Ike Shot the Sheriff Page 4

  Thaddeus waited, unwilling to invite the man in.

  Ike shrugged. “Well, can I see my friends?”

  “They’ve already been processed,” Thaddeus said. “Just out of curiosity, what were the names of your friends?”

  Ike laughed and winked. “I don’t know them like that. Just thought they’d be here and I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t come to check them out.”

  “If you want to be good to your friends, keep them in line.”

  Ike turned to go.

  Thaddeus let him take a few steps. “What are you doing here, Ike?”

  “I’m just kind of in between jobs right now. A guy like me, and a guy like you, are more important in these frontier worlds. Kindred spirits, you might say.” Ike paused. “Miners worry about the roof caving in. I know I did when I was down there. Management worries about strikes and contract negotiations.”

  “Just what are you saying, Ike?” Thad asked.

  The scar-faced tough-guy shrugged his broad shoulders again. “Just saying. The Company Man seems like a real nice broad. I don’t think she’s got the steel in her veins to handle a strike. Most of what goes on during labor relations ain’t written down nowhere. You get me?”

  Thad let his long coat fall away to reveal his gun and badge. “It’s not illegal to have labor negotiations. It is illegal to cause disorder. Do you get me?”

  “Yeah, I do, lawman. And I think you’re smart enough to know nothing good is going to come from you and me fighting.” He turned and walked away.

  Thaddeus reached into the pocket of his coat, pulled out a recording device, and clicked the stop button.

  * * *

  Next day, Thaddeus headed to see the Company Man about a matter of grave importance. He dressed in his best jumpsuit, brushed off his long fire coat, and shined his boots. Barbers seemed a rarity in Darklanding. His hair would reach his ears before long. By the end of his term, he would be a real hair farmer if he didn’t figure something out.

  He grabbed his hat from the battered office chair and slid his sidearm into the holster. “Thank you for not stinking up my room,” he told his chair.

  The stairs to the Mother Lode bar creaked as he nimbly descended and strode among the minimal breakfast crowd.

  “Sheriff, there’s a man by the stage who won’t leave,” Dixie said, thrusting herself forward as she batted her eyes. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t shown up in the nick of time.”

  Thaddeus tipped his hat to her. “My pleasure.” He couldn’t help but smile at her. Focus. Think with the big head, he told himself.

  He walked to the passed-out drunk and kicked his boot.

  “Uh…what? Where…?” the man said as he roused himself to a sitting position.

  “What’s your name, friend?”

  “Carter F. Hayes.” He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.

  “Get on home, get some rest, and get to work. People are counting on you,” Thad said.

  Carter nodded as he stood and worked his way toward the door.

  Thad ordered breakfast and sent a message to Shaunte requesting a meeting at her earliest convenience. He had the recorder in his pocket and had thought of a thousand ways to explain what was coming to Darklanding.

  “I’m sad, Sheriff,” Dixie said, leaning close.

  “What’s that, Dixie?”

  “I wasn’t the one to put you in such a chipper mood,” she said demurely, looking up at him with sheltered eyes. “Maybe next time?”

  “Just heading to work. Another day in paradise,” he said, stumbling as he started to make his escape before remembering that he hadn’t eaten.

  “You were whistling when you came down the stairs,” she said.

  Thaddeus paused and returned to his seat, forcing his eyes to his food. “I guess I was.” He took his fork and started to eat, chasing it with an orange-colored fluid described on the menu as orange juice.

  “I’m just surprised you’re up so early,” she said, letting her words languish, before delivering the punchline. “Not as surprised as I am about that Ike fellow arriving at the crack of dawn.”

  Thaddeus stopped eating the scrambled green eggs on his plate. “Did you say Ike was here?”

  She nodded, wide-eyed with sincerity. “Went straight up to the Company Man’s office.”

  Thad put down his fork, then drained the orange drink in one long pull. “Tell me, Dixie. Does Ike have a tab at the Mother Lode?”

  “For companionship or alcohol?” she asked.

  “Either. Both.”

  “He does. No idea who pays it.”

