There's a story that's tickling my mind about a lawyer newly arrived in the asteroid belt.
From what I remember of the style, it must have been written in the 1940s or 1950s, and I probably found it in an old magazine. I remember yellowing, crumbly pages. That means it's likely that I read it in the mid to late sixties, perhaps filched from my father's shelves. It was longer than a typical short story, perhaps a novella in length.
Even at my tender age back then, I was aware that I was really reading a western transplanted to outer space. The lawyer was a greenhorn, new to western ways, oops, I mean Belter ways. People made fun of him at first, until he proved he could handle himself. He might not have understood how a spaceship worked, but he knew people, especially their dark side.
He also liked to fish.
The story had a lot of western cliches—in the plot, the characters, and their vocal mannerisms. It was as if the characters were saying "Ah shucks, ma'am" and the spittoon was ringing out on every page. I don't remember the actual cliches used now, but, back then, I filed each occurrence away.
There was a murder and subsequent trial that formed the centerpiece of the story, but I don't recall the details very well now.
I've been thinking about it quite a bit, and I'm fairly sure that the trial had something to do with mining claims.
There was also a young woman to woo. She was linked to the trial in some fashion. I don't think she was a schoolmarm, but she might have been. She cried a bit.
It probably wasn't a very good story. In fact, I'm sure it wasn't all that good. You may be asking why I need to know its name. Because I want to remember everything.
Oh, and one more thing—there was an exploding fish. That I remember.