by Mark Eller
Eventually, Aaron had a team of five marksmen with incredible potential and growing abilities. They certainly almost out-shot him after convincing him to show them what he could do. The problem, of course, was that Aaron knew the basics of shooting a rifle, but he had just never done it before. If it had not been for his minor Talent he would not have hit anything.
After holding a long conversation about the terrain they would be covering, Aaron decided to set the scopes at four hundred yards. Experimental shots showed the marksmen how much to raise or lower their aim for a few varying distances. By evening they were all exhausted and five percent of Aaron's total ammunition for the .375s was expended. While studying the remaining ammunition Aaron decided that any future practice would have to be with one of his two .22s. Since he had well over one thousand bricks of .22 ammo it was unlikely they would run him out.
He was on his way to fulfill a promise when he was stopped in the street.
"Mister Turner."
The woman approaching him wore the most powerful power suit it had ever been Aaron's privilege to see. True, he had not seen all that many of them. Still, he doubted one existed anywhere that was more powerful than the one this woman wore.
"Yes?"
"Sir, my name is Mistress Harriet Bestrow. I work for the Minister of the Interior. A letter was recently sent explaining that I would be speaking with you."
"I received the letter yesterday," Aaron admitted. "But I have not had much time to think of its contents. Yesterday was my wedding day. First marriage."
This Miss Bestrow was one serious looking woman. Tall and thin, her face looked like it could freeze a lake if she bent down to drink from it. Aaron had serious doubts that a smile had formed on her lips in the last several years.
"Yes. I heard," she said emptily. "You have my congratulations and that of the government. Would I be correct in assuming you have decided to remain in Isabella?"
"That is correct," Aaron said. "I won't cross back to the world of my birth ever again. I reached that decision several days ago, so I'm afraid the letter had no impact on my plans." He started walking down the street just to see what she would do. What she did was follow him, which told him that he was in the superior position. If she were about to give him orders he was supposed to obey, she would have ordered him to stop.
"Sir, the Minister and the most Honorable are both well aware of your unique origins. They have sent me out here to express their appreciation for your having chosen Isabella as your country of residence. I was instructed to discover whether you are happy with your new home or if you desire added benefits to induce you to keep Isabella as your home of choice."
Huh. This was not the way Aaron had pictured this particular conversation.
"Excuse me." Amanda Bivins stepped before them.
"This is a private matter, Miss," Bestrow instantly said.
"I agree. This matter is private between the government of Isabella and my client. As his advocate, it is my duty to listen to the government's offer and to interpret it for his understanding. Since my client has not been in this land for an extended length of time he is not familiar with all its laws. Before the government takes any legal action against my client which may threaten his freedom, it is legally required to give the particulars of its case to me."
Aaron gestured for her to be quiet. "They want me to stay in Isabella," he explained.
"Well, of course, they do. You are an important man and you have a great deal to contribute." Miss Bivins took a one eighty in her figurative stance without blinking an eye. "Because Isabellan law forbids them from giving you citizenship there is actually very little reason for you to remain within her borders. On the other hand, she has many lucrative reasons to wish you to remain."
Bestrow sighed unhappily. "That is basically the gist of it. I would have taken a bit longer to get it all said. Sir, simply put, we want to know your intentions toward Isabella."
Aaron did not have an opportunity to speak.
"His intentions," Amanda informed Bestrow, "are to find himself a nice comfortable country that is friendly to business. Mister Turner has expressed his desire to open a factory or three, but he has also expressed his concern to me that Isabellan taxes are exorbitantly high. One of the countries presently under considerations is Nefra. They have been in consultation with us and are in agreement that the corporate taxes of any venture Mister Turner is involved in are completely and totally rescinded for the next twenty years."
"That," said Bestrow, "is ridiculous. Nefra will be expensive for him to do business in even if he doesn't pay taxes. The services there are horrible, and the prices of basic commodities skyrocket daily. In comparison, Isabella has a better infrastructure and offers more opportunities to get his merchandise to market than Nefra does. Besides, do you think Mister Turner is willing to settle down in a country that advocates the taking and selling of slaves?"
