signposts

We made it through Jerktail Landing and Flat Nasty, but the Akers Ferry ferry had sadly blown a fuse. And now we were at God Knows Which River  about to head through fords and over high water bridges and down muddy tracks. We didn't really know this "shortcut," so we were lucky to run across a local boy.
"I have a high stress job," he said, which is why he takes off down the trails and through the rivers, where his palomino Missouri Foxtrotter is quite the hit. So much so that he was gifted many beers, and by the time we met him he had lost his compadres if not his sense of direction. Not that it mattered much to him. "Fortunately, my old buddy Samson knows his way back so it doesn't matter how drunk I am," he said.
   He have us directions and we chatted. "I try not to talk about politics, but I guess I'm going to vote for Trump. Clinton is going to take our guns."
   "Well everybody said Obama was going to take their guns, and he didn't," I said.
   "And it was two terms," said Frank (or Dianne?).
   "Well when Obama came in it was open carry on the rivers," he said. "Before it was 600 feet away and then when Obama came in they changed the law."
    I couldnt really understand that.
    "I'm not really much for guns," he said. "But my friends tell me we're gonna need those AK-47s when everything falls apart and the city people come down to try to take our food."
     To Frank and Dianne's relief, I did not tell him the invasion had begun.
    Our invasion had lucked into a local guide.