Farnham's Freehold (8 page)

“Hugh,” Joe said, “it sounds silly. But I agree with Karen.”

“Why, Joe?”

“Well, we’re
someplace
. What happens when an H-bomb explodes dead on you?”

“You’re vaporized.”

“I don’t
feel
vaporized. And I can’t see that big hunk of concrete sailing a thousand miles or so, and crashing down with nothing to show for it but cracked ribs and a hurt shoulder. But Karen’s idea—” He shrugged. “Call it the fourth dimension. That last big one nudged us through the fourth dimension.”

“Just what I said, Daddy. We’re on a strange planet! Let’s explore!”

“Slow down, honey. As for another planet—Well, there isn’t any rule saying we have to know where we are when we don’t. The problem is to cope.”

Barbara said, “Karen, I don’t see how this can be anything but Earth.”

“Why? Spoilsport.”

“Well—” Barbara chucked a pebble at a tree. “That’s a eucalyptus, and an acacia beyond it. Not at all like Mountain Springs but a normal grouping of tropical and subtropical flora. Unless your ‘new planet’ evolved plants just like Earth, this has to be Earth.”

“Spoilsport,” Karen repeated. “Why shouldn’t plants evolve the same way on another planet?”

“Well, that would be as remarkable as finding the same—”

“Hubert!
Hubert!
Where are you? I can’t
find
you!” Grace Farnham’s voice echoed out the tunnel.

Hugh ducked into the tunnel. “Coming!”

They ate lunch under a tree a little distance from the shelter. Hugh decided that the tunnel had been buried so deeply that the chance of its mouth being more radioactive than the interior was negligible. As for the roof, he was not certain. So he placed a dosimeter (the only sort of radiation instrument that had come through the pummeling) on top of the shelter to compare it later with one inside. He was relieved to see that the dosimeters agreed that they had suffered less than lethal dosage—although large—and that they checked each other.

The only other precaution he took was for them to keep guns by them—all but his wife. Grace Farnham “couldn’t stand guns,” and resented having to eat with guns in sight.

But she ate with good appetite. Duke had built a fire and they were blessed with hot coffee, hot canned beef, hot peas, hot canned sweet potatoes, and canned fruit salad—and cigarettes with no worry about air or fire.

“That was lovely,” Grace admitted. “Hubert dear? Do you know what it would take to make it just perfect? You don’t approve of drinking in the middle of the day but these are special circumstances and my nerves are still a teensy bit on edge—so, Joseph, if you will just run back inside and fetch a bottle of that Spanish brandy—”

“Grace.”

“What, dear?—then all of us could celebrate our miraculous escape. You were saying?”

“I’m not sure there is any.”

“What? Why, we stored two cases of it!”

“Most of the liquor was broken. That brings up something else. Duke, you are out of a job as water boss. I’d like you to take over as bartender. There are at least two unbroken fifths. Whatever you find, split it six ways and make it share and share alike, whether it’s several bottles each, or just a part of a bottle.”

Mrs. Farnham looked blank, Duke looked uneasy. Karen said hastily, “Daddy, you know what I said.”

“Oh, yes. Duke, your sister is on the wagon. So hold her share as a medicinal reserve. Unless she changes her mind.”

“I don’t want the job,” said Duke.

“We have to divide up the chores, Duke. Oh yes, do the same with cigarettes. When they are gone, they’re gone, whereas I have hopes that we can distill liquor later.” He turned to his wife. “Why not have a Miltown, dear?”

“Drugs! Hubert Farnham, are you telling me that I
can’t
have a drink?”

“Not at all. At least two fifths came through. Your share would be about a half pint. If you want a drink, go ahead.”

“Well! Joseph, run inside and fetch me a bottle of brandy.”

“No!” her husband countermanded. “If you want it, Grace, fetch it yourself.”

“Oh, shucks, Hugh, I don’t mind.”

“I do. Grace, Joe’s ribs are cracked. It hurts him to climb. You can manage the climb with those boxes as steps—and you’re the only one who wasn’t hurt.”

“That’s not true!”

“Not a scratch. Everybody else was bruised or worse. Now about jobs—I want you to take over as cook. Karen will be your assistant. Okay, Karen?”

“Certainly, Daddy.”

“It will keep you both busy. We’ll build a grill and Dutch oven, but it will be cook over a campfire and wash dishes in the creek for a while.”

