Stomping his feet was not going to get the thick, gooey mud off his boots, but Mike Holestrum didn’t mind. Rain was a good thing as far as a farmer was concerned. Of course, that is until there is too much of it.

Today though, Holestrum didn’t mind. After four years of unending work and struggling against the elements on the newly settled planet Damascus II, it looked like he was going to have a bumper crop this harvest. One full year ahead of schedule.

It was an answer to prayer. Not just the prayers of Holestrum and his wife, but of all the settlers on Damascus II. Theirs was a faith-based community. Turning their back on the secular worlds of the Alliance and the Confederation, the settlers of Damascus II had pooled their resources and embarked on what many believed was an insane adventure.

Their goal was to build a home where individuals were responsible for their own actions. It was their belief that with the freedom to choose came the need to be accountable, to be held responsible for the results of those choices. With more and more planetary systems becoming ever more controlling and the people more dependent on government, it was all too easy for an individual to avoid the consequences of their actions.

And that, in the minds of the settlers of Damascus II, was not natural.

For their grand experiment to work, it was understood a shared belief system was essential. One that stressed making morally correct choices based on a consistent, moral code that was viewed as immutable, both for personal, economic, and legal decisions.

The settlers of Damascus II were a rare group. They were all practicing Believers. Theirs was the God of the Old Earth Christians, a faith-based in the Judeo-Christian tradition. There were differences in the trappings of the faith of the settlers to be sure. Within the thousands who migrated to Damascus II, there were Anglicans, Baptists, Catholics, Pentecostals, and those who claimed no denominational affiliation other than belief in the teachings of the Bible.

Damascus II was not a perfect place. It was flawed because humans are flawed. Life is not perfect, and there will be struggles. The Good Book never promised a life free of trials and tribulations. No matter how careful the screening process had been, some settlers were of the mindset they were entitled to the fruits of another settler’s labor. Jealousy and envy are as old as the human race. Simply moving to another world was not going to remove these two ancient sins from human behavior.

Today, none of these issues mattered to Mike Holestrum. It had rained, a steady, gentle, soaking rain that didn’t wash away precious topsoil or run-off before the ground could absorb it. It was the kind of rain that plants loved and needed. The sound of cracking and popping was fresh in his ears as the last of his fields Mike had walked had been the acres of corn, growing as he’d walked among the stalks.

With care, Holestrum placed his boots on the mat Shelley, his wife, required he keep muddy boots or shoes when he took them off in the mudroom. Likewise, he hung his coat up over the drain where water could run off wet coats to be whisked away.

When he opened the door and didn’t notice the smells that came from Shelley’s cooking, Holestrum’s bright mood vanished.

“Shelley?”

A soft voice, fearful and small, called his name. “Mike?”

“I’m coming, baby.”

Slipping and sliding in his sock-clad feet, Holestrum hurried to the family room where he found Shelley. She sat before a roaring fire, her hands wrapped around her swollen belly.

“Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

“Yes, yes, and no,” Shelley answered.

Seeing his frightened wife sitting on their big, overstuffed couch, her face stained and dirty from tears, the big farmer realized it was time to be his silent, stoic self. He would need to take his time to find out what had happened.

“First, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Shelley answered.

“The baby’s okay?”

“The baby is fine, Mike.”

“Then what has got you so upset?”

Shelley reached beside her and picked up a slender piece of plastic. It was a viewscreen used to display multiple official documents, a cheap, one-time use only device used by the legal profession to serve subpoenas, summonses, or other legal documents.

Watching the expression on her husband’s expression cloud up while he read the document brought more tears to Shelley’s face.

“An eviction notice?”

Shelley nodded. “That’s how I read it.”

Holestrum stood up quickly and left the room, carrying the notice with him. Shelley rocked back and forth several times before gaining the momentum necessary to stand up. Carefully balancing herself, Shelley waddled down the hall to their bedroom, on hand on her distended belly and the lightly resting on the wall to steady herself.

“Mike, don’t do anything stupid.”

Shelley stopped in the doorway and watched her husband stuff a small energy weapon into the large pocket on the front of the left leg of his work pants. Another pistol, this one a projectile weapon, went into the holster she’d sewn into the lining of her husband’s work jacket.

“Mike,” she pleaded.

“It’s okay, Shelley. I’m just being cautious. Wouldn’t do to be out and about on a night like this and not be safe.”

“Mike, we can start over.”

“No, we can’t. We’re not leaving Caleb here. Crops are going to be good this year. All of our work is starting to pay off. The same as it is for everyone else who has done the work, been responsible stewards of what the good Lord has given us.”

Holestrum stopped in front of his wife and looked down into the green eyes he so adored, wiping a strand of red hair away from the pale, porcelain skin of her face. He leaned over and kissed Shelley’s forehead and smiled.

“You get some rest. The baby could come at any time. You know what Doc Kelsey said. If your time comes, you call Doc and then the midwife. Then you call me, and I’ll get home quick. Promise.”

Knowing her husband like she did, Shelley knew any further protestations would only anger Mike. There would be no dissuading him once his mind was made up. It was one of the things she both loved and hated about her strong-willed husband. From the warmth of the kitchen, Shelley watched Mike put his boots on in the mudroom before putting on his jacket. He smiled and waved good-bye, pausing to open the cabinet next to the door, remove his assault rifle, and slip the sling over his shoulder before going out in the rain.

Before her husband could shut the door behind him, Shelley blocked it with her foot. Strong-willed like her husband, Shelley frowned up at him, her cheeks bright red as her Old Earth Irish ancestry made itself felt.

“Mike Holestrum, I lost my little boy. I can’t raise this baby by myself. If you go and get yourself killed or maimed, I’ll be in church every day praying the good Lord makes you suffer for leaving me a widow woman.”

Holestrum loved the feisty side of his otherwise wife’s otherwise sweet disposition. He leaned over again and kissed his redheaded bride full on the mouth before stepping out into the rain. He flashed his impish smile at Shelley, making her laugh despite the anger and worry she felt.

She stood and watched her husband for as long as she could before he vanished into the dark sheets of rain and vanished into the night. Shutting the door, Shelley locked it and set about cooking dinner. Mike would be out until late, and it would serve no purpose for him to go to bed hungry because she was angry with him.

Eviction notice or not, there would be another full day of work on their fledgling farm tomorrow, and Mike would need his strength. Shelley was sure her husband would get no sleep when he got home late that night.