Choice of the Gallant_Paradox Equation I

by Sharon L Reddy

  "Uh, huh, just how does one trip make him safe?"

  "Clete's about to get a job."

  "Why me? Why is it always me?"

  "Relax, Clete. The first thing you do is hire us."

  Dutch stared at the animals tied to hitching rails along the street of the town. They gave him a very odd feeling.

  "Lane, they're horses."

  "Like the bear and the people, Dutch, similar evolution on a seeded world. This is a very Earth-like planet. There was very little drift. I'm just glad we spent so many of our vacations at the academy learning to ride."

  "I used to spend my offtime in the holosphere riding too. You'd be amazed at how many women like the smell of saddle leather."

  Lane and Clete laughed. Billy, who had been leading and a bit too excited to notice Dutch had suddenly stopped, when the horses came in sight, ran back to see what was going on. They told him they were teasing Dutch about finding a horse he liked. By then, they were. Lane assured it.

  They went to the assay office first, then convinced the clerk at the courthouse to file the claim in Billy's name. Billy insisted on buying them breakfast at the hotel. They left him shopping at the general store and headed for trouble. It was waiting for them at the saloon.

  "Lane, that place shouldn't be open this early."

  "It's not, Clete. It's open this late. The proprietor doesn't like it, but his current clientele become violently insistent. Lawmen aren't plentiful and the only remaining deputy in town is recovering from a very close call."

  "I suppose I'm not supposed to break anyone."

  "Right, Dutch. Very few of these are real nasties. They just follow along."

  "How do we find the rotten apples?"

  "They find us. You'll know who they are. They're the ones that shoot me in the back."

  "Lovely. I suppose you can't just point them out and save us the trouble of buying you a new shirt."

  "I get shot in the back, Dutch. I don't see them."

  "Noisy isn't it? This is a rowdy bunch. The bartender's nervous. NO!"

  "Where's he going?"

  "He's about to stop a bully. Get ready, Dutch. Clete's about to heat things up. No one hits someone smaller, especially a woman, if he can stop it. Take the man in red plaid first. He pulls a gun."

  Clete dropped the man from the balcony. He was careful. He dropped him on several others to break his fall. Dutch relieved the man of his gun and put him down for a nap. Clete dropped from the balcony and tucked several others in. Lane was busy too. He kept removing guns from people who were aiming at Dutch and Clete. They took care of the ones aiming at him.

  "Over already and I was just getting warmed up."

  "Two. Armed. Back room. Three. Same. Upstairs. Two. Doors."

  "Clete says you get to play some more, Dutch. You get the back room. I'll remove our unfriends outside."

  Clete had already headed for the stairs. Lane slammed the doors outward, finished putting the two men to sleep and dragged them inside. Dutch was dragging two from the back room.

  "Dutch, see that door up there. When it opens, draw and shoot the gun that sticks out. It'll be pointed at Clete's head."

  Dutch drew and fired. Clete reached through the door and hauled the man out. He held him in the air with one hand and put him to sleep with the other.

  "Catch. They'll break if I drop them."

  Dutch and Lane caught the three Clete dropped over the balcony railing and stacked them with their friends. They made a total of twenty-three in the pile. The bartender decided it was safe to stick his nose above the bar.

  "Who are you boys?"

  "We're the Gallants. I'm Dutch. This is Lane. The big man calming the ladies upstairs is Clete. Damn, Lane, let's find a cold shower. Somebody's very grateful."

  "Let's go get him. Billy's about to need us."

  "We'd better hurry. He gets his shirt off and we'll be fighting women too. Clete! We don't have time for them to tell you they're grateful."

  "Hey! You don't have to push."

  "Sure we do, Clete. Lane says Billy needs us."

  "Why didn't you say so?!"

  Lane and Dutch shook their heads and laughed when Clete dropped from the balcony and went through the doors at a run. He had Billy's problem taken care of before they got there. He was dumping the man, who'd tried to make Billy give him money when the storekeeper went to the storeroom for more flour, on the walk when they arrived.

