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NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 09 Oct 2011 22:57:53 -0500
From: STS.last@pad9.nasa.gov
Subject: {ASSM} After The Collapse         Chapter The Fifth
Lines: 374
Date: Mon, 10 Oct 2011 18:10:01 -0400
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M /f, slow, ped, rom, cons

Author: RandomDude


Warning! The following story was written for adults on an adult topic.
It contains descriptions of sexual scenes between an under age female
and an adult male. If you are too young to read this material in your
location or if this type material disturbs you, please read no further
and leave now. All others read on and enjoy this fantasy. Yes I said
fantasy. It is not real and never happened. It is wholly derived from
the dark part of my mind where nothing is real and everything can
happen. Do not try this at home.


After the Collapse
Chapter the Fifth


I had been thinking for some time about Reds suggestion. It seemed to me 
that a force of "Rangers" could well be the deciding factor in bringing .
law and justice to our fair State. I had written the Governor, detailing 
the idea, giving Red the credit and within a fortnight had received a 
"commission" as Colonel of Carolina Rangers from the Capitol. The
Governor had fairly jumped at the idea, sending along a slew of 
congratulatory letters and remarks from some of the other legislators. 
It seemed that our Goverenor had left it to me to :flesh out" the Idea 
and bring it to fruition. I wasted as little time as I could.

My first order of business had been to see an old friend. Mr. Scott
had been a horse breeder and had some of the finest horses a man could 
ask for. Bill, his name, had suggested a good hunter-jumper. He felt 
that such a mount would be able to keep up a good pace without tiring
too quickly. Most horses had maybe, four "gaits" or speeds. Bill had 
trained several of his more intelligent mounts for a fifth gait. This 
fifth gait was called a "rack".  A rack is somewhwere between a trot 
and a walk. You traveled faster than a walk, but without the 
bone-jarring ride of a trot. A horse could keep up a distance-eating 
rack for literally hours and still be fresh. I bought the two year-old 
gelding and have been quite happy with him. I named him "Old Dollar" 
because he was a "bucksin" color, just like the old faded gold of a 
dollar coin. I had managed to get myself a decent saddle in town 
complete with saddle bags, rifle scabbard and a martingale. 
"Old Dollar" and I got along famously. I had contactedd my buddy 
"Freddy" to build a  barracks and "Ranger Station" half-way between 
my home and town. This was to be a training ground and recruitment
station for all Rangers.

While the station was being built, I'd looked up some of the boys I'd
ridden with. Several, including Dale, Red, Miles and Ned joined immediately.
Some other boys, though, I had to turn down. One rule I had was that there
could not be any married Rangers. Jim had questioned the reasons behind 
that decision  and I gave him those. I felt that a Ranger, with wife and 
kids to worry about, might be a liablility in a firefight. Then, too,
any outlaws we had to deal with might, at some future time, try to harm a
Ranger, or his family. Jim not only understood, but praised me for my 
forward-thinking.  I had also looked-in on the man that had been whipped 
and was now on the mend.

The man's name was David Wright. A good man, by all reports. I arranged 
to meet with him and, after a day or two, was seated across from this
powerefully-built, yet gentle man. Dave, as he liked to be called, had 
served with the USN in the "Old Republic", He had been what was then 
called, a "SEAL:. This man had been "Special Forces".  Dave had told me 
that after the Collapse, he had tried to stay on the "straight-and-narrow", 
He had settled down with an old "flame" and had built a small farm. Even 
though he had been "Special Forces" he found that he was a pretty fair 
farmer, too. Things went well for he and his wife. She had bore him a son
and a daughter, twins. He said that those were the happiest time of his
life. I can well imagine.