  Thaddeus wiped his hands on a cloth napkin, then headed for the stairs to Shaunte’s office.

  “Have a nice day, Sheriff,” Dixie said mischievously.

  He took the stairs two at a time, stopping outside Shaunte’s office door when he heard Ike’s voice.

  “Treating my men that way isn’t going to keep order. They work a hell of a lot harder than the Gloks and get treated like outsiders. Only way they get to eat a decent meal or have a drink is if I pay for it, and I ain’t made of money,” Ike said.

  Thaddeus watched his profile through the frosted glass of the office door.

  “Who is paying your tab at the Mother Lode, if I may ask?” Shaunte’s voice was calm, but tense.

  “That’s a personal question. Don’t feel we’re good enough friends right now for me to answer it,” Ike said.

  “I can find out,” she said.

  “Then find out. Doesn’t matter. SagCon can’t treat men and women like dirt and expect them to keep busting their backs,” Ike said.

  “You seem awfully concerned for them, considering where you were during the last contract negotiation,” Shaunte said.

  Ike moved and spoke low enough that Thaddeus could no longer hear him.

  He knocked on the door, then opened it. “Mind if I come in? Sounds like an interesting conversation. Patrons are complaining up and down the hall. Thought I’d investigate,” Thaddeus said.

  Shaunte and Ike stared at him. Thad wasn’t sure who looked guiltier. He thought about the recorder in his pocket and wondered if he should leave it there. He crossed his arms. “Good morning, Ike.”

  “You arrested two men with families to support back on Frenen’s World. They’re good workers who don’t deserve your harassment,” Ike said.

  “I released them last night. You know that,” Thad said.

  “Well, that’s not the point.”

  “What is the point?” Shaunte asked.

  Ike’s lip curled back for just a second. He narrowed his gaze and clenched his fists.

  Thaddeus stepped forward, ready to put the dangerous man in his place, but Shaunte held up a hand for him to stop. “Not the time or place, Sheriff.”

  A second later, Ike was all charm. “Well, I suppose you have our best interests in mind.” He backed toward the door, hands raised in supplication. “Good day, Miss Plastes. Good day, lawman.”

  “Not if you start trouble,” Thaddeus said.

  Ike nodded his agreement several times. “Sure thing. I understand completely. There won’t be any trouble in Darklanding.”

  CHAPTER NINE: Who’s That Girl

  Thad wasn’t sure what to think of his confrontation with Ike. He’d started the day with a clear head and plenty of resolve. All he wanted now was for Ike to leave Ungwilook and for Shaunte to level with him. How did she know Ike?

  “It sounds to Mast like she hired him for security during the last labor dispute,” Mast said.

  “Referring to yourself in the third person is bad grammar,” Thaddeus said. He stood the tractor tire up and rolled it to the edge of the field, smearing dirt and grease across the old jumpsuit he’d selected for his workout gear. “What was he, a strike-buster? A head-knocker?”

  “I do not know this information,” Mast said. He stared at the tire as though it were a dangerous alien. “Are deputies required to abuse tires and wheels? It seems a bit
unnecessary.”

  “If I can flip this tire, I can flip Ike on his head. Which sooner or later is going to happen. He’s trouble,” Thaddeus said.

  “I very much agree,” Mast said. He clapped his hands. “Did I say that more rightly?”

  “Um, yeah, the first part,” Thad said.

  Mast smiled ear to ear and strutted back and forth with his hands on his hips, blaster swinging on his side and badge shiny as any badge ever had shined on this planet.

  Thad nodded toward the weapon. “We’re going to need to teach you to use that.”

  “Do you think so?” Mast asked.

  “Yes, I think so. Sooner rather than later.”

  “Perhaps I should learn to move the tire first.”

  Thaddeus shook his head. “Different skillsets.” He took Mast’s weapon, unloaded it, then double-checked the safety mechanism. He pointed it at the remaining tires in the corner. “Look through the front site here. That’s the main thing. Line up the back site with the front and keep them level across here.”

