Free F Paul Wilson - LaNague 02 by Wheels Within Wheels (v5.0) Page B

store. How did they eat then?”
                “They lived
off the land. They combined farming and nomadism instead of rotating crops,
they rotated the tribe from one field to the next every year. It wasn’t easy,
but they managed.”
                “That’s
what I figured. And if they managed before, they can manage again.”
                Heber gazed
at him. “Have you any idea what it’s like to farm this soil?
                Terran
technology has been strained to the limit to bring in a good crop every year. I
don’t know how the Vanek ever got by. But the point is this: with the arrival
of Jeffers and his store, and the discovery that the income from their statues
will buy them all the food they can eat, the Vanek gave up farming. And I don’t
blame them for not wanting to go back to it. It was a full-time, back-breaking
job to get their fields to produce. Now they can fill their bellies by doing what
they used to do for recreation: carve little statues.”
                “They could
still go back to it if they had to.”
                “I suppose
they could, but not immediately. The fields are all overgrown now and… and
there’s the very nature of the race. They’re a quiet, introverted,
contemplative folk. The excess of spare time they enjoy now is perfectly suited
to them. They cherish it.”
                Heber
paused and shook his head. “I’m sure they’d like to sit at one of Jeffers’
tables and eat their meal inside just like the Terrans, but the price you’re
asking them to pay is too great.”
                Junior
leaned back and stared at nothing in particular. It was very probable that
Heber was right about the Vanek.
                “Then I may
just have to feed them out of my own pocket until Jeffers softens up,” he said
suddenly.
                “That would
take a pile of money,” Heber said with narrowed eyes. “You’d have to ship the
food in from someplace else. You got that kind of money, Mr. Finch?”
                “I’ve got
it.”
                There was
something in Junior’s offhanded affirmation that convinced Heber that the
younger man had more than a nodding acquaintance with large sums of money.
                “Well, if
you’re that rich, why don’t you start your own general store at the other end
of town. You could operate at a loss. Or better still, why not buy Jeffers out?
Hell! Just go out and buy the whole town of Danzer !”
                Heber
straightened some papers on his desk as he let this sink in, then, “Somehow, I
don’t think you’d find that very satisfying, Mr. Finch. Because I sense that
there’s more to your actions than a desire to put a stop to a little
discrimination at the general store.”
                Junior
tried to hide his discomfort with a shrug. His prior suspicions had been
confirmed – under Marvin Heber’s slow, rough-cut exterior was an acutely
perceptive mind.
                “And I
wouldn’t find that very satisfying, either,” Heber continued.
                “Certain
ends of my own would be served by seeing you win this one, but not with a big
bankroll. If a victory here in Danzer is going to mean anything to you, to me,
or to the Vanek, it must be won with the raw materials at hand. Do you see what
I mean?”
                Junior
nodded slowly. It was obvious what winning this would mean to the Vanek and he
was well aware of what it would mean to him. As to Marvin Heber’s stake in the
affair – he had a vague idea of where he fit in but still couldn’t pin the man
down. Yet that was of tertiary importance at the moment. His task now was to
devise a way to let the Vanek boycott Jeffers’ store without making them
sacrifice all the conveniences to which they’d become so attached. His brow
furrowed, then he jerked upright in his