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Graax told Buck about how his people came to Earth and how
there’s primarily two different races on Squaattoos.
The Lebe’piti were made from the Pxelepiti. The Pxelepiti
are motivated by self-gain and sex. They were the original people on
Squaattoos, better suited for survival in a savage world. The Lebe’piti,
“the changed people” are motivated by the achievement of knowledge in and
for the sake of itself and they also do things for the greatest good. Graax
saw disguised Pxelepiti at church. That can only mean that they’re on Earth
and up to no good.
Buck believes Contention City should take Graax’s warning
seriously and kill or capture these Pxelepiti. The members of the City Council
– except for Hardy – ignore him saying that’s all probably ill feelings
from back on Squaattoos. There’s no reason to get in the middle of that
fight.
Buck doesn’t agree. He recruits Skinner Alexander, a former
ne’er-do-well who has become a respectable citizen, to go against the
Pxelepiti.
For more information and Science Fiction Western adventure
see www.sfwestern.com.
Episode #37
We
rode back into town to the Contention Café where Cletus Daniels was running
back and forth between the kitchen and dining room cooking and busing tables
occupied by hungry disaster workers. Robert "Slim" Collins, the
owner, was behind the cash register running a "Sympathy Special."
Everything on the menu was 5 percent off.
"Slim,"
I said to Collins, "I need to talk with your dishwasher and gourmet chef.
He needs to stop a moment."
"Ha,"
Collins said knowingly. "Is he in any trouble? Murder anyone with his
cooking?"
"Come
on!" Daniels protested from the kitchen, having overheard our exchange.
"I'm not that bad!"
"Don't
know about that, son. Them eggs you scrambled up are always a bit runny. Seems
like you'll put just about anything on a plate and serve it up," Slim
said.
"I'm
getting the hang of it. That ain't going to kill anyone."
"That's
right Cletus," I said, trying to be encouraging. "You stick up for
yourself and don't let this geezer give you a bad time. He wouldn't know good
cooking if he ever ate any!" I said.
"That's
right," another customer agreed. "I like my eggs loose."
To
say there were better cooks was to say the obvious. Still, Cletus tried his
best and had a lot to learn. The man had never had a job or responsibility
before this. You had to give him time.
Slim
had a way of couching criticism in jesting. When you realized he wasn't
joking, he became insufferable. The former tramp had worked for him for three
months, the longest he'd managed to keep any employee.
"I
need to talk with your man here in private," I said.
After
thinking about my request behind his surly eyes for too long, Slim consented.
"I'll go into the kitchen." He glowered at Daniels.
When
we were out of Slim's and everyone else's sight in the storeroom, I pushed the
controlling spot on Daniel's forehead and instructed him to come with me.
Daniels complied willingly.
"Slim,
he needs to come with me," I said on the way out of the door, with
Daniels tailing.
"He
in trouble?"
"No.
I just need him for a posse."
"Can't
you take someone else? This place needs to feed a lot of people."
"Afraid
I can't. Get your customers to work if you need to. I've seen it done before
in Texas."
"The
Council is going to hear about this," Slim threatened, quavering.
"What with the storm, and . . ."
"I
know," I said quickly. "You do what you need to. I'll do what I need
to."
"There's
people to feed. Surely whatever criminal's gotten away can be let go at a time
like this. You'll catch up with him later."
"Sorry
- you've got to make all your money another day. No, not this time," I
said. "Not unless you want to go live on a reservation."
"What's
that supposed to mean?" Slim asked, indignant.
"Never
mind." I thought about offering Caleb's help but Edith would likely need him for fixing whatever damage
occurred to my place during the storm. I hadn't seen my house. I wasn't
worried about the walls - they were stone - but there had to be some damage to
the roof and fence. What did I care anyway - Slim wouldn't even give him a cut
for working extra hard with all the business the storm was giving him.
I
rounded my force out with two more brainclipped men, Joshua Friedman and
Malcolm Davies. Both were silver prospectors reputed to be solid fighters, per
Anaya and Russell. Both hailed from New York. Both were good shots. Like
Daniels and Alexander, they were both in their early twenties.
