A week of preserving and storing. One very long week of drying, salting meat and everything else that went with the hunt. Tanning hides, preserving tendons and storing every tidbit of buffalo away to keep us over the winter. Brin and his pack were happy and well fed.

While the boatmen travelled and everyone else slaved over the buffalo carcasses under the close guidance of the Pawnee and Fritz, I was talking, deciding, ruling and judging. Oh joy. Honestly, I’d have preferred to be out picking up buffalo chips.

And then there were the ceremonies. The Pawnee had a ceremony for everything. My appointed wives Mouse and Banshee ensured that I properly attended all of them. And, of course, Rabbi had a ceremony or three he had to perform to sanctify the hunt.

And the fussing. Sonya, Aunty and Matilda – one or more of them – were there every time I turned around. I was cared for, but growing quite tired of the ‘princely’ treatment. And every single person in the camp had at least one question about the upcoming land grant lottery. I was mentally exhausted and emotionally drained.

Alone time came at night, when I least wanted it. Mouse was spending time with her family down at the Pawnee camp, and given that she wouldn’t likely see her family again until next year's hunt, I was disinclined to call her back. Instead, after spending the entire day in meetings, ceremonies, and dealing with village disputes, I finally collapsed into bed alone at night.

Thankfully, the Pawnee were on the verge of returning to their village and I had a scheduled boat ride up to Fort Atkinson following soon thereafter. The only thing that stood between me and that trip was the first day of hay cutting, and we planned to start that effort the very next work day. I intended to help kick off the first cut before I jumped on the boat to head upriver; they didn’t really need me, but I felt I needed to experience it.

It was an experience well had, but a brutal day nonetheless. For me personally, muscle groups that I didn’t realize existed got an over-the-top workout just swinging the scythe. Even the tool itself was mostly unfamiliar to me. I was aware of its usage and purpose, but a complete beginner as to the actual execution of the task. I was impressed by the whetting stone carried by each cutter, and even more impressed with the water-filled leather sheaths in which they were carried. Even a little experience with the blade-dulling grass quickly made their utility clear. But it was that the blacksmith’s peening station set up at the cutting field that took me completely by surprise. I kept my mouth shut and listened when they set me up with a beginner’s short blade and assigned me a mentor. This was a far more skilled job than I had ever imagined.

Learning that we would attach cradles to the blades next year for our first grain harvest was a revelation as well. For hay, all we had to do was cut smoothly and cleanly, but grain would require us to lay down the stalks in a particular direction to minimize the work when it came to making shocks and drying grain. Our work on this day, however, was simply hay cutting. The women and children followed behind us with wooden rakes to pull the cut grass into rows for drying, then they would return every few days to turn the hay with a fork until it fully dried and could be safely stored for winter forage. And of course, the men still had to build hay barns with proper ventilation to store it all. We had our work cut out for us.

The reality was that while the townsfolk had a lot to get done, I had other priorities which held even larger implications for the community as a whole. So in the end, I only had one brutal day of swinging the scythe, and yet my muscles complained about that one day for a full week. A week in which they would be introduced to an entirely different type of task.

Toward the end of that day my efforts became more productive, but overall I was a hindrance to the endeavor; “good effort, poor execution” was the undeniable feedback from all around, just in much more polite words. Sheriff didn’t fare much better, but it was a much needed learning experience for both of us.

On the plus side, I learned that Mouse was a natural at the art of the massage; her gentle fingers and hands put me to sleep many times in the following days. It seemed that something out there was determined to stand between us and our chance to have the proverbial ‘roll in the hay.’

That evening, before I dropped off into very sore sleep under the blessed caress of her hands and fingers, I decided that I would like her to accompany me upriver to Fort Atkinson. We would get some very necessary quiet time together, and I might possibly go so far as to make her my wife in truth.

We spent the next day packing the boat and loading up a huge percentage of my gold nuggets for the trade with Leavenworth. I had other goals I hoped to achieve up at the fort, but laundering my money was my most pressing concern. We also needed more skilled recruits, and I planned to take advantage of any trade opportunities that I could find; even more importantly, I needed more skilled tradesmen.

I was late into an evening full of packing, loading, research and meetings before I poured myself into bed. We had an early call for the boat, and the beers I had with supper took their toll. There wasn’t much left to me after my shower and deep, uninterrupted sleep was my lover that night.