Earthbound: Science Fiction in the Old West (Chronicles of the Maca Book 1)

by Mari Collier

  “That would cost at least one hundred dollars and it would take at least two weeks. The river probably serves as a natural boundary for the land bordering it. The lands to the east that run into hilly country pretty well end at the highest rock, but no one knows for certain. The Spanish didn't have time for precise measurements here. They just sent whoever was rich enough and daring enough to settle.” He waited for the men to object outright to the price. At least their interruption gave him an excuse to stand. The town council was becoming downright demanding about the plat.

  “That seems a bit high,” rumbled out of MacDonald's throat. “Ninety dollars sounds fairer to me.”

  Smeaton swallowed. Either the man was a skilled negotiator or he was reading his mind.

  “All right ninety it is, but I can't get out there until next week.”

  The two men looked at each other and nodded.

  “Very well, Mr. Smeaton, we twill expect ye then. Now if ye twould draw up a contract, we twill sign it.”

  It meant, thought Smeaton, that one of them was capable of reading. He sat and pulled a sheet of paper from his desk.

  It took but a few minutes for the contract to be written. As he laid it out to sign, MacDonald smiled at him.

  “Why do we nay walk over to the sheriff's office or Blue Diamond? Someone there should be willing to sign as a witness.

  “It's legal the way it is. People know me here.” His face flushed.

  “Aye, but we are new.”

  “All right, we'll go over to the Justice of the Peace. Mallory's the Notary Public too.” His voice was sharp. “But first I'd like to see the color of your money.”

  MacDonald removed a gold coin from his money belt, but held onto it. “Payment twill be after the job tis completed.”

  Smeaton recognized the coin as a twenty dollar gold piece and realized the bulge around the man's waist was not extra flesh, but a money belt. Greed overcame dislike. He nodded, grabbed up his papers, and led the way out the door.

  It took less than one half hour to complete the signing, dating, and stamping. MacDonald relented and paid out two five-dollar gold coins for expenses before heading to the dry goods store.

  Stanley, the owner, nodded at them as they entered. He was busy totaling up an order for a matron. The two looked around and decided dried beans, salt, sugar, flour, hard tack, some cheese, chicory coffee, and canned peaches would sustain them while camping. Before leaving, Rolfe selected another plug of tobacco for his chewing habit.

  The salesman in Stanley came to the fore and he looked at Rolfe when handing him the tobacco. “We just had a shipment of ready made shirts and boots. They are in your size. They would be more comfortable than those Injun duds.”

  “Du crazy? Aint nothing more comfortable than these. Vhite men's boots don't fit any von.” He turned and left the store with MacDonald while Stanley scowled at their backs. It was the beginning of animosity between the townsmen of Arles and the Yankee interlopers that would worsen over the years.

  Outside the two men mounted and rode out of town towards their holdings. They had already arranged to meet Smeaton by the river where the high bluffs were on Rolfe's portion of the grant. They discussed their plans while sitting by the campfire that evening. Dinner had been a couple rabbits washed down with the peaches.

  “After we find out our boundaries, I think we should trail up to Indian Territory and see Chisholm on our way to St. Louis.”

  “Why tis that, Friend Rolfe?”

  “Because we've got to earn a living and he might want some cattle next year. We can trail cattle to New Orleans, maybe, but Chisholm knows me and he can always use beef on that reservation. Hides and tallow aren't going to bring in much. Not when California and Mexico keep shipping as much as they do.”

  “What about Mrs. Rolfe and your children?”

  “I'll build a home here. See those bluffs? A man could dig out a sizeable house and be nice and cozy.”

  MacDonald eyed the bluffs that had once stood at the river. He cleared his throat.

  “Herman, Mrs. Rolfe doesn't strike me as someone who wishes to live in a dirt house.”

  Rolfe considered. “Ja, but the funds we have won't keep us forever in St. Louis, and she wants all of us to be together. Martin is three now and he needs to be here and learn to be a rancher, not a townsman. He isn't going to be a Pastor.