“So? And will you please tell me, Mr. Farnham, what Joseph is going to do in the meantime? To earn his wages?”

“Will
you
please tell
me
how we’ll pay wages? Dear, dear—can’t you see that things have changed?”

“Don’t be preposterous! Joseph will get every cent coming to him and he knows it—just as soon as this mess is straightened out. After all, we’ve saved his life. And we’ve always been good to him, he won’t mind waiting. Will you, Joseph?”

“Grace! Quiet down and listen. Joe is no longer our servant. He is our partner in adversity. We’ll never pay him wages again. Quit acting like a child and face the facts. We’re broke. We’re never going to have any money again. Our house is gone. My business is gone. The Mountain Exchange Bank is gone. We’re wiped out…save for what we stored in the shelter. But we are lucky. We’re alive and by some miracle have a chance of scratching a living out of the ground. Lucky. Do you understand?”

“I understand you are using it as an excuse to bully me!”

“You’ve merely been assigned a job to fit your talents.”

“Kitchen drudge! I was your kitchen slave for twenty-five years! That’s long enough. I won’t do it! Do you understand me?”

“You are wrong on both points. You’ve had a maid most of our married life…and Karen washed dishes from the time she could see over the sink. Granted, we had lean years. Now we’re going to have more lean years—and you’re going to help. Grace, you are a fine cook when you want to be. You will cook…or you won’t eat.”

“Oh!” She burst into tears and fled into the shelter.

Her behind was disappearing when Duke got up to follow. His father stopped him. “Duke!”

“Yes.”

“One word and you can join your mother. I’m going exploring, I want you to go with me.”

Duke hesitated. “All right.”

“We’ll start shortly. I think your job should be ‘hunter.’ You’re a better shot than I am and Joe has never hunted. What do you think?”

“Uh—All right.”

“Good. Well, go soothe her down and, Duke, see if you can make her see the facts.”

“Maybe. But I agree with Mother. You were bullying her.”

“As may be. Go ahead.”

Duke turned abruptly and left. Karen said quietly, “I think so too, Daddy. You were bullying.”

“I intended to. I judged it called for bullying. Karen, if I hadn’t tromped on it, she would do no work…and would order Joe around, treat him as a hired cook.”

“Shucks, Hugh, I don’t mind cooking. It was a pleasure to rustle lunch.”

“She’s a better cook than you are, Joe, and she’s going to cook. Don’t let me catch you fetching and carrying for her.”

The younger man grinned. “You won’t catch me.”

“Better not. Or I’ll skin you and nail it to the barn. Barbara, what do you know about farming?”

“Very little.”

“You’re a botanist.”

“No, I simply might have been one, someday.”

“Which makes you eight times as much of a farmer as the rest of us. I can barely tell a rose from a dandelion; Duke knows even less and Karen thinks you dig potatoes out of gravy. You heard Joe say he was a city boy. But we have seeds and a small supply of fertilizers. Also garden tools and books about farming. Look over what we’ve got and find a spot for a garden. Joe and I will do the spading and such. But you will have to boss.”

“All right. Any flower seeds?”

“How did you know?”

“I just hoped.”

“Annuals and perennials both. Don’t look for a spot this afternoon; I don’t want you girls away from the shelter until we know the hazards. Joe, today we should accomplish two things, a ladder and two privies. Barbara, how are you as a carpenter?”

“Just middlin’. I can drive a nail.”

“Don’t let Joe do what you can do; those ribs have to heal. But we need a ladder. Karen, my little flower, you have the privilege of digging privies.”

“Gosh. Thanks!”

“Just straddle ditches, one as the powder room, the other for us coarser types. Joe and I will build proper Chic Sales jobs later. Then we’ll tackle a log cabin. Or a stone-wall job.”

“I was wondering if you planned to do any work, Daddy.”

“Brainpower, darling. Management. Supervision. Can’t you see me sweating?” He yawned. “Well, a pleasant afternoon, all. I’ll stroll down to the club, have a Turkish bath, then enjoy a long, tall planter’s punch.”

“Daddy, go soak your head. Privies, indeed!”

“The Kappas would be proud of you, dear.”

Hugh and his son left a half hour later. “Joe,” Hugh cautioned, “we plan to be back before dark but if we get caught, we’ll keep a fire going all night and come back tomorrow. If you do have to search for us, don’t go alone; take one of the girls. No, take Karen; Barbara has no shoes, just some spike heeled sandals. Damn. Moccasins we’ll have to make. Got it?”

