A Planet with No Name Page 2

  “So that’s it?” she asked.

  Eustace shrugged, turned, and walked toward the saloon.

  Chapter Two

  Clinton Eustace cursed under his breath. “Dang those Halberds. I told Buckner and Dee that if they were gonna have their boys start trouble, they should do it outside of my town.” He stopped to spit. I don’t really care if they run that woman off or not. She doesn’t live in town and hardly buys enough stuff to make a dent in the tax base that pays my salary. He shrugged.

  If Dillon and Maine were going to roust out a farmer he preferred they pick on someone with the resources to pay a decent fine. He doubted Veronica Smith had enough cash to pay for lunch at Larry’s Choke and Puke Diner & Drive-up Liquor Store.

  Before emigrating to this wet, stinking mud hole, Eustace only had five years experience as a police officer in a small southern town, however, it was enough time for him to develop a gut feeling about people. Right now, his gut feeling told him Veronica Smith was not going to slink off quietly. She had a fire in her belly that burned hot enough to flash in her eyes.

  Eustace did not like fire in a woman. He liked them quiet and compliant—not that his wife Tiffany was quiet and docile unless you paid her to be that way. She ran Peaceful Junction’s only brothel. She was not much of a wife anyway, it being mostly a paper union. No one had seen the sheriff and tiffany in the same room since the ship landed.

  The fire in Smith’s eyes did not matter. She was no match for Buckner Halberd and his two sons, Dillon and Maine.

  He was not sure how the idea to run Smith off and take her property came into the collective Halberd mind, but they sure needed new land. All four of their sections were worthless, good for nothing more than a sand and rock quarry.

  What looked like creeks and streams to Earth’s telescope surveyors were nothing more than canyons carved by flash floods or wind. There were no guarantees the surveyors were correct in their determinations. Many surveyors were minimum wage employees barely scraping by after receiving their government-mandated college education. Government approved career tracks did not include classes in telescopic planetary surveying. Most surveyors received sub-par on-the-job training, at best.

  Before departing Earth, the compact organizers laid out maps and grids on the largest continent of the planet. The land planning committee designed residential areas, business zones, and industrial districts according to the United States Public Land Survey System. A person settling in a town paid a commercial price and their name went into a lottery drawing for both commercial and residential plots.

  Agricultural areas were marked off in sections. Each section totaled 2,560 acres of land that could be further broken down into four quarter-sections, each 640 acres in size. Once farmers and ranchers paid the agribusiness price, their names went into the lottery, and they received four contiguous sections of land, the equivalent of four square miles of property.

  They designed Peaceful Junction as a small farming community. Its land parcels cost much less than those located in Landing City, which was centrally located and much larger.

  The Compact organizers held the blind drawings for the land. Then, they deeded and registered all plots and sections. Veronica and Elias were deeded 2,560 acres located about twenty miles north of Peaceful Junction. The Halberds land was directly west of Veronica’s.

  The compact organizers had not studied the telescopic survey well enough to determine which land parcels were viable before offering them. Everyone had the same opportunity for receiving productive land or worthless unusable wasteland. No one knew the viability of their purchased land until they had the opportunity to walk it for themselves. Everyone was subject to the same luck of the draw.

  The land planning committee, in order to avoid arguments, did not name natural landmarks and towns after people. This practice became common law during the first year of colonization.

  Peaceful Junction was located at the conjunction of two small rivers. The original macro-telescopic survey projected both rivers would have year-round water flow. The Cold Water River flowed into town from the north. It was a short two-mile long river formed where two streams converged. The streams earned the less-than-creative names of Left Fork and Right Fork. The telescope surveyor named them while looking down and north of town. The colonists discovered the streams were fast-flowing and cold most of the year from the snowmelt and mountain runoff.

  The Peaceful River originated from the same mountain range as the streams forming the Cold Water River, but farther east. It flowed south until it took an abrupt westward turn at a town named Twisted City. Twisted City earned its name because it was located at Peaceful River’s bend where the odd twist started its westward flow. The river then turned south again when it merged with the Cold Water River. The Peaceful River was wide and slow, passing through miles of farmland between Twisted City and Peaceful Junction.

  Small streams and creeks flowed from the snow-capped northern mountain range. They formed wet fingers all along the valley north of Peaceful River between the two towns. The telescopic surveyors plotted farms and ranches all along the rivers and any stream that showed evidence of year-round running water.

  Peaceful Junction agribusiness sections ran along both sides of the Peaceful River heading east halfway to Twisted City where they butted up against property allotted to Twisted City’s farmers and ranchers. Occasionally sections followed north along a stream or creek that promised ample year-round water. Peaceful Junction’s farms extended fifty miles to the south of town on both sides of the Peaceful River.

  Sections on the north side of town stretched all the way to Veronica’s acreage and the Halberd’s land. Twenty-two sections north of town were included in the lottery. Sections were located on each side of the road running north out of town until reaching Veronica’s section, twenty miles north of town.

  Peaceful Junction’s agribusiness land formed three spokes of a wheel laid along the life-giving waterways with the town as a hub. Most of the other viable plots of land were around Landing City and farther south in an area resembling the flat farmland of Kansas and Nebraska.

