"Where's Riya?" Walt asked, scanning the crowd.

We spotted her across the open area, talking to another woman under a sprawling tree, unaware that her abusive husband had arrived. Kiren stood at the snack table, pouring two cups of lemonade.

Even from here, I saw Damion's foul expression, like he planned something bad. And he brought two friends with him. But what worried me most was the pneumatic projectile gun holstered on his belt.

"Mavis, go warn Riya," Walt urged, "while I try to head Damion off."

Walt was the sheriff, but unarmed right now. My hand lingered in his as we separated. "Be careful, okay?"

But Damion was a lot closer to Riya, and he walked straight toward her, two goons following. This was bad. Walt and I broke into a run.

Riya yelped when Damion came up behind and grabbed her wrist, yanking her away. "You're coming with me, Riya." he snarled.

"Don't do this, Damion," Riya cried out, stumbling as he dragged her along. She tried to pull away, but he held on too tightly.

"You belong to me, Riya."

"Stop!" Walt yelled, running up behind with a hand held out. But Damion's companions blocked, stepping in Walt's path and stiff-arming him back.

I jumped to Riya's side and grabbed her other wrist, stretching her arms out. "Let her go, Damion!" I ordered in my firmest voice, which actually kind of wavered a bit.

"You've interfered enough," he hissed, taking a step closer.

Next thing I knew, I sprawled out on the grass, pain exploding from my right cheek where Damion backhanded me.

"Mavis!" Walt yelled, pushing forward. When the two goons pushed back, Walt punched one in the gut, making him bend over. But the other man shoved, forcing Walt to stumble backwards onto the ground.

By now, a crowd circle formed around the fight. Damion yanked Riya to him. She gasped as he put her into a choke hold with an elbow around her neck. As Damion drew his gun, but keeping it pointed down, a collective gasp burst out from the onlookers.

"Stay back!" Damion growled, baring his teeth. "This is nobody else's business. She is my wife, and she is mine."

Walt jumped up, holding up his hands. "It's over, Damion. You aren't getting out of this."

"It's over when I say it's over," Damion huffed, swinging the gun around at the startled crowd.

But what Damion hadn't counted on was Kiran marching straight for him, face like a raging bear. Kiran was a big man, and when he bared teeth, was intimidating as hell.

"Let her go," Kiran said in an even voice that dripped with implied threat. He clenched fists at his side.

Damion pointed his gun at Kiran, halting Kiran's advance, but deepening his scowl. "Who is this man, whore?" Damion spat, taking aim.

"No!" Riya yelled, and her expression morphed from fear to anger.

Riya shoved Damion's gun hand up, causing the weapon to discharge with a sharp pop. Then, with a grunt, she stomped hard on his foot.

While Damion yelled out in pain, the arm holding Riya relaxed, and she slid down and out.

Kiran lunged, grabbing the gun arm with one big hand, and pile-driving two quick, straight punches to Damion's face with the other. With a groan, Damion folded to his knees, then tipped over, blood trickling from his nose. On the way down, Kiran snatched away the gun.

Turning, the other two goons widened eyes and sucked in breaths, not sure what to do now.

Walt took his sheriff badge from a pocket and held it up. He, along with a converging crowd, glared at the goons. "If you boys don't want to get hurt, best you come along quietly."  

As the two men held up their hands, Jyn came up to Walt and put on a grin. "Looks like you handled the situation, sheriff."

"Not just me," Walt replied, tilting his head toward Kiran, who by now tightly embraced a trembling Riya. "But someone needs to remove the boxes from the jail cells so I can put these guys in."

Walt glanced back at me as I sat upright on the ground, rubbing the cheek that Damion smacked. I put on a smile and tilted my head, telling him without words that I was okay, and to go do his duty. Kiran and Riya came over to me, and with each taking a hand, hefted me to my feet.

Riya hugged me and said, "Are you all right, Mavis?"

"Yeah," I replied, pulling back from the hug. This wasn't my first backhanding. "Like I told ya before, I'm hardheaded. You were the brave one, Riya."

"Oh, no. I was scared the whole time, but I had to do something. I couldn't let Damion hurt anyone."

"Riya," I said with a grin, "that's what brave is."

*****

Tell you what — we were the talk of the town after the incident, and everyone was supportive. Riya, Kiran, Walt, and even Damion — they all showed their true colors. My colors were blue and black, matching the bruise on my face. Folks treated me extra nice, even my business partner, and I kinda liked that.

I hefted sacks of soybean seed and chicken feed onto our truck, feeling like superwoman in the lower Mars gravity. The soybeans were genetically modified for Mars conditions, the ag extension agent told us, particularly for the lower sunlight and dryness. I didn't know this before, but soybeans were the primary food protein source on Mars.

Walt wasn't here to help me load, but I totally supported that. He and Jyn were busy filling out the arrest and evidence forms so Damion and his goons could be prosecuted. The Fed Marshals were due soon to take them back to Ares Central for trial.

Speaking of which, two flyers, which looked like rounded pods with four high-powered fans at each corner, zoomed by overhead, sounding like angry hornets. After throwing on the last sack, I jumped into the truck and whirred off — didn't want to miss the show.

Riya declined to be present, saying she never wanted to see Damion ever again. Didn't blame her for that.

The first flyer landed in the gathering area near the town hall, stirring up a dust devil. Walt, wearing his official sheriff badge, and Jyn were there waiting for them. Standing nearby, looking all glum-like, were Damion and his two friends, wearing unfashionable wrist restraints.

