Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
THY ROCKS AND RILLS
By Robert Ernest Gilbert
Illustrated by Tom Beecham
[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from If Worlds of ScienceFiction September 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidencethat the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
[Sidenote: _They were out of place in the Manly Age--Stonecypher, a manwho loved animals; Moe, a bull who hated men. Together, they marched toinevitably similar destinies...._]
PRELUDE
M. Stonecypher lifted his reed sun hat with the square brim, and used ared handkerchief to absorb the perspiration streaking his forehead. Hesaid, "The pup'll make a good guard, 'especially for thrill parties."
L. Dan's golden curls flickered in July 1 sunlight. The puppy growledwhen Dan extended a gloved hand. "I don't want a guard," the hobbyistsaid. "I want him for a dogfight."
A startling bellow rattled the windows of the dog house and spilled indeafening waves across the yard. Dan whirled, clutching his staff. Lightglinted on his plastic cuirass and danced on his red nylon tights. Hisflabby face turned white. "What--" he panted.
Stonecypher concealed a smile behind a long corded hand and said, "Justthe bull. Serenades us sometimes."
Dan circled the dog house. Stonecypher followed with a forefingerpressed to thin lips. In the paddock, the bull's head moved up and down.It might or might not have been a nod.
The crest of long red and blue-black hairs on the bull's neck andshoulders created an illusion of purple, but the rest of the animalmatched the black of a duelmaster's tam. Behind large eyes encircled bya white band, his skull bulged in a swelling dome, making the distancebetween his short horns seem much too great.
"He's purple!" Dan gasped. "Why in the Government don't you put him inthe ring?"
Stonecypher gestured toward the choppy surface of Kings Lake, ninehundred feet below. He said, "Coincidence. I make out the ringmaster'sbarge just leavin' Highland Pier."
"You're selling him?"
"Yeah. If they take 'im. I'd like to see 'im in the ring on DependenceDay."
Glancing at the watch embedded in the left pectoral of his half-armor,Dan said, "That would be a show! I'll take the dog and fly. I've a duelin Highland Park at 11:46."
"The pup's not for sale."
"Not for sale!" Dan yelled. "You told--"
"Thought you wanted a guard. I don't sell for dogfights."
A sound like "Goood!" came from the paddocked bull.
Dan opened his mouth wide. Whatever he intended to say died withoutvocalization, for Catriona came driving the mule team up through theapple orchard. The almost identical mules had sorrel noses, gray necks,buckskin flanks, and black and white pinto backs and haunches. "GreatGovernment!" Dan swore. "This place is worse than a museum!"
"Appaloosa mules," Stonecypher said.
Catriona jumped from the seat of the mowing machine. Dan stared.Compared to the standard woman of the Manly Age who, by dieting,posturing, and exercise from childhood, transformed herself into asmall, thin, dominated creature, Catriona constituted a separatespecies. She was taller than Dan, slightly plump, and her hair couldhave been classed as either red or blonde. Green overalls became herbetter than they did Stonecypher. With no trace of a smile on face or invoice, Stonecypher said, "L. Dan, meet Catriona."
* * * * *
Like a hypnopath's victim, Dan walked to Catriona. He looked up at herand whispered, but too loudly. Stonecypher heard. His hands clamped onthe hobbyist's neck and jerked. Dan smashed in the grass with sufficientforce to loosen the snaps of his armor. He rolled to his feet and swunghis staff.
Stonecypher's left hand snatched the staff. His right fist collided withDan's square jaw. Glaring down at the hobbyist, Stonecypher gripped thestaff and rotated thick wrists outward. The tough plastic popped when itbroke.
Scuttling backward, Dan regained his feet. "You inhuman brute!" hegrowled. "I intended to pay for her!"
"My wife's not for sale either," Stonecypher said. "You know how tofly."
Dan thrust out a coated tongue and made a noise with it. In a memorizedsingsong, he declared, "I challenge you to a duel, in accordance withthe laws of the Government, to be fought in the nearest duelpen at theearliest possible hour."
"Stony, don't!" Catriona protested. "He's not wo'th it!"
Stonecypher smiled at her. "Have to follow the law," he said. Heextended his tongue, blurted, and announced, "As required by theGovernment, I accept your challenge."
"We'll record it!" Dan snapped. He stalked toward the green and goldbutterflier parked in a field of seedling Sudan grass. Horns rattled onthe concrete rails of the paddock.
"Burstaard!" the bull bellowed.
