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Authors: Linda S. Clare
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are destroying that stream.” Rubin turned to me. “Joseph and I worked out a deal. He let me dig the slough to water the emus and my other animals, and I’m responsible for restoring it for bull trout.”
I knew it. Another environ-nut.
“Anyway,” Rubin said, “cattle get in there. They trample the banks and ruin the shallows.”
Lutie brought leftover scones, butter, and jam. “Never mind the water rights or whatever Linc was yelling about.” She set down the tray and retreated to her recliner.
“Couldn’t you just put up a fence like my dad did?” I said. “I met Linc Jackson. He seems nice enough to me.”
“Yeah, Linc's a real nice rattlesnake,” Lutie said.
Rubin buttered a scone. “That's the problem. There is another fence, one I’ve repaired more times than I can count. Cows plow through anyway. Besides, we all know what Linc's really after.”
“I don’t,” I said. “In fact, I’m totally confused. What's the big deal about that creek? Somebody strike gold or what?”
Tiny laughed. “Don’t I wish.”
Rubin's voice took on a bitter edge. “Jackson's been after both of us to sell. He’d love to get back all his water rights. Claims he wasn’t gone past the five-year deadline.”
“I’ve heard enough about water rights to last me a lifetime,” I said.
Rubin nodded. “Welcome to the other side of Oregon,” he said. “But out here water is worth fighting for. Except that even with no rights Linc manages just fine, so there's got to be more to it. Nobody knows what he's up to. Maybe he's hoping I’ll go away, but he's in for a fight.”
I couldn’t believe it. “Killing dumb animals over the environment? Excuse me, but I’d say shooting sounds a little extreme.” I wasn’t trying to be unfriendly, but I had my limits.
Rubin sighed the way Nova sometimes did. “After you’ve lived out here awhile, maybe you’ll understand. About Linc I mean.”
Any other time his explanation wouldn’t cut it, but for some reason I was more intrigued than ever by this country vet/environmentalist. “Guess I’m not the only one with a feud going on,” I said, unable to think of anything more witty or intelligent.
Tiny stood up. “Thanks again, Doc. I got to tend to the other pigs.” He ambled out the door.
When Tiny was gone, I turned back to Rubin. “I believe in settling problems without violence where possible. Don’t you?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Rubin said. “The Hippocratic Oath is my motto, I swear.” I’d seen the way he’d worked to save Tiny's pet. The man couldn’t be lying.
“Is that why you were saying you should leave the area?”
“Some days I just get fed up, that's all.”
“Can’t say I blame you for that.”
Finally, he shrugged. “Anyway, I feel terrible about Jim. He’ll make it, but I think his voice box is gone. He probably won’t be able to squeal or oink, you know. I’ll tell Tiny about it later. Sorry.”
I smiled. “Accidents happen.”
Lutie set two tumblers of her tea on a TV tray. I was dying to figure out this water rights business. Why would Linc Jackson stand outside and yell at my father? Lutie didn’t have much to say, though. Every now and then she mumbled prayers and cast a glance up at the picture of Jesus.
Tiny came back inside, fixed Jim a bed from an old playpen, and set it right next to the TV. Rubin went out and helped carry the pig in.
“Don’t hurry off now, Doc,” Tiny said. “I figure you better make us out a bill; it being Sunday and all.”
“Thanks, but I can’t stay. I was tending to a sick steer when Muri came by. You don’t owe me anything, except maybe a batch of your scones.”
Rubin turned to Tru. “Now you come get me if Jim here has any problems.” He handed Tru some extra bandages. “Think you could help your Uncle Tiny change the dressing?”
Tru nodded solemnly. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ll come back and check on him in a couple of days.”
“I’ll walk you out,” I volunteered.
I knew it. Another environ-nut.
“Anyway,” Rubin said, “cattle get in there. They trample the banks and ruin the shallows.”
Lutie brought leftover scones, butter, and jam. “Never mind the water rights or whatever Linc was yelling about.” She set down the tray and retreated to her recliner.
“Couldn’t you just put up a fence like my dad did?” I said. “I met Linc Jackson. He seems nice enough to me.”
“Yeah, Linc's a real nice rattlesnake,” Lutie said.
Rubin buttered a scone. “That's the problem. There is another fence, one I’ve repaired more times than I can count. Cows plow through anyway. Besides, we all know what Linc's really after.”
“I don’t,” I said. “In fact, I’m totally confused. What's the big deal about that creek? Somebody strike gold or what?”
Tiny laughed. “Don’t I wish.”
Rubin's voice took on a bitter edge. “Jackson's been after both of us to sell. He’d love to get back all his water rights. Claims he wasn’t gone past the five-year deadline.”
“I’ve heard enough about water rights to last me a lifetime,” I said.
Rubin nodded. “Welcome to the other side of Oregon,” he said. “But out here water is worth fighting for. Except that even with no rights Linc manages just fine, so there's got to be more to it. Nobody knows what he's up to. Maybe he's hoping I’ll go away, but he's in for a fight.”
I couldn’t believe it. “Killing dumb animals over the environment? Excuse me, but I’d say shooting sounds a little extreme.” I wasn’t trying to be unfriendly, but I had my limits.
Rubin sighed the way Nova sometimes did. “After you’ve lived out here awhile, maybe you’ll understand. About Linc I mean.”
Any other time his explanation wouldn’t cut it, but for some reason I was more intrigued than ever by this country vet/environmentalist. “Guess I’m not the only one with a feud going on,” I said, unable to think of anything more witty or intelligent.
Tiny stood up. “Thanks again, Doc. I got to tend to the other pigs.” He ambled out the door.
When Tiny was gone, I turned back to Rubin. “I believe in settling problems without violence where possible. Don’t you?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Rubin said. “The Hippocratic Oath is my motto, I swear.” I’d seen the way he’d worked to save Tiny's pet. The man couldn’t be lying.
“Is that why you were saying you should leave the area?”
“Some days I just get fed up, that's all.”
“Can’t say I blame you for that.”
Finally, he shrugged. “Anyway, I feel terrible about Jim. He’ll make it, but I think his voice box is gone. He probably won’t be able to squeal or oink, you know. I’ll tell Tiny about it later. Sorry.”
I smiled. “Accidents happen.”
Lutie set two tumblers of her tea on a TV tray. I was dying to figure out this water rights business. Why would Linc Jackson stand outside and yell at my father? Lutie didn’t have much to say, though. Every now and then she mumbled prayers and cast a glance up at the picture of Jesus.
Tiny came back inside, fixed Jim a bed from an old playpen, and set it right next to the TV. Rubin went out and helped carry the pig in.
“Don’t hurry off now, Doc,” Tiny said. “I figure you better make us out a bill; it being Sunday and all.”
“Thanks, but I can’t stay. I was tending to a sick steer when Muri came by. You don’t owe me anything, except maybe a batch of your scones.”
Rubin turned to Tru. “Now you come get me if Jim here has any problems.” He handed Tru some extra bandages. “Think you could help your Uncle Tiny change the dressing?”
Tru nodded solemnly. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ll come back and check on him in a couple of days.”
“I’ll walk you out,” I volunteered.
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