"Cheap labor," said Miss Bivins. "However, some of your other arguments do hold true. Because of that we have also been looking at Jutland."
Bivins was young and inexperienced. Her clothing was neat and professional, but it was also of an inferior weave because the young Miss was fresh from University and had not two spare coppers to rub together. Though she was obviously a neophyte in both law and finance when compared to Harriet Bestrow, Aaron put his dime on Miss Bivins.
The preliminary negotiations went on for half an hour right there in the street while foot traffic and horses and wagons flowed around them. By the time that half-hour was finished Aaron had been turned into nothing but a spectator to a battle between two titans. Eventually, the women agreed to retire to the inn after giving Aaron their leave to go on about his business since he was not really needed.
"Well now," Mister Golard laughingly exclaimed when he saw Aaron step through his doorway, "about time you got that haircut. I was starting to think you didn't like me anymore. How do you want it?"
"Anyway you want to cut it," Aaron said. "Just get it short so it doesn't wave around in every direction."
When Mister Golard finished his floor was littered with Aaron's hair. Aaron paid him and went to the inn to see how Miss Bivins was doing. Once there he discovered that he had a tentative ten year moratorium on taxes for any business venture he became involved in so long as that venture was related to the manufacture of some item not seen before his arrival to Isabella. The tax moratorium started with the first product run out the door, not from its moment of conception or from the laying of a building's first brick.
Bivins was ecstatic while Bestrow seemed resigned. They agreed that the necessary papers would be drawn up and signed within two weeks.
"This is fun," Bivins confided to Aaron once Bestrow left. "I wouldn't have got nearly so good a deal if it had not been for the books. Once she found out about those she had to make sure you stayed here. I have to go now. Got a lot of t's to cross and i's to dot."
When Aaron finally made it back to the store Sarah and Perk were arguing about where the new stock should go. Perk wanted the most expensive items placed near the counter where a better eye could be kept on them. Sarah wanted them placed where people could more readily see and touch them. This, she said, was Last Chance. The people of Last Chance were honest. The argument broke off when they saw him.
"Aaron," Sarah said, coming over to him. She ran appreciative fingers through his freshly cut hair. "Why don't you tell her I'm right?"
Aaron shook his head. "I don't know that you are right."
"See," Perk said.
"I don't know that you're wrong either," Aaron said. "Why don't you two hash it out between yourselves?"
"You're no help," Sarah complained. She turned back towards Perk. "Look. It's obvious that--"
Aaron stood back and enjoyed the show. Sarah was animate energy. In comparison, it looked like Perk's excess energy had been sucked out of her earlier in the day. She was a mess. Her clothes were scuffed and dirty. She had scrapes on her hands and elbows. From all a
ppearances, she had been through an absolutely wonderful day.
Once the unsettled argument stopped Aaron asked her about it.
Perk grinned. "I had a bit of a disagreement with a couple of the Guard. They thought they could fight, and I thought they were posers. Actually, they weren't bad considering they've had almost no formal training, but they sort of got tired of falling down while I was explaining this to them, and then their captain arrived."
Aaron frowned. "I hope this doesn't cause you trouble."
"It's going to cause me plenty of trouble because it got me a new job. Captain Leron wants me to train her people in unarmed combat." Perk's smile faded. "I'm not really qualified to teach, but she convinced me that she has nobody better. Guess I'll give it a try."
Kit stepped into the store, Mister Turnbull in tow. She quirked an eyebrow at Aaron. "Ready?"
Cathy stood in the doorway.
"Sarah, I wanted to--"
Sarah stopped Cathy with a cold stare. "My name is Mistress Turner.
"Oh--I--" Nervous, Cathy brushed at her hair with a shaking hand. Aaron glimpsed a bruise on her cheek. "Congratulations, Mistress Turner. Mister Turner."