“Sure.”

“We’ll head for that hill—that one. I want to get high enough to get the lay of the land—and maybe spot signs of civilization.” They set out—rifles, canteens, hand ax, machete, matches, iron rations, compasses, binoculars, mountain boots, coveralls. Coveralls and boots fitted Duke as well as Hugh; Duke found that his father had stocked clothes for him.

They took turns, with the man following blazing trail and counting paces, the leader keeping lookout, compass direction, and record.

The high hill Hugh had picked was across the stream. They explored its bank and found a place to wade. Everywhere they flushed game. The miniature deer were abundant and apparently had never been hunted. By man, at least—Duke saw a mountain lion and twice they saw bears.

It seemed to be about three o’clock local time as they approached the summit. The climb was steep, cluttered with undergrowth, and neither man was in training. When they reached the flattish summit Hugh wanted to throw himself on the ground.

Instead he looked around. To the east the ground dropped off. He stared out over miles of prairie.

He could see no sign of human life.

He adjusted his binoculars and started searching. He saw moving figures, decided that they were antelope—or cattle; he made mental note that these herds must be watched. Later, later—

“Hugh?”

He lowered his binoculars. “Yes, Duke?”

“See that peak? It’s fourteen thousand one hundred and ten feet high.”

“I won’t argue.”

“That’s Mount James. Dad, we’re
home!
”

“What do you mean?”

“Look southwest. Those three gendarmes on that profile. The middle one is where I broke my leg when I was thirteen. That pointed mountain between there and Mount James—Hunter’s Horn. Can’t you
see
? The skyline is as distinctive as a fingerprint. This is Mountain Springs!”

Hugh stared. This skyline he knew. His bedroom window had been planned to let him see it at dawn; many sunsets he had watched it from his roof.

“Yes.”

“Yes,” Duke agreed. “Damned if I know how. But as I figure it”—he stomped the ground—“we’re on the high reservoir. Where it ought to be. And—” His brow wrinkled. “As near as I can tell, our shelter is smack on our lot. Dad, we didn’t go anywhere!”

Hugh took out the notebook in which were recorded paces and compasses courses, did some arithmetic. “Yes. Within the limits of error.”

“Well? How do you figure it?”

Hugh looked at the skyline. “I don’t. Duke, how much daylight do we have?”

“Well…three hours. The sun will be behind the mountains in two.”

“It took two hours to get here; we should make it back in less. Do you have any cigarettes?”

“Yes.”

“May I have one? Charged against me of course. I would like to rest about one cigarette, then start back.” He looked around. “It’s open up here. I don’t think a bear would approach us.” He placed his rifle and belt on the ground, settled down.

Duke offered a cigarette to his father, took one himself. “Dad, you’re a cold fish. Nothing excites you.”

“So? I’m so excitable that I had to learn never to give into it.”

“Doesn’t seem that way to other people.” They smoked in silence, Duke seated, Hugh sprawled out. He was close to exhaustion and wished that he did not have to hike back.

Presently Duke added, “Besides that, you enjoy bullying.”

His father answered, “I suppose so, if you class what I do as bullying. No one ever does anything but what he wants to do—‘enjoys’—within the possibilities open to him. If I change a tire, it’s because I enjoy it more than being stranded.”

“Don’t get fancy. You enjoy bullying Mother. You enjoyed spanking me as a kid…until Mother put her foot down and made you stop.”

His father said, “We had better start back.” He reached for his belt and rifle.

“Just a second. I want to show you something. Never mind your gear, this won’t take a moment.”

Hugh stood up. “What is it?”

“Just this. Your Captain Bligh act is finished.” He clouted his father. “That’s for bullying Mother!” He clouted him from the other side and harder, knocking his father off his feet. “And that’s for having that nigger pull a gun on me!”

Hugh Farnham lay where he had fallen. “Not ‘nigger,’ Duke. Negro.”

“He’s a Negro as long as he behaves himself. Pulling a gun on me makes him a goddam nigger. You can get up. I won’t hit you again.”

Hugh Farnham got to his feet. “Let’s start back.”

“Is that all you’ve got to say? Go ahead. Hit me. I won’t hit back.”

“No.”

“I didn’t break my parole. I waited until we left the shelter.”

“Conceded. Shall I lead? Better, perhaps.”

“Do you think I’m afraid you might shoot me in the back? Look, Dad, I
had
to do it!”