  “If we can't sell cattle, I'll be hunting wolves. It pays well when they've been killing livestock.” That this scheme would leave Mrs. Rolfe and the children out on the prairie while he traveled did not upset him. This looked like a peaceful land. It was western Texas that was ruled by the Comanche.

  “I have been thinking of signing up as a scout with the Dragoons or the Army if ranching does nay provide an income. They dinna pay that much, but I have heard it tis a way to get one's citizenship. It twould also allow me to keep the funds until I am ready to build a house. The money twould be safe in the Golden One and we twould nay need to worry about a bank failure.”

  Rolfe's face cleared. “I hadn't thought of that, but what if I need the money and you aren't here. How would I get it?”

  “If ye went with me into the ship when we store the extra funds, I could instruct the system to allow ye to enter. It twould just need yere palm print and eye readings.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? What does that machine do, take off my hand and extract one of my eyes?”

  MacDonald grinned widely. “Nay, it takes an electronic picture of yere eyes and the pattern on yere palm and implants them in the memory banks. Then I instruct it to recognize ye. Ye twould need to memorize where to stand when opening the access panel, but that tis easy for someone like ye to do.”

  Rolfe considered. He did not want to go into that machine. It was a terrifying concept, but the thought of a bank failure, losing his money while drunk, or entrusting the whole amount to a woman was equally terrifying. MacDonald was sure to see how frightened he was if he went near it. There was also the possibility that when the moment of actually stepping over the threshold came, he would be unable to do so. Trains had been hard enough to accept when he was younger. This thing, whatever it was, Mac claimed could fly between stars.

  “Mac, you know I'm not a coward, but that, that machine, it scares me. It's like it could swallow me alive and not let me out. I don't know if I could go into it or what I would do once I'm in there. Why don't we just store the gold in the tunnel? No one is going in there. They won't bother that stone if they go up there. It's too out of the way for anyone to find. I'll use my horse to roll the rock away.”

  MacDonald eyed the fire for awhile and then looked up. “We could do that while we're waiting for Smeaton. I'm going inside though. I want a real cleansing and I twill sleep in a real bed and not worry about bedbugs.”

  Rolfe shook his head. “Mac, I was right. You aren't human.”

  Chapter 11: The Lay of the Land

  Smeaton spread the paperwork out for MacDonald and Rolfe. It had taken a month to get all his readings and another two weeks to prepare both drawings. His face was tanner and if anything, the clothes a bit baggier as though the time on the prairie had squeezed the moisture out of him

  “You all might want to refile your claims right here in Arles. They can record it and send everything to Austin. The state's lines were drawn up on old records.

  “Mr. Rolfe, your land is pretty much the way it's drawn and abuts the Tillman ranches.” His finger pointed to the plat he had drawn out on one set of papers. “The only thing different is that the river has moved about one-half of a mile to the east.

  “Mr. MacDonald, I'm sorry to say that your land ends here.” His finger touched a point on the map. That's only about a mile and a half up into the timber. It doesn't go to the top. Somebody had purchased a chunk of that land to look for silver and gold way back before Texas was a state.” Smeaton cleared his throat. He had already warned Franklin that there could be trouble today.

  MacDonald stared at
the paper with the black ink lines in disbelief. He did nay own the land where the Golden One rested. Somehow he had to get control of it.

  “Who does own it? Tis it someone here in town?” His mind was racing. “Twould they be willing to sell?”

  “Right now, someone with the first name of Buster and the last name of Miller or his descendants, if he or they exist own it. The state of Texas isn't interested in rocks and neither is anybody that wants to ranch or farm. That's damn poor land up there. Why would you want it?”

  “Dot's vhere the mustangs like to hide in the summer. Und there's a good spring up there und lots of timber.” Rolfe realized that his friend had taken this like a blow to the temple. Disappointment can mess up a man's mind. “Ve planned to build a shack up there for vhen ve go after vood or horses.” Not that the former was true, but both saw Smeaton nod his head.

  “Well, I don't think anyone will stop you. Like I said, no one knows who really owns it and no one wants it.”

  He cleared his throat again. “Is everything else satisfactory?” He waited.

