Time Enough For Love Part 35

We both taught school, indoors and out. Perhaps our kids had a weird education . . but a girl who can shape a comfortable and handsome saddle starting with a dead mule and not much else, solve quadratics in her head, shoot straight with gun or arrow, cook an omelet that is light and tasty, spout page after page of Shakespeare, butcher a hog and cure it can't be called ignorant by New Beginnings standards. All our girls and boys could do all of that and more. I must admit that they spoke a rather florid brand of English, espeially after they set up the New Globe Theater and worked straight through every one of old Bill's plays. No doubt this gave them odd notions of Old Earth's culture and history, but I could not see that it hurt them. We had only a few bound books. mostly reference; the dozen-odd "fun" books were worked to death.

Our kids saw nothing strange in learning to read from As You Like It. As You Like It. No one told them that it was too hard for them, and they ate it up, finding "tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in every thing." No one told them that it was too hard for them, and they ate it up, finding "tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in every thing."

Although it did sound odd to hear a five-year-old girl speak in scansion and rolling periods, polysyllables falling gracefully from her baby lips. Still, I preferred it to "Run, Spot, run. See Spot run" from a later era than Bill's.

Second only to Shakespeare in popularity, and first whenever Dora was swelling up again, were my medical books, especially those on anatomy, obstetrics, and gynecology. Any birth was an event-kittens, piglets, foals, puppies, kids-but a new baby out of Dora was a super-event, one that always put more thumbprints on that standard OB ill.u.s.tration, a cross section of mother and baby at term. I finally removed that one and several plates that followed it, those showing normal delivery, and posted them, to save wear and tear on my books-then announced that they could look at those pictures all they wanted to, but that to touch one was a spanking offense-then was forced to spank Iseult to keep justice even, which hurt her old father far more than it did her baby bottom even though she saved my face, by applauding my gentle paddling with loud screams and tears.

My medical books had one odd effect. Our kids knew from babyhood all the correct English monosyllables for human anatomy and function; Helen Mayberry had never used slang with Baby Dora; Dora spoke as correctly in front of her children. But once they could read my books, intellectual sn.o.bbery set in; they loved loved those Latin polysyllables. If I said "womb" (as I always did), some six-year-old would inform me with quiet authority that the those Latin polysyllables. If I said "womb" (as I always did), some six-year-old would inform me with quiet authority that the book book said "uterus." Or Undine might rush in with the news that Big Billy Whiskers was "copulating" with Silky, whereupon the kids would rush out to the goat pen to watch. Somewhere around their middle teens they usually recovered from this nonsense and went back to speaking English as their parents spoke it, so I guess it didn't hurt them. said "uterus." Or Undine might rush in with the news that Big Billy Whiskers was "copulating" with Silky, whereupon the kids would rush out to the goat pen to watch. Somewhere around their middle teens they usually recovered from this nonsense and went back to speaking English as their parents spoke it, so I guess it didn't hurt them.

The reason my own goatiness was not a spectator sport for children that all the animals afforded was, I think, only my own unreasoned but long-standing habits. I don't think it would have fretted Dora because it did not seem to fret her the times it happened-as it did; privacy was scarce and got scarcer until I got our big house built some twelve or thirteen years after we entered the valley-time indefinite because for years I worked on it when I could; then we moved into it unfinished because we were bulging the walls of our first house and another baby (Ginny) was on the way.

Dora was untroubled by lack of privacy because her sweet lechery was utterly innocent, whereas mine was scarred by the culture I grew up in-a culture psychotic throughout and especially on this subject. Dora did much to heal those scars. But I never achieved her angelic innocence.

