by Alan Black
Veronica said, “Leave me enough steaks for our barbecue on Thursday night. The rest of it you divide into four equal piles, understand? Eat hearty while it lasts. It doesn’t look like fresh beef will be on our menu again anytime soon.”
She left the room, ignoring their objections that she should take a larger share since it was her beef. She thought about it while she showered and changed. They were her cattle, but why should she have a greater proportion? She was one person. Steve had four people in his family. Maslow and Arianna had a thirteen-year-old daughter named Malina. Polat and his wife, Kat, had two children. Auggie and Mags made two more adults. She was now responsible for more than one person. She was fourteen people strong. So far, all she had offered these folks was food and shelter. She still did not have enough money to pay them more than a pittance.
She was going to take full responsibility if she was going to do it at all.
After getting dressed, she grabbed a handful of readers and went out to the ramada.
Pushta said, “It’s awful, Veronica. How could someone shoot your whole herd?”
She said, “It is awful, but I’ll take care of it. However, right now I want to borrow your children, all five of them. They won’t like it, but it’s not dangerous.”
Malina said in a tone easily recognized by anyone with teenage daughters, “Anything, please. I am soooooo bored.”
Veronica laughed, “You’re going to regret that, young lady. I’ve had a terrible day so far. I want to play school and I need some students. You kids are elected.”
A general cheer erupted from the younger children. Malina rolled her eyes in that universal teenage expression of exasperation with adults before jumping up to help to move chairs around and set up a school-like outdoor classroom.
Veronica handed out readers to everyone, including the women. She downloaded a test to each reader from her teacher’s pad.
“I’ve given each of you an appropriate age and education level test, hopefully. We’ll start out by determining who is at what grade level.”
First, she worked with the three youngest, teaching them to touch the screen and move shapes about. She showed them how to speak into their readers the names of colors when the reader asked them to. She was not sure, without additional testing, but she thought Ransom might be dyslexic. It was a difficult learning disability to overcome, but not impossible.
She checked on Polat’s oldest son who was struggling through some simple addition and subtraction problems, but he was answering them correctly. She noticed Malina was doodling in the margin on her reader, while both mothers continued working through high school equivalency tests.
“Malina, are you bored again?”
Malina shrugged. “I’m done. Got another one?”
Veronica checked the girl’s work. She circled one wrong answer and sent the results back to Malina.
The teenage looked crestfallen. “Ack! I knew that! Why did I pick that answer?”
Veronica laughed. “I used to do that all the time. I rushed through tests so fast I often picked the wrong answer. Slow down next time. Tests are not races. They’re designed to help your brain release stored data so it can make room for new information.”
Pushta looked up with a confused expression on her face. “The test does what?”
Veronica said, “The human brain is designed to do only three things: receive, retain, and release information gathered through our five senses. And what are those five senses?”
Polat’s oldest held up his hand. At her nod, he repeated the five senses and went back to his test.
Veronica said, “When the human brain releases information, it doesn’t spit it out like a computer. The release of information is an opportunity to move the information from short-term to long-term memory. If it was already in long-term memory, it often re-orders the information, kind of like defragmenting data on a computer. Both actions prepare the mind to start the process all over again. Educators call it the process of receiving, retaining, and releasing it, again.”
Malina looked bored. “Oh good, more tests.”
Veronica dropped a book onto Malina’s reader. “I want you to start reading this. It’s about a boy, not much older than you are, who goes to a new planet and tries to survive there. It’s an old Earth classic called Tunnel in the Sky by Robert Heinlein. Now, do not tell your father, but there’s murder, theft, sex, and all these students getting together to have babies. I warn you though; there are some boring parts. No test, but we are going to talk about what you read.”
Pushta and Kat finished their tests right about when she expected them to finish. She had taught enough freshmen history classes to know that most high school graduates showed up at college with a ninth grade education. She downloaded a geometry study guide to Pushta and an English grammar course to Kat.
“Ladies, that’s your homework for tonight. Chapter one for each of you.”
She was fully engrossed in reading to the younger children when the truck and the rest of your crew returned.
“Class dismissed for the day. We start back here tomorrow morning, first thing after breakfast. Anyone without a shovel in their hands goes to school.”
Steve said, “Good thing I know how to use a shovel then.”
Veronica said, “Steve, back up where the cattle were, I noticed some tall bamboo-looking trees. I was thinking that maybe we could use them instead of buying conduit for the wheat fields. We might be able to punch in a few holes and hang them over the field. If they’re like Earth bamboo, they’re segmented and easy to hollow out.”
Auggie said, “If you’re going to be teaching school then I want to be as far away from you as I can get.” Mags poked him in the ribs. “I’ll take a walk back up that way and check those bamboo trees.” He leaned in to whisper to his wife, a seductive whisper meant only for his lover’s ears.
Veronica only caught the words “skinny dipping.” She did not say another word as the two walked back the way they had come.
She looked at Steve, “I want to get started on a dam above the wheat field as fast as we can. Even if we can’t get conduit for an overhead irrigation system, we still need all the water we can get for the wheat.”