Dan shied and trampled young grass under sandaled feet. His loosenedcuirass clattered rhythmically. Raising the canopy of the butterflier,he slid out the radioak and started typing. Stonecypher and Catrionaapproached the hobbyist. Catriona said, "This is cowa'dly! Stony nevahfought a duel in his life. He won't have a chance!"
"You'll see me soon then, woman. Where'd you get all that equipment? Youlook like something in a circus."
"Ah used to be in a cahnival," Catriona said. She kept Stonecypher inplace with a plump arm across his chest. "That's wheah you belong," shetold Dan. "That's all you'ah good fo'."
"Watch how you address a man, woman," Dan snarled, "or you'll end in theduelpen, too."
Stonecypher snatched the sheet from the typer. The request read:
Duelmaster R. Smith, Watauga Duelpen, Highland Park, Tennessee. L. Dan challenges M. Stonecypher. Cause: Interference with basic amatory rights. July 1. 11:21 amest.
Stonecypher said, "The cause is a lie. You got no rights with Catriona.Why didn't you tell 'em it's because I knocked you ears-over-endways,and you're scared to fight without a gun?"
Dan shoved the request into the slot and pulled the switch. "I'll killyou," he promised.
While the request was transmitted by radiophotography, minutes passed,bare of further insults. Catriona and Stonecypher stood near theconcrete fence enclosing the rolling top of Bays Mountain. Interminablelabor had converted 650 acres of the top to arable land. Below thecouple, the steep side of the mountain, denuded of timber, dangerouslyeroded, and scarred by limestone quarries, fell to the ragged shore ofKings Lake. Two miles of water agitated by many boats separated theshore and the peninsula, which resembled a wrinkled dragon withunderslung lower jaw distended. The town of Highland Park clung to thejutting land, and the Highland Bullring appeared as a white dot morethan four miles from where Catriona and Stonecypher stood. Theringmaster's barge was a red rectangle skirting Russel Chapel Island.
Dan pulled the answer from the buzzing radioak. He walked over and heldthe radiophoto an inch from Stonecypher's long nose. It read:
Request OK. Time: July 4. 3:47 pmest.
Two attached permits granted each duelist the privilege of carrying onehandgun with a capacity of not more than ten cartridges of not lessthan .32 caliber. Below the permits appeared an additional message:
L. Dan due at Watauga Duelpen. 11:46 amest. For duel with J. George.
"Government and Taxes!" Dan cursed. Throwing Stonecypher's permit, heleaped into the green and gold butterflier and slammed the canopy. Thefour wings of the semi-ornithopter blurred with motion, lifting thecraft into the sky. The forward wings locked with negative dihedral, therear wings angled to form a ruddevator, and the five-bladed propellerwhined, driving the butterflier in a shallow dive for the peninsula.
* *
* * *
Catriona said, "Ah hope he's late, and they shoot him. Ah knew you'dfinally have to fight, but--"
"You keep out of it next time," said Stonecypher. "I happen to know thatfeller's killed two women in the pen. He don't care for nothin'. Oughtaknown better than to let him come here. He made out like he wanted aguard dog, and I thought--"
"Nevah mind, Stony. Ah've got to help you. You nevah even fiahed a gun."
"Later, Cat. The ringmaster may want to stay for dinner. I'll look afterthe mules."
Catriona touched Stonecypher's cheek and went to the house. Stonecypherunharnessed the Appaloosa mules. While they rolled, he took, from anempty hay rack, a rubber-tipped spear and a tattered cloth dummy. Thedummy's single arm terminated in a red flag.
Stonecypher concealed spear and dummy beneath the floor of the doghouse. Going to the paddock, he patted the bull between the horns, whichhad been filed to a needle point. "Still goin' through with it?"Stonecypher asked.
"Yaaaa," the bull lowed. "Yaooo kuhl Daan. Err'll kuhl uhhh kuhlerrs."
"All right, Moe. I'll kill Dan, and you kill the killers." Stonecypherstroked the massive hemisphere of the bull's jaw. "Goodbye, Moe."
"Gooodba," the bull echoed. He lowered his nose to the shelled cornseasoned with molasses, the rolled oats, and the ground barley in thetrough.
Stonecypher walked down the road to the staircase of stone that dammedthe old Kingsport Reservoir, abandoned long before Kings Lake coveredthe city. A red electric truck crawled up the steep road hewn from theslope of the gap formed by Dolan Branch. When the truck had crossed thebridge below the buttressed dam, Stonecypher spoke to the fat andsweltering man seated beside the driver. "I'm M. Stonecypher. Proud foryou to visit my farm. Dinner's ready up at the house."
