Stranger in a Strange Land

«He's learning fast enough. Mustn't rush him.»

XVIII

THE CONFERENCE was postponed twenty-four hours, which gave Caxton time to recuperate, to hear about his missing week, and to «grow closer» with the Man from Mars — for Mike grokked that Jill and Ben were «water brothers,» consulted Jill, and solemnly offered water to Ben.

Ben had been briefed by Jill. It caused him much soul searching. Ben was bothered by an uneasy feeling: he felt irked at the closeness between Mike and Jill. His bachelor attitudes had been changed by a week of undead oblivion; he proposed to Jill again, as soon as he got her alone.

Jill looked away. «Please, Ben.»

«Why not? I've got a steady job, I'm in good health — or will be, as soon as I get their “truth” drugs out of my system… and since I haven't, I feel a compulsion to tell the truth. I love you. I want to marry you and rub your poor tired feet. Am I too old? Or are you planning to marry somebody else?»

«No, neither one! Dear Ben… Ben, I love you. But don't ask me this now, I have… responsibilities.»

He could not budge her.

He finally realized that the Man from Mars wasn't a rival — he was Jill's patient — and a man who marries a nurse must accept the fact that nurses feel maternal toward their charges — accept it and like it, for if Gillian had not had the character that made her a nurse, he would not love her. It was not the figure-eight in which her pert fanny moved when she walked, nor the lush view from the other direction — he was not the infantile type, interested solely in the size of mammary glands! No, it was herself he loved.

Since what she was would make it necessary for him to take second place to patients who needed her, then he was bloody-be-damned not going to be jealous! Mike was a nice kid — as innocent and guileless as Jill had described him.

And he wasn't offering Jill a bed of roses; the wife of a newspaperman had things to put up with. He might be gone for weeks at times and his hours were always irregular. He wouldn't like it if Jill bitched. But Jill wouldn't.

Having reached this summing up, Ben accepted water from Mike whole-heartedly.

Jubal needed the extra day to plan. «Ben, when you dumped this in my lap I told Gillian that I would not lift a finger to get this boy his so-called “rights”. I've changed my mind. We're not going to let the government have the swag.»

«Certainly not this administration!»

«Nor any, the next will be worse. Ben, you undervalue Joe Douglas.»

«He's a cheap politician, with morals to match!»

«Yes. And ignorant to six decimal places. But he is also a fairly conscientious world chief — better than we deserve. I would enjoy poker with him… he wouldn't cheat and he would pay up with a smile. Oh, he's an S.O.B. — but that reads “Swell Old Boy”, too. He's middlin' decent.»

«Jubal, I'm damned if I understand you. You told me that you had been fairly certain that Douglas had had me killed… and it wasn't far from it! You juggled eggs to get me out alive and God knows I'm grateful! But do you expect me to forget that Douglas was behind it? It's none of his doing that I'm alive — he would rather see me dead.»

«I suppose he would. But, yup, just that — forget it.»

«I'm damned if I will!»

«You'll be silly not to. You can't prove anything. And there's no call to be grateful to me and I won't let you lay this burden on me. I didn't do it for you.»

«Huh?»

«I did it for a little girl who was about to go charging out and maybe get herself killed. I did it because she was my guest and I stood in loco parentis. I did it because she was all guts and gallantry but too ignorant to monkey with such a buzz saw. But you, my cynical and sin-stained chum, know all about buzz saws. If your carelessness causes you to back into one, who am I to tamper with your karma?»

«Mmm… Okay, Jubal, you can go to hell — for monkeying with my karma. If I have one.»

«A moot point. The predestinationers and free-willers were tied in the fourth quarter, last I heard. Either way, I have no wish to disturb a man sleeping in a gutter. Do-gooding is like treating hemophilia — the real cure is to let hemophiliacs bleed to death… before they breed more hemophiliacs.»

«You could sterilize them.»

«You would have me play God? But we're off the subject. Douglas didn't try to have you assassinated.»

«Says who?»

«Says the infallible Jubal Harshaw, speaking ex cathedra from his belly button. Son, if a deputy sheriff beats a prisoner to death, it's sweepstakes odds that the county commissioners wouldn't have permitted it had they known. At worst they shut their eyes — afterwards — rather than upset applecarts. Assassination has never been a policy in this country.»

«I'll show you backgrounds of a number of deaths I've looked into.»