by Carol Buhler
“I’m making it my business. Two against one? You think that’s fair?”
“Damned being fair!” The man held his right hand with his left; the pain had to have been intense but it didn’t seem to faze him. “This damned squatter won’t leave our land. We’ve warned and warned. Now, we’re throwing him and his out—on a plank, if we have to.”
“I don’t think so. Back off while I investigate this!”
“The hell with you.” He charged, head lowered, as if to bowl me over. I stepped lightly aside and chopped the back of his neck with the edge of my hand. He fell, face first. I didn’t think he was dead—I hadn’t struck to kill—but checked anyway.
With both of the attackers down, I turned on the boys. “What’s this about?”
Paul was on his knees with his father who was just coming awake. I dropped beside him. The man’s face was badly battered and I decided I’d better get him some medical help before investigating further. “Where’s the nearest doctor?” I asked the sobbing boy.
“We’ll show you,” Jackson said. He helped Paul stand as I picked up the boy’s father and lay him across Aarnyon’s shoulders. Paul jumped up behind Jol, and my fym extended a hand to help Jackson mount. Minutes later we landed before a two-story building with a sign declaring it a hospital. I carried Paul’s father inside where two people dressed in white took him from my arms to lay him gently on a bed with wheels. They disappeared behind a curtain. Then, I asked Aarnyon to call Bardon to collect the assailants and join me in the small town housing the hospital.
Korola left as soon as she could with instructions from Taggert on how to find and bring Paul’s mother. I’d just turned to ask again what the fight had been about when Paul, with a screech, launched himself at Jol. “You could have helped him!” Jol shoved him back and I grabbed the boy by the waist when he tried another attack.
“Stop. Paul!” I ordered, keeping the struggling boy immobile. “Jol was under my orders not to interfere.”
“He saw how they beat him!” the boy shouted. “He should have helped!” He flung his face away from me and glared at Jol. “I hate you!” I hate you!” Jol blanched.
Forcing Paul to sit, I said, “Stay here. Jol, Jackson, come with me.” Surprisingly, Paul stayed, curled in a sobbing ball.
Once outside in the sunshine, I saw that Jackson’s left eye was badly bruised and sent him back in to be treated. Jol was looking morose. “What’s this about?” I asked as I wrapped an arm around his shoulder and led him away from the door.
The words came slowly. “I’m not totally sure. Those men—the Bowler brothers—claim that Paul’s family is stealing their water and they’re trying to force the Snyders to leave. The Bowlers tell the other settlers that Paul’s a thief, that his younger brothers steal vegetables from the Bowler farm, and that Paul’s mom is a tramp and a whore. No one’s been actually attacked, but the younger kids often come home from school crying and rumpled up, sometimes with fresh bruises, especially Paul’s little sister.”
The look on his face changed to anger. “Mr. Snyder tells them this will pass and if they don’t retaliate, nothing serious will happen. None of the Bowler kids are older than Paul, but they’re all chunky and thick muscled. You see how Paul is? Skinny as a rail. So are his siblings.”
“Why didn’t you send me word about this problem? All reports have been good.”
“Well, Mr. Snyder didn’t seem to take it too seriously, and I didn’t think it was a big enough problem to involve you. Until today.”
In a rush of wings and a flurry of dust, Korola and Bennget landed. Korola helped Mrs. Snyder swing off the reeth and watched the woman rush inside before dismounting herself. Only moments later, Bardon and two others landed with the assailants, hands tied behind their backs. And before we could say a thing, five humans rushed toward us shouting.
I quietly stepped in front of Korola and shoved Jol back with her. Bardon and his companions ranged themselves to my right as the Bowler brothers hollered, “treachery” and “beware.”
One human stopped just short of my reach, the others spread out before us. “What’s going on?” the leader snapped.
“Just what I’d like to know,” I answered calmly. “I found these two bullies bludgeoning a friend of my son’s. The poor man is inside being treated. I hope he lives.”
“Don’t listen to that thing!” the larger of the Bowler brothers yelled. “He crushed my hand! My brother and I were just talking with Snyder to convince him and his tramp gypsies to leave.”
