He pulled some hot and sparking coals from the stove onto the laundry, and spread some around on the straw spread near the stove, where he wanted the origin of the fire to be obvious. He added more straw for a time to the growing fire, and finally took burning bundles of straw and spread it to other rooms, confident the combined living room and kitchen would show the greatest burning. Coughing, and wondering where those damn kids were, he stepped out of the ranch house’s only door onto the porch. He watched for twenty minutes as the flames grew to a blaze, and he gradually backed away from the heat. They used branches cut from trees to erase the already muffled tracks they and their horses had made around the house, concealing how many riders there had been, or that any had been there at all.
They knew the smoke smudge would draw neighbors after sunrise, but the closest were only three miles away, although trees and a hill obscured a direct view. As the sky glow grew, they led their horses away from the dirt trail leading through the ranch, counting on grass to better conceal the tracks leading away. It was always possible an early riser, one of the small ranchers or nesters within a several miles ride, would see the glow and come running to help.
Clampton, worried because they had never found the kids, was finally forced to retreat to the waiting shuttle, located in a small canyon three miles away. The kids were the only ones that could testify about the late night visitors, even if they couldn’t identify them.
The shuttle, horses secured, and the wounded animal put down when it was decided a vet would recall and possibly report the odd wound if questions were raised, lifted under AI control and flew beyond Plains, all the way to Cayuga.
****
The big ranchers had been vocal about their dissatisfaction over mistrials and acquittals of accused rustlers that were brought to trial in Bison, with local juries that refused to accept the evidence presented by witnesses and lawyers for the big outfits against “obvious” rustlers, caught red handed. Small ranchers and nesters were often found with spring calves, or mavericks as they were generally called, in their possession, on what they claimed was their private rangeland. They often already had microchip brands inserted, which were registered to the small independents, and no bill of sale to back them as having been purchased at auction.
Legally, by planetary law, pushed through the legislation by cronies of the big cattle interests, all such mavericks were considered to have been open-range births, and were to be sold at auction. On Chisholm, cattle were allowed to roam freely and graze on any range until the spring roundups. Planet wide on Chisholm, the cattle were rounded up by the big outfits, and calves born over the winter were presumed to be the offspring of the millions of cows that belonged to the big cattle barons. A later second roundup, for the small outfits that joined the Stock Growers Association, tried to circumvent the big outfits. It didn’t work out that way.
After the main roundup, calves were auctioned and the money divided with the big outfits based on their share of the head counts for their herds. Then the calves were microchipped by the various large outfits. Small ranchers strenuously objected to every calf being declared an open range birth, since they tended their cows within fenced land, and bought supplemental feed to help their cattle through hard winters, and knew exactly how many calves their animals had birthed. They had a higher rate of live calves after winter and naturally wanted to keep them. They started the later roundup to try to avoid sharing the calves born from their cows.
The big ranchers, who didn’t want closed range producers at all, were willing to share calves proportionately, between the big outfits, and sell them all at auction and share proceeds, provided everyone’s cattle was truly grazed on the open range. Calves found inside a fenced range were presumed taken from the open range, and thus, by definition, rustled if chipped before auction.
Obviously, the small ranchers, who fenced their cattle, knew that allegation was false, but planetary law said, in effect, that the only way they could expand their herds was by purchasing calves born on the open range and purchased through the auction. The purpose of this unfairness was to retain the open range system, which favored low cost cattle production with high profits by the massive herd owners. This was the backdrop of the friction between the Chisholm Cattleman’s Association of the major cattle producers, and the Stock Growers Association of the small farmers and livestock producers.
Friction was a polite term for the steadily escalating violence between the two sides.
****
Nathaniel Egerton, stomping around in his private office in the Cayuga Social Club, was decidedly unhappy with the outcome at the Danner Ranch, as Clampton had reported it to him.
“You bumbling fool! I sent you with a dozen men to hang one damned high profile rustler, and you can’t get it done in a way that demonstrates he received the punishment he deserved. Last year, and this year, he had spring calves with chips that he certainly didn’t buy at auction, and he would have used another thieves den jury from Bison to get off scot-free if I charged him. These piddling land grant pawns, using president Birmaldi’s damned free land offers, will be the ruin of my Calder county operation. If the grants spread to other regions, it will be the ruin of us all on Chisholm.”
By “of us all,” he of course only meant those that mattered. The roughly one hundred of the oldest and biggest beef outfits, and in particular the Double T ranch on Kingsland continent, which was Egerton’s largest holding, making him the fifth largest operator on Chisholm, owning three major ranch brands on other continents. Beef represented a combined four hundred fifty billion Hub credits worth of business a year for Chisholm, by providing the seven hundred settled human worlds with the finest beef produced on any world. A sizable chunk of that Gross Planetary Product, made Egerton, and his off world investors, very wealthy. They were willing to have plenty of bodies piled up to keep those profits flowing, as they had been flowing for over a hundred years.