  Mast nodded rapidly, looking like he might dislocate his long neck.

  “But mostly, it’s the front site. Especially up close.”

  “You said mostly. Is that like muchly?”

  Thad lowered the weapon with his right hand and massaged his forehead with his left.

  Mast took back his weapon and aimed it at the tires in the corner. “Is that animal safe?”

  Thad saw the pig-dog that he had named after the one who conquered Europe, Charles Magnus. But that didn’t fit. He was more the gladiator type. The ugly creature smiled and wagged its stumpy tail without standing.

  “Stand there and practice aiming. Don’t touch the trigger. I’ll keep the power magazines to your blaster over here by my hat. Porky Pig should be safe enough for now,” Thad said.

  The dog-thing snorted as it rose to its feet and turned around. Backside to Thad, it settled down for a nap.

  “Good. Very good,” Mast said, already aiming the weapon away from Thad. “Are you going to punish that tire now?”

  “I’m going to smash it like it owes me money,” Thad said right before he flipped it the first time. A half-hour later, he started running the perimeter of the vacant lot while Mast practiced drawing and aiming his blaster—grunting and saying things in the Unglok language that sounded both angry and juvenile.

  Thad walked the last lap, sweating down the back of his old jumpsuit, breathing hard with his hands on his hips. One side of the lot bordered the street, across which was an abandoned building with a tall loading dock where a young girl sat in off-world clothing. The khaki pants and white shirt made him think of safari gear. Her boots were the civilian version of combat boots, probably custom-made. Auburn-haired and blue-eyed, there was something about her he couldn’t describe.

  “Nice pig,” the girl said, casting her voice toward him.

  The unnamed creature ambled toward them and stopped at a safe distance, sitting and watching the scene with its tongue lolling.

  “It’s a dog.” Thad strapped on his gun-belt, suddenly protective of the animal. “I shall call him Maximus.”

  The creature panted at him, then snorted.

  Thaddeus turned slightly so the girl couldn't eavesdrop. “Maximus?”

  The dog-thing didn't look away.

  “I take that as a yes.” Thaddeus turned back.

  The girl hopped down, smiling as she crossed the street. “Pigs are smarter than dogs.” She stopped on the sidewalk and cocked her head sideways as though studying a fascinating new lifeform. Her blue eyes held Thad’s gaze with youthful confidence.

  “You’re a pig expert?”

  “No. Never actually seen one. My brother had a dog. Stupid creature, but we loved it. What do you have against tractor tires?” she asked.

  “Long story,” he said.

  Mast stopped drawing and aiming his blaster. “Hello, Ruby Miranda. Very muchly good day to you.”

  She curtsied to Mast, then stepped within arm’s reach of Thad. “Dixie won’t stop talking about you. I thought I’d see what she was fussing about. Darklanding is an interesting place. A lot of money to be made. A lot of things to go wrong.”

  “Shouldn’t you be on holiday with your parents?” Thaddeus asked.

  Ruby’s face went cold, smile disappearing as though it had never been there. “I’m old enough to make my own way. It’s something of a tradition in our family.” She turned to walk away before looking back over her shoulder. “Have a nice day, Sheriff Fry.”

  Something tickled Thad’s memory as he watched her leave. The girl was part of a story he’d heard before, somewhere far away from here.

  “Mast, head back to the Mother Lode. Notify me immediately if you see Ike or his crew.” He kept his eyes on Ruby.

  “I can most surely achieve that objective,” Mast said. “Are you going to follow her?”

  Thad yanked his gaze toward the Unglok. “Yeah, I was. Is there a problem?”

  Mast rolled his eyes up and made a rhythmic coughing sound from deep in his chest, holding his stomach with both hands.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  Mast caught his breath. “I tried to very perfectly surveil her without success. How could you do better without knowing Darklanding as I do?”

  “Do your job, Deputy. Don’t worry about me,” Thaddeus said.

  “Yes, yes. I will return to the Mother Lode and watch for Ike.”

  Thaddeus set out after the girl who claimed her name was Ruby Miranda.

