Chapter 4 - Open Acres
The colony of Griffin XIII prospered in the months following the United Systems' shipment of guns to the settlement's citizenry. Colonists adjusted to the eternally bright, lavender and gold skies beyond their protective glass ceiling, and soon slept more soundly for knowing a sidearm rested close to their pillows.
The patriots of Griffin XIII freely carried their guns about the colony. Men wore their sidearms in leather holsters attached to their belts. Women accessorized their wardrobes with sequined purses shaped to snugly hold their guns. Though the gun of one citizen in no way differed from the gun of another, neighbors complimented one another on their sidearms when happenstance brought them together in the street. No law demanded a settler conceal their weapon in the street. No government required a gun to be registered. They had migrated from their ancient, home world, had born the star-fold sickness, had erected a home in an inhospitable, new world, and finally, those followers of Zeb Griffin realized the liberty to brandish their weapons however they needed to secure their freedoms from the reach of lawmakers and bureaucrats who tainted the United Systems.
Settlers had few reasons to leave their plastic apartments as the colony settled into routine. The colony established no school system, for Zeb Griffin taught that education was a liberty reserved for only a father and a mother, who knew best the instruction needed for the individual child - certainly no liberty to be compromised by any curriculum of textbooks and class schedules the United Systems would force upon them. No industry churned to burden the colonists with job duties, for each man and woman exercised their freedom to be his or her own boss, to work in the privacy of their plastic apartments, without taxes or fees to mock their efforts.
Nor did Zeb Griffin ever preach a benefit of community. Why waste time engaged in conversation when better avenues existed for one's time? Small talk only exposed the differences in opinion that no society could avoid, and the exposure of any difference inevitably led to the infringement of someone's liberty, as one party naturally sought to educate and correct the faulty reasoning perceived in another. Zeb Griffin's followers believed that the best citizens kept to themselves. Privacy was a currency as valuable as gold.
No location upon Griffin XIII challenged a citizen's liberty like the open acres. It was every settler's duty to fill his or her own pantry, and to that end, each colonist was granted a parcel of the home world's transported soil from which to grow the lom-soy crop staple that provided the basis for the prime ribs, the potato casseroles, and the apple pies their molecule ovens might weave together for the colonists' palette.
Thus the patriots of Griffin XIII couldn't help but congregate in the open acres to cultivate the lom-soy crop upon which their diets were built.
Kassie Mayhap kept Zeb Griffin's teachings in mind whenever she attended to her allocated parcel. She enjoyed working quietly. She enjoyed a time to tend to her own thoughts, to meditate upon her own concerns so that she did not jeopardize trespassing upon those of another.
But not all of those who gathered in the open acres kept so quietly to themselves.
"It's a terrible shame is all I have to say about it," grumbled the widow Mary Barker. "An entire family murdered in their sleep by their own husband and father. The gun left only heaps of ash behind to mark where they fell. Terrible. Just terrible. I actually believed I was leaving that kind of terror behind me when I boarded that rocket and suffered that star-fold. Makes me shiver to think that kind of killing has followed me here. Sure makes an old widow happy to have a gun of her own, let me tell you."
Scott Lomax attended to a parcel of land near Kassie and the widow. "You should keep your thoughts to yourself, Mary Barker. You've no idea what might've been running through Clyve Dawson's mind when he killed his family last week. It's not our place to try to understand the reasoning of our fellow citizen."
"Are you actually implying that Clyve exercised some right in murdering his wife and three boys?" scoffed the widow. "What of the rights of those children? Of his wife? Seems to me that Clyve Dawson trampled all over their liberties when he blasted them into ash piles."
Scott glared at the older woman. "I'm saying it's none of your business."
The widow stood stiffly from her rows of lom-soy and pointed at Scott. "I think it is my business. I share this glass shell with the rest of you. I think I have every right to talk about who's firing their weapons in this colony."
Kassie noticed those in the neighboring plots turn quiet and turn their attention upon the quarrel. She did not think it a good omen when settlers were so distracted from their work.
"Relocating across the stars isn't easy for anyone," Kassie interjected. "There are stresses..."
"None of which excuse murder!" The widow hissed in reply. "Thought you would know better, Kassie Mayhap, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised you come to that fool boy's defense, seeing how quickly you shacked up with him."
"You go too far," Scott growled. "You'd best shut your mouth."
"You're not helping anything, Scott," Kassie sighed.
The widow stared daggers upon Kassie. "You just keep to your own business, hussy. I can take well enough care of myself."
Flustered, Kassie returned her attention to her parcel planted with the staple lom-soy. She reprimanded herself for straying into another's business. Kassie focused upon harvesting her plant. The lom-soy's fruit grew close to the ground, and one had to stoop low to reach it. The rough and haggard leaves scratched at the wrist exposed between her glove and her shirt sleeve. Kassie concentrated to resist from scratching at the itch. Eventually, her thoughts drifted into the monotonous rhythm of harvesting, and she lost herself to the simple movements of her labor.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Kassie Mayhap. You're a thief as well as a hussy!"
Kassie heard the widow's gun humming before she looked up, heard the power collecting in the weapon's barrel.
"Put that gun down, Mary Barker!"
Kassie cringed as she stared into the gun the widow pointed square upon her forehead. The widow's face was calm, her hand steady, her eyes gray as stones. Scott had withdrawn his weapon as well, and he pointed it at the widow's ear. Behind those armed patriots, Kassie saw others in the field withdraw their weapons, whose barrels they slowly swayed from Scott Lomax to Mary Barker, trying to decide which of their neighbors deserved to be targeted.
Scott stepped towards the widow. "I'm not telling you another time."
The widow didn't flinch. "Your hussy just trespassed onto my parcel. She's been picking my plant for the last fifteen minutes. Her hands drifted onto my soil!"
"I'm sorry," Kassie stammered. "I just lost my focus. I didn't mean to take anything from you."
"A poor reason to draw your gun on a neighbor," commented Scott.
"And it's none of your place to tell me what the good and bad reasons are for drawing my gun!" Though her face contorted in fury, May's hand slowly lowered her weapon. "You all remember that I won't suffer anyone taking from my plant, stealing from my home, taking from my stomach! I'm going to protect what's mine, and don't any of you think I won't do any different because I'm a widow!"
Mary Barker didn't wait for Scott Lomax to lower his gun before returning her attention to her parcel's plants. In a moment, she tended to her land as if guns had never been drawn. Scott kept his weapon drawn on the old woman until he felt confident Mary Barker's madness had vanished. Another neighbor in the open acres promised Scott to keep an eye on the widow, and so he rushed to Kassie, who trembled in the middle of her parcel, terrified to pluck another fruit.
"It's going to be fine now," Scott embraced Kassie. "Just fine."
"But I didn't mean to do anything," Kassie sobbed into Scott's shoulder. "I didn't mean to steal from her. I don't want to hurt her. I don't want to hurt anyone. But she still pointed that gun at me. She almost pulled the trigger."
Scott held Kassie tighter. "I know. But you have to le
arn better."
"Oh, I am so sorry," Kassie sighed. "I promise I'll keep my mouth shut next time. I won't say anything."
"You have every right to say what you want," and Scott pushed Kassie's face away from his and looked hard into her eyes. "That's not what I'm talking about. Next time, you have to be quicker with your gun."
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Patriots of Griffin XIII Page 4