Steve said, “Okay. Polat, Maslow, and I can get up that way right away to see about getting a start on it.”
Veronica said, “Can you ride the tractor? I need to use the truck to go into town.”
Steve nodded and said, “Sure. Another thing we need to plan on, starting by Friday, is detasseling the cornfields. It’ll take a while and we’ll need all hands on board, even the kids.”
Veronica looked at the ground, shaking her head with embarrassment, as if not knowing the scope of the task was a sin, especially for a teacher. “Okay, Professor Johannsen. What is detasseling?”
Steve said, “Oh, I thought you knew and that was why you planted two varieties of corn.”
Veronica shook her head, punctuating her apparent ignorance. “I didn’t know that I planted two kinds of corn. Is that a problem?”
Polat answered, “You did plant two kinds, but that’s a good thing. I’d have done it that way myself.”
Steve nodded and said, “We pull the tassels—the immature pollen-producing bodies—off the tops of the corn plants and drop them on the ground near the other variety of corn to cross-pollinate the corn. The crossbred corn produces a higher yield by giving us the best characteristics of both types of corn in one hybrid. It’ll give us a uniform crop next season. Detasseling produces the best corn seeds possible for the coming planting season. After planting that special seed corn produced by the cross-pollination we’ll have super corn next time around.”
She said, “Well, it doesn’t sound too technical. But with a hundred acres planted it does sound time-consuming.”
Maslow said, “Not with your processing unit. It’ll do most of the work, but we need the extra hands to clean up the tassels the machine misses during processing.”
Veronica said, “
But the onion crop is ready to harvest. Don’t we have to do that first?”
Pushta gave Veronica’s arm a comfortable pat. “Welcome to farm life, dear. Everything has to be done first.”
Veronica said, “First, I need to go into Peaceful Junction. Second, we need to check the layout for the dam. I want water backing up as fast as possible. I’d rather lose an onion crop over a wheat crop. Third, we detassel the corn, since I’d rather lose an onion crop over a corn crop. Fourth, we harvest onions. That’s the plan, but…”
After a lengthy pause, Steve finally asked, “But what?”
Veronica looked into the eyes of each member of her crew. “An old military axiom says that no plan survives first contact with the enemy. Let’s see how far we can get before our plan falls apart.”
When she drove into town, it was late afternoon. No contact with the enemy today, Veronica. I hope none of them are around. I don’t want to bump into the backside shadows of the Halberds, Manning Tatum, or even Sheriff Eustace.
She needed to drive another nail into the Halberd’s collective coffin. She was not building a polished coffin, more of a rough-hewn pine box, but it would do the job. The information she was after was not necessary for her plans, it was necessary for her peace of mind. The Halberds have already earned what they have coming. I just need to make sure I’m working toward justice and not revenge.
Chapter Thirty
She parked the truck in front of city hall. It was not much of a building as buildings go; then again, Peaceful Junction was not much of a town. It was a square one-story structure used to house records for the town and the surrounding area. Eventually, if the town grew and thrived, it would house a city clerk, mayor, town council and maybe even a dogcatcher, but that was a ways off in the future.
Most people who signed the Pioneer Compact were tired of too much government. Many argued against a sheriff, but the majority of colonists opting for urban or commercial land felt they needed the security of law enforcement in their communities.
Veronica wondered how many of the majority were now disappointed in themselves after finding out what manner of sheriff they ended up with. She felt Peaceful Junction residents would have all been better off without a sheriff, than the one they paid. Useless Eustace had four years left on his contract, a contract written without the usual exit clauses and obligatory whereas or thereby phrases. The town could not afford to continue to pay him and pay for a real sheriff at the same time.
The street was almost empty. The late afternoon heat forced people not at work into the comfort of air conditioning. Many countries back on Earth called this mid-afternoon period, siesta time. Most of the Pioneer Compact signers came from the United States and Canada with their all-day work ethic well established.
The city hall was unlocked during the day since there was nothing to steal. Veronica expected the information she was looking for, like all accurate information, was buried beneath massive amounts of stored general data. She was a trained researcher so she did not expect to have to dig too far for too long. She had the ability to access public records from her desktop base unit at the house or the data-patch on her wrist, but physically going to city hall enabled her to search anonymously, thereby keeping her adversaries in the dark.
Finding a listing of vidphone numbers, she touched one finger to the information monitor and then tapped her data-patch, recording the numbers to her nineteen closest neighbors, including the Halberds. Next, she scanned through criminal records. There was not much there beyond loitering and littering tickets, illustrating Sheriff Eustace’s efforts to pad his already inflated income. The information she was looking for was not there.
Scanning property deeds she noticed the deed adjustment she expected to find, but it was a dead end. She copied some data on deed transfers showing Manning Tatum had already acquired a few sections of land. Did these folks willingly sell out to him because they lacked agribusiness skills or were they forced to sell because they lacked the capital needed to keep the land? Most of this land has good water coming down out of the mountains covering the plains north of town. Maybe I should give some of these folks a call and ask what happened. Just because they moved doesn’t change their vidphone numbers.
