Farnham's Freehold (9 page)

“Did you?”

“Hell, yes. For my own self-respect.”

“Very well.” Hugh buckled on his belt, picked up his gun, and headed for the last blaze.

They hiked in silence. At last Duke said, “Dad?”

“Yes, Duke?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Forget it.”

They went on, found where they had forded the stream, crossed it. Hugh hurried, as it was growing darker. Duke closed up again. “Just one thing, Dad. Why didn’t you assign Barbara as cook? She’s the freeloader. Why pick on Mother?”

Hugh took his time in answering. “Barbara is no more a freeloader than you are, Duke, and cooking is the only thing Grace knows. Or were you suggesting that she loaf while the rest of us work?”

“No. Oh, we all have to pitch in—granted. But no more bullying, no more bawling Mother out in public. Understand me?”

“Duke.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been studying karate three afternoons a week the past year.”

“So?”

“Don’t try it again. Shooting me in the back is safer.”

“I hear you.”

“Until you decide to shoot me, it would be well to accept my leadership. Or do you wish to assume the responsibility?”

“Are you offering it?”

“I am not in a position to. Perhaps the group would accept you. Your mother would. Possibly your sister would prefer you. Concerning Barbara and Joe, I offer no opinion.”

“How about
you
, Dad?”

“I won’t answer that; I owe you nothing. But until you decide to make a bid for leadership, I expect the same willing discipline you showed under parole.”

“‘Willing discipline’ indeed!”

“In the long run there is no other sort. I can’t quell a mutiny every few hours—and I’ve had two from you plus an utter lack of discipline from your mother. No leader can function on those terms. So I will assume your willing discipline. That includes no interference should I decide again to use what you call ‘bullying.’”

“Now see here, I told you I would not stand for—”

“Quiet! Unless you make up your mind to that, your safest choice is to shoot me in the back. Don’t come at me with bare hands or risk giving me a chance to shoot first. At the next sign of trouble, Duke, I will kill you. If possible. One of us will surely be killed.”

They trudged along in silence, Mr. Farnham never looking back. At last Duke said, “Dad, for Christ’s sake, why can’t you run things democratically? I don’t want to boss things, I simply want you to be fair about it.”

“Mmm, you don’t want to boss. You want to be a backseat driver—with a veto over the driver.”

“Nuts! I simply want things run democratically.”

“You do? Shall we vote on whether Grace is to work like the rest of us? Whether she shall hog the liquor? Shall we use Robert’s Rules of Order? Should she withdraw while we debate it? Or should she stay and defend herself against charges of indolence and drunkenness? Do you wish to submit your mother to such ignominy?”

“Don’t be silly!”

“I am trying to find out what you mean by ‘democratically.’ If you mean putting every decision to a vote, I am willing—if you will bind yourself to abide by every majority decision. You’re welcome to run for chairman. I’m sick of the responsibility and I know that Joe does not like being my deputy.”

“That’s another thing. Why should Joe have any voice in these matters?”

“I thought you wanted to do it ‘democratically’?”

“Yes, but he is—”

“What, Duke? A ‘nigger’? Or a servant?”

“You’ve got a nasty way of putting things.”

“You’ve got nasty ideas. We’ll try formal democracy—rules of order, debate, secret ballot, everything—any time you want to try such foolishness. Especially any time you want to move a vote of no confidence and take over the leadership…and I’m so bitter as to hope that you succeed. In the meantime we
do
have democracy.”

“How do you figure?”

“I’m serving by consent of the majority—four to two, I think. But that doesn’t suit me; I want it to be unanimous, I can’t put up indefinitely with wrangling from the minority. You and your mother, I mean. I want it to be five to one before we get back, with your assurance that you will not interfere in my efforts to persuade, or cajole, or
bully
, your mother into accepting her share of the load—until you care to risk a vote of no confidence.”

“You’re asking me to agree to that?”

“No, I’m
telling
you. Willing discipline on your part…or at the next clash one of us will be killed. I won’t give you the slightest warning. That’s why your safest course is to shoot me in the back.”

“Quit talking nonsense! You know I won’t shoot you in the back.”

“So?
I
will shoot
you
in the back or anywhere at the next hint of trouble. Duke, I can see only one alternative. If you find it impossible to give willing disciplined consent, if you don’t think you can displace me, if you can’t bring yourself to kill me, if you don’t care to risk a clash in which one of us will be killed, then there is still a peaceful solution.”

