story Chapter 2

[Sir Lazeabout]

"I see no reason to dawdle!" Malcolm says amiably, though he has to admit that his cheer is somewhat forced.

[Butchern]

The sky was gray and the breeze was cool on the drive west out to Ravenel. As they left Charleston, the open coast gave way to the thick pine forests of Summerville. After about an hour of driving, the pines began to thin, and the wetlands and standing water slowly began encroaching on the road. The smell of swam was in the air.

 

For the entire drive investigators could see black birds in the trees, sometimes one, sometimes a small flock. They were present for the entire journey, which was not that unusual for this time of year. But they were ubiquitous for the entire trip. The investigators were sure they were being watched.

 

As the cars reached the outskirts of Ravenel, the ground on the south side of the road began to rise slightly and fenced in plots of land began to emerge in the gray. Goats, pigs, and the occasional horse appeared at the fences. The north side of the road was as swampy as ever.

 

After passing the third plot of land, the cars had to come to a stop. A truck was stopped in the road, and a farmer was trying to get a few rowdy goats out of the muck on the right side of the road. A fence post had come dislodged on the left side of the road, and some goats had escaped from under the wire.

 

"Should we go around?" Maria asked.

[matt_s]

It would certainly be the kind thing to give this farmer a hand, but if there is anything in this world about which I know positively nothing, it is animal husbandry.

Coupard shrugs. I reckon we would cause far more havoc trying to "help" this man than if we stayed out of it. I say we ask politely if he needs help - the courteous thing to do - and he will likely demurr given we are plainly cityfolk.

 

Coupard rolls down the passenger window, and asks the farmer,

Do you need a hand with all this? We're not much for goatherding far as I know, but we could apply ourselves to righting that fence post, I suppose.

[Sir Lazeabout]

"Probably wise," Malcolm admits meekly. "I fear my expertise with animals begins and ends with pulling a rabbit out of a hat."

[Caystodd]

"If we help him, we may be able to ask him some questions about the town," Maria added quietly from behind Coupard.

[Butchern]

On 11/25/2022 at 4:45 PM, matt_s said:

Do you need a hand with all this? We're not much for goatherding far as I know, but we could apply ourselves to righting that fence post, I suppose.

The farmer looked up at the stopped cars. He touched his cap in greeting. He was middle-aged with a hard face and muddy overalls. There were four goats loose, and the farmer already had three of them lassoed. The goats were covered in mud and protesting loudly. The fourth goat was further down the bank, knee-deep in mud. The farmer was fixing the fourth rope to try to lasso the mired goat.

 

"Thank you kindly," the farmer called. "Only these four got out. I can get this last sonofagun." The farmer jerked his head to the side and made a sucking-hissing noise through his teeth. He didn't seem to notice his own tic. "Damn goats." He began twirling the rope in preparation to lasso the remaining goat.

[Sir Lazeabout]

"I shall attempt to circle the beast," Malcolm says. "If your attempts make it bolt, it will hopefully run straight into my arms. Whether I can then form a grip on it, I admit is less certain, but it seems worth giving it the old school try."

 

On light feet, he moves around the goat at a safe distance, taking shelter in whatever bushes or tall grass can be found.

[matt_s]

Coupard idly watches the attempted goat wrangling for a moment. He recalled that animals tended to possess rather keen senses of smell, in particular those which staked their very lives on evading predators.

 

Come now, let us check that the road is clear and at least get that fencepost and wire in some semblance of good order.

 

and to the farmer, he says,

Glad to hear you have the goats all in hand. They say a goat in hand is worth two in the bush, ha! We are in no hurry and ought to take a look at righting the fence while you finish up wrangling the last one, so no need for a rush on our account.

[Butchern]

Wrangling the goat was a muddy business, but it didn't take long. With Malcolm as the backstop, the farmer was able to get the rope around the neck of the goat and pull it out of the water. The goat came screaming and limping out of the water, but as soon as it was on dry land and not behind hauled up by the neck, it stopped its protests.

 

One of the front legs of the goat looked deformed. The goat hobbled around on it like it was used to the crooked limb and flattened hoof. The farmer didn't pay it any attention.

 

With a little expert guidance from the farmer—he introduced himself as Richard Timmelson—they had the goats back inside the fence and the fence wire tightened enough to keep the goats from getting out again.

 

"Thank you," Timmelson said for about the fifth time. "Damn goats," he added. He took off his hat to wave at the ladies who were watching from beside the car where it was dry.  As he started to speak he jerked his head and hissed but then said, "Sorry to inconvenience you" in Livingston's direction.

[Sir Lazeabout]

"That's a most unusually shaped specimen," Malcolm says, trying to sound like he's just making light conversation. "Are such abnormalities common among the lifestock here?"

[Butchern]

"It happens," the man said. He looked at the sheep as though he was noticing the deformity for the first time. "Nature does what it does with little care for what it produces. What brings y'all to Ravenel? You from Charleston?"

[Sir Lazeabout]

"Oh, we're amateur zoologists, you see," Malcolm says. "Out on a little vacational excursion to study the local fauna. All in the pursuit of some scholarly diversion and little more... but of course, finding some hidherto unknown subspecies and getting our names in the paper is every hobbiest's dream!"

[matt_s]

Coupard nods along. Honestly, we're not really looking for anything in particular. Just heard that this was a good place to find what we are looking for. Rumor mill churns as much in the big city as anywhere. Got a local inn or what have you to freshen up a bit? It wasn't a long drive, but it wore on us a bit. You know how it is. And while we're out here, are there any sights or similar that we ought to look at? Keep the city slickers entertained, har.

[Butchern]

"I don't know what the hell he just said." The farmer jerked his thumb at Malcolm. He didn't seem amused. "But yeah, there's a roadside inn in town. Just that way." He pointed up the road. "'Bout a mile. Turn left at the church. It's on the left. Doesn't have a name, but you'll see it."

 

When Coupard asked about seeing the sights, the man's voice softened again. "There's nothing to see in Ravenel. People come from the city to see the swamp from time to time." He shrugged. "It's a swamp."

[matt_s]

Coupard tries to ignore Malcolm's exchange.

 

Fair enough appraisal. Swamps are interesting if you find swamps interesting. I find them intriguing enough, I suppose. Thank you for the directions to the inn, and I wish you a good day.

 

To his companions, he says, I think a touch of respite at the inn is certainly welcome, now that we know where it is. Perhaps there are some swamp trails we can ask about when we meet the innkeeper.