With
my posse together, I approached Hank Atwell. I had the idea he'd serve as an
extra gun. Atwell, a fleshy man, looked too sickly to be much of a fighter.
Further, he was unacquainted with gunplay and base survival, preferring the
soft life. Still, he might get lucky with a shot here and there. I needed him
for his reporting skills so we could tell the world what we encountered during
our exploits. I might have not taken him if he had a family or if there was
some other mitigating circumstance. I could do a sufficient job of rendering
facts. However, I recognized his superiority from practice. If this was going
to be a successful campaign, we needed every advantage.
I
was well aware my small group couldn't hope to stand against a large force of
aliens still I didn't want to ride in there with a lot of men either. Such a
group would attract too much scrutiny too soon - especially after a disaster -
and be hard to manage. I figured on leaving the major effort up to the Army.
We'd get assistance only by scouting and reporting. Therefore, other than
Graax, Atwell was the most important member of the group.
Friedman,
Davies, Alexander, Daniels, Atwell and I found Graax at my house. My homestead
had held up through the deluge well, compared to other homes. It had been one
of the first homes built in town, when people probably didn't realize that if
they hurried the buildings, they'd get to the real work sooner.
Edith
stood on the front porch as I rode up holding a beater and a bowlful of mashed
potatoes. "Dinner before you ride out?" she offered, calling out.
"Sounds
like a fine idea, dear," I said.
"There's
enough here for everyone," she said.
"That's
good. Don't think anyone is looking forward to chawing on hardtack and jerky
sooner than we have to," I said, dismounting.
"Going
after some bad man?" she said as we walked inside.
"Kind
of," I said.
When
we were alone in the kitchen, I repeated everything Graax told me in the tones
of confidence. I wasn't going to leave my own wife in the dark. She clung to
me whenever she could for the rest of the evening.
We
didn't have enough space in the dining room to seat all the men, but Edith
didn't want anybody to move outside either. With the sun was heading down, it
would soon be too dark to see where to fork your food.
The
men ate in the parlor balancing plates in their laps. Edith didn't say
anything about that even though she had worked hard to make that room
beautiful. Looking on as they dripped gravy and scattered crumbs, she
grimaced, rather than smiled at the men, reflecting her abhorrence of
housework and fear of messes.
She
regarded the event and lot of them uncomfortably. How different her feminine
worries were compared to mine! A spilled plate of beef and vegetables wasn't
going to matter when some aliens took over! Perhaps old habits were difficult
to give up or a spilled plate of food was a tolerable worry. Perhaps she just
had an incredible amount of faith in my abilities.
Because
none of the men, except Friedman and Davies, were acquainted, there was but a
bare minimum of dinnertime conversation. To get some conversation going, I
suggested to Caleb that Slim might need a little help at his restaurant.
"He'd
be the devil to work for!" Caleb said.
"He
is," Daniels rejoined. "I'm looking for other work."
"Caleb,
it would be a learning experience," I offered. "It would be a way of
learning to make fine dishes in the restaurant trade."
Everyone
hooted in laughter. "Are we talking about the Contention Café?"
"You
best learn from your momma," Skinner Alexander said.
We
had all laughed together, offering some hope that this team could work
together.
Soon
after we finished eating I said, "Let's mount up."
After
the sun set, the stars and moon would provide
enough light to see shadows by - if the wind blew the nighttime skies
as clear as I hoped. We didn't want to lose any time in finding the Pxelepiti
fort. The best I could see to do was ride until necessity forced us to put
down our bedrolls for the night.
My
family lined up on the porch to see us off.
I
hated goodbyes.
"Wish
you didn't have to go," Edith said, hugging me and '49er.
When
I pulled back, I could see tears in her eyes. "Somebody has to. It'd be
terrible if they came down and made slaves of us all."
"I
know. I still wish you didn't have to go. It's like what Mary Brucker says -
it's always on the back of the sheriff," she said. "I'm worried. I
just wish we were back on K-10, letting someone else go do this. That's
all."
Becky
broke through and hugged my horse. "Take care of yourself daddy."