"No, no time," smiled the fat man, displaying stainless steel teeth."Only time to see the bull. I thought we weren't going to make thatgrade! Why don't those scientists develop synthetic elements, so that wecan have atomic power again? This radio-electric is so unreliable! I amRingmaster A. Oswell, naturally. This heat is excruciating! I had hopedit would be cooler up here, but something seems to have happened to ourinland-oceanic climate this summer. Lead us to the bull, Stonecypher!"
Clinging to the slatted truck bed, Stonecypher directed the stoic driverto the paddock. The electric motor rattled and stopped, and RingmasterOswell wheezed and squirmed from the cab. The ringmaster wore a vaguelyArabic costume, in all variations of red.
The bull lumbered bellowing around the fence. His horns raked whitegashes in the beech tree forming one corner. He tossed the feed troughto splintering destruction.
"Magnificent!" Oswell gasped. Then the ringmaster frowned. "But he looksalmost purple. His horns are rather short."
"Stay back from the fence!" Stonecypher warned. "He's real wide betweenthe horns, ringmaster. I reckon the spread'll match up to standard. Samestock my grandfather used to sell Boon Bullring before the water.Wouldn't sell 'im, only the tenants are scared to come about the house."
Oswell fingered his balloon neck and mumbled, "But he's odd. That longhair on his neck ... I don't know...."
The bull's horns lifted the mineral feeder from the center of thepaddock. The box rotated over the rails and crashed in a cloud offloured oyster shells and phosphate salt at the ringmaster's feet.
Oswell took cover behind the truck driver, who said, "Fergus'd like him.Jeeze! Remember dat brown and white spotted one he kilt last year onForrest Day? Da crowd like ta never stopt yelling!"
Ringmaster Oswell retreated farther, as, under the bull's onslaught, apiece of concrete broke from the top rail, exposing the reinforcing rodwithin. "Fergus does like strange ones," he admitted.
Stonecypher said, "Don't let the mane bother you. There's one of theselong-haired Scotch cows in his ancestors. He's not really purple. Justthe way the light hits 'im."
Oswell chewed lacquered fingernails with steel dentures. His bloodshoteyes studied the spotted and speckled Appaloosa mules chasing around thepasture, but the sight failed to register on his brain. "The crowd likesa good show on Dependence Day," he proclaimed. "I considered trying afat Aberdeen Angus with artificial horns for laughs, but this may do aswell. I must find some shade! I'll take him, Stonecypher, if fifteenhundred in gold is agreeable."
"Sold," Stonecypher said. The word cracked in the middle.
While the ringmaster, muttering about trying bulldogs sometime, retiredto the narrow shadow of the dog house, the driver backed the truck tothe ramp. Stonecypher opened the gate and waved his handkerchief. Thebull charged into the truck, and the driver locked the heavy doors.
From within his red burnoose, Oswell produced a clinking bag. "Fifteenhundred," he said. From other recesses, he withdrew documents,notebooks, and a pencil. He said, "Here is a pass for you and one forany woman-subject you may wish to bring. You'll want to see your firstbull on Dependence Day! And here is the standard release absolving youof any damage the bull may do. Oh, yes! His name and number?"
"Number?"
"Yes, his brand."
"Not branded. Make it Number 1. Name's Moe."
Oswell chuckled. "Moe. Very good! Most breeders name them things likeChainlightning and Thunderbird. Your GE number?"
"I'm not a Government Employee."
"You're not?" Oswell wheezed. "How unusual! Your colors? He'll wear yourcolors in his shoulder."
"Yeah. Black."
"Black?"
"Dead black."
Oswell, scribbling, managed a faint smile. "Sorry I can't accept thatinvitation to lunch." He struggled into the truck. "Hope this bull isbrave in the ring. Nice antique old place you have here! I don't see afeed tower, but you surely don't use pasture--" The ringmaster's babblepassed down the road with the truck.
Stonecypher watched the vehicle descend the dangerous grade. He liftedhis square hat from his black hair, dropped it on the ground, andcrushed the reeds under a booted foot.
The temporary house, a squat cubical structure, stood at the end of aspruce-lined path beside the ruin that a thrill party had made of thecentury-old farm house. The plastic screen squeaked when Stonecypheropened it. He stood on the white floor of the robot kitchen and dug afifty dollar gold piece from the bag Oswell had given him. Glaring atthe head of the woman with Liberty inscribed on her crown, he muttered,"Thirty pieces of gold."
Catriona called, "Oswell's lucky he couldn't stay foah dinnah! Ah hadthe potassium cyanide all ready."
Stonecypher passed through the diner door into a room containing moreyellowed history books and agricultural pamphlets than eating utensils.Catriona waited by the table. She held a large revolver in her righthand.