Having Franklin Birmaldi assassinated wouldn’t help, although it was something that had actually been considered, but it wouldn’t permanently solve the problem. Chisholm was a Rim World colony, and not a member of the Planetary Union that ran the Hub Worlds, their primary market. Except, the Planetary Union were busy bodies, and had people whose jobs were to monitor planet wide elections on unruly Rim Worlds, like Chisholm, evaluating if they were fair. If not, there was the possibility of a PU military takeover and new elections, with support for nationalization of the beef industry. Not worth the risk.
The wealthy could manipulate regional elections without PU scrutiny, and they muddied reform opponents by using their ownership of the major news media on Chisholm. They bought legislators wholesale, and had ambitious and political judges appointed to most district courts. Unfortunately, pockets of resistance were appearing, and it had to be crushed before the opposition appeared to gain too much traction with the public.
If they had the president die in some “accident,” forcing another fair presidential election in six months, the bulk of the citizens would simply elect another popular candidate who made the same pandering promises to them. Mainly, more even distribution of the vast public lands, and encouraging production of food crops for local consumption, thus lowering the costs of food imports on Chisholm, other than beef of course, which was already low. The big outfits made good use of their huge profits, and they owned and controlled the import businesses and the wholesale distribution of foods and manufactured goods being imported. They liked the system just the way it was.
To keep free-range cattle out of the local crops the president wanted grown, fences were needed. A presidential land grant only required the claimant to raise crops for local sale, but they could also raise cattle, sheep, pigs, or any commercial animals, so long as livestock represented no more than half of the income they earned from the free land. They not only competed with the big outfits for cattle, they denied access to an increasing percentage of the good rangeland. The old system wasn’t terribly efficient, but it requi
red little overhead, and produced high profits for that small expenditure.
Clampton pointed out he had left planted evidence that strongly suggested rustling by Danner. “We left three heifers with different brands mixed in with Danner’s livestock. When those are found, they’ll be evidence he was rustling more than just calves.”
Egerton waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll make sure Sheriff Ackerman checks and finds them. But without a rustler having been hanged in obvious citizen justice, or arrested and still alive to be prosecuted and convicted, there’s no newsworthy story to support our claims of widespread corruption and rustling. A thief that accidentally burned to death in a house fire, along with his family, is more a sympathetic figure that one hung for his crimes. His death can’t be used to frighten other land grant holders into giving up their homesteads and leaving. I wanted an example set.
“Hell, you morons don't even know what happed to his kids. If they turn up and talk, then it’ll be obvious the parents were killed and someone made it look like an accident. As if their death was something shameful, to be covered up, and not the result of reasonable vigilante justice, conducted by outraged citizens that took the law in their own hands when justice was denied.
“A live and distraught family, grieving for a man hung for rustling, with evidence to show he was guilty, is a story that supports our side of the story. Those kids had better be found dead, or you may not be foreman of the Double T much longer. You aren’t the only man that can handle a gun and bully men, you know. Cabe and Jace are both faster than you are with a gun, but Cabe’s too dumb for what I need, and Jace is more one of Gregos’ hired goons. If you can’t do what I hired you for, then my money can buy the men with the skills and guts I need.”
“Boss, I have the guts to do what needs to be done. That damned woman was determined to get herself killed, or to shoot some of my men in the back. We had Danner unarmed and out of his house, until she did a fool thing no man would expect. I had no choice, and after that, the original plan wouldn’t work. If we want to chase off land grant holders, maybe we need a few more of them burned out like that. Most of them don’t have Danner’s backbone, and more of them will clear out if they see a few more examples. There’s nothing to trace this one to us, and we’ll make sure that none of them will.”
Edgerton thought on it only a moment. “OK. I’ll have a talk with Janek Gregos, of the Lazy S, and a number of other outfits that have been sitting on the fence concerning stronger action. They’ve offered to pay their share of costs of hiring and outfitting the men we’ll need, provided they don’t have to get directly involved. Only Gregos has the balls to get his hands dirty, and he owns the furnished house in Plains, where Sheriff Ackerman and his wife live, paying only a nominal monthly rent.
“He’ll send Ackerman in person out to the Danner ranch, well before anyone from Bison can go, and I want him to take the Plains Fire Chief, what’s his name…,” he snapped his fingers in impatience, because he couldn’t think of the man’s name.
“Chief Mendoza,” Clampton furnished.
“Right. Mendoza gives Plains the edge in conducting the investigation, even if Bison is a bit closer, letting us steer things towards a finding of an accidental fire. Bison has no fire department, so Mendoza can control that part of the investigation, along with Ackerman on the rustling.” He paused to consider for a moment.
“The report of the fire will surely be phoned in by satellite phones from the neighbors soon, and the calls will all be routed to Plains. I had my agent in Chisholm Communications remove the satellite software glitch, which I’d arranged for last night, to prevent outgoing calls from an area wider than just around the Danner ranch, which would be suspicious. She says calls can get out now from the entire north Calder County region. I’ll fly your ass back to Plains as soon as we’re done, so you’ll be there to volunteer to go out with the sheriff and fire chief. Take a couple of our regular hands from the Double T with you. Don’t take any of your men from last night. They look and act too much like the hired guns and thugs they are.”
Clampton nodded, but suggested they could wait until afternoon. That was wishful thinking, so he could catch breakfast and a nap. He’d been up all night.