  The storekeeper was pleased. He told them the man wouldn't have tried it if the town had a lawman on his feet. Clete asked why it didn't. He'd have heard how worried he was about his town if he hadn't been able to feel it. Lane told him they'd make sure Billy got home safely with his supplies.

  "Dutch, go with him to the livery stable. He needs a wagon and a team. See if they've got anything we'd like. Try to find a horse big enough Clete's feet won't drag the ground. There's some good-looking tack in here. We'll help the storekeep tally and get Billy's purchases moved outside. See if you can find horses not broken to a bit. I know. They bother me lots more than they do the horses."

  "We'll probably have to take what they've got or break our own, Lane."

  "You know how I feel about it."

  "We gentle them ourselves. If possible."

  "If possible."

  "Come on, Billy. Let's go horse shopping."

  Billy was near abounce when they returned with a wagon and team. Dutch grinned and winked at Lane. He'd found what they wanted too.

  "You did well, Billy. That's a nice team."

  "They'll pull a plow too, Lane. Ma won't have to do her garden by hand. Do you think she'll like the material I picked?"

  "It'll make a very pretty dress. Clete, you and Dutch load. I'm going to the telegraph office to see if we have any messages. Billy, come with me."

  "I ought to help load, Lane. It's our stuff."

  "Come on. You stay, I'll feel guilty. They don't really need us. Look. We'd be in the way. Clete heaves from the walk and Dutch guides it into place. They'll probably beat us to the corral."

  Billy cried when he read the telegram. Lane and the clerk carried on a long discussion about the weather and pointedly didn't notice. The culture was much like Earth's nineteenth century in some ways, but 'real men' not crying wasn't one. The contents of the message were personal. They were being polite and giving him 'privacy' to deal with his emotions. After he told them what the message was, the clerk wished every "wallop" message that came in was good news, and was glad that he'd come that day. They didn't have a lawman to take it to the ranch, and he'd have been trying to figure a way to take the good news out to them, and might have 'bent' the rules to do it. Billy said he'd tell his mother he'd been "real pleasured to give the good news."

  Lane smiled, as they walked out. Billy was working very hard on the way he spoke. He was 'a man of substance' now and intended to sound like it. His purchases had included two thick, quite expensive, books. Early education took place at home, not in schools. Those were for older children, who wanted to learn things they couldn't, working with a parent, older relative or family friend. It wasn't an apprenticeship system. The duty of teaching a child was strong enough in the culture it was near totally literate, but the books Billy had chosen weren't for the purpose of teaching children to read. Those were inexpensive and plentiful.

  He mentioned the books and Billy began the explanation he'd remembered. He saw how the culture could produce "bad apples." It was where the memory came from. That was the way it worked. His memory was cluttered with would-have-been and it was wonderful. Dutch didn't allow nightmares and Clete told him if he had one.

  He ignored what he remembered, after a point. Dutch wouldn't choose that path, unless it was the right one. Clete was "getting exasperated" with his self-doubt. He was the one they knew could be trusted to make the best choice, always, and he didn't. Lane had the feeling that was going to change.

  He paid attention to feelings. Mick O'Herlihy had told him it would be weird if he didn't
'get hunches' and not training a very convenient talent was silly. And then gotten him into several situations he'd 'felt' his way out of, with his head spinning, and one he hadn't. He had a feeling Dutch had to accept he had their complete trust, as they had his, soon. It wasn't lack of self-esteem. It was intense admiration. He was their center, the love that filled them with joy was perfect and total, like their father's. He was going to have to accept that love inspired love, and himself.

  Billy and Lane reached the livery stable just as Clete and Dutch arrived with the wagon. There were a large number of people standing around. They'd heard someone had bought the big black stallion. They wanted to see what kind of fool would buy a horse that couldn't be broken.

  "That's him, Clete. Only one big enough to carry you."

  "You're right, Dutch, and he's as pretty as you said. Hand me the hackamore and the black blanket. He'll like this saddle. It'll fit well and look real good on him. I'll meet you by the other corral in a few minutes. He'll probably need shoeing. Tell the smith I want to do it myself. He's on your way."

  "Aren't we going to stay and watch!?"

  "We really hadn't planned on it, Billy."