But, Fate had not been kind to David Wright. Almost 3 years-to-the-day
that his twins were born, riders, from out of the western part of the 
State, near the frontier, had ridden onto his farm. Dave told me the tale, 
tears welling in his eyes, his throat tightening until his voice was all
but a whisper. The riders had been the van of the group that has been
wreaking havoc with law-enforcement these past several years. Dave's was 
one of the first they'd hit. Raiding parties had been giving us a tough 
time as well, until we'd beaten off a pack of them a few years or so ago. 
Dave had asked how he could help the strangers and did they need anything?
The answer they gave was to first shoot Dave's wife outright and then Dave.
They had only winged him but enough to cause him to lose conciousness for 
a brief time. Dave went on to say that after he had awoken several hours 
later, he'd found that the riders had stripped all that was usable,
bundled the twin babies into the cabin and then burnt it to the ground. He
had wondered why they hadn't done the same with him. He found his wife, 
her skirts bunched up around her throat. They had raped 
her...........repeatedly. To add insult to injury they had given her what 
was still known as a "Colombian Necktie". They had slit her throat and 
pulled her tongue out through the gash to hang down on the breast. At this 
point Dave became almost inconsolable. I commiserated with the man, but had to
press him further for details.

Dave had buried his wife and children. He swore that he'd find their killers 
and make them pay! Oh, would he make them pay!!! He went on, saying that he 
had had some money, but the riders had taken that as well as anything else 
that wasn't tied down before setting the home ablaze.  Needing money for what
he intended., he took whatever job he could, feeding himself and his hate as
well. All the while taking what time he could to track and find the bastards. 
Dave had been riding down some leads that turned out to go nowhere when he 
took a job with a slaver. The pay was good, but he really disliked the man 
and wasn't afraid to tell him, either. He had worked for the slaver for 
several months when his boss had come across a customer that needed a large, 
strong man for some work he needed done. The client offered a high price for 
Dave who he assumed, was the slaver's property. Dave made the mistake of 
letting the client know that he wasn't for sale and would kill anyone that 
tried to make him so. The slaver moved quickly  to get everyone calmed down, 
especially Dave. Two nights later, Dave had gone to sleep, only to awaken 
the next morning manacled and stripped of his clothing and weapons. The 
slaver then returned to the previous client and sold Dave to the man.

This was not only a clear violation of the law, it was monstrous as well.
To take a Free man and put him in bondage!! I've always hated slavers, now
you know why. Dave said that at first, he resisted. He had been beaten 
daily, almost hourly. The owner had tried for two months to break Dave, 
all to no avail. The man had then sold him, at a loss, to another slaver. 
This slaver had been the County Official from the southern county that had 
beaten Dave so horribly. I looked at Dave as he finished his story and 
wondered if maybe, just maybe, we could help each other out. I asked him 
what he knew of riding, of shooting, of training and discipline.
He cast me a long look and then asked why I would want to know that.
I told Dave that I had been recently appointed State Marshal for the
Carolina's and that the troubles he'd had were Statewide, I also told 
him of the more recent appointment as "Colonel of Carolina Rangers".
I told Dave that this is what the State needed. That the militia was of
llittle to no use, the Counties had need of their own deputies and that 
this was the best that the State could do. I told him that I needed 
someone that could train the Ranger recruits in tracking, escape and 
evasion, living off the land, shooting both near and long-range, 
hand-to-hand fighting with both knife and bare handed. I told him of 
the reports I had gotten that told much of the same stories as his. 
Dave just sat there, stone-faced. After a few minutes, he looked at me, 
or rather looked at my eyes, intently. He wanted to know that, IF he
decided to join up, would he be permitted to be in "at-the-kill"? I 
told him that he had my word and to this day I have never regretted the 
giving or honoring of that word.

Dave took the Oath that very hour. I personally pinned on the new star
which had the words "Carolina Ranger" stamped into it. I managed to 
procure clothes, boots, weapons, horse and saddle for Dave and then as 
he had been rendered hale by the medicos, took him to see his new home.
We traveled side-by-side talking about all the things that we were gong to
be needing, the kinds of training he'd need to impart and the other 
minutiae that make up a training regimen.

The boys that I had previously signed-on had  already been out to the Ranger
Station. I introduced them to Dave as their new training instructor. Dale 
made a rude sound and said that he "didn need no fuckin' trainin' and he 
could do jes' 'bout ennythin he needed tuh." Dave quietly got off of his 
horse, walked over to Dale and asked him to "try" to hit him. Dale, never 
one to run from a fight or to have a good brawl, "just fer the hell uv it", 
lunged at Dave with a haymaker. Dave, "quick-as-you-please" sidled out of 
the way, grabbed Dales' hand as he followed through and with a simple twist 
of his wrist, flipped Dale through the air in a somersault with Dale landing 
HARD on his back, knocking all the wind out of him. Dale, wheezing, trying 
to get his wind back just stared dumbly as Dave stood over him, smiling and 
offering his hand.