I
picked her up. "I will."
"Take
care of Graax."
"I
will," I promised again.
"Graax,"
Becky said, turning to address him, "promise to take care of my
daddy."
Graax
nodded. "Yes."
"I
love y'all," she said to me and Graax.
I
put her down. "Let's not make this into a big deal. We're gonna come
back. We love you too. Now get inside," I said.
"Bye!"
Caleb cried.
I
waved as we rode off into the sunset.
"Cute
kids," Skinner Alexander said.
"Yours
are too," I replied. "They're the main reason we've got to win
this."
"What?"
he said.
As
we rode our horses through town, Graax and I told them all where we were
heading and what we were going to do. Informed troops work better together.
Councilman
Hayes guessed what I was up to when he saw me, Graax and four men leaving the
Metropolitan mounted and packing.
"Hey!"
Hayes called out, running after us.
I
waved back.
"Sheriff
Turner! Stop right there!" he commanded, running after our party.
I
was caught. "Whoa!"
"Where
do you think you're going with those men?" he said incredulously.
"You said you were going to gather facts, not pull a bunch of people
together for a posse."
"Councilman
Hayes, I'd appreciate it if you got rid of that tone in your voice. I don't
like it when people speak to me that way. Nobody does." I stared into his
eyes, unblinking. I was still wanted on the K-10. I didn't need this job.
"Where
do you think you are going?" he repeated but not as bitingly. "It's
late to be setting out anywhere."
"I
told y'all in our meeting this afternoon. I told you what needed to be done.
Anaya and Russell are doing half of it, while Graax and I take care of the
other half. Somebody best do it or the future is flummoxed up in this town.
Hell - the world."
"You
ride out of town with all these men, you're fired," he promised, softly.
"Someone
speak to you?"
"Yes,
and they made me promise I wouldn't tell you who they were. You've made them
afraid for no good reason."
"You
don't have to tell me anything. I don't care. I've got a good idea whom you've
been talking to," I said, certain he was referring to Judy Alexander or
Slim Collins.
"I
didn't say that," he said.
"You
didn't have to."
"And
I'm not confirming it either. You don't need to be taking these men all over
creation - especially when they're needed."
"It's
all for a reason, all for a reason, Councilman. This ain't no goose chase, is
it Graax?"
The
alien nodded in agreement.
"See
there?" I said.
"I
don't like the sound of this, Buck," the councilman said.
"Nor
I," I agreed.
"I
don't mean that idly. This is the town's time of need. You ride out now, you
don't deserve to hold the position of sheriff - no matter what good you've
done in the past. Some things just have to be let go, and then later, if
there's time, you can do something about it."
"That
would be foolery in this instance," I said to the big blond man with a
bushy beard similar to his presidential namesake. I set '49er to a walk and
the rest of the party and Councilman Hayes followed. "I don't see how I'm
walking out on anybody. I'm only seeing the Pxelepiti as an enemy and scouting
them out. Unfortunately, bad things don't always happen one at a time.
Sometimes there's more than one pan in the fire. In such cases you best be a
fry cook rather than a chef. You just can't do the best you're capable of on
any front."
"You're
leaving after we've had a severe storm . . ."
"That
storm ain't going to be nothing compared to what the Pxelepiti could be,"
I said, interrupting him. "Right Graax?"
The
alien nodded.
"See?"
I said. "You do what you need to do, Councilman, I'll do what I need to
do. You want to come along? We could always use an extra hand."
"I
. . .," Hayes started.
"I
didn't think so," I said. "You're scared and I don't blame you. Just
let the men alone while they work."
Then:
"Yah! Let's ride, men!" I called out to the rest.
Despite
my glib treatment of the man, I brooded about the whole exchange with Hayes.
"You
better be right Graax. I don't like losing jobs. We've got a thing about
needing money here on Earth," I said. "I like my money."
"You
ought to be hoping I'm not right," Graax said. "But I'm afraid I
am."
"As
you say about a people and their levels, I'm not at a high enough level to hope
you're not right," I said, pretending to joke, but meaning it in fact.
"That's
too bad," the alien replied.
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