  Many families, like the Halberds, split their sections. Dillon and Maine were married before leaving Earth so each owned a separate section. Maine’s young wife committed suicide shortly after touchdown and Dillon’s wife worked as a prostitute in Tiffany Eustace’s brothel. Rumor said she gave her weekly paycheck to her husband. Buckner and Dee Halberd reserved one section for themselves and saved their fourth section for their daughter; once she came of age and married.

  The Halberds would starve if they attempted anything more than subsistence farming on their unfertile land.

  Eustace shrugged again. The Halberds might make a go on some of the land if they were willing to dig enough wells to hit underground aquifers and pump water to their crops, but on a planet this big, that seems like more effort than it’s worth. He shuddered at the thought of being a farmer. If it was me, I’d have packed up the house, barn, tools, and extra socks, and moved to a brand new spot way off in the back of nowhere.

  He was certain it would not take the Halberds long to run Smith off her property. They were not a particularly bright bunch, but each of them was meaner than a rabid rat and twice as ugly. He was sure Smith would be gone in no time.

  He had no idea how wrong he was.

  Chapter Three

  Veronica stomped towards Jackson’s General Store ignoring the muck on her boots from the rain-soaked street. Tracking mud onto the wood sidewalk, she was half a step away from putting a boot to the door when Jackson opened it. She stared daggers at the shopkeeper.

  Jackson held up his hands in surrender. “Now, Mrs. Smith, I kept you in here to keep you from getting hurt. I didn’t know who was shooting at what. You were unarmed. Going out there could have been dangerous.”

  She said, “I’m not your responsibility to protect. I’m not your wife.”

  “You’re my responsibility if you’re in my store, whether you
’re a man, woman, or child.”

  She grabbed her raincoat off the rack near the door and slapped her hat on her head. “Then I’ll leave and relieve you of that responsibility.” She turned to go.

  Jackson said, “Yes, you can. Do you want the goods you ordered now or are you going to pick them up later?”

  She spun back around. “Goods? You can keep your goods. I just lost my robot and he was worth more than all the picked-over, second-hand garbage you call goods. You kept me in here even before the first gun went off. Either you guessed what was about to happen or you knew what was going to happen. You didn’t speak up about what you witnessed and you didn’t attempt to prevent it. So, I figure from now on, if there’s something I can’t do without, I can get it in Twisted City. It’s not that far away.” She exited the store to return to Cal.

  In the short time she was inside the store, the storm clouds parted and the sun emerged again. Steam rose from the muddy streets and building roofs. She no longer needed her raincoat and probably would not need it for several months, but she was not about to leave it behind. She had some personal items stuffed in Cal’s forward storage bins, but most of them were inaccessible since he was laying face down in the rapidly drying mud.

  She glared at the people gathering about her. No one on the street would look directly at her. She turned in a circle around Cal; then she began turning again. She did not see anything to help her move Cal. The robot weighed a chunk. No one was offering to help her. This town had never been friendly toward her, but this went beyond unfriendly. This was a town-wide conspiracy to commit the destruction of private property, either before or after the fact. The Pioneer Compact had no private property provisions, but they were in Veronica’s personal rulebook. This town was going to pay.

  Halfway through her second circle around Cal, she had an idea. It was not a good idea. Nor was it an idea that would move Cal’s inert metal body, nevertheless it was an idea.

  The Halberds had been pushing her since day one when they discovered their four land sections were mostly rocks and hills with a few stones and gullies thrown in for variety. Veronica’s four sections had some freshwater springs, a few streams, and good drainage. Part of her northwest quadrant was mostly tree-covered hills and gullies. The rest of her land had plenty of wide-open space, perfect for pastures and planting fields.

  It did not matter to her that Dillon and Maine’s sections butted up against hers or that their father, Buckner Halberd, had offered her twice what she paid, just to trade. She was not leaving and it did not matter how hard they pushed. The harder they pushed, the more determined she was to stay. The Halberds had finally pushed too far and it was time for her to push back.

  She was twenty miles from home and her only transportation lay dead in the mud. She had worn her long dress to town, the prettiest daytime outfit she owned. Its designer did not have a cross-country trek in mind and her high-heeled, red cowboy boots were not compatible with hiking. She was out of coffee, sugar, and tea, and had just denied herself the opportunity to get more. Many things had gone wrong today and she had many issues to tackle.

  First things first and Maine Halberd was first.

  Chapter Four

  Veronica sat on the top fence rail of the livery stable’s corral, in the dubious shade of a lean-to. The oppressive heat and humidity drove everyone inside except her and the few horses in the corral. She wanted to be out of the sun too, but from her vantage point, she could keep an eye on Cal’s body and see through the saloon’s patio doors across the alley. She could not see any action in the saloon itself, but she had a clear view of the restroom doors.

  Dillon and Maine would be drinking beer this early in the day. All she had to do to get Maine alone was wait for Dillon to use the restroom. Like all college professors, she made extended lesson plans. Her strategy to get back at the Halberds was long-term, more like a doctoral thesis on crime and punishment than a thousand-word essay on revenge.