I do not not mean the innocence of childish ignorance; I mean the true innocence of an intelligent, informed, adult woman who has no evil in her. Dora was as tough as she was innocent, always aware that she was responsible for her own actions. She knew that "the tail goes with the hide, that you can't be a little bit pregnant, that it is no kindness to hang a man slowly." She could make a hard decision without dithering, then stand up to the consequences if it turned out that her judgment was faulty. She could apologize to a child, or to a mule. But that was rarely necessary; her self-honesty did not often lead her into faulty decisions. mean the innocence of childish ignorance; I mean the true innocence of an intelligent, informed, adult woman who has no evil in her. Dora was as tough as she was innocent, always aware that she was responsible for her own actions. She knew that "the tail goes with the hide, that you can't be a little bit pregnant, that it is no kindness to hang a man slowly." She could make a hard decision without dithering, then stand up to the consequences if it turned out that her judgment was faulty. She could apologize to a child, or to a mule. But that was rarely necessary; her self-honesty did not often lead her into faulty decisions.

Nor did she flagellate herself when she made a mistake. She corrected it as best she could, learned from it, did not lie awake over it.

While her ancestry had given her the potential, Helen Mayberry must be credited with having guided it and allowed it to develop. Helen Mayberry was sensitive and sensible. Come to think of it, the traits complement. A person who is sensitive but not sensible is all mixed up, cannot function properly. A person who is sensible but not sensitive-I've never met one and am not sure such a person can exist.

Helen Mayberry was born on Earth but had shucked off her bad background when she migrated; she did not pa.s.s on to Baby Dora and growing-girl Dora the sick standards of a dying culture. I knew some of this from Helen herself, but I learned more about Helen from Dora the Woman. Over the long course of getting acquainted with this stranger I had married (married couples always start out as strangers no matter how long they've known each other) I learned that Dora knew exactly the relationship that had once existed between Helen Mayberry and me, including the fact that it was economic as well as social and physical.

This did not make Dora jealous of "Aunt" Helen; jealousy was only a word to Dora, one that meant no more to her than a sunset does to an earthworm; the capacity to feel jealousy had never been developed in her. She regarded the arrangements between Helen and me as natural, reasonable, and appropriate. Indeed I feel certain that Helen's example was the clinching factor in Dora's picking me as her mate, as it could not have been my charm and beauty, both negligible. Helen had not taught Dora that s.e.x was anything sacred; she had taught her, by precept and example, that s.e.x is a way for people to be happy together.

Take those three vultures we killed-Instead of what they were, had they been good men and decent-oh, such men as Ira and Galahad-and given the same circ.u.mstances, four men with only one woman and the situation likely to stay that way, I think Dora would have entered easily and naturally into polyandry . . and would have managed to convince me that that was the only happy solution by the way she herself treated it.

Nor would she, in adding more husbands, have been breaking her marriage vows. Dora had not promised to cleave unto me only; I won't let a woman promise that because a day sometimes arrives when she can't.

Dora could have kept four decent, honorable men happy. Dora had none of the sickly att.i.tudes that interfere with a person loving more and more; Helen had seen to that. And, as the Greeks pointed out, one man cannot quench the fires of Vesuvius. Or was it the Romans? Never mind, it's true. Dora probably would have been even happier in a polyandrous marriage. And if she she were happier, it follows, as the night the day, that I would have been also-even though I cannot imagine being happier than I was. But more big male muscles would have made life easier on me; I always had too much to do. More company could have been pleasant, too, I am forced to a.s.sume-the company of men whom Dora found acceptable. As for Dora herself, she had enough love in her to lavish it on me and a dozen kids; three more husbands would not have used up her resources, she was a spring that never ran dry. were happier, it follows, as the night the day, that I would have been also-even though I cannot imagine being happier than I was. But more big male muscles would have made life easier on me; I always had too much to do. More company could have been pleasant, too, I am forced to a.s.sume-the company of men whom Dora found acceptable. As for Dora herself, she had enough love in her to lavish it on me and a dozen kids; three more husbands would not have used up her resources, she was a spring that never ran dry.

