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Chester repressed a smile even as Tut and Calumet winced, while Goldberg grew more superior than
before.
"Hello, Amos," Mrs. Shattuck said to the sheriff.
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He tapped the brim of his hat as he replied. "Afternoon, Beth. I'm sorry about this."
"Damn silly of you. We told these folks to look you up. Now, don't you worry about a thing, Amos.
You just do what you have to do."
"I thought you'd say something like that, Beth."
She looked impatiently behind her, standing on tiptoe to see over a fence. "Now, where's J.W.-that tank
inlet filter ought to be fixed by now."
"Is that it?" the sheriff asked Chester, pointing toward the barn. His voice was touched with awe.
The multiple-faced craft sat as before on the lip of the hayloft, still shining as brightly as before. Its
multiple patterns of inlaid lights continued their steady, exotic blinking. Even this far away Chester could
hear the faint mechanical beat from within.
Hmm-hmm-hmm . . . buzz-hmm-buzz . . . tick! Hmmhmm-hmm . . . buzz-hmm-buzz . . . tick!
"Sure is pretty," was the sheriff's first and only comment.
"Ain't it, though?" agreed Beth Shattuck. "Fits in right nice with the rest of the lights." Sarah Goldberg
gave her a venomous glare..
"That J.W.?" asked the sheriff.
Beth Shattuck turned and looked. "That's him." Her extraordinary voice rent the air again. "Hurry up,
dammit!"
Chester recognized the tall, lanky figure of Jesse Shattuck but not the man accompanying him. Both
were dressed alike in flannel shirts, dirt-encrusted jeans, and well-used work shoes, although those worn
by the stranger were not nearly as scuffed and battered as the rancher's. Something else didn't fit. The
man's long white sideburns were too neatly clipped, his demeanor different even at a distance. His face
was pink instead of earthenware-red like Shattuck's.
"Howdy," the rancher said, greeting Chester. He ignored the scientists, nodded once at the sheriff.
"Hello, Amos."
"J.W.," the sheriff murmured. "Who's your friend?"
"Oh, this is an old acquaintance of the missus, Amos., Mr. Wheaton, meet Sheriff Biggers."
"I'm pleased," the smaller, softer man said, shakin hands. He had a voice like an off-tune organ, cracked
butt powerful. He shook hands with Chester, stepped back.
"Would your first name by any chance be Cable?" asked Jean Calumet uncertainly.
"By any chance I am unable to deny it," the mad replied.
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Chester revised his initial appraisal of the newcomer again. He was not, he decided firmly, a handyman.
Mentally he removed flannel shirt, dirty pants, a shoes from Wheaton, substituted a slightly loud th
hundred-dollar suit, and combed the white hair. Meanwhile Calumet had turned to speak to Beth
Shattuck.
"How do you and Mr. Wheaton happen to know o another? "
She smiled magnificently at him. "Cable was my agent's lawyer. Still is, I think."
" 'Agent'?" echoed the young scientist awkwardly.
Chester studied the rancher's wife intently, noted flashing black eyes, the elegant ebony mane, and the
striking figure.
"The Story of Joshua, " he said abruptly, "Idyllwild River." She was smiling at him now, a smile he
recognized fully. That film about sulky racing . . . He snapped his fingers in remembrance.
"Something Beauty, " he murmured.
"American Beauty, " she told him, nodding approval. "I quit acting when I turned fourteen, though. J.W.
was working for a contractor in California. After the war we came back out here. His country-mine
now." She gestured at the spacious ranch house, the sturdy old barn, and the land beyond.
"It's not Hollywood, thank God."
"This is all very interesting," broke in Goldberg impatiently. "While I'm certain we'd all love to listen to
the details of Mrs. Shattuck's career, we have something rather more important to deal with."She looked
expectantly at Biggers.
"Sheriff?"
"I know, ma'am, I know." He turned and walked back to the patrol car. When he returned, he had the
fancy envelope in one hand. This he opened and handed the contents apologetically but firmly to
Shattuck.
"J.W., this here's an order from the governor directing you to turn that alien satellite, extratres-" He
stopped trying to recite the contents of the note and concluded, "Whatever it is, you're supposed to let
these folks take it away with them."
"Let me see that, Jesse," murmured the church-organ voice of Wheaton. Shattuck handed the paper to
the smaller -man, watched as he skimmed through the long document.
Tut and Calumet grew restless as the study continued. Goldberg ignored the proceedings, her gaze fixed
on the multisided, radiant object ensconced in the hayloft opening.
Eventually Wheaton looked up, smiled. "This is very interesting, Sheriff, Major Chester. As long as
we're exchanging missives . . ." He reached into the back pocket of his pants and withdrew a thick roll of
paper. Opening the roll up, he shook the dry Texas dust from it. Chester counted an impressive number
of attached sheets.
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"Let's see what we've got here," Wheaton began as, he flipped one page after another. "This one here is
a restraining order forbidding any representative of any agency of the United States government, or any
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