Eleanor Tatum

A bit more background concerning one of my favorite characters: Killer chicken.

He and his harem of five were introduced to me during a visit to a small farm. Once he took note of my husband, he attacked. He lowered his crown and jabbed at Rudy’s ankles and sent his wings to overdrive, sending my beloved running.

Our host yelled, “Get behind Eleanor!”

Really? Made no sense to me either.

Killer stopped at my feet and looked up at my face. He turned and his crown nodded as if he was indeed counting his ladies. Seemingly satisfied that all was well, he marched away, his ladies following. We were told this happens daily to the milkman. Yes, they had one of those, too.

Now, back to Catherine, Trevor, Joann, and Ross, battling a 1908 survival journey to Charleston, have come upon a lumber camp within the forests surrounding the swamps.

The late afternoon machinery noise and male voices slowed to a low growl, as the four travelers entered the center of the camp and stopped in front of the cooking tent. Trevor nearly gagged at the body odor wafting from the large man in the greasy apron in front of him. His meanness came from his body language as well as his eyes. His welcome left Trevor no doubt as to his political philosophies.

The cook waved his finger in Joann’s face, “What the hell is this darky bitch doing with my livestock?”

Trevor readied the long barrel of his gun securely on his hip. While he was sure of the cook’s vocabulary and intent, he also knew his gravely voice threatened all of them.

Ross took the hen from his now frozen wife and tried to hand it to the man. “Sorry, sir, we had no idea this was your property.”

The cook refused his offer.

Ross gently pushed Joann behind Trevor. “Just tell us when the train south will be here and we’ll leave you to your supper.”

The cook’s smile not only smelled, but he was missing a few of his teeth, and dark spots showed on the remainders. “Hey!” he announced to the dozen men within earshot, “These foreigners want to travel on our next luxury train south.”

Trevor backed up a few feet forcing the ladies to do the same. “Get ready to run,” he whispered. The mean laughter warned him and he wouldn’t allow them to be surrounded. He saw Ross reach behind and pull a knife from his back pocket and he glanced around for a possible way out.

His majesty, Killer Chicken, surprisingly appeared from behind the cook’s tent and he wanted his lady back.

Ross threw the hen into the cook’s face. “What the hell!” The man screamed in surprise and pain, turning around in circles as his friends began wailing in laughter. Killer brutally pecked at the man’s leg and flapped his wings to distraction. The hen continued to fly into the cook’s face as he tried to pull a knife from his belt.

Egad! and Enough! (more later)