"Congratulate me, too," Kit said. "In a few more minutes I'll be the second Mistress Turner." She slapped her pants. Range dust broke free, creating a brief cloud that smelled strongly of horse. "Put on my best outfit for it."
"Oh." Cathy almost glared at Aaron. "Somebody else already?"
"I insisted," Sarah said dryly. "What do you want, child?"
"I wanted to talk to you in private--as the Marshal."
"I resigned my position. I no longer qualify as Marshal. In fact, I won't qualify for at least nine months."
"Um," Cathy looked embarrassed. "I guess I'll find your replacement then."
"That would be Mister Tower. He promised the council he wouldn't get pregnant anytime soon."
Nodding sadly, Cathy turned to leave. She paused, turned back, and bit her lip. "Um--congratulations. Congratulations on everything."
She left, limping. Though some part of Aaron wanted to reach out and pull her back, he did not try. He had his wife and his intended at his side. It was not his place to look after Cathy. She had a husband of her own.
Looking over to Kit, he wondered if other men had a say as to who they married or when that marriage took place.
Somehow, he doubted it.
* * *
Though the wedding was short, the wedding night was very long. It began with forcibly dumping Kit into a tub with the intent of making her smell like soap instead of horse. Unfortunately for Kit, Sarah accidentally on purpose forgot to add hot water to the bath. Kit gained revenge by pulling Sarah into the tub, clothes and all. Aaron elected to stay warm and dry so he backed off to what he figured was a safe distance while the women released a few outraged screams. Unfortunately, when they looked up at one point they caught him laughing. Moments later Sarah had stripped down, and the two women used her wet clothes as their weapon of choice. Those clothes were very effective weapons, especially since neither of the ladies were far from their Talent Stones. Sarah's was in her pants pocket, and that sucker hurt.
More unfortunately, the tub tipped over right after Aaron fell into it. That ended all the games until the entire mess was mopped up.
And then Aaron learned the true answer to his question from the night before. It proved that Sarah really did fancy Mistress Kitty Turner. It also proved that though the second Mistress Turner preferred women, she was not the least bit shy about making love to a man.
All in all, it was an interesting night. A most interesting night indeed.
Chapter 29
Last Chance became a town in flux. Weeks went by, and then months passed. The Guard moved into the mountain pass, and then they moved through it, and yet more Guard arrived to replace those who left. Many local youths joined the Guard and left town. New people arrived. A large number of farms were sold piecemeal to provide land for more homes.
Another store opened, and Aaron refused to raise his prices so they would be close to those of his competition. Another inn was built, but it soon closed its doors since it received only a few overnight guests. Nobody visited it during the days or evenings because The Traveler's Rest was too popular with the locals, and the locals pulled all the new arrivals to the inn's door.
Aaron bought the new inn, stocked it, and then he built a stage at one end. Afterward, he pulled out one of his reading books, rewrote Death of a Merchant to suit the local customs, and gave the play to several of the newcomers who were out of work. They presented the play once a week. After the third week the house was always full. Other people asked if they could perform. Some wanted to juggle; others wanted to tell jokes, and one young woman had written her own one act, one person play. Within the first month sixteen people approached Aaron who wanted to play instruments or sing. Since he felt that music belonged to the Traveler's Rest, Aaron did not allow the musicians to perform except during plays. He saw no reason to cut Missy's future profits.
During late midsummer he paid to have a playground built. In late fall Missy tearfully aborted her coming out party. What would have normally been a happy time in her life was not. Doyle had caught a virus and died despite everything Doc could do. Even the use of Doc's Talent Stone was not enough to save him. Unhappily, Doyle was not alone when they laid him in the ground. In all, more than a dozen children and two adults died during the outbreak. Aaron was sad to note that only three of the children and neither adult were female. Something in this land hated men. Males died too easily from too many diseases, and he had not the least idea why. Someday, he vowed, he would find out.