  Darklanding was like most purpose-built industrial towns, frantically busy in places and nearly abandoned in others. Thaddeus turned the corner to find a sea of humans and Ungloks moving to and from work stations. Ruby’s small form disappeared between miners, dock hands, and miscellaneous workers carrying lunchboxes and talking over the noise.

  The street was a cheap composite, like asphalt made of local materials. There shouldn’t have been dust or mud but it hadn’t been resurfaced or swept for a while. Smog from the spaceport and the distant processing plant was particularly thick today. One of the local warehouses had its doors open to hundreds of loading bays. Rock and roll music blared from a shop speaker. On the other side of the street, a repair shop blasted classical music.

  Street vendors hawked cheap food and digital news cards, mostly scandal magazines, romance novels, and pornography. There were rarely enough women on frontier worlds. It always amused Thaddeus how the men devoured romance novels despite their rough exteriors and tough talk.

  Ruby turned a corner.

  Thad sprinted through the crowd to close the gap, slowing when he reached the corner. Stepping onto the next street as casually as possible, he spotter her easily and smiled to himself. “See there, Fry man, you’ve got this.”

  Two men and five robot drones herded hundreds of pigs down the street, corralling them into a large paddock nearly the size of the warehouse on the previous street. Ruby walked through the ocean of animals, easily parting the tide of snorting livestock.

  Thad’s heart skipped a beat. Domestic pigs weren’t aggressive, but they were omnivorous. His mother had warned him to stay away from the animals. The scent of blood would send them into a feeding frenzy, transforming them into feral beasts in a heartbeat.

  Speakers on the drones amplified the voices of the pig herders as they moved them with brisk efficiency.

  Ruby reached the next corner and turned.

  Thaddeus made his way down the raised sidewalk, staying clear of the animals and their masters. He reached the corner and thought he saw Ruby step into an alley a hundred yards ahead of him. There were fewer people here, most of them Ungloks. A ship heavy with cargo roared overhead, climbing for altitude.

  He reached the alley and saw it was short, only about ten meters long before ending in a solid steel wall with no doors. Ruby Miranda was nowhere to be seen.

  “Is that a pig? Oh, I’ve never seen a real pig,” Thaddeus muttered. “Does Dixie know where you’re
at, Ruby?”

  No one answered. Thad took the long way back to the Mother Lode. He’d had enough of crowds and livestock for one day.

  CHAPTER TEN: Money

  Shaunte closed her computer with images of spreadsheets and loss statements burned into her eyes. Grabbing a stylish jacket from the rack near the door of her office, she headed to the workman pickup area where her presence was apparently needed. As soon as she recovered from paying the extra overtime to handle the mine collapse, she was going to hire a good assistant. It had been her goal for months.

  She stopped for a half-sandwich and a child-sized carton of imitation juice, then placed each into a separate pocket of the slim jacket. Near the bar of the Mother Lode, Dixie chastised the new girl about her khaki pants and boring white blouse.

  Shaunte did a double-take when she saw the custom safari boots the girl was wearing. Frowning, she left the building and thought not for the first time she needed to move her office someplace more respectable. And hire an assistant. And stop paying overtime out of her own paycheck to keep the operation running. And get a massage and a manicure.

  Outside, the smog had cleared. The sun was unusually bright. She squinted and shielded her eyes with one hand as she walked to the pickup area down the street. Several transport buses waited for men to get on when normally they would have been halfway to the mines by now. Cold dread filled her gut.

  She looked around for Ike but didn’t see the man. None of the men who caused Thaddeus Fry so many problems were present. She had seen these workers before and given them compliments on their work performance. These were the type of men who came early and stayed late, always trying to prove their worth.

  None of them looked happy. They milled about, watching her nervously. One of them was nudged forward to be their spokesperson.

  He pulled off his helmet and held it in his hands in front of his body. “I’m Jimmy Goodman,” the man said not making eye contact. He fidgeted nervously. “Wanted to send one of us down to your office to make a petition, but none of my friends or me can afford to miss a day at work and was not sure who should do the talking.”