But the matter is hypothetical. Those three Montgomerys were so little like Galahad and Ira that it is hard to think of them as being of the same race. They were vermin for killing, and that's what they got. I learned only a little about them, from reading the contents of their wagon. Minerva, they were not pioneers; there was not the barest minimum in that wagon for starting a farm. Not a plow, not a sack of seed-And their eight mules were all geldings. all geldings. I don't know what they thought they were doing. Exploring just for the h.e.l.l of it, perhaps? Then go back to "civilization" when they grew tired of it? Or did they expect to find that some one of the pioneer parties that had started over the pa.s.s had made it-and could be terrorized into submission? I don't know, I never will know. I have never understood the gangster mind-I simply know what to do about gangsters. I don't know what they thought they were doing. Exploring just for the h.e.l.l of it, perhaps? Then go back to "civilization" when they grew tired of it? Or did they expect to find that some one of the pioneer parties that had started over the pa.s.s had made it-and could be terrorized into submission? I don't know, I never will know. I have never understood the gangster mind-I simply know what to do about gangsters.

As may be, they made a fatal mistake in tackling sweet and gentle Dora. She not only shot at the right instant, but she shot his gun out of his hand instead of taking the much easier target, his belly or chest. Important? Supremely so, for me. me. His gun was aimed at me. Had Dora shot His gun was aimed at me. Had Dora shot him him, instead of his gun, even if her shot killed him, his last reflex would probably-certainly, I think-have caused his fingers to tighten and I would have been hit. You can figure it from there in half a dozen ways, all bad.

Lucky accident? Not at all. Dora had him covered from the darkness of the kitchen. When he pulled that gun, she instantly changed her point of aim and got the gun. It was her first-and last-gunfight. But a true gunfighter, that girl! The hours we had spent polishing her skill paid off. But more rare than skill was the cool judgment with which she decided to try for the much more difficult target. I could not train her in that; it had to be born in her. Which it was-if you think back, her father made the same sort of correct split-second decision as his last dying act.

It was seven more years before another wagon appeared in Happy Valley-three wagons traveling together, three families with children, true pioneers. We were glad to see them and I was especially happy to see thier kids. For I had been juggling eggs. Real eggs. Human ova.

I was running out of time; our oldest kids were growing up.

Minerva, you know all that the human race has learned about genetics. You know that the Howard Families are inbred from a fairly small gene pool-and that inbreeding has tended to clear them of bad genes-but you know also the high price that has been paid in defectives. Is still being paid, I should add; everywhere there are Howards there are also sanctuaries for defectives. Nor is there any end to it; new unfavorable mutations unnoticed until they are reinforced is the price we animals must pay for evolution. Maybe there will be a cheaper way someday-there was not one on New Beginnings twelve hundred years ago.

Young Zack was a husky lad whose voice was firmly baritone. His brother, Andy, was no longer a boy soprano in our family chorus although his voice still cracked. Baby Helen wasn't such a baby any longer-hadn't reached menarche, but as near as I could tell it would be any day, any day.

I mean to say that Dora and I were having to think about it, forced to consider hard choices. Should we pack seven kids into the wagons and head back across the Rampart? If we made it, should we put the four oldest with the Magees or someone, then come home with the younger three? By ourselves? Or sing the praises of Happy Valley, its beauty and its wealth, and try to lead a party of pioneers back over the range and thereby avoid such crisis in the future?

I had expected, too optimistically, that others would follow us almost at once-a year or two or three-since I had left a pa.s.sable wagon trail behind me. But I'm not one to fume over spilled milk after the horse is stolen. What might have been was of no interest; the problem was what to do with our h.o.r.n.y kids now that they were growing up.

No point in talking to them about "sin" even if I were capable of such hypocrisy-which I am not, especially with kids. Nor could I have sold the idea. Dora would have been shocked and hurt, and her skills did not extend to lying convincingly. Nor did I want to fill our kids with such nonsense; their angelic mother was the happiest, most ever-ready lecher in Happy Valley-even more so than I and the goats-and she never pretended otherwise.

Should we relax and let nature take its ancient course? Accept the idea our daughters would presently (all too soon!) mate with our sons and be prepared to accept the price? Expect at least one defective grardchild out of ten? I had no data on which to estimate the cost any closer than that, as Dora knew nothing about her ancestry and, while I did know a little about mine, I did not know enough. All I had was that old and extremely rough thumb rule.