She then realized where she should be searching and modified her search parameters. Yes, there it is.
“Find what you’re looking for?” a voice asked.
She turned around to find Sheriff Eustace. “I think so, Useless.” She downloaded the file to her data-patch without looking through it. “How’s business?”
Eustace shrugged.
His shrug irritated Veronica more every time she witnessed it.
“Some good, some bad. I thought you’d had carnal relations with the small dog when you made Tatum’s other clients mad.” He said.
“Seriously?”
Veronica found it difficult to keep from smiling.
“Well, he seems to be the only one around making enough to pay his share of the city taxes. Oh, he lost some clients to the guy over in Twisted City, but pricing got adjusted, and the farmers and ranchers all have enough money now to spend a little more in town. Everyone is coming out a bit better…except for maybe Tatum.”
“I’m not sorry I did that to your friend.”
Eustace shrugged again. “Manning Tatum ain’t my friend. I don’t really like the guy, but that’s okay ‘cuz I don’t much like you either.”
Veronica smiled. “I never imagined we were going to become best buds.”
“So?”
Veronica raised an eyebrow at his question. “So, what?”
“So, what new pile of trouble are you stirring up in here?”
“I’m not sure, Useless. I’m looking at city death records. I wanted to look into Missy Halberd’s suicide. Since she hung herself at their place it’s not within your jurisdiction, right?”
“Nope, but they called me out there anyway. I went just because I’m a friendly kind of guy. Plus, as the only agent of what this planet has as any type of government, I have to gather data on all deaths, births, marriages, and the like, and input it into the official records. I did a quick look-see, but they all said she was depressed. Poor girl even left a note. Near as I could tell the only one with a motive was Maine. He and Missy had been fighting a lot, but he was in town all day at the saloon.”
Veronica asked, “All day in the saloon alone?”
Eustace shrugged. “Well, a few people came and went, but the cameras didn’t show him going anywhere except to the toilet.”
“Does that seem odd to you? He doesn’t go anywhere without Dillon leading him around.”
“True, but maybe Maine was just trying to get away from Missy for a while. She was a bit of a whiner.”
“I see here in the records you did a quick DNA scan on the rope she used.”
“Yep, I did. Her DNA was all over it. I found Dillon’s and old man Halberd’s DNA, too. In fact, it also had Maine’s DNA on it. Every rope in the barn had everyone’s DNA on it. It was an old rope.”
Veronica called up a few bits of information on her data-patch. She did not expect to find conclusive evidence on the rope, but her personal database included an extensive section on criminology and psychology.
She transferred a few pictures to the large information monitor, then split the screen, zoomed in and out while rotating the images, and adjusted from 2D to 3D and back again. “Look at these pictures of rope burns on suicides. Do you see how the rope burns start tight up under the chin and angle back up behind the ear? All of these pictures show it. Now, look at Missy’s picture. Her rope burns are way down around her neck. They even drop down a little in the back. How did that happen?”
Eustace shrugged. “How do I know? I wasn’t there.”
“Well, gravity works the same here as it does on Earth. This appeared to show that she was strangled from behind and then hung to make it look like a suicide.”
“Like I said, she was a whiner. Someone probably got tired
of her whining, but the only one with motive was Maine and he was in town.”
Veronica said, “Yes, but you wrote this up as a suicide, even though a first-year criminologist could tell you it was murder.”
Eustace said, “Maybe it was murder and maybe it wasn’t. Maybe those are old scars from something else. I don’t know I wasn’t there and neither was you. They said it was suicide so that’s what I put in the database.”
“You also send out reports to other towns and cities right?”
“Sure. I do a weekly activity recap. The Pioneer Compact requires it. Landing City puts it all together and sends copies to everybody so if there’s a pattern we can watch for it.”
She had made up her mind. “Then I have something to report. Someone came onto my property today and shot my herd. They killed every cow and calf on the place.”
Eustace looked startled. The emotion seemed to stumble into virgin territory and linger there.
Whoa, I did not expect to see that. That’s the first real reaction I’ve ever seen on his face. She continued speaking. “Oh, does that surprise you? Maybe you shouldn’t wait for a weekly recap. Maybe you should get out a special bulletin today. Other ranchers need to know if gangs of vandals are running around shooting livestock. I know my place is outside of your jurisdiction, but you are required to report it.”
Eustace said, “I’ll report it for sure. I’ll copy you when I send it out, just so you know. Do you have any proof on who did the shooting?”
“The people who shot my field robot, shot out the windows of my truck, and killed my cattle, all used the same gun. I have bullet fragments for comparison from all three incidents. I also have a couple of fingerprints, but without a database, there’s no way to match them to any individual. Beyond that, I can’t prove who did it at this point because I don’t have samples to compare to specific guns. I can prove that Maine Halberd didn’t do it because he was sharing a beer with me when it happened. Sounds familiar though, like how he was drinking beer in the saloon when Missy was murdered.”