The University professor spent a good deal of time questioning Aaron about his birth world while waiting very impatiently for Mister Bronson's arrival. The man was determined to follow the load of Aaron's books on their journey to the University. Feeling stubborn, Aaron insisted that no one but his personal freighter ship them.
Once Bronson did arrive, Aaron talked with him and provided funds for Bronson to buy forty wagons with the mules to match. Last Chance and several of the surrounding towns needed supplies delivered more frequently now that they were all growing in size. Because nobody stepped forward to fill the gap, Aaron took it upon himself to do so. He figured he would most likely lose money on the deal, but that was a matter of small moment. After all, he made so much money from so many areas that a loss here and there did not matter. Truthfully, he no longer had a clear idea of exactly what he owned. He mostly counted on his various partners to come in and hand him some cash every now and again. Afterwards, he usually threw the money in the money box without counting it. Once every week or two he took the lot over to the bank and put it in his account. To his way of thinking that was the best way to do business. It was a good deal less stressful than trying to keep his books straight.
When Sarah discovered his method she instantly hired two accountants and wrecked his perfect system.
Kit went back out to the Manor but before she left she told him that she was pleased with all the furniture Aaron had left her. She was not, however, quite so happy about the work involved in moving the furniture around so carpenters could replace sections of wall and floor and collapsed roof. Once again, it was rubbed in Aaron's face that he had pulled far too much with them when they escaped from Beech and his friends.
Kit did not always stay at the ranch. Usually, she made a point of visiting town every couple weeks. However, she usually stayed over for only a day or two, during which time she grumbled and bragged about getting pregnant without Doc Gunther's help. Once, she pulled Aaron out to the Manor for two weeks, insisting it was only right that he know something about the business. It was a dirty ruse. She stuck him on the back of a horse every single day. After all, she chortled, if she could survive the rolling wagons in his world, he could learn to ride a horse. To Aaron's way of thinking, her argument was not exactly fair since she would never have to face an automobile again while Aar
on would be surrounded by horses and horse people for the rest of his life.
Their days at the ranch were short and filled with laughter. After they spent their first night together without Sarah, their nights were spent sleeping alone. That one night let them know there really was no sexual chemistry between them without Sarah. Kit loved Sarah. Aaron just came with the package. Though she valued him as a friend, she could not wrap her mind around the fact that he really was her husband. Truthfully, that was fine by Aaron. He hated feeling disloyal to Sarah--and--in some strange way--to Cathy.
When he returned to town he was bruised, dirty, and sore. Sarah was delighted with Kit's lessons. She thought going for recreational rides was a tremendously good idea. After all, she needed the exercise, and there were those two hunters eating hay in the stable. Pleeeeze.
So he learned to ride, and while he hated horses in general he learned to actually be fond of Surefoot. Surefoot and No Bit were two very docile and contented horses, proving to be easy to control and very responsive. Probably, Aaron reflected, they were so docile because they each had a good thirty or more little horsey sons and daughters running around the countryside--with more on the way. Pure contentment resided in both their horsey faces.
Turner House filled to capacity, and Mary Cunningham asked Aaron if she could purchase a new building to handle the overflow of orphans. He agreed.
Mary became a greatly changed woman. Off drugs and with no access to new ones, her eyes glowed bright and intelligent. She became interested in everything around her once she discovered that her past profession was lost. Being stubborn, she made one attempt to thank Aaron with her body and another to use it with a newcomer in order to raise money. Both attempts failed. Aaron had vowed that he would remain faithful inside his marriage, and female prostitution was unknown in a land where men made up less than a quarter of the population.
In late fall a delegation from Burnridge approached Aaron and requested that he build an orphanage to house the growing number of castoff children the returning Movers had left behind. Aaron hated to leave Last Chance, especially with Sarah and Kit growing larger, but they insisted he go. After Sarah delivered a passionate kiss goodbye, he rode Surefoot to Burnridge and actually enjoyed the ride in the cool fall air.