So we stalled.

We fell back on another sound old thumb rule: Never do today what you can put off till tomorrow if tomorrow might improve the odds.

So we moved into our new house while it was still not finished-but finished enough that we then had a girls' dormitory, a boys' dormitory, a bedroom for Dora and me, with adjacent nursery.

But we did not kid ourselves that we had solved the problem. Instead we hauled it out into the open, made sure that the three oldest knew what the problem was and what the risks were and why it would be smart to hold off. Nor were the younger kids shut out of this schooling; they simply were not required even to audit the course when they found themselves bored with technicalities they were too young to be interested in.

Dora chucked in a frill, one based on something Helen Mayberry had done for her some twenty years earlier. She announced that when little Helen achieved menarche, we would declare a holiday and have a party, with Helen as guest of honor. From then on, every year, that day would be known as "Helen's Day" and so on for Iseult and Undine and on down the line until there was an annual holiday named for each girl.

Helen could hardly wait to pa.s.s from childhood into girlhood-and when she did, a few months later, she was unbearably smug. Woke us all up shouting about it. "Mama! Papa! Look, it's happened! Zack! Andy! Wake up! Wake up! Come Come see! see!"

If she hurt, she did not mention it. Probably she did not; Dora wasn't subject to menstrual cramps, and neither of us told the girls to expect them. Being myself convex instead of concave, I refrain from commenting on the theory that such pains are a conditioned reflex; I don't think I'm ent.i.tled to an opinion -you might ask Ishtar.

It also resulted in me being called on by a delegation of two, Zack and Andy with Zack as spokesman: "Look, Papa-we think it splendid, meet, and fit our sister Helen's day to mark with joyful sounds and jollity acclaiming this our sibling's rightful heritage. But soothly, sire, methinks-"

"Chop it off and say it."

"Well, how about boys! boys!"

By gum, I reinst.i.tuted chivalry!

Not as a sudden inspiration. Zack had asked a tough one; I had to dance around it a bit before I reached a workable answer. Sure, there are rites of pa.s.sage for males as well as females; every culture has them, even those that aren't aware of it. When I was a boy, it was your first suit with long pants. Then there are ones such as circ.u.mcision at p.u.b.erty, ordeal by pain, killing some dread beast-endless.

None of these fitted our boys. Some I disapproved of, some were impossible-circ.u.mcision for example. I have this unimportant mutation, no foreskin. But it is a Y-linked dominant, and I pa.s.s it on to all my male offspring. The boys knew this, but I stalled by mentioning it again, discussed it in connection with the endless ways in which a male's transition into beginning manhood was sometimes celebrated-while trying to think of an answer to the main question.

Finally I said, "Look, boys, you both know all about reproduction and genetics that I have been able to teach you. You both know what 'Helen's Day' means. Don't you? Andy?"

Andy did not answer; his older brother said, "Sure he knows, Papa. It means Helen can have babies now, just like Mama. You know that, Andy." Andy nodded agreement, round-eyed. "We all know, Papa, even the kids. Well, I'm not sure about Ivar; he's so little. But Iseult and Undine know it -Helen's been telling them that she's going to catch up with Mama-have her first baby right away."

I controlled the cold chills I felt. Let me cut this short: I did not tell them that this was a bad idea; instead I took a long time drawing answers from them, things they both knew but had not yet thought of quite so personally-how Helen could not have a baby unless one or the other of them them put it into her; how Helen was still too little for the strain of baking a baby even though "Helen's Day" marked the fact that she was now vulnerable; how and why, even when Helen was big enough in a few years, a baby out of Helen by one of her brothers could be a tragedy instead of the fine babies Mama made every time. put it into her; how Helen was still too little for the strain of baking a baby even though "Helen's Day" marked the fact that she was now vulnerable; how and why, even when Helen was big enough in a few years, a baby out of Helen by one of her brothers could be a tragedy instead of the fine babies Mama made every time. They They told told me me, Andy's eyes getting bigger all the time-I simply supplied leading questions.