  "Lane, nobody's ever ridden that horse! Nobody! He's wild. A killer."

  "Nonsense. Horses don't kill unless they have a very good reason. We'll stay, just so you see all the horse needs is the right kind of treatment and what that is. Go ahead, Dutch. Take the wagon. We'll catch up."

  Clete was sitting on the ground in the middle of the corral softly singing. The black animal circled him several times and he ignored it. It wasn't afraid of him. He established as mutual. It became curious and edged toward him. He sang to it and looked in its eyes. He sang of rolling plains, sweet green grass and the friendship between man and beast. The black dipped its head and he gently rubbed its nose.

  It danced back a few steps, but soon returned. It wasn't really wild. It had just been out on the range since a colt. It had some familiarity with people and no bad experiences there, and had also been in the corral long enough to get used to people, in general. It just didn't trust them. Since most of the people around the corral felt the same way about the very big horse, it wasn't surprising.

  The horses of Clete's world were augmented, but it didn't take much longer for the black to decide he was more interesting than threatening. It really wasn't a 'wild horse.' Like evolution didn't mean species were identical. This animal was a bit more 'domesticated.' He'd been told it's daddy was a plow horse, and it was obvious to Clete that the animals had been pulling plows longer on that world. He slowly stood and stroked it. He held each piece of tack up and let it get acquainted with it, then laid it back on the ground. People gasped when he vaulted on its bare back and it reared. He rode it down and sang in its ears. He could feel when it calmed and slid off. He added a bit to his estimate of time domesticated. It accepted a rider "belonged" very quickly.

  He held the local version of the hackamore up and very slowly put it on. He ran his fingers under every strap to assure their placement, then picked up the blanket. He turned the animal's head with a gentle tug on the hackamore. He made sure it watched him put the blanket on. He then picked up the saddle. He turned it over in his hands and explained all the pieces. The words held no meaning for the horse, but the soft voice calmed it and the saddle became familiar. Clete made sure it was watching when he gently set the saddle in place. The horse danced a bit, but soon calmed.

  Lane knew when Clete cheated. He felt him spread a blanket of calm over the horse when he tightened the cinches. He was in a bit of a hurry. He swung up in the saddle and taught the black the signals of the reins. Lane opened the corral door and he rode out. No one watching got terribly excited. It had become a very calm afternoon all over town. Lane grinned. His horse was going to be very easy to 'gentle.' He watched Clete ride toward the smithy and he and Billy went to find Dutch.

  "Very nice, Dutch. Stallions."

  "They were the only ones not bit-broken, Lane. Besides, I thought the two buckskins went nice with Clete's black."

  "Let's saddle up. Clete's at the smithy. We'll have him check these too."

  "Oh, no! I'll bet he takes his shirt off. There go my chances with every woman in town."

  Lane laughed. He and Dutch weren't as massive as Clete, but they were all well-proportioned. Dutch never had any trouble finding willing companions, usually several at a time. He and Clete both knew the real reason Dutch preferred multiple ladies. He thought none of them would expect attraction to develop into a long-term special relationship, if there were several. He didn't seem to realize some of them still fell in love and wanted more, but at least they knew he didn't from the beginning.

  They all ended up taking off their shirts. The smithy was rather secluded, so they didn't attract too large a crowd. The blacksmith changed that. He decided to have a beer and told the bartender about the size of the men working in the smithy. The bartender told him about the fight. The barmaid, who had just started her day's work. overheard. She told the girls in the hotel kitchen. Word spread. Soon every knothole in the smithy had an eye and the doorway got very crowded. Clete knew they were there, but he was keeping things calm until he finished the horses.

  "Lane, as soon as he's done, it's going to get very warm around here."

  "I know, Dutch. We'll just have to try to get him out of town while he's still thinking about his horse."

  "Sometimes I wonder why I stick with you guys."

  "Spillover, Clete. You need us to keep you from being mobbed. You hate it when somebody gets left out."

  "Dutch, you're the one that likes ladies in multiples. You look for twins."

  "Had a soft spot for look-alike ladies ever since I met Cory and Cally at the academy."

