'I guess I can understand that,' declared the sheriff sympathetically. 'I'm looking forward to seeing this visitor from Mars myself.'
'Not Mars,' Chester corrected gently. 'We're fairly sure it's from much farther out than Mars.'
'Is that God's truth?' Biggers murmured. 'Me, I still can't believe in radio.'
It was late afternoon hurrying toward evening when the two cars pulled into the open area before the sprawling Shattuck home. This time it was Mrs. Shattuck who was first out to greet them, wiping dirty hands on the seat of her jeans. They were surely the same ones, Chester reflected, that she'd been wearing days ago, only they'd been washed in the interval.
'Expected to see you back sooner than this,' she said by way of hello.
'We moved as fast as we could,' Goldberg assured her, the touch of frost in her voice nicely matching that in the air.
'I'll bet you did;' said the younger woman. She turned, roared toward the house. 'David! Go find your father. Tell him the eggheads from Houston are back!'
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.
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.
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.
'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 other government, from removing any item whatsoever from the property henceforth called the Shattuck ranch. Attached is a map of said ranch and copy of the title deed, going back to 1874.' Wheaton looked up at Shattuck. 'Fine man, your grandfather, Jesse.'
He continued turning pages, mumbling to himself just, low enough so that Chester couldn't decipher his words. 'Here,' he continued, more lucidly, 'is a court order, granting temporary title to the object, or device, said object or device to be referred to in all proceeding henceforth as the 'extraterrestrial artifact,' jointly to Jesse William Shattuck and family. Permission is given for them to do with said extraterrestrial artifact as they please, understanding that they will do all in their power to maintain said artifact in good condition.' Again his eyes met Chester's.
'That means they can turn it over to you if they desire, or they can use it for a doorstop, a conversation piece, or even a Christmas ornament.' He returned his attention to new pages.
'Any objection to the aforementioned order or order shall be submitted for consideration by any individual government agency to the proper legal authorities.' Wheaton handed the sheaf of paper to a thoroughly awed Biggers.
'You can see there, Sheriff, that all included forms and orders are signed by Justices A. Hammond and G. Lamar of the Supreme Court of the State of Texas. I believe they take precedence even over an executive directive of the governor's.
'Of course,' he added pleasantly, 'the governor can always declare a state of emergency and call out the National Guard to come seize my client's property. He is welcome to do so. However-' He turned to face
