Clifford Simak - The Thing in the Stone

He walked the hills and knew what the hills had seen through geologic time. He listened to the stars and spelled out what the stars were saying. He had found the creature that lay imprisoned in the stone. He had climbed the tree that in other days had been climbed by homing wildcats to reach the den gouged by time and weather out of the cliffs sheer face. He lived alone on a worn-out farm perched on a high and narrow ridge that overlooked the confluence of two rivers. And his next-door neighbor, a most ill-favored man, drove to the county seat, thirty miles away, to tell the sheriff that this reader of the hills, this listener to the stars was a chicken thief.

The sheriff dropped by within a week or so and walked across the yard to where the man was sitting in a rocking chair on a porch that faced the river hills. The sheriff came to a halt at the foot of the stairs that ran up to the porch.

Im Sheriff Harley Shepherd, he said. I was just driving by. Been some years since I been out in this neck of the woods. You are new here, arent you?

The man rose to his feet and gestured at another chair. Been here three years or so, he said. The name is Wallace Daniels. Come up and sit with me.

The sheriff climbed the stairs and the two shook hands, then sat down in the chairs.

You dont farm the place, the sheriff said.

The weed-grown fields came up to the fence that hemmed in the yard.

Daniels shook his head. Subsistence farming, if you can call it that. A few chickens for eggs. A couple of cows for milk and butter. Some hogs for meatthe neighbors help me butcher. A garden of course, but thats about the story.

Just as well, the sheriff said. The place is all played out. Old Amos Williams, he let it go to ruin. He never was no farmer.

The land is resting now, said Daniels. Give it ten yearstwenty might be betterand it will be ready once again. The only things its good for now are the rabbits and the woodchucks and the meadow mice. A lot of birds, of course. Ive got the finest covey of quail a man has ever seen.

Used to be good squirrel country, said the sheriff. Coon, too. I suppose you still have coon. You have a hunter, Mr. Daniels?

I dont own a gun, said Daniels.

The sheriff settled deeply into the chair, rocking gently.

Pretty country out here, he declared. Especially with the leaves turning colors. A lot of hardwood and they are colorful. Rough as hell, of course, this land of yours. Straight up and down, the most of it. But pretty.

Its old country, Daniels said. The last sea retreated from this area more than four hundred million years ago. It has stood as dry land since the end of the Silurian. Unless you go up north, on to the Canadian Shield, there arent many places in this country you can find as old as this.

You a geologist, Mr. Daniels?

Not really. Interested, is all. The rankest amateur. I need something to fill my time and I do a lot of hiking, scrambling up and down these hills. And you cant do that without coming face to face with a lot of geology. I got interested. Found some fossil brachiopods and got to wondering about them. Sent off for some books and read up on them. One thing led to another and

Brachiopods? Would they be dinosaurs, or what? I never knew there were dinosaurs out this way.

Not dinosaurs, said Daniels. Earlier than dinosaurs, at least the ones I found. Theyre small. Something like clams or oysters. But the shells are hinged in a different sort of way. These were old ones, extinct millions of years ago. But we still have a few brachiopods living now. Not too many of them.

It must be interesting.

I find it so, said Daniels.

You knew old Amos Williams?

No. He was dead before I came here. Bought the land from the bank that was settling his estate.

Queer old coot, the sheriff said. Fought with all his neighbors. Especially with Ben Adams. Him and Ben had a line fence feud going on for years. Ben said Amos refused to keep up the fence. Amos claimed Ben knocked it down and then sort of, careless-like, hazed his cattle over into Amoss hayfield. How you get along with Ben?

All right, Daniels said. No trouble. I scarcely know the man.

Ben dont do much farming, either, said the sheriff. Hunts and fishes, hunts ginseng, does some trapping in the winter. Prospects for minerals now and then.

There are minerals in these hills, said Daniels. Lead and zinc. But it would cost more to get it out than it would be worth. At present prices, that is.

Ben always has some scheme cooking. said the sheriff. Always off on some wild goose chase. And hes a pure pugnacious man. Always has his nose out of joint about something. Always on the prod for trouble. Bad man to have for an enemy. Was in the other day to say someones been lifting a hen or two of his. You havent been missing any, have you?

Daniels grinned. Theres a fox that levies a sort of tribute on the coop every now and then. I dont begrudge them to him.

Funny thing, the sheriff said. There aint nothing can rile up a farmer like a little chicken stealing. It dont amount to shucks, of course, but they get real hostile at it.

If Ben has been losing chickens, Daniels said, more than likely the culprit is my fox.

Your fox? You talk as if you own him.

Of course I dont. No one owns a fox. But he lives in these hills with me. I figure we are neighbours. I see him every now and then and watch him. Maybe that means I own a piece of him. Although I wouldnt be surprised if he watches me more than I watch him. He moves quicker than I do.

The sheriff heaved himself out of the chair.

I hate to go, he said. I declare it has been restful sitting here and talking with you and looking at the hills. You look at them a lot, I take it.

Quite a lot, said Daniels.

He sat on the porch and watched the sheriffs car top the rise far down the ridge and disappear from sight.

What had it all been about? he wondered. The sheriff hadnt just happened to be passing by. Hed been on an errand. All this aimless, friendly talk had not been for nothing and in the course of it hed managed to ask lots of questions.

Something about Ben Adams, maybe? Except there wasnt too much against Adams except he was bone-lazy. Lazy in a weasely sort of way. Maybe the sheriff had got wind of Adams off-and-on moonshining operation and was out to do some checking, hoping that some neighbor might misspeak himself. None of them would, of course, for it was none of their business, really, and the moonshining had built up no nuisance value. What little liquor Ben might make didnt amount to much. He was too lazy for anything he did to amount to much.

From far down the hill he heard the tinkle of a bell. The two cows were finally heading home. It must be much later, Daniels told himself, than he had thought. Not that he paid much attention to what time it was. He hadnt for long months on end, ever since hed smashed his watch when hed fallen off the ledge. He had never bothered to have the watch fixed. He didnt need a watch. There was a battered old alarm clock in the kitchen but it was an erratic piece of mechanism and not to be relied upon. He paid slight attention to it.

In a little while, he thought, hed have to rouse himself and go and do the choresmilk the cows, feed the hogs and chickens, gather up the eggs. Since the garden had been laid by there hadnt been much to do. One of these days hed have to bring in the squashes and store them in the cellar and there were those three or four big pumpkins hed have to lug down the hollow to the Perkins kids, so theyd have them in time to make jack-o-lanterns for Halloween. He wondered if he should carve out the faces himself or if the kids would rather do it on their own.

But the cows were still quite a distance away and he still had time. He sat easy in his chair and stared across the hills.