“What I saw doesn’t resemble talking in any way,” I said coldly. “Talk to your doctor in there—see what the results of these men’s ‘talking’ are.”
The human leader scowled at me and the Bowler brothers at the same time. “Who are you? I know Lord Bardon here. He’s a fair being. I don’t know you! Why should I believe what you claim?”
“You don’t have to. Believe your own doctor.” The physician I had seen at Paul’s father’s side was just coming out the front door of the hospital, Mrs. Snyder at his side. Paul and Jackson trailed after them.
“Mayor Hooper,” the doctor said. “This don is telling you the truth. Mr. Snyder has suffered a horrific beating. I’m pretty sure he has a concussion, maybe more severe brain damage. Only time will tell if he will be able to talk, walk, or anything, again.” To my satisfaction, the so-called mayor looked chagrined as the doctor swung on the Bowler brothers and snarled, “You’ve gone too far. I’ll be asking the town council to throw you and your pack of bullies out of our settlement as soon as possible.”
The bigger Bowler blustered back. “That one crushed my hand.” He held up his tied hands, one good finger pointing at me. “Doc, you got to fix it so’s I can work.”
The doctor glared. “I don’t have to do anything for you, but I will. Then, you pack up your family and find somewhere else to live. You’ve caused too much trouble here.”
“Now, Doc,” one of the men with the Mayor said. “Let’s not be so hasty. Them Bowlers ain’t so bad!”
The doctor whirled on the man, his face suffused with anger. “Come inside, Perkins, and look on Mr. Snyder. Just because these bullies’ sons have been courting you and your daughters—and your money, they haven’t been too nice to the rest of us. No telling what might happen to you if one of your girls gets smart and turns one of them down.”
Both Bowlers roared with shouts and threats at the doctor. Fortunately, they couldn’t move with Bardon and his companions maintaining their grip. The doctor glanced their way, then said pointedly, “You’ve got your choice, Perkins, Mayor Hooper…” His look included the other men who’d come running. “You can have the Bowlers, or you can have a doctor.”
He gestured to some of the crowd who’d gathered, evidently enticed by all the noise. “Erickson! Mrs. Snyder needs a wagon to take her husband home.”
“Right away, Doc.” A skinny man took off running toward the other end of town. I wondered what a wagon was. I soon found out—the skinny man returned with a three-wheeled, motorized vehicle long enough to lay Snyder down in the back. The doctor and a couple of helpers padded the back of the vehicle with a mattress and pillows, Mrs. Snyder climbed in, and the doctor, Paul, and Jackson carried Paul’s dad out of the hospital, laying the man’s bandaged head in his wife’s lap. The wagon crept slowly forward, Paul and Jackson walking beside it. A smoother ride than when I brought him on Aarnyon.
Jol started to follow when Paul snarled at him to stay away. He returned to my side, ashen faced.
Before the wagon was out of sight, more reeth with riders swept to the open area before the hospital. It was Pildon and his sons—or maybe his uncles. I didn’t see him often but remembered that the land I was standing on was part of his holdings rather than Bardon’s. I legitimately should have called him for aid instead of Bardon. Oh well. He’s here now. Let him deal with the Bowlers.
To my relief, Pildon turned out to be even more reasonable than I’d hoped. He didn’t complain that
I was there without letting him know I was coming, and he sided with the doctor against the Bowlers. He saw that the big Bowler’s hand was treated and bandaged. Then, he and his family escorted them home to supervise packing in preparation for a move to a southeast corner of his property where he swore to keep a close eye on their doings.
Before the rest of us left, I asked for a few moments alone with the doctor. He seemed to be the most level-headed human I’d met so far. He didn’t act like he saw the future through a rosy lens like Sam did, and he wasn’t avaricious or demanding like Pete. I hoped for some solid advice from him.
As soon as we were alone, he said, “I hear you are the Supreme Don. My name’s Jeremy Tucker. I’m pleased to meet you.”
“Please call me Joedon. I’m very glad to have met you, too, Dr. Tucker. Could you answer a question for me?”
