This is a collection of one-shots that takes place in my Traveler Trilogy series.
In the Traveler Trilogy, Arthur does not die and is instead brought to the present day by Charles Smith and Francis Sinclair, who save his life by bringing him to a mo...
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1899
Great Plains, West Elizabeth
Jenny Kirk had been hunting all damn day.
It was hot here in Great Plains, and she was sweaty and thirsty and covered in dirt, but she had been successful nevertheless. Dragging behind her horse in a makeshift travois made from a couple of long tree limbs and a canvas tent was the carcass of a cow buffalo, enough meat to feed the whole camp for at least a week.
The hide was still on the animal, but Jenny had already undertaken the filthy, grueling process of gutting the thing and propping its abdomen open with sticks to cool it off. What they couldn't eat fresh would need to be salted or smoked, but for now, Jenny was happy to have some fresh beef to eat, and as much as she hated Great Plains, it was one of the few places one could find buffalo these days. Buffalo were the only thing she missed about home.
She was sure she smelled horrible judging by the flies that buzzed around her head, entranced by the smell of dried blood on her clothes, but no one seemed to mind, least of all Davey Callander. He helped her down off her horse, Willow, as soon as they stopped near the scout campfire on the edge of camp. "That's quite a kill, kid," he laughed merrily, pulling his knife from his belt as he set her down, no doubt intending to help her butcher the thing. "My brother'll be very impressed when he sees it. He used to be quite the buffalo hunter back in the day."
Davey's eyes twinkled, and he grasped at one of the animal's legs to begin cutting the hide away from the meat. "Wait," Jenny said. "Let me at least get the thing unhitched from Willow's saddle. She drug it a long way, and I think the poor girl could use a break."
Davey nodded in agreement and helped her unlash the limbs from the saddle. "This is quite an ingenious, little contraption you got hooked up here," he complimented her. "It's real smart. What gave you the idea?"
"My mother," Jenny said quietly. "She used to make travois like this to move heavy loads around the farm when she didn't have a cart handy. It was a skill very much needed by her side of my family."
"That'll make quite a few meals, Jenny!" Pearson interrupted from behind her, patting her on the back. "Well done. We'll feast tonight."
As Jenny looked around, she noticed a small crowd had gathered to look at her buffalo, including, oddly enough, Micah Bell.
Jenny still wasn't quite sure what to think about Micah. She'd only been running with Dutch about a month longer than he had, but already he had managed to climb the ranks to become one of Dutch's inner circle, alongside the likes of Arthur Morgan and John Marston. Besides that, Jenny didn't know him very well. He mostly kept to himself, but she'd noticed he liked the ladies of the camp quite a bit.
Herself included. Micah had tried to whisper quite a bit of honey in her ear recently, and part of Jenny was curious to see whether he really was as good at showing a girl a good time as he bragged about. Her money was on no, but there was a part of her that was very curious about the answer to that question. So when she saw Micah standing in the crowd of onlookers with a smug, approving grin on his face, she couldn't help but grin back.