“What is it?”

“Any time you wish, you can leave. I’ll give you a rifle, ammunition, salt, matches, a knife, whatever you find needful. You don’t deserve them but I won’t turn you out with nothing.”

Duke gave a bitter laugh. “Sending me out to play Robinson Crusoe…and leaving all the women with you!”

“Oh, no! Any who wish are free to go. With a fair share of anything and some to boot. All three women if you can sell the idea.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Do. And do a little politicking and size up your chances of winning a vote against me ‘democratically’—while being extraordinarily careful not to cross wills with me and thereby bring on a showdown sooner than you wish. I warn you, I’m feeling very short-tempered; you loosened one of my teeth.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“That wasn’t the way it felt. There’s the shelter; you can start that ‘willing discipline’ by pretending that we’ve had a lovely afternoon.”

“Look, Dad, if you won’t mention—”

“Shut up. I’m sick of you.”

As they neared the shelter Karen saw them and yoo-hooed; Joe and Barbara came crawling out the tunnel. Karen waved her shovel. “Come see what I’ve done!”

She had dug privies on each side of the shelter. Saplings formed frameworks which had been screened by tacking cardboard from liquor cases. Seats had been built of lumber remnants from the tank room. “Well?” demanded Karen. “Aren’t they
gorgeous?
”

“Yes,” agreed Hugh. “Much more lavish than I had expected.” He refrained from saying that they had cost most of the lumber.

“I didn’t do it all. Barbara did the carpentry. You should hear her swear when she hits her thumb.”

“You hurt your thumb, Barbara?”

“It’ll get well. Come try the ladder.”

“Sure thing.” He started inside; Joe stopped him.

“Hugh, while we’ve still got light, how about seeing something?”

“All right. What?”

“The shelter. You’ve been talking about building a cabin. Suppose we do: what do we have? A mud floor and a roof that leaks, no glass for windows and no doors. Seems to me the shelter is better.”

“Well, perhaps,” agreed Hugh. “I had thought we could use it while pioneering, if we had to.”

“I don’t think it’s too radioactive, Hugh. That dosimeter should have gone sky-high if the roof is really ‘hot.’ It hasn’t.”

“That’s good news. But, Joe, look at it. A slant of thirty degrees is uncomfortable. We need a house with a level floor.”

“That’s what I mean. Hugh, that hydraulic jack—it’s rated at thirty tons. How much does the shelter weigh?”

“Oh. Let me think how many yards of mix we used and how much steel.” Hugh pondered it, got out his notebook. “Call it two hundred fifty tons.”

“Well, it was an idea.”

“Maybe it’s a good idea.” Hugh prowled around the shelter, a block twenty feet square and twelve high, sizing up angles, estimating yardages.

“It can be done,” Hugh decided. “We dig under on the uphill side, to the center line, cutting out enough to let that side settle down level. Damn, I wish we had power tools.”

“How long will it take?”

“Two men could do it in a week if they didn’t run into boulders. With no dynamite a boulder can be a problem.”

“Too much of a problem?”

“Always some way to cope. Let’s pray we don’t run into solid rock. As we get it dug out, we brace it with logs. At the end we snag the logs out with block and tackle. Then we put the jack under the downhill side and tilt it into place, shore it up and fill with what we’ve removed. Lots of sweat.”

“I’ll start bright and early tomorrow.”

“You will like hell. Not until your ribs have healed. I will start tomorrow, with two husky girls. Plus Duke, if his shoulder isn’t sore, after he shoots us a deer; we’ve got to conserve canned goods. Reminds me—what was done with the dirty cans?”

“Buried ’em.”

“Dig them up and wash them. A tin can is more valuable than gold; we’ll use them for all sorts of things. Let’s go in. I’ve still to admire the ladder.”

The ladder was two trimmed saplings, with treads cut from boards and notched and nailed. Hugh reflected again that lumber had been used too lavishly; treads should have been fashioned from limbs. Damn it, there were so many things that could no longer be ordered by picking up a telephone. Those rolls of Scottissue, one at each privy—They shouldn’t be left outdoors; what if it rained? All too soon it would be either a handful of leaves, or do without.

So many, many things they had always taken for granted! Kotex—How long would their supply last? And what did primitive women use? Something, no doubt, but
what
?

