by Pam Uphoff
"The Western Hemisphere?" Vera bit her lip, and Kipper started looking big eyed and scared.
"Heck, I'll bet you could get a real pony, if you moved there." Mikey told her.
"I doesn’t matter." Vera said. "We don't have the money." She pulled the advert away from him and smoothed it on the table. "See? Eight fifty a piece, four for kids. Nearly three thousand dollars, for all of us."
"Thirty eight hundred, if I went too." Mikey plopped the box down on the table, and started counting. "I've gotten myself into a bit of a fix and was going to leave town, but you guys are all the family I've got. Igor an' me, we've been buddies since, since, well, I dunno. Babyhood or somethin'."
It was true, too. Without Igor he'd be lost. Who else could he depend on?
There was five thousand in the box. Vera bit her lip. "I'll go talk to Dan, see if there's a fine, or if it's the stocks again."
"Take five hundred, in case it's a fine, and I'll get Igor to help me with something . . . then we can pack and go." He tapped the paper. "Last call. They're leaving in five days."
And they'd better have room, 'cause I seem to be burning bridges and I'd hate to be left standing on them.
He walked home to fetch his car and drove it back to Igor's.
"Kipper doesn't like the kicking foal. I know a guy that will just love it, and then when we get to the New World, we'll buy her a real pony." He didn't give the big man any time to try and think about it, just had him carry the statue to the car, and cram half of it into the boot, and wrapped and tied a tarp around it.
It was a slow, harrowing trip to Doscompos's place, and he backed up to the office door.
The goons in charge strolled down. "In a hurry, eh?"
"Yeah, why don't you two show the boss how strong you are by carrying this in there."
"We gotta see it first." the blond one said. "It might be dangerous."
Mikey blinked, and removed the tarp.
They pulled the statue out and tipped it up on its nose.
"Huh, well it's got, uh, detail."
Mikey sniffed, and walked over to open the door. "It's a work of art."
The goons hefted it and staggered inside. Doscompos walked out of the inner sanctum and circled the foal.
"Well! Mikey, you surprise me. This is excellent, a bit realistic, but there are subtle expressions of human feeling in there. I like it." He clapped Mikey familiarly on the shoulder and started chatting about where he should put it.
Mikey fingered the button in his pocket. The key to Art's museum. He dropped it into Doscompos's pocket and whined a bit how he couldn't sell it very easily, so he hadn't gotten any money, and surely Doscompos would like to buy . . .
Mikey got himself thrown out and drove away.
"I am in so much trouble. I am going to be squished like a bug." He thought about buying dinner, but his stomach knotted and he decided to pass on it.
Vera had brought a banged up Dan home, and she was on the phone chatting to someone about emigrating when Mikey walked in.
Dan looked up, hungover. "I'm going to have to pack up all my tools. Crate everything. Everything."
"Don't worry. I'll help." Mikey assured him.
They wandered out to the garage to look over the situation. The hoist was the largest thing. "I know where to get some crates." Mikey said, and left again. It was so late it was early when he got to the wharfs. The boxes and crates were piled even higher than he remembered, and with the touch of the unnoticeable button, no one paid any attention to him taking all the empty crates he could get inside the big one for the hoist. He hesitated, then got another one that he thought could fit the rearing foal. Igor and Dan could try and argue her out of it. He had enough to do already. He tied the unwieldy load on top of his car and drove carefully.
His shopping spree started with tools. Can't tackle the untamed wilderness without an axe. Or a saw, a shovel . . . oh hell. I'm going to need a tractor, aren't I?
He sold his car. His little beauty.
The tractor was neat though. Also electric, and he got a plow, disks, rake and baler. Then he started talking to the salesman, and wound up buying a seeder and seed. Perennial wheat in bulk. Then a whole load of other seeds in small amounts to experiment with, find out what would grow.
And books. He doubled his book collection.
And Vera said they were all paid up and could start delivering goods to the dock warehouse immediately.
