SUMMARY: A simple day in John Tucker's life.
WARNINGS: None
AUTHOR'S NOTE: With introductions done, this will be a short action with John Tucker. For the sake of narration and story, please remember this is fiction, Since Jericho isn't real and I don't live in Kansas I am taking some liberties, although not as much as a TV writer would .
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DISCLAIMER: The name "Jericho" and all character names and trademarks associated with the television program are the intellectual property of Junction Entertainment, Fixed Mark Productions, CBS Paramount Television and/or CBS Studios, Inc. The following stories are works of fan fiction intended solely as an intellectual exercise without profit motive. No infringement of copyright is intended or should be implied.
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TITLE: Tuckers- Out On The Range - Chapter 1
AKA:
STORY TYPE: Complements Episodes with Alternate Characters
TIMELINE: 200X1204 (Bombs+65)
EPISODE GUIDE: after (1-14)Heart of Winter, before (1-15)Semper Fidelis
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With the rest of the family gone, John Tucker was going to ride patrol on the property. There were mechanical and electrical alarms up near the houses and barns, but 90 of the property was open to poachers and thieves. All that property needed to be checked and protected. They did this regularly, but due to its size that meant a couple times a week.
He saddled one of the Andalusia stallions. At 17 hands high, the stallion carried his weight better than the other horses.
John had already visited the gun safe. Since they were on their own property, he could carry his pistol and carbine a little more openly. Given the size of the farm/ranch, he also brought a long-range rifle and binoculars.
His pistol was a customized version of the colt 45 automatic. It had been the standard pistol of the military for more than 60 years. They had seen resurgence in popularity lately with the emergence of practical shooting sports. Many people were getting concealed weapons permits. Practical shooting sports were a great way to become familiar with shooting a pistol under more realistic circumstances than just standing at a range. John could care less if he won, but was very proud that he could use his pistol about ten times better than he could before he started going to the competitions. 45s were popular in the sport because they had many options when customizing. The same general pistol could cost from 500 to more than 4000 depending on quality.
The AR-15 carbine was a civilian copy of a military rifle called the M-16 or M4. Legal to own they had been a great investment for John. Occasionally they would ban new production of them. Before the ban he would buy bunches of them. The ban would double their value and he would resell them. Pre-bombs, they had announced a new ban. John put in a big order... a really big order. The last of them arrived a few weeks before the bombs. He really liked this rifle because it was light and easy to handle. His wife handled it just as well as he could. They were also like kids' building blocks. You could mix and match all sorts of aftermarket parts to suit different shooters or situations.
Before he left, he went up in the fire tower. The tower stood connected to the Tucker's home and was a re-creation of a four-story ranger's tower. In the old days, rangers could spot forest fires. A person in this tower could see in all directions for a mile or more. It had a staircase that ran around the inside of the tower. At the top was a square room with 48" high windows running all the way around. There were bench seats built in below the windows. The kids came up here all the time to play and it wasn't uncommon to see Beth up here in the spring and fall reading.
John went up and used his binoculars to scan the property. He was looking not just for the obvious but also subtle changes. He looked for broken fences or pilfered crops. The grass fields would show vehicle tracks for a week unless there was a storm. It took a while to do this, because this was a big property.
Farm property in this part of the country sold primarily in sections or quarter section. A section is an actual unit of measurement going back to the original opening of the west and the government land giveaways. Each homesteader received one square of property. To this day if you look at this part of the county from the sky, the squares formed by different crops are obvious. A full section forms an area one square mile or 640 acres.
The Tuckers consolidated three farms when they purchased a total seven sections. They own seven square miles or 4480 acres. It includes a river that cuts the southern third. The houses and other building are on the eest side of the property, facing town. From the fire tower to the farthest point on the property is almost three miles. Even at its size, it is only the seventh largest farm in the county and nowhere near the largest in Kansas.
John scanned the property and found nothing out of place. They had a few fields of winter wheat, but those were away from the roads. The corn and soy crops stood in the silos. Mainly he wanted to check the pastures before they turned any of the cattle loose again. Unless something came up, the ride should only take until lunch.