I was helped in this by the fact that a little mule mare, Dancing Girl, had come into her first estrus when I thought she was not grown-up enough for a colt. So I had had Zack and Andy fence her off-and she kicked a hole in the fence and got what she wanted; Buckaroo covered her. Sure enough, the colt had been too big for her and I had to go in and cut it up and take it out in chunks-a routine job of emergency veterinary surgery but an impressive and b.l.o.o.d.y sight for two stripling boys who had helped their father by controlling the mare while he operated.

No, indeed, they did not want anything even a little bit like that to happen to Helen. Helen. No No, sir!

Minerva, I cheated a little. I did not not tell them that the way Helen was spreading in the b.u.t.t and the measurements she already had made it appear to her family doctor-me-that she was even more of a natural baby factory than her mother and would be big enough for her first one much younger than Dora had had Zaccur; I did not tell them that the chances of a healthy baby from a brother-sister mating were higher than the chances of a defective. I certainly did tell them that the way Helen was spreading in the b.u.t.t and the measurements she already had made it appear to her family doctor-me-that she was even more of a natural baby factory than her mother and would be big enough for her first one much younger than Dora had had Zaccur; I did not tell them that the chances of a healthy baby from a brother-sister mating were higher than the chances of a defective. I certainly did not! not!

Instead, I waxed lyrical about what wonderful creatures girls are, what a miracle it is that they could make babies, how precious they are and how it is a man's proud privilege to love and cherish and protect them-protect them even from their follies because Helen might behave just like Dancing Girl, impatient and foolish. So don't let her tempt you, boys-jerk off instead, just like you've been doing. They promised, tears in their eyes.

I didn't ask them to promise that or anything-but it gave me the idea: Have "Princess" Helen knight them.

The kids grabbed that idea and ran with it; Tales of King Arthur's Court Tales of King Arthur's Court was one of the books Dora had fetched along because Helen Mayberry had given it to her. So we had Sir Zaccur the Strong and Sir Andrew the Valiant and two ladiesin-waiting-waiting rather eagerly; Iseult and Undine knew that they, too, would be "princesses" as each reached menarche. Ivar was squire to both knights and would be dubbed himself when his voice changed. Only Elf was too small as yet to play the game. was one of the books Dora had fetched along because Helen Mayberry had given it to her. So we had Sir Zaccur the Strong and Sir Andrew the Valiant and two ladiesin-waiting-waiting rather eagerly; Iseult and Undine knew that they, too, would be "princesses" as each reached menarche. Ivar was squire to both knights and would be dubbed himself when his voice changed. Only Elf was too small as yet to play the game.

It worked, a stopgap. I suppose "Princess" Helen was protected more than she wanted to be protected. But if she could not lure her faithful knights into the cornfields, they did place her stool for her at meals, they bowed to her rather often, and usually addressed her as "Fair Princess"-considerably more than I ever did for my sisters.

Before the first anniversary of "Helen's Day" those three new families dropped down the rise and the crisis was over. It was Sammy Roberts, not one of her brothers, who first spread "Princess" Helen's thighs-certain, as she told her mother about it at once (more of Helen Mayberry's influence) and Dora kissed her and told her that she was a good girl and now go find Papa and ask him to examine you-and I did and she hadn't been hurt, not to mention. But it gave Dora some control over the matter, just as Helen Mayberry had guided Dora at about the same age-so Dora had told me, long before that. In consequence our oldest daughter did not get pregnant until she was almost as old as and quite a bit more filled out than Dora had been when I married her. Ole Hanson married her; and Sven Hanson and I, and Dora and Ingrid, helped the youngsters start their homestead. Helen thought the baby was Ole's, and for all I know she was right. No fuss. No fuss when Zack married Hilda Hanson, either. In Happy Valley pregnancy was equivalent to betrothal; I can't recall any girl who married without that proof of eligibility. Certaintly none of our daughters.

