Altered America Read Online Free Page B

meat industry was still trying to figure out the implications of cloned animals. One of the cattle industry publications had just had an analysis of what cloning might mean to ranching. The days of range wars over grazing rights were long gone, but this was still cattle country. Cattlemen didn’t even count sheep when they went to sleep. More sheep, even cloned ones, made everyone unhappy.
                  Milt was already a bit in his cups, but then it was his party. He took the shovel from the fireplace tools and started banging it on the stone to get attention. “Ladies and gentlemen. I want you to raise your glasses to my good friend, Nathan Cutler. He might be stubborn, but there isn’t a man or beast out here that can stand against him, even a 187-pound wolf. To Nathan, they just don’t make Americans like him anymore, and that’s a damn shame.”
                  The toast was a sign the gathering was winding down. The partiers gradually declined in number as they always did. A handful of the men stayed and moved into Milt’s library where they continued last year’s political argument with even more vigor. The ranchers were an independent lot. They had little use for regulations coming out of Washington, or even out of Helena.
                  “Clinton was bad enough before. Now with this Lewinsky business, he’s an embarrassment to everything the nation has ever stood for.” That was Carl Wideman, the head of the local ranchers association. Carl felt that the only time the letter “D” should be used after a politician’s name was in the word “red.”
                  Milt responded with a familiar argument.  “Regulations on how to run our stock. Regulations about how to run our schools. You can’t even shoot a wolf without having the government climb down your throat. The Founders wouldn’t have stood for this garbage. Hell, my granddaddy wouldn’t have stood for it.”
                  Carl let out a sigh. “The sad part is, we don’t know what the Founders would have tolerated. Yeah, they rebelled over a few measly taxes and because they didn’t get a say in Parliament. But times are different now. They’d probably be watching ‘Seinfeld’ or messing around on their computers.”
                  Nathan wasn’t beat up enough to accept that argument. He had been raised better. His parents had named him Nathan Hale Cutler to honor the Revolutionary War hero hanged by the British. Hale was known for his last words: “I only regret that I have but one life to give for my country.” Nathan wasn’t ready to give up his pursuing those same ideals. But then, Nathan was never willing to give up on anything.
                  “The Founders were different. Better. They risked everything—families, friends, wealth. They could have sat back and lived comfortable lives. They chose freedom instead.” He looked around at the room with reluctant disdain. “We’ve chosen comfort.”
                  “Times have changed, Nate.” Milt was one of the few who called Nathan by his nickname. “There aren’t many willing to stand up for their rights. They teach obedience in the schools. They are turning our kids into clones, just like that stupid sheep. Men like our Founders, they’re like the gray wolf—an endangered species.”
                  The conversation had gone sour and the night soon broke up.
                  Driving injured was a challenge, but Nathan never shied from such. He had to maneuver the Hummer one-handed, but he managed. The whole conversation kept swirling around in his head. There was something about it that was important and he just couldn’t grab it. The Founders. Freedom. Wolves. That damned sheep.
                  Nathan almost drove off the road when he realized where his own subconscious had gone. If some idiot could clone a sheep, why not