A family of German Shepards lived on the farm. At night, they would sleep with the kids and during the day, they roamed the farm. When he rode on patrol, the alpha male would go with him. The dog was named Frosty because of a black and silver coat. With a full-blooded Shepard sire, he weighed over a hundred pounds.
As he exited the house, he whistled for Frosty. Before John could reach the back door, the dog ran out through a built in doggy door.
He mounted his horse and nudged it out past the paddocks. He yelled a command to the dog; "FROSTY... PATROL." Frosty was an intelligent dog that had learned several commands beyond the norm. This command had only been used in the last month. It had replaced the command 'PLAY.' 'PATROL' meant that Frosty could run and play anywhere he wanted as long as he stayed in sight. He naturally stayed in from of his master. Frosty's natural curiosity and territorial instincts equated to a roaming guard dog. John would watch his behavior and investigate anything Frosty did. If the dog strayed out of sight, he would repeat the command and Frosty would run back into view. Except for chasing the occasional deer, it was a reliable pairing.
Only the front drive was paved. Everything else on the property was a dirt road or path that crisscrossed the property. Some formed the main grid, others just wandered through the pastures and knolls.
With no other paved road, intruders would be on foot or were driving in from a neighboring farm. People that just wandered onto the property were a concern. They might find something that the Tuckers wanted to keep private, but generally were not dangerous. Usually they could be headed off before it became an issue, but once something was seen; there wasn't much they could do about it.
The real danger was people coming on the property on purpose. The people with a shopping list and little concern for ownership would shoot you down in a second. Jonah's people were dangerous but a known quantity. Refugees weren't a problem this far from the main roads. That boiled the problem down to the unknowns. The unknown people and the unknown groups were the biggest danger. They might be armed to the teeth, have resorted to animals or both.
Raiding parties of criminals or from other towns hadn't become a problem yet, but it was only a matter of time. Unknown to the residents, Jericho was more of an island than they really wanted to admit. The Tuckers had been farther out from town than anyone else was willing to admit. It was only getting worse. The Blackjack Market was an excellent example. It started with people trading vegetables and batteries. It had graduated to include an arms bazaar outside the market and a brothel inside it. There were rumors of slavery.
As John Tucker rode, he could not keep the images from his head. He hoped that was all he ever brought back to the farm. He hoped they could get through the winter and plant the spring crops. Hopefully there were be trade with the outside areas. You really wanted to pray that it didn't get worse and that it didn't turn into all out warfare.
There were three things they were going to have to do. First, they needed to start securing the property better. They cataloged a fencing distributor about an hour from here on one of their trips. They also needed to add more trip wires and more security. More security meant more people, but he loathed to letting more people on the property. Best way to keep a secret was not to tell anyone.
The second was to start securing the town better. The home patrol was only a stopgap. If the town made it to spring, they were going to need a real security force. The town had lost the best elements of the Sheriff's department. Had anyone else noticed there wasn't a new sheriff in town?
The third thing was to close the gap between the have and have-nots. John Tucker was not about to donate all of his worldly possessions to people that would not get off their own asses or hand it to Gray to piss away. There had to be another option. Maybe it would work, but he needed to talk the family and the Greens before he knew if it was worth a try.
By now, he had covered all of the paddocks and the fenced pastures. In the center of the property, he rode past the wind turbines. He was past the irrigated fields. John rode the riverbank and headed up to the far northwest corner of the property. This was the last and largest circuit in his patrol. This would involve the borders with the adjacent property.
"Seven miles to go."
Frosty had run around to his heart's content. Nothing seemed to wear out that dog. He had found many things to sniff but nothing that set off a defensive reaction. There were lots of deer and rabbits around. Dozens of things could innocently catch his interest.
They completed the western border before they met back up on the road. If you followed the road all the way east, you went into Jericho after passing by the main drive to the farm. It would be three miles before you saw a house on the south side of the road, but there were several on the north side. Since there wasn't any cover to speak of, John rode a quarter mile in from the edge and used his binoculars to scan the occasional landmark.