I thought to myself that Dale was a split-second away from coming up mad as
hell and itching for payback. I wasn't far wrong. Dale came up alright, 
spitting and cussing a blue streak. Everytime he lunged to hit Dave, Dave 
would just flit right out of the way, but JUST barely at arms length. He 
stayed just outside of Dale's range by perhaps an inch or so. Enought 
distance to make Dale believe that THIS time he'd have the "Instructor". 
This dance went on for a few minutes when Ned and Miles decided their old 
buddy needed help. Dave had been watching for just this sort of thing. 
Almost quicker than the eye could see, Dave had both Ned and Miles down, 
wheezing as if they'd been kicked by a span of mules. Dave, having put 
Dale down again looked over at Red, who upon seeing Dave's look, quickly
threw up his hands and proclaimed that he'd rather be Dave's friend.

The boys, hearing this, called him a traitor and back-stabber. Red,
unruffled just said " An' I ain't the ones whats gettin' muh ass kicked, 
neithuh.". Dale, attempting to rise and seeing Dave advancing upon him 
threw up his hands and shouted "Truce dammit, truce!! You gonna fuckin' 
KILL me!!" Dave warily eyed the rest of the boys and, seeing that they 
were all of the same mein, let his smile break across his face and his 
good-naturedness get the better of him. He helped the other boys up and 
dusted them off , which led to a lot of easy banter on everyone's
part. Dale walked up to Dave, looked him dead in the eye
and..................offered his hand and his friendship. Dave, seeing 
the respect and grudging admiration behind those proud eyes, took the man's
hand and welcomed another friend. Dave told the boys that he'd show them how
to handle up to five attackers, both bare-handed and with a knife. The boys 
just looked at the ground, knowing they'd not only met their match but, 
found a good friend and doughty warrior, too boot.

I'd been talking with Dave earlier about staffing and training. Dave had
had a really good suggestion which I took to heart and sent off with my 
weekly reports to the Governor. We figured each Station should hold about 
30 Rangers. We'd need to place each Station a good day's ride apart. With 
this thinking we'd need in the neighborhood of probably 30-35 Stations,
eventually. About two weeks, we'd found that the Governor had grudgingly 
agreed. Not all at once, mind you, it would take time, mateial and, of 
course, money to do all that needed to be done. The Governor suggested, 
as a start, 10-13 Stations, with this first one as "Ranger Headquarters"'
I agreed. There was no need to place the HQ in and around the Capitol where
politicians and their ilk had access to the Rangers.

With this HQ, we'd do all the training that would be needed and send the
newly-minted Rangers out to the various Stations that needed them. Also 
the HQ served as an Armory and remuda for horses. The Rangers' pay would 
be paid out of the central bank in town and a group of Rangers would deliver
the pay to each Station once a month. The Stations would provide the 
barracks and living quarters for the Rangers as well as the meals and 
medical needs . Horses would be cared for by horse-leeches and a Ranger 
Vet would need to be hired to make the rounds of each Station. All of the
support "troops" would be full-fledged Rangers as well. AND I could spend 
a little more time at home.

As if that wasn't enough for me, I still had planting and brew and other
things to think about. I had gotten home for a "visit" having spent the 
better part of a week at HQ, signing on new recruits, overseeing the 
training schedule, sending crews out to different locations to get more 
Stations built, etc,,etc. I wasn't exactly a young man, either. I needed 
to be at HQ and I needed to know that the home-fires would still be 
burning bright and cheery. I saw my Little Mo and knew she'd missed me,
probably as much as I had missed her. Time hadn't stood still for either of
us. My Little Mo was starting to grow up and I was missing it. She'd 
grown a good two inches, or so. The little lumps on her chest were also 
beginning to flesh themselves out. Her hair had grown a bit more and her 
voice seemed a tad deeper than last I remember. Feigning tiredness, she'd 
given me a nice, hot bath without a lot of fuss. Gods knew she wanted
to "fool around" as she put it, but I couldn't or wouldn't until I'd 
gotten a few things in order. Lords love her, she understood or at least 
said she did.

