Overload (58 page)

questions.

About eight months ago, he learned, Ruth became aware of a small lump on

the left side of her neck. Dr. Mittelman had retired from practice the

year before. She went to Dr. Levin.

The doctor was suspicious of the lump and ordered a series of tests,

including chest X-ray, liver scan, and bone scan. The extensive tests ex-

plained Ruth's daytime disappearances which Nim had noticed. Results

showed that melanoma cells, after lying dormant for six years, had sud-

denly spread throughout Ruth's body.

"The day I beard," she said, "I didn't know what to do or think."

"Whatever else was wrong between us," Nim protested, "you should have

told me."

"You seemed to have so much else on your mind. It was about the time that

Walter was killed in that explosion at La Mission. Anyway, I decided to

keep it to myself. Afterward, I took care of the insurance forms, all the

rest."

"Your parents don't know?"

"No."

After the test results, Ruth explained, she had begun attending a local

hospital once a week, as an outpatient, for chemotherapy and im-

munotherapy treatments. That, too, explained more daytime absences.

She suffered occasional nausea and some weight loss because of the

treatments, but managed to conceal both. Nim's repeated absences from

home had made it easier.

Nim put his head in his hands, his shame deepening. He had assumed Ruth

was meeting another man, while all of the time . . .

Later, Ruth went on, Dr. Levin informed her of a new treatment being used

at the Sloan-Kettering Institute in New York. He believed she should go

there to learn about it. Ruth went-for a two-week stay and another

battery of tests.

That was the time of her prolonged absence from home which Nim bad

thought of with indifference, or as an inconvenience to himself.

He was bereft of words.

"What's done is done," Ruth told him. "You couldn't possibly have known."

Nim asked the question be had been dreading. "What do they say about the

future-the prognosis?"

"First of all, there is no cure; second, it's too late for surgery."

Ruth's voice was steady; most of her normal poise was back. "But I could

have a lot of years left, though we'll never know until they run out.

Also I don't know about the Sloan-Kettering Institute yet-whether I'll

be better off taking their treatment or not. The doctors there are

working on a method which uses microwaves to raise the temperature of a

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tumor, followed by radiation which may-or may not-destroy the tumor

tissue." She smiled wanly. "As you might imagine, I've found out as much

about it as I can."

"I'd like to talk to Dr. Levin myself-tomorrow," Nim said, then corrected

himself. "That is, later today. Do you mind?"

"Mind?" Ruth sighed. "No, I don't mind. It's so wonderful to have someone

to lean on. Oh, Nim, I've needed you so much!"

He held her again. Soon afterward, he turned out the lights and led the

way upstairs.

For the first time in many months Nim and Ruth shared a bed and, in the

early morning as dawn was breaking, they made love.

12

A knife blade flashed. Blood spurted. Watching the procedure of castra-

tion, Nim felt slightly sick.

Beside him, Mr. justice Yale chuckled, "Be thankful you were destined to

be a man, not a steer."

The two were on a narrow catwalk above an animal pen, part of a cattle

feedlot in California's agricultural heartland-the San Joaquin Valley.

The feedlot was one of the properties of the Yale Family Trust.

"The thought of any male being cut off from sex depresses me," Nim said.

He had flown here early this morning, his purpose to brief Paul Yale on

electric power as it related to agriculture. California farmers were

enormous users of electricity; agriculture and associated industry con-

surned a tenth of everything GSP & L generated. Without electricity,

farming-indispensable to the state's well-being-would wither.

Later today the ex-Supreme Court justice would appear as GSP & L's

spokesman at a regional hearing on the utility's plans for Tunipah. It

was one of an Energy Commission series-some called it a traveling road

show-at which local leaders and citizens were invited to testify about

power needs in their areas. The San Joaquin Valley farmers, who saw their

livelihood threatened by power shortages, were already among Tunipah's

staunch advocates.

Inevitably, there would be opposition too.

Still watching the activity below them, Yale told Nim, "I know what you

mean about eliminating manhood-even in an imals. In a way it's a pity;

it's also necessary. When you're a farmer you don't even think about

those things."

250

"Are you enjoying being one?"

"A part-time farmer? I'm not sure." The old man frowned. "Mostly I've

been looking at balance sheets, trying to find out why this operation and

others in that family trust of ours won't show a profit."

"What's happening right now," Nim said, "seems to be efficient."

"Efficient but damned costly."

They were observing the "check in" process in which calves, born on a

grazing range and raised for six months there, were brought to the

feedlot to be fattened for market.

Five cowboys-middle-aged men garbed in denims-kept the operation moving.

It began with herding a half-dozen calves into a circular pen. Inside,

the animals were prodded, by electric cattle prods, into a narrow cement

corridor, the walls extending above their heads but open at the top. A

grubicide solution, to kill grubs and insects, was poured generously over

each animal.