  Rolfe felt like kicking MacDonald, but that wouldn't do much good. The man had already been kicked by fate twice. Rolfe dug into his money belt and took out two twenty and one ten dollar gold pieces. “Dot's for my side. Mac, pay the man and I'll buy du a drink.”

  MacDonald gave his head a slight shake. He checked Smeaton's mind. The man hadn't lied. Reluctantly, he put his own two twenty dollar gold pieces into Smeaton's hand.

  “Thank ye, for a job well done. Tis there really any need to file these papers again?”

  “Not really. A problem could develop if someone starts to claim land next to yours or on it. Like I said, Mr. Rolfe's boundaries are so similar, it would take another survey to prove they aren't correct, and no one wants the land y'all thought was yours. My signature and date are written there and the notary has stamped it.” Smeaton figured the two were close to broke. It was just like a frontiersman to blow all his remaining funds on booze.

  “Good day then, Mr. Smeaton.” Rolfe and MacDonald rolled up their papers and stepped outside. A light breeze was blowing from the South and grey clouds scudded high in the sky.

  “Well, it's not going to rain for a while. You want that drink, Mac? You look like you could use it.”

  “Nay, I dinna. I wish to go out and get rid of this anger or I may hurt someone.” He stalked to his horse and mounted.

  “I twill meet ye up at that spring. Then we can deposit the survey with the gold.” He turned the huge stallion and rode north, anger surging and waning. Strange, 1850 had started out so promising.

  Chapter 12: Anna

  Anna Louise Lawrence nee Schmidt's grey eyes were focused on the knapsack she was hurriedly packing. Time was short. Her black curls refused to stay in the braided bun and five-month-old Augustuv, called Auggie was protesting his filled wet diaper. Her stomach and lower regions were warning her that the danger was almost here. Twelve-year-old Margareatha stepped into the doorway carrying the other canvas bag from the barn when the screech of four-year-old Lorenz racked through her system.

  She turned to see both boys on the floor. Eight-year-old Daniel was on the bottom, his eyelids blinking up and down, his arms at his side as though unable to move them. Lorenz was landing blow after blow on his brother, screaming, “It's mine.”

  Anna stepped forward and heaved Lorenz upward. Then she found herself screaming, red rage boiling through her at the thought of being delayed and that her handsome grey-eyed son had the same abilities as her husband. Lorenz might hurt his brother and was too young to realize what he had done.

  “Du cannot do such things. Du cannot ever, ever get so angry again. Do du hear me?” She shook him. Hurt, fear, anger from the knowledge that her beloved son could do to his brother what their two-hearted father was capable of doing to other people shook her to her core. Margareatha had not shown any such abilities although she also had two hearts. How could she or Margareatha control Lorenz?

  Lorenz's grey eyes were looking at her with hurt and surprise.

  “Margareatha, take Lorenz and go to the corn patch and some early ears pick.” Anna was frustrated, but both her husband and twin brother insisted she must speak English not German to the children. Auggie was wailing louder. Daniel had pushed up on his elbows and then scrambled to his feet. She had to get them out of the house; them, Auggie, and herself.

  “Daniel, your father go help in the fields.” Surely Mr. Lawrence would protect his own son. That cold, somber man with the two hearts and golden circles around his eyes couldn't be that unnatural.

  Auggie continued his lusty crying while Anna piled bread and rolls into the other canvas sack. She added a sack of sugar and salt. She would put the ears of corn that Margareatha picked in there. She added a flint box and turned to Auggie. Poor baby, his diaper was full.

  She grabbed the basin, rag, and cloths to change him. She dug the cornstarch sack out, wiped and washed him, and quickly sprinkled his pink little bottom. At least this baby didn't have the two hearts and there were no gold circles around his eyes. He was a normal baby like Daniel and they would grow into normal men. What was she going to do about Lorenz? He was so smart, so quick, and he could use his mind on people just like her husband. She did not let Mr. Lawrence into her mind. She could stop him. He had tried it when she first told him she was pregnant. She became so angry that the force of it threw him out. She learned to set her mind and he was blocked.