He had Malcom's Hardware deliver everything to the warehouse. Packing his apartment was a bit random. He still had some of his dad's stuff . . . He took his book cases and books, of course. Clothes. Another shopping spree. All his cooking stuff. He hired a truck and delivered it all, checked that the hardware delivery was all there and properly labeled as his. Dan and Igor's stuff was there.
"You lot sure do have heavy goods." The longshoreman complained. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Beats the hell out of trying to load horses and cattle, and their feed takes up an incredible amount of room."
Mikey slipped him a big bill to ensure no unfortunate accidents happened to those heavy crates.
The fourth day, Derrick Hasten tried to kill him. Man never could shoot worth beans.
"Why?" He loosened his grip on the goon's neck enough for the man to take a breath.
"Doscompos put out a contract. Two thousand dollars for your head. You shouldn't have done that, man. He's pissed."
"Done what?" Oh shit.
"Started a war with a God, man. Doscompos don't back down to no God and he's fingered you."
I knew that was a bad idea. I knew it. He squeezed until Derrick passed out, then tied him up and left him. He took the tram and taxi to Igor's and helped them finish packing. Slept on the couch, armed. Hustled them in the morning and got them aboard the ship early.
"Mikey," Vera sounded exasperated. "We're going to be onboard for fourteen days. The ships sails on the tide, in eight hours."
"I know, I just got anxious and kept dreaming all night long about missing the boat." He scanned the dock anxiously. Surely anyone looking for Mikey would look for Igor first thing, and the neighbors probably all knew about the boat . . .
He kept the little Kipper amused watching them load horses for hours, and cattle too. And the tide turned and they were off.
It was a miserable sixteen days. The storm delayed them, and the Kipper cried every time a dead horse got thrown overboard.
"Sea voyages are tough on them honey." Dan tried to explain. "Horses have delicate tummies."
They all had delicate tummies, in the big rolling waves. But they did finally pull into the big bay where George Scooner had his land grant.
The Colony was leasing the Government built dock, built by one of the Gods working with other magic users, when they started the transcontinental road. That massive boondoggle and waste of taxpayer's money was now complete, and another road across the southern part of the continent was under construction. The Scooner Company had built warehouses at the dock and a road to the main town site, and the accountants were all prepared to deal with the new colonists while all the goods were unloaded.
The land was broken up into pie wedges centered on the town site, and then split into blocks. Everyone got a single block of land as part of their membership fee. The sizes varied according to whether they were in town or out, and the farms according to the soil quality.
They all liked the sound of 'High Top', and they wanted to be far enough out to have that pony for the Kipper. And Mikey had all the farm gear . . . they inspected the land and then took a strip of four lots – one for each adult – that reached from the south side of the hill that gave the section the name, east toward town. That put them out on the outskirts, with no one beyond them.
Mikey took the furthest west lot.
"It's big because the soil is a bit thin and rocky," the women registering parcels mentioned.
"No problem." Mikey smiled, thinking of the fun he'd have with his new tractor.
Then b
ack to the dock to start the move.
They uncrated the tractor first, and Mikey sat and charged the batteries as Igor and Dan collected the rest of their goods. It was an impressive—and heavy—pile.
Various of his implements had wheels, and being careful to not overload them, Mikey and Igor made several trips to their land and back. They finally managed to borrow a trailer for the last load, and then take the trailer owner's last load to his place. Some time around midnight they were done, and collapsed while Vera poked through crates and finally found her cooking gear and the rather small amount of food they'd brought along.
Mikey worried a bit about that. It was late summer . . . He got out his farming books, and found the crop tables. It appeared to be time to plant hard winter squash, and too late for pretty much anything else. Maybe he could do a bit of green housie stuff . . . all he lacked was the greenhouse . . . Was anyone going to be making glass?
Maybe he should just grow his squash. Get his fields planted and have a hands on learning experience, as his father used to say. He sighed. His father had been a mage, a powerful one, and Mikey had learned all the endless, useless . . .