“I’ll try.”
“Do you see a future for humans to thrive on my planet?”
“Your planet?” He tilted his head to look up at me rather suspiciously.
“Yes, my planet. I am responsible for all the beings living here before you humans arrived so abruptly, without invitation, I might add.”
“I see your point. I was told this planet was uninhabited by intelligent beings.”
“I’ve heard that. But we were here and the first ones down didn’t leave.”
“You probably should have made them—or killed them all. It’s too late now to consider that route. To answer, yes, I think humans will thrive here just as they did on Earth. This is a perfect planet for my species.”
“Are there many humans like the Bowlers? And Pete Mason?”
“Those shouldn’t be the ones being sent here, but I must be honest. Humans, in my opinion, all have an underlying desire to be more, to be better, to possess what someone else has.” He began walking into another room, talking over his shoulder. I followed. “It comes out in various ways—not all as violent as the Bowlers, but still, every human has the innate trait of coveting what someone else is or has. It’s been the underlying cause of every war, every power struggle, every injury dealt by one person or group on another throughout our history. There will be no exception here. Is your species different?”
“I think so, of course. I have to admit it may be because of our association with reeth. Our history says we were once warlike in nature. We haven’t been for hundreds of years.”
“I like it here,” he said as he sat on the edge of a bed. He motioned me to another and I realized he wanted to stop peering up at me. “I want to raise my family here and never leave. I can say, however, there will be trouble. It’s inevitable. Humans simply cannot live peacefully very long. I’ve studied our history pretty thoroughly and peace never lasts.”
“How long, do you think, until trouble brews enough to envelope our land?”
“Can’t say. Could be a hundred years. Could happen next week. Especially if anyone figures out just how important the reeth are to you.”
“I didn’t say they were all that important.”
“You didn’t have to. Any observant person can see that!” He held up his hand to stop my objection. “I was trained to be observant. Few of my fellow humans are. Someday, humans will want to conquer the reeth, mostly because they can’t understand them.”
It was my turn to be suspicious. “Can’t or won’t?”
“I say can’t. We humans are superior to all other beings, don’t you know? Just wait. We’ll show you.” I thought he was being sarcastic but couldn’t be sure. What did he mean?
“I’m sorry, Joedon. I really can’t explain very well. Just—always be watchful, is my advice. Of all humans.”
“Including you?”
“Of course.” He laughed, rose, and led me back outside the hospital. A bedraggled and exhausted-looking young woman stood waiting, a screaming infant in her arms. His demeanor immediately changed to one of caring as he escorted the woman inside. I hadn’t heard the baby crying—he must have. He had certainly known she was there.
I gathered my family and we flew to Bardon’s for another dinner and night over. This one was laced with worry, at least on my part.
The next morning, we followed Jol and Taggert to Paul’s home, intending to offer what help we could. Mrs. Snyder came out to meet us; neither Paul nor Jackson appeared. She was coolly friendly, thanked us for our offer but said they were getting along fine. I sensed the lie.
When Jol asked to see his friends, her eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Jol.” Her words were much softer than when she’d spoken to me. “They’re angry. I thought it best that they not confront you right now. They’re young—full of energy focused wrongly. They’ll get over it. Perhaps in a month or two, you could come back to visit.”
Jol straightened his shoulders and nodded, his eyes hooded. I felt his ache. Nothing I could say would lessen it at this point.
“We’ll be on our way, then.” I remounted Aarnyon, heard Jol follow suit. “If you ever need our help, please send word.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, then turned and walked back into the house, her shoulders slumped.
We followed the broad river south and within a half hour saw the wide-spread city before us, the actual settlement the humans had named Johnstown. Pildon met us there and introduced us to the mayor, John Pith. I’d learned by now how humans seemed to come up with their city names—using some form of the leader’s name, the one who had brought his followers to the location.
Unlike Petersborough, this city was well organized, arranged in a perfect grid with straight roads and well-designed buildings—although made of the same extruded material Sam had used. Some of the residents had started facing their homes with stone from the area. Korola and I thought it really enhanced the beauty of the city as did the parks and open areas of grass and trees. My opinion of Mr. Pith’s leadership rose—he’s more forward thinking even than Sam.