  "There. Done. Your 'soft spot' wasn't what I was talking about."

  Dutch dumped a bucket of water over him and Clete chased him out of the smithy. They ran back in. Lane sat down on the hard-packed dirt floor and laughed. Shirtless was not something one did in public in the 'nineteenth century.' They'd shocked a very large group of women. The shock didn't last long. It wasn't Earth's 'Western' culture, just one very similar.

  They didn't have the same reasons to teach 'sex is sinful.' Neither unwanted pregnancy nor venereal disease was a problem and the afternoon was getting warm. Clete grabbed his shirt, swung up on the black and winced.

  "I'm out of here. I'll be at the first cold stream."

  Lane and Dutch pulled on their shirts and got ready to follow. It took them awhile. They kept having to lean against things. Billy wasn't sure why they were laughing so hard, but he laughed too. He had a gold claim, supplies and a telegram to take to his mother. He was a very happy boy. The day wasn't over. They were nearing the ranch when Clete felt a problem.

  "We've got company, Lane."

  "How many, Clete?"

  "Half-dozen. Mean. Mad. Greedy."

  "Get them for me."

  "NO! Dutch, get Billy out of here! Lane's down! I'm after the--"

  "Sons of bitches that shot him in the back! Grab on, Billy! I'm going to put you in those rocks. We'll catch the wagon later. They won't run far."

  Dutch dropped Billy off and raced back. He heard gunfire and swung off his horse. He started his circle and took out a man holding a rifle. He wasn't gentle. He was too mad to worry about breaking him. He felt Clete's blast of rage and heard horses scream. The ones who had tried to run away would be mountless. Most people caught very little of what Clete was feeling. Most animals caught most of it.

  Clete stopped his horse from killing the man who had tried to kill him. Dutch ran down the two who were running. He met Clete at Lane's side.

  "Bad. Damn. Why doesn't he let us know sooner?"

  "He does when it's one of us, Clete. I broke some."

  "Me too. Slug went through. Medunit says touch and go. How far are we from Melissa?"

  "Too far. Triage. Stabilize him."

  "He's actually sturdier than we are, Dutch. He's o
n his way. Go get Billy. He'll have a survivable wound by the time you get back here with the wagon. We'll use that coil of rope to secure the... men, then borrow the wagon to take them back to town."

  "Done."

  All six men were alive, but in bad shape. Clete made sure none of them were actually dying. Billy wanted to shoot them. Dutch told him Lane would want them legally tried and convicted.

  Billy decided Judge Herkmer would take care of them when he rode through. In his culture, a judge decided guilt or innocence. The jury of fifteen decided penalty, within limits. If Lane lived, the men wouldn't hang.

  Clete didn't treat any of them. They would all be treated by a physician when they got them to town. They'd live because he'd saved Lane. That was enough.

  They tied the men on their horses and gently laid Lane on top of the supplies in the wagon. When they got to the ranch, they carried Lane inside, then unloaded the wagon fast. Sare just didn't understand when they began making a place for Lane in it.

  "You're not going to take him with you?!"

  "Yes, Sare, we are. It's the fastest way to get him to the doctor."

  "That bouncin' will be bad on him, Clete."

  "We'll take it easy. We've seen enough injuries to know he'll make it. He heals real fast. He'll be fine in a few days."

  "You're just sayin' that. He ain't gonna' make it. He's shot through the lung. If he survives, he'll be... well nigh a cripple a long time."

  "Tell her, Clete. She'll keep it secret."

  "Dutch... "

  "Tell her or I will. Who we are, what we are, where we come from, why we're here. I'll keep Billy busy outside."

  "What's he mean?"

  "Lane's not going to like this. Sare, Lane wasn't shot through the lung. He was shot through the heart. He has two. We all do. Put your hands on my chest. We're not from your world. We're from the far future. Our father is... too far away to describe. It's our legacy, our job, to carry on his work. We... save worlds. This one will be murdered if we don't change the future. It will die in war. Killed by weapons that are developed too soon. We're here because someone else is here. Someone from the future. You don't believe me and I'm scaring you. Watch. This is why Lane won't die."