The flyer's gull-wing doors swung up, and two marshals came out — big, burly men wearing stunner pistols and take-no-crap expressions. Wouldn't want to mess with them. I couldn't hear what they said to Walt, since the second flier landed at the same time.

A tall man with styled gray-streaked hair and long face came out of the second flier, scowling in our general direction. He wore a dark suit over a purple collarless button-up shirt and shiny black shoes. Sticking out his chest, he strutted our way like he owned the place.

Jyn leaned closer to Walt and me, and mumbled, "That's Fleming Barnes, the Mars Land Bank Chairman and Damion's father."

An important person — got it. Maybe I should hold my tongue during this interaction.

Damion took a half-step forward, which was all the marshal holding his arm would let him. "Father," he pleaded, "this is just--"

Baring teeth, Fleming swung an angry hand, slapping his son. "You, shut up!" he growled.

So, that's where Damion got his sparkling personality. For just a second, I felt sorry for him.

Fleming turned to Jyn, changing his expression to something like humble concern, but I wasn't buying it. "This has been a terrible misunderstanding, Jyn. No need for all this." He lifted a bushy gray eyebrow. "I'm sure we can come to some accommodation?"

"Not this time, Fleming," she responded with narrowed eyebrows. "Attempted kidnapping, aggravated assault, and weapon charges — you can't sweep those under the rug."

"You're making a big mistake, Jyn," he said in an ominous tone.

"It is what it is, Fleming." She sighed, then motioned to the marshals. "Take them away."

I couldn't help but take a parting shot at Damion, said, "Ba-bye, again," with a sweet smile and a little wave.

Damion dipped his face, but his father shot fire at me from blazing narrowed eyes. Maybe I shouldn't have done that.

After the flyers took off, Walt said, "Do you think he will cause problems?"

Jyn rubbed her face and nodded. "Fleming is a powerful man who usually gets his way. The governing legislature is in his pocket, but I hope not the judiciary. Rumor has it he got rich by buying up financially distressed claims, using his leverage at the Land Bank. We need to play this carefully."

*****

The next day, we forgot all about the Damion issues when Kiran delivered the chickens — thirteen hens and a rooster he named Godzilla. Walt and me created a fancy coop from stacked crates and a long, fenced run. Fencing was needed because, from what Kiran said, there were some wild critters around that might like chicken dinner. We separated out a few hens for egg production, and let Godzilla do his thing with the rest to make more chickens.

The rooster was a handsome fellow, with a bright red comb and golden plumage. Checking the new place out, he strutted around like, well, a rooster.

"Why'd you name him Godzilla?" I asked.

Kiran chuckled. "You shall find out soon enough."

With a smile and mock salute, Kiran took off in his truck, taking Riya with him. It was so sweet yesterday when he humbly asked if he could court her, and she replied yes with a huge grin. Walt and I were on our own for dinner tonight.

Walt hefted a chicken feed sack over a shoulder and swung open the run gate. Not more than five steps in, Godzilla let out a squawk and charged in a flurry of feathers. Roosters have a nasty spur behind their feet that can seriously mess a person's leg up. That's why I usually wore tall boots when tending chickens. Walt wisely high-tailed it outta there, slamming the gate behind him.

But that didn't stop Godzilla. With a hop and a flutter, the rooster cleared the fence. From the back porch, I gawked. Never seen a rooster hurdle a fence that high, but then again, the gravity was less here.

Walt sprinted to the back door, Godzilla in hot pursuit. I opened the door, and Walt just made it inside before that demon bird was on him, then slammed the door shut. We peered out the window as Godzilla patrolled the backyard like a vicious guard dog.

After catching his breath, Walt shook his head. "Now we know why Kiran named it Godzilla."

With a deep breath for courage, I stood up tall and reached for the door lever. "Time we established the pecking order 'round here."

"Mavis? What..." Walt's eyes went wide.

I knew what I needed to be done.

Once I passed the concrete patio, Godzilla turned and looked me over. Then, with a battle squawk, he charged.

But I stood my ground, yelling and waving my arms, lookin' big and mean.

Godzilla stopped, tilting his head back and forth at the crazy woman. "Cluck, cluck."

I bent down and stared him in the eyes. "You and me," I said. "We need to come to an understandin'. You play nice, and we'll play nice. Got it?"

"Cluck."

"Just remember, I know at least twenty chicken recipes, even with a tough old rooster like you. Thought you should know."

"Cluck, cluck."

"Alrighty, then," I said, standing up. "Good talk."

Opening the run gate, I escorted Godzilla in with his feathered harem.

With jaw nearly hitting the floor when I returned inside, Walt stammered, "How... How did you do that?"

"With ornery roosters, you gotta establish dominance. Then they behave."

"Okay." A smirk rose on his face. "Is that what you do with men?"

I shook my head. "Naw, men are more complicated. You have to make them think it's their own idea."

"Good to know."

Letting out a long breath, I leaned against the door frame. Putting a hand against my forehead, I said, "It's been a long day, and I'm totally bushed. Not sure I'm up for anything more."

"Tell you what," Walt said. "You go relax and I'll fix dinner. How does that sound?"

I grinned. "That's a great idea."

Nodding, Walt turned toward the kitchen, then abruptly stopped, stiffening up. "Wait, did you just...?

"Maybe."