Mr. Pith had heard from Pildon about the ruckus in what he called a suburb, Dr. Tucker’s village, and had already located an alternative location for the Bowler brothers and their families. “My brother is developing further south along the river,” he told me as we strolled through the vegetable garden he was proud to show us. “He’ll put them to work in the date palm groves they’re planting. The Bowlers won’t have energy to harass others after a day’s work there. And I promise, we’ll keep an eye on the Snyders—see that they thrive.”
Mr. Pith seemed sincere and I felt that, with Pildon’s help, he would be able to contain the Bowlers. Then, I recalled Dr. Tucker’s words and passed a mild warning to the don about keeping a close eye on the city, asking him to let me know of any sign of trouble.
13. Vuddonville
It seemed logical that other humans would have found the river attractive, so we continued to follow it. Sure enough, villages appeared periodically on either side of its banks, no more than ten to fifteen houses arranged in a circle or square in each. We didn’t stop to visit, only studied them from a hover. The humans looked busy and productive. We neither saw, nor felt, animosity in them.
We stopped at the two don holdings near the river, the Bow and the Reg families, gathered the latest news--none of it alarming, then moved on.
By nightfall, we’d reached the southern ocean and made camp on the sand far to the east of the small fishing village perched at the mouth of the river. Under a clear sky twinkling with thousands of stars, we lay still listening to the murmur of the surf rising and falling, slipping sand sounds we weren’t used to. Korola and I cuddled, content with each other, but worried about Jol. He’d said almost nothing the entire day—so unlike him—and I knew he brooded about the strange actions of his human friends.
“Jol,” I said, “do you want to talk about it?”
The six of us were totally alone in the dark, our reeth snoring softly after having rolled and scrubbed themselves in the sand and then the water. Korola and I waited, almost not breathing.
He broke the night with a sob. “I do
n’t understand why they are so angry with me.” His miserable voice broke my heart—I didn’t know what to say.
Korola did. “They don’t understand how you could follow your father’s edict in the face of those men’s attack.” She didn’t reach out for him—he was too old to be cuddled by a mother. Her caressing voice did the reaching and soothing for her. “They don’t look at relationships the way we do. That is obvious. To don, your father’s words, your Supreme Don’s words, must be obeyed. From what I’ve seen from most of them—they only obey their leader if they agree with the leader’s thinking. It’s no wonder they had to flee their birth world. Thinking that way, they made a mess of it.”
“They’re supposed to be my friends!”
“And they are, or were. Maybe will be again. But they are human. They don’t understand obedience. They think you should have gone against your leader’s command and helped Mr. Snyder. We don’t know how badly he’s been hurt—”
“Dr. Tucker says very badly. He may not be able to work,” I interrupted.
She squeezed my hand, then continued. “In a similar case, among don, everyone would help care for his family, tend his animals, work his fields.”
“Like when Uncle Mordon broke his leg in the rock fall,” Jol whispered.
Korola smiled. I know she did even though I couldn’t see her face. “Exactly. But, you heard Mrs. Snyder—she doesn’t want our help.”
“Because she hates us?”
I tapped Korola’s leg to let her know I’d handle this one. “I think it’s more that she doesn’t understand us enough to trust us. For now, it’s best we let them deal with the problem. She did invite you back in a couple of months. We’ll try again to offer help then.”
He sighed, long and deep. No more words were exchanged and soon, Taggert told Aarnyon and Bennget that Jol felt better and had fallen deeply into sleep.
Rather than follow the coastline, we cut cross-country straight for Vuddon’s holdings. The land was heavily tree covered with some steep canyons and flat hillsides. We saw little cultivation. I’d already known this area was sparsely settled, even by don, with vast tracts claimed by no one—simply because there were easier lands to develop. According to Vuddon, the coastline contained a number of human fishing villages similar to the one we’d seen the evening before. Without further information, I didn’t feel we needed to investigate every human settlement there was.