  Outside a whoop cut through her thoughts and she snapped the last diaper pin into place and put Auggie back into the crib. Auggie promptly resumed his screams.

  His screams were covered by the whooping going on outside and the whinny of a horse. Anna ran for the front door ready to face whatever was out there and yet she knew.

  She looked upwards over the door to two empty gun racks and knew it was futile. Mr. Lawrence had taken both the rifle and the shotgun. She grabbed the broom set by the door and rushed out. Three Comanche warriors sat there looking at the small ranch house and buildings. It was as if they knew there was no one inside but a woman. Comanche women didn't fight. They were trained to grab their children and then run and hide.

  As Anna ran out the door one of the men slid down from his horse and started up the one step onto the porch. She was holding the bottom end of the broom and swung the hard hickory shaft against his knees. They had not expected her to fight; nor had they expected a woman taller than they were. The man's knees buckled and he went down. Anna swung the broom again with all her strength and smashed it into his head. Her next blow was straight down into the ribs and she heard one crack. She whirled to face the next man coming towards her.

  The first man's horse had reared and fled towards the cornfield. It wanted no part of the flailing broom. The horse next to it began to rear and back away, but his rider had it back under control. He was grinning as though this were some sort of fluke; a woman downing a Comanche warrior. The other man was up on the porch. He was watching her, waiting for her to swing the broom again. Anna realized he was waiting to catch it, sure that his masculine strength was more than hers.

  She edged to the side. Perhaps she could draw them away from the house. Her teeth were set, the lips drawn tight. She would stop them somehow and she started to swing and then hurriedly pulled the broom handle back. The Comanche grabbed air and she swung the broom into his arm, side-stepped, and slammed the hickory handle into the man's head. He went down to his knees.

  The other Comanche stepped out of the house carrying the squalling Auggie by one heel, swinging him back and forth. Anna's mouth dropped and her eyes widened. The man looked ready to bash Auggie's head into the doorframe. All the while he was looking at her, his head cocked to one side.

  Anna dropped the broom and held out her arms for her baby. The Comanche stepped up to her and started to let Auggie drop. She grabbed him and held him tight. The other one had risen and approached with a knife, but the man that had held Auggie shook his head and said someth
ing in their language. He directed the man to go inside. He motioned Anna to walk over to the other one. He nudged him with one foot. To Anna his words had no meaning.

  The one with the broken rib pulled himself up and looked for his horse. It was gone. His voice rose in anger. The one in charge said something to him. Anna was able to understand the contempt in his voice. There was no pity for a warrior bested by a woman.

  She saw movement coming from the field. Was Mr. Lawrence coming to rescue them? And her heart sank. It was two more Comanche warriors and Daniel was riding in front of one.

  Chapter 13: The Mad Woman

  “Schwein Hunds!” Anna screamed at the women around her as they ripped and cut her clothes away from her body.

  The Comanche women did not understand the vile insult of pig dogs and words of damnation she was spewing at them. They wanted her in clothes like theirs. There wasn't much left of her clothes after that hellish two week journey to the Comanche camp. Anna wanted to strike them, bruise them, destroy them, but her arms weren't free. She was holding Auggie, and striking at them meant she would need to put him down. They would trample him or take him from her, and he still needed her milk.

  They had already taken Daniel. The man he was riding with kept going once they were in camp. A chanting Comanche woman had trotted beside his horse. Auggie was fussing for she was holding him tight against her body and he was hungry. She hadn't been given much in the way of water or food on the journey here and her milk output had shrunk. These women were fiends, laughing at her, at her clothes, and then it was over and she was naked.

  One knife pricked too deeply at her ribs and red rage engulfed her. She grasped Auggie tightly in her left arm and smashed her right elbow down into the woman's face. She towered over them as no Indian woman matched her five feet ten inches in height.

  Her worst fear was realized when someone grabbed Auggie. She was taken down to the ground by a group of screaming witches, and suddenly the attack stopped. The women were looking at her wide eyed for her menstrual period had started and blood was running down her leg.