Having neighbors was grand. (Omitted) -not only fetched his fiddle over the Rampart but could call. I could call some and, while I hadn't touched a violin for fifty years or so, I found it came back to me, so we spelled each other as Pop like to dance, too. Like so: "Square 'em up!

"Salute your lady! Opposite lady! Corner gal! Right-hand gal! Salute your own and make 'er a throne. All stand up and don't let 'er fall; swing your ladies one and all!

" 'Moses lived a long time ago.

'King said Yes; Moses said No!-form hands, circle right.

'Phar'oh was dat king's first name; 'Made 'em live a life of shame!-allemande left!-with left!-with a dosey-doh! Then home you go and a dosey-doh! Then home you go and swing swing!" ' . . . said Yes and th' waves did part. said Yes and th' waves did part. First couple through the Red Sea! Now corner gal and right-hand man! Corner boy, right-hand gal-on around and keep it coming right and left! First couple through the Red Sea! Now corner gal and right-hand man! Corner boy, right-hand gal-on around and keep it coming right and left!" 'A happy band on th' opp'site sh.o.r.e, 'So all form up and swing once more!

'King weeps alone on Egypt's sh.o.r.e; 'Chosen People slaves no more!

'So kiss your lady and whisper in her ear; 'Then sit 'er down and get 'er a beer.' Intermission!" Intermission!"

Oh, we had fun! Dora learned to dance when she was a new grandmother-and was still dancing when she was a great-great-grandmother. Early years the parties were oftenest at our place because we had the biggest house and a compound large enough for a big party. Start dancing late afternoon, dance till you couldn't see your partner; then a potluck buffet supper to candlelight and moonlight, then sing a while, and bed down all over the place-all the rooms, the roof, shakedowns in the compound, some in wagons-and if anybody ever slept alone, I never heard about it. Nor any trouble worth mentioning if things got a little loose around the edges.

Next morning there was likely to be a double performance by the Mermaid Tavern Players, one comedy, one tragedy, then it would be time for those who lived farthest away to round up their kids, hitch up their mules, and roll, while those who lived closer helped clean up before doing the same thing.

Oh, I remember one spot of trouble: A man gave his wife a black eye over nothing much, whereupon six men nearest him tossed him out the gate and barred it. Made him so mad he hitched up and left . . and headed back up the Great Gorge toward Hopeless Pa.s.s-a fact that wasn't noticed for a while, as his wife and baby moved in with her sister and her husband and their kids, and stayed on, a polygamy-though not the only one. No laws about marriage or s.e.x-no laws about anything anything for many years-except that incurring the disapproval of your neighbors, such as by giving your wife a black eye, meant risking Coventry, about the worst thing that can happen to a pioneer short of being lynched. for many years-except that incurring the disapproval of your neighbors, such as by giving your wife a black eye, meant risking Coventry, about the worst thing that can happen to a pioneer short of being lynched.

But migrants tend to be both h.o.r.n.y and easy about it. Superior intelligence always includes strong s.e.xual drive, and the pioneers in Happy Valley had been through a double screening, first in a decision to leave Earth and then in deciding to tackle Hopeless Pa.s.s. So we had real survivors in Happy Valley, smart, cooperative, industrious, tolerant-willing to fight when necessary but not likely to fight over trivial matters. s.e.x is not trivial, but fighting over it is usually pretty silly. It's characteristic only of a man who isn't sure of his manhood, which didn't describe any of these men; they were sure of themselves, no need to prove it. No cowards, no thieves, no weaklings, no bullies-the rare exception didn't last long enough to count. Either dead like that first three, or ran away from us like that idiot who took a poke at his wife.

These rare purgings were always quick and informal. For many years the only law we had was the Golden Rule, unwritten but closely followed.