Hmm, or not useless? A lot of it had involved weather. Maybe, finally, out here in the wilderness all the crap his father had filled his brain with would be worth something.
They were all stiff and sore the next day, but they warmed up exploring their new empire.
Dan and Vera chose a slight hill to be the site of their future home, and Igor moved one hill over. Mikey started shifting his stuff three miles further down the road and fell in love with High Top hill.
His parcel was two square miles on the south east slope, climbing up from the road to a spot just below the apex.
It was rocky, as the lady had said, but he stopped at a flat spot three quarters of the way up the hill and just sat there admiring the view, and knowing he was grinning like a fool.
Then he unloaded the first crates and left the plow there.
He had to stop and charge batteries before he could make the second trip, and Vera had breakfast ready.
"We're going to have to hunt, aren't we?" Dan was looking a little worried.
Mikey nodded. "I've got more money, but I'll bet food is going to really get expensive."
Hunting. Hunting magic. Hmm, he'd have to remember stuff about that.
The Benny's were unpacking, and taking apart the big crates carefully. The hoist crate had already turned into a shelter for the Kipper, and the rearing foal crate was going to provide the sides of another room.
Thinking about magic, and the gods, and how the hell he'd suddenly gone mad and wound up out here, he poked the pretty statue. "It's kinda big, isn't it? I mean, bigger than a real foal?"
Dan wandered over and shrugged. "I dunno, I never had anything to do with horses."
Kipper hopped over and petted her statue. "It's got a funny rough spot right here under his head."
"Well, all those jaw bones and . . . " There was something very odd about the rough spot, and Mikey scratched at it, peeled it off like it was glued there . . . and something popped like a soap bubble and the foal touched down and threw his head up, startled.
Not half as startled as the people. Mikey backed away carefully, and swallowed nervously. What had just happened? The Kipper held her hands out and cooed to the oversized dull gray and black creature. It snorted and sniffed her, then trotted off a bit and looked around.
Vena wrung her hands. "I do hope he's old enough to eat grass, because we don't have a milk cow."
Keeping half an eye on the colt, Mikey went back to work, loading up everything that would fit onto his reaper. The colt followed him to the hill, and grazed while he was unloading, then followed him back to the Bennys' place. Kipper ran around with him, and they explored the back of the property where there was a creek.
By the time Mikey got back from the third trip, girl and horse were both wet and muddy and getting scolded.
Mikey's tractor crate was dismantled, but the rest he took himself, and lined out in rocks where he'd build his house.
Thinking about it, he moved the crates to the side where his equipment storage was going to be. That way his first house wouldn't be in the way of his second.
He slept there, alone and free, and hungry. Thinking about magic and hunting. In the morning he surveyed the lands to the south, and spotted some herds of large animals. Domestic cows? Or something wild? He set out to discover which, reviewing his selection of spells.
Unnoticeable. Definitely. Slice or fireball? Hard to say, neither was useful beyond about four meters. That was pretty close to get to a wild animal.
The animals were wild cattle, not the plump short horned variety he was used to. These were big, lean and possessed of large horns.
He eyed them from a safe distance. "Lots of steaks and hamburger, right there," he muttered. The nearest cow flung up her head and looked his way suspiciously. Good hearing.
On the far side of the herd he could see some movement . . . men on horseback, with rifles. They were holding them up as if already primed and ready . . . aiming them and then a volley of shots rang out.
Four cows fell, and the other fifty turned and ran straight at Mikey. He leaped up onto the tractor and banished his unnoticeable spell. They were still coming! He sliced out at the first big cow, then threw a fire ball at a huge bull. Then he put up a shield, and was knocked completely off the tractor as another cow ran straight into the shield. Then they were gone, except the first cow and the bull, and a staggering calf that must have hit the shield and practically knocked itself out. He jumped up and grabbed the calf and found himself fighting with a critter that weighed more than he did and had hard things on the ten or twenty appendages that seemed to be striking him.