He must warn them that anything manufactured, a scrap of paper, a dirty rag, a pin, all must be hoarded. Caution them, hound them, nag them endlessly.

“That’s a beautiful ladder, Barbara!”

She looked very pleased. “Joe did the hard parts.”

“I did not,” Joe denied. “I just gave advice and touched up the chisel.”

“Well, whoever did it, it’s lovely. Now we’ll see if it will take my weight.”

“Oh, it will!” Barbara said proudly.

The shelter had all lights burning. Have to caution them about batteries, too. Must tell the girls to look up how to make candles. “Where’s Grace, Karen?”

“Mother isn’t well. She’s lying down.”

“So? You had better start dinner.” Hugh went into the women’s bay, saw what sort of not-well his wife suffered. She was sleeping heavily, mouth open, snoring, and was fully dressed. He reached down, peeled back an eyelid; she did not stir. “Duke.”

“Yes?”

“Come here. Everybody else outside.”

Duke joined him. Hugh said, “After lunch, did you give Grace a drink?”

“Huh? You didn’t say not to.”

“I wasn’t criticizing. How much?”

“Just a highball. An ounce and a half of Scotch, with water.”

“Does that look like one highball? Try to rouse her.”

Duke tried, then straightened up. “Dad, I know you think I’m a fool. But I gave her just one drink. Damn it, I’m more opposed to her drinking than you are!”

“Take it easy, Duke. I assume that she got at the bottle after you left.”

“Well, maybe.” Duke frowned. “As soon as I found an unbroken bottle I gave Mother that drink. Then I took inventory. I think I found it all, unless you have some hidden away—”

“No, the cases were together. Six cases.”

“Right. I found thirteen unbroken bottles, twelve fifths and a quart of bourbon. I remember thinking that was two fifths each and the quart I would keep in reserve. I had opened one bottle of King’s Ransom. I made a pencil mark on it. We’ll know if she found it.”

“You hid the liquor?”

“I stashed it in the upper bunk on the other side; I figured it would be hard for her to climb up there—I’m not a complete fool, Dad. She couldn’t see me, she was in her bunk. But maybe she guessed.”

“Let’s check.”

Thirteen bottles were between springs and mattress; twelve were unopened, the thirteenth was nearly full. Duke held it up. “See? Right to the line. But there was another bottle we had a snort from, after that second bombing. What happened to it?”

“Barbara and I had some after you went to sleep, Duke. There was some left. I never saw it again. It was in the tank room.”

“Oh! I did, while we were bailing. Busted. I give up—where
did
she get it?”

“She didn’t, Duke.”

“What do you mean?”

“It wasn’t liquor.” Hugh went to the medicines drawer, got a bottle with a broken seal. “Count these Seconal capsules. You had two last night.”

“Yeah.”

“Karen had one at bedtime, one later; Joe had one. Neither Barbara nor I had any, nor Grace. Five.”

“Hold it, I’m counting.”

His father began to count as Duke pushed them aside.

“Ninety-one,” Duke announced.

“Check.” Hugh put the capsules back. “So she took four.”

“What do we do, Dad? Stomach pump? Emetic?”

“Nothing.”

“Why, you heartless—She tried to kill herself!”

“Slow down, Duke. She did nothing of the sort. Four capsules, six grains, simply produces stupor in a healthy person—and she’s healthy as a horse; she had a physical a month ago. No, she snitched those pills to get drunk on.” Hugh scowled. “An alcohol drunk is bad enough. But people kill themselves without meaning to with sleeping pills.”

“Dad, what do you mean, ‘she took them to get drunk on’?”

“You don’t use them?”

“I never had one in my life until those two last night.”

“Do you remember how you felt just before you went to sleep? Warm and happy and woozy?”

“No. I just lay down and konked out. Next thing I knew I was against the wall on my shoulders.”

“You haven’t developed tolerance for them. Grace knows what they can do. Drunk, a very happy drunk. I’ve never known her to take more than one but she’s never been chopped off from liquor before. When a person eats sleeping pills because he can’t get liquor, he’s in a bad way.”

“Dad, you should have kept liquor away from her long ago!”

“How, Duke? Tell her she couldn’t have a drink? Take them away from her at parties? Quarrel with her in public? Fight with her in front of Joe? Not let her have cash, close out her bank account, see that she had no credit? Would that have stopped her from pawning furs?”