He was riding through the stubble of a cornfield when he saw them. They were on the far side of the quarter. There was a group of ten to fifteen heading south. Odds were they were walking through the fields to pick up anything that looked like food. This group was 8-10 miles from the migration paths that had been seen. They may have moved east trying to scavenge as they went.
Some of the cornfields were irrigated for fresh corn. This field was left for the rain because they allowed the corn to dry before it was harvested. It would then be pressed for the oil, ground to meal or fed to the cattle. It had been a while since they harvested this field. It would not be seeded again until spring. When it was harvested, they used a modern combine that left zero waste. The Tuckers wouldn't begrudge someone willing to pick over the fields, its just that there wouldn't be anything to find.
Jack pulled on the carbine's sling and let the rifle rest across the horn of his saddle. He didn't want to pick it up and brandish it. These people had done nothing wrong, but he also wanted them to see it. Just the sight of the black rifle received respect.
They didn't run, but at this point they may not have enough energy to. They were trudging along. It was all adults with no kids to the bunch. They were dirty carrying or dragging makeshift bags. When he got 20-30 feet away, he pulled back on the reins and stopped the horse.
Frosty had made his way to the other side of the group and had his defensive hairs up. He was emitting a low growl and staring right at the group.
"If you'll excuse me for just a second," "FROSTY… STAY!" A few people in the group jumped but Frosty was obedient. He put his nose to the ground and laid down. The growl stopped.
"How are you guys getting along today?"
A man in the front of the group walked forward. When he was about 10-15 feet away, John shifted the carbine and nodded to the man. He took the hint and stopped at a distance. "We're tired and hungry"
"Where are you going?"
"We were told there are FEMA camps in the south."
"Do you know where or how far?"
"No… Can you tell us?"
"Honestly I don't know. We've been cut off for quite a while. I know they would have to be at least a few days further, but I can't say how long."
A few shoulders in the group sank. Every hill they walked over, they hoped it was the last one. Here was someone telling them it would be at least days. The leader of the group stayed quiet, but from in the middle of the group someone spoke up, "Do you have any food?"
"I have some with me, but not enough for every one." He reached behind him and grabbed his refugee bag. It was a simple plastic bag with some food and clean water. Primarily it served as an appeaser. "The town to the east doesn't have food to spare. If you try to go in you will get hassled."
John had a good feeling about this group and wanted to step this up a notch. They could not take in the refugees. It would be a never-ending problem, but they could help them out. "How many of you would be willing to work a hard day in exchange for food. I need wood chopped and a root cellar dug."
Most of the people said they would. Some were even enthusiastic. Everybody deserves a break sometimes. "OK, I was just asking. You don't need to do those things for me. Go past the town. Two miles past the bridge is a green house. Go to the master bedroom. There's clothes, shoes, blankets, food and clean water." Half the people looked up. The other half didn't believe him.
"If you go now, you can be there before dark. You can stay the night but do me a favor and leave in the morning. Please do not take more than you can carry. I'll be sending other people who will need help just as much as you will. Consider it a rest stop. Can I have your word you'll leave in the morning?"
"Yes… and thank you." The leader came forward to shake John Tucker's hand.
Most of the people thanked him as they left, heading back to the road. This was a case of killing two birds with one stone. It helped some people that were in a horrible situation and just needed a helping hand. It also got them past the town and heading in the right direction. The town might never know how many people the Tuckers had helped. It was all prepared ahead of time while they were out salvaging for themselves. If there were less than ten of them, he would have sent them to the blue house. If they had children, he would have sent them to the yellow house.
He continued his patrol leaving the refugees behind. He only needed about an hour to finish. That should put him at home for a late lunch. He would parallel the road for a little longer before turning in through the orchards.
The orchards were mainly apples but there were a few other fruits. The key was surviving the winter to bear fruit in the summer. His favorites were the blackberries. A dirt road led from the main road into the orchards. With the winter weather, the road was moist but not muddy.
He completed is ride through the orchards and went on home. Today there was no shooting. Nobody had to die. With luck there would be a hot lunch waiting for him and tonight a warm bed.
While finishing the ride he said some prayers and thanked God. For the sake of a little prayer, he and his family could be walking south.