I settled in to the feather bed with Little Mo as a steady companion. I
kissed her on the forehead and the tip of her nose. Shortly thereafter 
I'd fallen asleep. This time I slept like I was dead.

Little Mo had a tough time waking me up the next morning. The little wench
had gone and fetched a bucket of ice-cold water and DRENCHED me with it. 
Needless to say, I woke up. I was fit to kill someone. As I shot out of bed, 
Little Mo gave a shriek and tried to run. Not this time!! I caught the 
little imp and, naked as I was, pulled her across my lap, pulled down her 
panties and wailed the TAR outta the little girl. Damned if she wasn't
laughing, too!! I got about three good strokes and then
stopped.............suddednly realizing just WHO I was spanking. Little Mo, 
just looked back and said "Well, don't stop!! This is just getting
fun!!"" I looked at her, dumbly, just now noticing that their were NO tears
only a big grin. That and she was squirming around on my lap and making 
me feel decidedly uncomfortable.

Much as I now felt more like "myself", I just didn't have the time today.
At least while the sun was still up, anyway. I calmed down somewhat and took
a deep breath. I needed to keep my head clear for the day and didn't need 
Little Mo to befog it, for now. Little Mo wasn't REAL happy with me that 
morning, but she "got" me back, later that night. I sat and had my coffee 
and breakfast, enjoying the quiet time and watching Little Mo take
care of the house and me along with it. I never tired of watching her. From
the little scrap of a girl that first came to stay with us, she'd grown a 
little, filled out a little and became more confident. it seemed, with each 
passing day. She was managing the house and the grounds, giving Wilma her 
due, of course, but her paramount reposnsibility was me and she took that
responsibility very seriously.

I had called both Joseph and Gustav in to the house, saying I needed their 
help and expertise. Joseph had greeted me warmly, giving me a hug and 
asking if I was to stay a bit longer. Gustav had ambled over and had given 
me an account of all that had transpired with the brewing. He'd come up 
with another recipe and was working on a "mead" he called it, made from 
honey. I just shook my head and smiled. I looked again at Joseph and asked 
about the planting and the fields. Good ol' Joe gave me that and more. He'd 
been able to grow a greater variety of vegetables and fruits than I had 
thought we were able. He had cross-polinated several strains of wheat and 
we now boasted grain that provided more nutrients than the naturally-occuring 
stuff had. I was well pleased, that's for sure!!!

I found that I'd had some good folks around me, folks that cared as much for
each other as they had themselves. With some more folks like this, maybe our 
little civilization had a chance, after all. I talked to both Gustav and 
Joseph, telling them that I would be having to spend a greater and greater
amount of time away from home. I asked Joseph, who had been with me the
longest, to watch over the place for me while I was away, sort of like a 
manager. Joseph flatly refused. When I asked him why, he told me that he'd 
do that anyway, but didn't know much about the brewing end of things, not 
as much as Gustav, anyway. Gustav, also felt that he would not be the
"right man for the job" saying he was not quite as informed as Joseph on 
the fields and planting. So, what to do? Between them, Gustav and Joseph, 
were a good team, handling their own better than any one person could. We 
left it pretty much at that, each man tending to his own area of expertise 
while giving the other a hand if needs be. Both Gustav and Joseph could 
already draw funds, if necessary, from our little bank in town, so  I 
really had little to actually worry about. What I DID have to worry about 
was Little Mo. She was not going to be happy with my being away more and 
more.

I'd spent about three days at home before I had to sit down and talk
with Little Mo. I knew she wasn't going to like this, Hell, I didn't 
like this!! But it was necessary and just HAD to be done if any of us 
were going to be able to live out our lives in peace. Sure enough, 
Little Mo DIDN'T like it. She was not happy. But, as with most things, 
she accepted that I would not be home every night. She had already known 
that I would have to spend more and more time away, she just hadn't 
thought it would be so soon. To tell the truth, I didn't think so, either.
But there it was. Little Mo asked if she could accompany me, to take care 
of me. I didn't think that a really good idea and told her so. I didn't 
like the idea that she would put herself amongst 30-sworn Rangers plus 
20-30 Ranger recruits. She cocked her head and asked me, "Just who in 
their right minds is going to mess with the 'Colonel's servant-girl?"

