John said, "Maria has been operating an auger mounted behind the backhoe. Then she led the crew pouring concrete support foundations for the barn's vertical beams. We're lucky to have her; she's a hell of a worker."
    I left John and Anthony and stumbled around under the moonlight toward home. Overall, I was pleased with the progress the