In such a community functionless taboos about s.e.x couldn't last; they didn't tend to be brought into our valley in the first place. Oh, close inbreeding wasn't well thought of; these pioneers were not ignorant of genetics, nor of conception control. But the att.i.tude was pragmatic; I don't think I ever heard anyone speak out against incest that was just a jolly romp with no outcome. But I recall one girl who married her half brother openly and had several children by him-I a.s.sume that they were his. There may have been gossip, but it did not get them ostracized. Any marriage pattern was treated as the private business of the partners in it, not something to be licensed by the community. I recall two young couples who decided to combine their farms, then built a house big enough by adding to the larger of their two houses and making the other into a barn. n.o.body asked who slept with whom; it was taken for granted that it was then a four-cornered marriage, and no doubt had been one before they enlarged that house and pooled their goods. n.o.body's business but theirs.

Among such people the plural of "spouse" is "spice." A pioneer community, poor in everything else, always makes its own recreations-with s.e.x at the top of the list. We had no professional entertainers, no theaters (unless you count the amateur theatricals started by our kids), no cabarets, no diversions dependent on sophisticated electronics, no periodicals, few books. Certainly those meetings of the Happy Valley Dance Club continued as gentle orgies after it was too dark to dance and the younger children were bedded down for the night-how else? But it was all quite gentle; a couple could always go sleep in their own wagon and ignore the quiet luau elsewhere. No compulsion either way-shucks, they didn't even have to attend the dances.

But no one stayed away from those weekly dances if he or she could make it. It was particularly nice for young people; it gave them a chance to get acquainted and do their courting. Perhaps most first babies were conceived at our dances; there was opportunity. On the other hand, a girl did not have to get knocked up just through a romp if it didn't suit her. But a girl was likely to marry by fifteen, sixteen, and their bridegrooms weren't much older-late first marriage is a big-city custom, never found in a pioneer culture.

Dora and I? But, Minerva dear, I told you earlier.

(Omitted) -started the freight schedule to the outside the year Gibbie was born and Zack was, oh, eighteen I think-I have to keep converting New Beginnings years into standard years. Anyhow he was taller than I was, not much short of two meters and ma.s.sed maybe eighty kilos, and Andy was almost as big and strong. There was pressure on me not to wait as I knew Zack might get married any day-and I could not send a wagon over the pa.s.s just with Andy. Ivar was only nine-a big help around the farm but not big enough for this job.

But I could not find teamsters other than in my own family. There were only about a dozen families in the valley; they had not been there long, and did not as yet feel the press to buy things that I did.

I wanted three new wagons, not just because my three were wearing out but because Zack would need one when he married. So would Andy. And I might have to dower Helen with one, if and when. The same applied to plows and several sorts of metal metal farm equipment. Prosperous as we were, Happy Valley could not be entirely self-supporting without a metals industry-which is to say: not for many years. farm equipment. Prosperous as we were, Happy Valley could not be entirely self-supporting without a metals industry-which is to say: not for many years.

I had another long list of things to buy- (Omitted) -on a quarterly schedule. But the food that fifty-odd farms could ship out could not buy much at the other end in compet.i.tion with farmers who did not have the expense of shipping by mule train over the Rampart and across the prairie; I still subsidized our link with civilization by writing drafts on John Magee to be debited against my partnership in the Andy J. Andy J. and thereby brought things into the valley we would not otherwise have had. Some I kept-Dora got inhouse running water from that first trip our own boys made, just in time to keep my promise to her, as Zack got Hilda pregnant right after they got back, and their first baby, Ingrid Dora, and the completion of Dora's bathroom, arrived about together. Other things I sold to other farmers for labor. But the Buck strain of mules, strong, intelligent, and all of them capable of being taught to talk, eventually corrected our balance of trade, once those two wells were drilled on the prairie and I could count on running a string of mules to Separation Center without losing half of them. This meant medicines, books, and many other things for our valley. and thereby brought things into the valley we would not otherwise have had. Some I kept-Dora got inhouse running water from that first trip our own boys made, just in time to keep my promise to her, as Zack got Hilda pregnant right after they got back, and their first baby, Ingrid Dora, and the completion of Dora's bathroom, arrived about together. Other things I sold to other farmers for labor. But the Buck strain of mules, strong, intelligent, and all of them capable of being taught to talk, eventually corrected our balance of trade, once those two wells were drilled on the prairie and I could count on running a string of mules to Separation Center without losing half of them. This meant medicines, books, and many other things for our valley.