That started me thinking. I had my own quarters at the HQ. Not exactly
rough-and-tumble but, not exactly the "lap of luxury" either. There were 
about four "rooms" in the HQ building that were "mine". Little Mo could 
have one as hers. I'd already began to think that, most of these
recruits probably have a little sister or girl-cousin, so seeing Little 
Mo around would probably not "faze" them, That and she was always 
popular with the boys. They'd play little games with her and I'd seen 
that it would help take their minds off things, when needs be. That and 
she was always around when meal-time came, making sure the boys had 
enough to eat and drink, makiing sure each felt special in their own way. 
For some reason, the thought of taking Little Mo to the Station with me 
actually started to sound like a better and better idea. Besides, if it
DIDN'T work out, I could always send her back home, right? Then, too, 
if she needed to go to town, who was going to watch after her? Better 
that she go with a group of Carolina Rangers!! That and she could "take 
care of me" in her own inimitable way. Like it or not, on the morrow, 
Little Mo would go with me to the Ranger Station!

We had been packing my and Little Mo's gear, getting ready to leave when
the daily patrol showed up, checking in and making sure things were as 
they should be. I had instituted daily patrols of Rangers, usually 6-7 
Rangers per patrol. Each "troop" would patrol the biways to a distance 
of a half-days ride between Ranger Stations. Each "troop" from each 
Station would generally meet up with another "troop" from the next 
Station up the line. These combined "troops" would then scour the areas
around them, camping under the stars until the next day and then 
returning to the Station. This made pretty good sense, too. If there 
was going to be "trouble", it would usually occur at the greatest 
distance from the Stations. That would generally be about half-way 
between them. And if there WAS trouble, then you'd have 12-14 Rangers 
on hand to tend to it.

Anyway, I spotted Dale and Miles in the troop and walked over to talk.
Dale had shown a good deal of leadership qualities, so he had been 
appointed "Captain" of Ranger Station Number 1. He'd then made Miles 
his "Sargeant" and Red took "Corporal". Captain Dale Myers took his 
commission as seriously as any man, but showed a good deal of 
compassion as well. David Wright, I had appointed as "Major of 
Carolina Rangers", my right hand. And a good right hand he was, too!!

I had spoken with Dale to let him know that Little Mo would be coming
with me. He smiled and said that he thought that a grand idea. "Be 
awful dammed nice havin' th'li'l gal aroun'." "Th' othuh boys'll be 
happy, too. Why, she makes allus boys feels raht at home, sortalike". 
"An, Cunnel, y'all ain't gots to worry, none 'bout her safety, neithuih".
"Why she'd be as safe wi'us, as she'd be with y'all". Gods help the 
bugtit summbitch that tries to lays a han' on 'er while th' Ranjuhs is 
about, sheeit!!"

The good Captain explained that he was on his way to meet up with the
Rangers from Station Number 4, but didn't feel right about letting us 
travel on our own. He detailed two of the newly- minted Rangers as our 
escort and as warning, said he'd "Skin alive bof of you shitbugs if'n nary
a fuckin' thang happent tuh the Cunnel, y'hear?" They were both as solemn as
could be. I figured Dale had put the fear of the Gods into the poor boys.

We started out about noon, me driving the buckboard with "Old Dollar"
hitched behind, trailing. The boys were clean-shaven and there clothes 
were clean. There boots and gunbelts shone like the moon and they were 
the proper image of "Rangers". I had promulgated a set of regulations
that I won't detail, right now, but I insisted on Rangers being "clean-cut",
no beards, no ratty clothes, leather kept-up and maintained. Bathing was a 
must. Preferably daily, but at least thrice weeky. The first few recruits 
didn't like the rules, what men do? But, the opportunity to serve in the 
Rangers got the better of most of them and, after awhile, keeping the 
rules became almost a religion to them. Being a Ranger, had it's own 
rewards. Those that couldn't keep to the "Reg's" were either sent
on their way or, if they wanted to stay, were "re-trained", or sent back
through the training cycle. The Rangers had become, in a very short time, 
a well-respected and well-feared organization of reputedly only the 
toughest individuals. Whether that was really true or not, the reputation 
of the Rangers kept a lot of mischief at bay.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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