  Unless Maine had to urinate at the same time as Dillon, her first step was to take advantage of a minor timing separation between the inseparable brothers. She needed only a minute or two.

  The heat was miserable. Do these Halberds have gallon-sized bladders?

  She eyed the horses in the corral. Everybody assumed since she was born and raised in central Arizona she was part cowgirl. In reality, she was a city girl from Phoenix, a metropolitan area with millions of residents. She had never been close to a horse before coming to this planet with no name. She had no experience with cows either, but she owned an extensive database on ranching. She was well versed in performing research, as any good teacher was, and applying the results of that research. She was skilled at researching projects completely before attempting any action. For example, she studied cattle ranching before buying four heifers and obtaining enough bull semen to start a small herd.

  She and Elias rejected buying horses in favor of buying Cal and that prudent decision paid off well. The robot was capable of carrying them both, fulfilling all their transportation needs. Cal was able to pull all the farm equipment they purchased using less power than most tractors they could have bought. Cal could pull the plow over hundreds of acres without supervision. She programmed him to arrange and dig irrigation ditches for the fields and tweaked his settings so he could plant corn, potatoes, wheat, green beans, and onions with minimal oversight. No horse could manage those tasks. Moreover, Cal worked straight through, when the sun was shining or the middle of the night.

  I’ll check around and see if I can find a used farm robot or an old, wheeled tractor to buy—not that I have much money to spare. It’s still better than a horse.

  She owned a huge farm wagon, but it was useless without something to pull it. She noticed an old flitter behind the corral. It looked like it had not moved in a while. I wonder if it’s for sale. Who am I kidding, I don’t have enough money to buy it, even if it is for sale.

  It had only been a year since the colony ship reached their new home. Everything was almost new unless someone originally shipped used equipment. Shipping costs to a new planet were astronomical. After the initial costs, some people only had minimal funds remaining to purchase goods they needed upon reaching their new planet. There was little chance anyone would be upgrading their equipment with no new products coming in until the next colony ship arrived in four years.

  She needed help. She was one woman, alone, and without Cal, she was a farmer in need of labor. Unless she managed to purchase some automated machines or hire help soon, her crops were going to rot in the fields. She designed her planting schedule to harvest each crop before the next was ready. The sooner she secured help, the fewer crops she would lose. Her property was located at where the winters were generally warm and rainy, and summers were warmer and dry. Seasonal planting did not drive her harvest schedule because the springs and streams on her property provided ample amounts of water year round.

  She and Cal worked months to build her house, prep the fields, and plant the first crops. Her potatoes were ready to harvest now. I wonder if I should talk to the produce buyer, Manning Tatum, maybe he’ll re-negotiate for my crops.

  Dillon cut across her view. All thoughts of harvesting her crops died, as fast as Cal perished in the muddy street. She slipped off the fence rail and walked around the building to enter through the saloon’s front door. It was not a saloon like its Old West namesake. It was more of a social club where they served alcoholic drinks.

  It had a long polished wood bar running along one side of the main room. The bar was made of indigenous gnarly, black and white palo negro wood. Palo negro trees were not small like Arizona’s palo verde trees. They were huge trees, dwarfing anything on Earth with the exception of the giant redwoods in California. The wood was soft, not usable in building construction, but perfect for indoor décor. It was too dark for Veronica’s taste, but she felt it was a nice counterpoint to the green felt adorning the tops of the poker tables, and the chrome and glass picture frames hanging
on the saloon walls.

  Sheriff Eustace stepped between her and the bar right after she entered the building. Maine was standing alone at the bar watching pictures of Earth change from one scene to the next on the wall vid display. She stopped and glared at Eustace.

  Eustace said, “I don’t want no trouble in here.”

  Veronica said, “Nor do I. It won’t be me that starts it if trouble begins.” She stepped around him and walked over to stand beside Maine. He was drinking beer. She noticed he was already blurry-eyed. He smiled at her and she smiled back.

  “Maine, let me buy you a drink, just to be neighborly.” She signaled the human bartender and ordered two shots of whiskey and two beers. She dropped some of her last coins on the bar. She still had enough money to buy coffee and sugar, but she would have to do without tea even if she could walk to Twisted City.

  She pushed a shot of whiskey and a beer over to Maine. Then she picked up a shot glass to make a toast. Maine followed suit.

  “To good neighbors and good friends, let bygones be bygones. That’s what I say.” She raised the shot glass to her lips but did not drink.

  Maine drained his glass and smiled.

  She handed her shot glass to him. “You might as well finish this. I never could get the hang of whiskey.”

  Maine drained the second shot of whiskey and smiled again while grabbing the bar with one hand to steady himself.

  She placed her hand on his arm and gently squeezed. She purposely showed her teeth as she smiled at him. Then she brushed her hair back with a quick flip of her head. Thank you, Cosmopolitan Magazine.

  She pushed her beer over to him and watched him power down the first beer she gave him.

  “Maine, it’s a shame I can’t catch me a big strong husband like you to take care of me. Of course, I’m not as beautiful as your wife.”