“No. Remind the sheriff of Danner’s rustling history, so he checks the cattle in the feedlot, or lets you do it. Now get moving since it’s close to dawn.”
Crap, thought Clampton. I’ll try to nap on the shuttle, but it’s a damned short flight.
****
The sun was just up, and the two utility vehicles became jouncy on the dirt roads once outside Plains, but they were still faster than horseback, to cover the thirty-five miles from Plains to the Danner ranch. Accustomed to rough rides like this, and tired, Clampton dozed most of the way. There certainly was nothing to suggest he might be nervous about the journey. The two cowhands he had with him were ordinary ranch employees, and were not party to any of the extra-legal activities of some of the select Double T employees. They knew nothing about last night’s events. Not that they didn’t share most of the viewpoints of those citizens that wanted big cattle to continue exactly as it had for so long. They made their living from that business, and it was all they knew how to do. Change wasn’t always good from their perspective, and based on what they knew of life on Hub worlds, they didn’t want any part of allowing that dull, soft, and probably boring lifestyle establish itself on Chisholm.
The big ranchers cultivated that proud frontier attitude as much as possible, making the rough and tumble life of many on Chisholm sound like a romantic and wholesome alternative, to the life led by the presumed decadent populations of the Hub worlds. And life on Chisholm had the benefit of actually being a wholesome and good life, but it also permitted the wealthy to restrict technological progress for their benefit. Owning and controlling newsprint and Tri-Vid broadcast outlets, and the import of most goods sold on Chisholm, helped to promote and maintain that “Live Free” Rim World spirit.
Naturally, the wealthy only pretended to prefer that local homespun lifestyle, by matching the citizen’s mode of dress, speech patterns, and rustic looking homes. They made personal appearances to participate in roundups, or at the ends of the cattle drives to where trains, trucks, or livestock shuttles loaded the beef for delivery to the remote and seldom shown slaughterhouses and huge feedlot pens. The Giant Longhorn breed of cattle had been genetically created long before Chisholm was discovered, but the early settlers on this world recognized the planet was perfect for livestock, with vast areas on its continents suitable for grazing. The huge herds of the impressive animals made great visual images to accompany the Tri-Vid stories of the annual regional roundups.
The broadcasts always showed the big ranch owners, or managers, riding along with the cowboys, uttering yips, whistles, yells, waving their arms at wayward cattle, slapping their well-worn chaps with their lariats, and helping to drive the herds. They would be portrayed riding with those magnificent big animals around them. The bulls bellowing, cows bawling, heifers and calves mooing, and steers snorting as they were driven to the collection areas to be counted, sorting breeders and immature animals from those ready for market, and shipping mature beef to slaughterhouses. Separating the mixed brands that had mingled on the open range, any immature animals were turned over to the rightful owners then, to be driven back to their home range, where they would then spread to find the best foraging.
Unless they were spring calves, which were not shared with the small outfits after they were weaned. The calves of this breed of cattle weaned early, and foraged for themselves much younger than did other breeds. They were sold to all comers at auction, but the proceeds were distributed proportionately only between the members of the Chisholm Cattleman’s Association on that continent, which were the largest outfits.
The Stock Growers Association of the smaller ranches, held their own separate drives, since most of their herds were fenced until the big drives ended. Then their calves were also sold at auction, ex
cept the proceeds were divided proportionately to all of the various registered brands on each continent, including the big outfits. The big outfits still collected the most money, because they had the most cows. The small outfits, who kept their animals isolated, were outraged at having to share the sale of their calves with the big ranches.
It was why some small ranchers switched to raising sheep on the open range, knowing cattlemen didn’t want their lambs. They were hated even more by the big cattle ranchers, because the sheep browsed the foliage down to the point where cattle couldn’t thrive as well on the same land. The sheepherders and cattlemen were mutually antagonistic in general, but an uneasy truce was formed between the small cattle ranchers and sheepherders, and that was maintained by agreements on borders between cattle and sheep. The cattle barons claimed all the land was open range, and they wanted no sheep on it at all.
For one or two days, at the very start or at the end of a roundup, the cattle barons would appear to be kindred spirits with their ranch hands, just one of the boys. In actuality, on most other days they enjoyed all of the benefits of the wealthy on any of the Hub worlds, but they did that in private, or traveled to estates off world.
Travis didn’t come fully awake until he heard and felt the unusual, but unmistakable rumble of tires crossing a wide cattle guard. They had crossed no other cattle guards after leaving Plains. These obstacles to livestock were used only on roads leading into the ranches or farms of those with government land grants, who fenced their property off from the open range.
“Finally waking up, Travis?” That question came from Deputy Nace Clacker, the man Jace had claimed to be last night with Danner. He was driving the first sheriff department vehicle, carrying Sheriff Ackerman next to him in the front, with Clampton and the other two Double T hands riding in the back seat. The second vehicle stayed a hundred yards in trail, to allow time for the reddish dust to blow off to the side, and it carried two more deputies, a man from the corners office, and the Plains Fire Chief.
Koban Universe 2: Have Genes, Will Travel Page 3