The corridor led-with an awful inevitability, Nim thought-to a hydraulic

squeeze. This was a metal cage. As each calf entered, the cage contracted

so the creature was held tightly with its head protruding and body lifted

from the ground. The frightened animal bellowed lustilywith good reason,

as the next few minutes proved.

First procedure was the discharge into each ear of a syringe containing

motor oil. It would remove ticks. Next a huge hypodermic was shoved into

the bellowing mouth and a worming solution injected. After that, the

sharp extremities of both horns were clipped off with a heavy shear,

leaving the soft and bloody insides exposed. Simultaneously came a

strong, sickening smell of burning hair and flesh as a red-hot electric

branding iron was pressed into the creature's side.

Then, at the touch of a lever, and with a hiss of air, the cattle squeeze

rotated ninety degrees onto its side. In what had been the bottom, a

small "gate" was exposed, which a cowboy opened. Inserting an aerosol can

containing disinfectant, the man sprayed the calf's genitals, then put

the can down and picked up a knife. Reaching inside, he slit the scrotum,

probed with fingers, then pulled out and cut the testicles, which he

tossed into a container beside him. Another application of the aerosol

spray on the now bleeding, gaping wound, and the operation was complete.

The steer, having been deprived of all desires other than to eat would

fatten nicely.

The hydraulic squeeze was opened. Still bellowing, the animal ran out

into a further holding pen.

From beginning to end it had taken less than four minutes.

"It's faster and simpler than it used to be," Yale told Nim. "In my

grandfather's day, and even recently, the calves would have to be lassoed

and roped up before the things you're watching could be done.

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Nowadays our cowboys rarely ride horses; some of them don't even know

how."

Nim. asked, "Is the modem way cheaper?"

"It ought to be, but isn't. It's the inflated cost of everything that

does us in-labor, materials, feed, electricity-especially electricity.

This operation runs on it. We use electric power for the mill which mixes

feed for forty thousand cattle. And did you know that in the pens there

are bright lights on all night?"

"As I understand it," Nim said, "it's so the cattle can see to cat."

"Right. They sleep less, feed more, and fatten faster. But our power

bills are astronomical."

Nim hummed "It seems to me I've heard that song before," and Yale

laughed.

"Sound like a bellyaching consumer, don't I? Well, today I am. I've told

the trust manager, Ian Norris, to cut down, economize, search out waste,

conserve. We have to."

Nim had met Norris briefly, earlier this morning. He was a dour,

humorless man in his late fifties who had an office in the city and man-

aged other estates as well as the Yale Family Trust. Nim guessed that

Norris had preferred it when Paul Sherman Yale was in Washington and

uninvolved in trust business.

"What I'd like to do," Yale said, "is sell off this property and some of

the others my grandfather left. But right now is a bad time."

While they talked, Nim bad continued watching the procession below them.

Something puzzled him.

"That last calf," he said. "And the one before it. They weren't cas-

trated. Why?"

A cowboy nearby, overhearing Nim's question, turned. He had a swarthy

Mexican face and was grinning broadly. So was Mr. justice Yale.

"Nim, my boy," the old man said. He leaned nearer, speaking confi-

dentially. "There's something I should tell you. nose last two were

girls."

They bad lunch in Fresno, in the Windsor Room of the Hilton Hotel. During

the meal Nim continued the briefing be had come for. It proved an easy

task. As soon as any fact or statistic was presented, Mr. justice Yale

appeared to have it memorized. He rarely asked for repetition and his

sharp, probing questions showed a quickness of mind, plus a grasp of the

big picture. Nim hoped that when he was eighty his mental powers would

be as good.

Much of their talk was about water. Ninety percent of electric power used

by farmers in the lush San Joaquin Valley, Nim reported, was to pump

water from wells for irrigation. Therefore, interruptions in power supply

could be disastrous.

252

"I remember this valley when it was mostly desert" Paul Yale reminisced.

"That was in the ig2os. There was a time when nobody believed anything

would grow here. The Indians called it 'Empty Valley.' "

"They hadn't heard of rural electrification."

"Yes, it wrought miracles. What's that line from Isaiah?-'The desert

shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose."' Yale chuckled. "Maybe I can

slip that into my testimony. A line or two from the Bible adds a touch

of class, don't you think?"

Before Nim could answer, the maltre d' came to their table. He announced,

"Mr. Yale, there's a telephone call for you. You may take it at the

hostess' desk if you wish."

The older man was gone several minutes. Nim could see him across the

room, writing in a notebook as be listened intently to whatever was being

said on the telephone. When he returned to the table, he was beaming and

bad the notebook open.