Then it was suddenly jerked away.
"Sorry about that."
Mikey staggered back to his feet and blinked up at the man on the horse.
"We didn't realize there was anyone over here to get trampled."
Mikey looked at the carcasses, and grinned. "Hey, it wasn't how I was planning on hunting, but whatever works."
The man had the wild calf roped and tied off to his horse, and now he dismounted and grabbed the creature. "Heifer, excellent. I expect you'll want her?"
Mikey nodded. What am I going to do with a cow?
The man threw the critter down and had her legs all tied up in nothing flat. "Can you hold her and drive?" He seemed to assume an affirmative, and transferring his attention back to the carcasses; he simply roped their horns to the tractor. "There you go. Really sorry about the stampede."
"No problem, " Mikey repeated weakly. Fortunately it was mostly a straight shot, all the way back to the Bennys'. If he'd had to do much steering, he'd have given up on the struggling calf.
Vera had met the neighbors across the way, and they all came and exclaimed over the carcasses and the calf. The two families with side by side plots were farmers, or at any rate planning on being farmers, and they knew just what to do.
Wild Thing was quickly put into a pen with their own cattle, and the carcasses attacked with knives and reduced to hide (a bit the worse for wear after being dragged five miles) and chunks of meat. Fire pits for roasts, smokers for jerky, using leaky tents made of the hides over poles, and of course, a steak dinner whipped up on the spot.
The men chatted about hunting, and the women about cooking and preserving food, and the kids – the other two families had six between them – played with the big colt and named him Foggy.
The farmers considered the Bennys to be woefully lacking in needed skills, but Dan's ability to improvise when spare parts weren't available was approved.
Mikey's ability to hunt, as proved by the lean, mean steaks they were chewing, was considered proven. As a single man, that was fine. But Dan, and by association, Igor, had family responsibilities.
Next thing you knew, they were chopping down trees for a house.
Mikey hated his new axe within fo
ur strokes and stepped back to slice the tree. Worked like a charm, and he noticed that it fell the direction of the partial cut he'd made.
Branches, dead easy. He was panting and drained by sundown. But happy. Magic. He'd found a use for magic.
That first log cabin was crude, and the fence for the Wild Thing and the dun colt too low. The colt jumped out, and Hastings gelded him "Before he gets you into serious trouble."
The electric tractor was put to good use. The Hastings and Turners had larger and more powerful machines, but were already starting to have trouble getting fuel.
They did the first ground breaking for the Benny's fall garden, and left the rest of it to Mikey and his machine.
Squash, tomatoes, beans, peppers, lettuce, chard . . .
Once planted, they turned back to building, and got up some good barns for the Hastings and Turners, a good equipment shed for Mikey, and a shed for the dun and the wild heifer.
Then the farmers introduced the poor city folk to the concept of "haying".
Mikey spent every morning charging batteries so he could mow, rake or bale in the afternoon.
The Turners and Hastings were proud of their protégées, and a larger barn was built.
Then there was firewood.
Collecting acorns, as a flour extender. "Just this year, we'll have plenty of wheat next year."
Berry picking and canning jelly happened. Mikey avoided the process as much as possible, and started building his house. He started small, with what he decided would eventually be his library. A roaring fireplace, absolutely necessary. Four walls, with the windows mostly high up for good reading light, but leaving plenty of room for book shelves. One larger window to take in his favorite view.
On inquiry, he found glass almost impossible to find, and searched through his father's books for information. The purest quartz sand possible and heat it till it melted. There were various additives to help clarify less than completely pure silica, none of which he had, or had any idea how to get. Spells for the heat and the levitation so it would cool smooth and not stick to anything. He practiced on pure sand, shattering a lot of glass until he built a rocky beehive shaped oven he could heat, and stack with glass so it could cool down slowly.