(Omitted) Lazarus Long did not intend to surprise his wife. But neither of them ever knocked on their own bedroom door. Finding it closed, he opened it gently against the possibility that she might be napping.

Instead he found her standing at the window, mirror angled to the light, carefully plucking a long gray hair.

He watched her in shocked dismay. Then steadied himself and said, "Adorable-"

"Oh!" She turned. "You startled me. I didn't hear you come in, dear."

"I'm sorry. May I have that?"

"Have what, Woodrow?"

He went to her, bent down and picked up the silver hair. "This. Beloved, every hair of your head is precious to me. May I keep it?"

She did not answer. He saw that her eyes were filled with tears. They started to overflow. "Dora. Dora," he repeated urgently, "why are you crying, beloved?"

"I'm sorry, Lazarus. I did not intend for you to see me doing this."

"But why do it at all, Dorable? I have far more gray hair than you."

She answered what he had not said, rather than what he did say. "Dearest, I can't help it that I know when someone is-well, 'fibbing' I must call it since you have never lied to me."

"Why, Dorable! My hair is gray."

"Yes, sir. You did not mean to surprise me, I know . . and I did not mean to snoop when I cleaned your study. I found your cosmetics kit, Lazarus, more than a year ago. It's sort of a fib, isn't it?-when you do something to make your crisp red hair look gray? Something like what I do, I suppose, when I pluck hairs that are are gray." gray."

"You've been plucking gray hairs since you learned that I have been aging myself? Oh, dear!"

"No, no, Lazarus! I've been plucking them for ages. ages. Much longer than that. Heavens, darling, I'm a great-grandmother -and look it. But what you do-careful as you are with it-and kind as it is for you to try-and I do appreciate it!-doesn't make you look my age; it just makes you look prematurely gray." Much longer than that. Heavens, darling, I'm a great-grandmother -and look it. But what you do-careful as you are with it-and kind as it is for you to try-and I do appreciate it!-doesn't make you look my age; it just makes you look prematurely gray."

"Possibly. Although I'm ent.i.tled to gray hair, Dorable-my hair was snow-white not many years before you were born. It took something much more drastic than cosmetics-or plucking hairs-to make me look young again. But there never seemed to be any reason to mention it."

He stepped up to her, put an arm around her waist, took the mirror and tossed it on the bed, turned her toward the window. "Dora, your years are an achievement, not something to hide. Look out there. Farmhouses right up to the hills and many more we can't see from here. How many of our Happy Valley people are descended from your slim body?"

"I've never counted."

"I have; more than half of them-and I'm proud of you. Your b.r.e.a.s.t.s are baby-chewed, your belly shows stretch marks -your decorations of honor, Adorable One. Of valor. They make you more more beautiful. So stand straight and tall, my lovely, and forget about silver hairs. Be what you beautiful. So stand straight and tall, my lovely, and forget about silver hairs. Be what you are, are, and be it in style!" and be it in style!"

"Yes, Lazarus. I don't mind them myself-I did it to please you."

"Dorable, you can't help pleasing me, you always have. Do you want me to let my own hair go back to natural? It's not dangerous for me to be a Howard-here in Happy Valley with my own kin all around me."

"I don't care, darling. Just don't do it on my account. If it makes it easier for you-First Settler and all that-to look a little older, then do it."

"It does make it easier when I deal with other people. And it's no trouble; I know the routine so well I could do it in my sleep. But, Dora-listen to me, darling. Zack Briggs will call at Top Dollar sometime in the next ten years; you saw John's letter. It's not too late to go to Secundus. There they can make you look like a young girl again if that's what you want . . . and tack a good many extra years on, too. Fifty. Maybe a hundred."

She was slow in answering. "Lazarus, are you urging me to do this?"