Gather The Children (Chronicles of the Maca Book 2)

by Mari Collier

  Antoinette inclined her head. “This is our room.” Then she turned and looked up at Lorenz. “Of course, I'll write to y'all. I'm not sure the school will let me see your letters though. They are dreadfully strict about the strangest things, or at least that's what I've been told.” She let go of his arm and rummaged in her bag, a small, black pouch with embroidered red and pink roses. “Here's the key.” She handed it to him.

  Lorenz took it and unlocked the door. Evidently this was something that a gentleman did for a lady. He wasn't sure, but didn't think it a good idea to ask. She acted like he knew what to do. He handed back the key and kept her hand in his. “Ah reckon this is goodbye then. When will I see y'all again?” His eyes were desperate.

  Antoinette smiled and looked up at him. It was really quite gratifying to have someone so handsome so madly in love with her. “Ah really don't know. There are two years at finishing school, and ah will be coming home for the summers. After that, ah guess ah'll have to think about getting married. Ah certainly don't want to be an old maid.”

  Lorenz tightened his grip on her hand and somehow the right words came to him. “Then think of me, Miss O'Neal.” He bent and brought her hand to his lips again. Both young people ignored the frantic efforts of Consuela to somehow get between them.

  “Why, of course, ah will, Mr. MacDonald.” She smiled up into his eyes and gently removed her hand. “Come along, Consuela.” The door closed behind them.

  Lorenz walked down the steps, his stomach churning and his manhood protruding in front of him. His step, eyes, face, shoulders, every movement showed a determined man. He knew Antoinette would someday be his wife.

  The two older men smiled as Lorenz returned. MacDonald smiled because his laddie was becoming a man. O'Neal was laughing silently at the absurdity of Lorenz's aspirations. O'Neal believed his sister would, as many of the young women of his class did, marry an older, wealthier man to support her in proper style. The fragile truce between the two brothers, however, was forever shattered. Daniel loved Antoinette and resented Lorenz's attentions.

  Lorenz, however, would not wed first. Olga was ready to be Mrs. Tom Jackson, and Martin would marry by the end of next summer.

  Chapter 21: Recruitment

  “Who wants a drink of decent whiskey?” asked Red.

  The four of them were seated in Red's hotel suite. They had adjourned there when Lorenz returned. “I believe I twill have a wee glass, and the laddie may have one too, if he wishes.”

  “Daniel?” At Daniel's nod Red poured the four glasses and rejoined the men at the small table. The two younger ones faced each other and he sat across from MacDonald.

  MacDonald took a sip and said, “Aye, tis a grand bottling.” He smiled at O'Neal. “I asked for a more private area as there are certain things we need to discuss. Ye ken who I am from Margareatha's letters, or Daniel's report. Tis this nay true?”

  Red's eyes were guarded as he nodded yes.

  “Have they told ye that I possess a Golden One, and what the Golden One can do?”

  “They told me. It means you can leave this earth at any time.” Red's face was now a set mask.

  “That tis nay quite true, but I'll go into the reasons later. Have they also told ye that my biological fither twas a Justine?”

  Once again Red nodded. MacDonald's voice hardened and became more Thalian as he continued. “Tis true, I do plan to leave this Earth someday, but first I need to master the craft, and I dinna wish to be attacked by whoever supplied ye with the information about Justines and Thalians. I would appreciate it if ye were honest about it as I suspect Toma kens how ye ken. I twill nay have my Anna, or our children's lives endangered by yere silence.”

  Red took a sip of his whiskey and sat back. It had not taken long to realize the reports from Rita, Daniel, and Collins were correct: Lorenz would side with MacDonald in any dispute. Attacking the man physically was out, and mentally was probably just as futile. Perhaps a bit of honesty would be beneficial to them both. He smiled. “Mr. MacDonald, have you ever heard of a group of people called the Ayanas?”

  For a moment MacDonald sat blank-faced. Finally, he asked somewhat in awe, “Do ye mean Slavies? They are here?”

  Red grinned. “Well, in a manner of speaking. They did land here, and they did try to enslave certain people. They lost so many of their own people they fled to one of the outer planets and created a world underground. How long they plan to remain there, I can't say. They refuse to do any physical work, and being underground limits their ability to grow needed grains and other food crops.”

  “And ye are supplying them with slaves to do their bidding.” MacDonald's accusation was harsh.

  “Perhaps,” Red shrugged, “but I also supply them with livestock, grain, seeds, dried fruits, and other materials. They are really incompetent when it comes to physical labor. The Justines dictum about interbreeding seems to hold true for them.”

  “And Toma tis with them?” MacDonald was puzzled.

  “Sometimes he is, but they prefer otherwise. A Justine anywhere near the Ayanas will cause them severe headaches. On the other hand, I've been told, he despises them as much as he despises this world and Thalians.” Red's smile broadened. “The man really isn't pleased with any culture that is not his own. It's hard to believe he ever left his planet.”

  MacDonald put his head to the side and regarded the Texan. “Have ye met Toma?”

  “No, he realizes if he destroys me, he is apt to lose an important food source. It seems the Ayanas' housing is more to his taste. He detests the primitive living conditions here. The Ayanas do not wish to be known. They feel someone will come looking for Toma. The more people in this world, the harder it is for the Ayanas to remain undetected. They want to keep it that way.”

  MacDonald allowed a small smile. “I dinna think the Justines twill send another to search for Toma as there tis nay to spare. I wish, however, ye to ken that the information ye have read about Thalians tis about two thousand years out-of-date. That is how long ago the Justines banished the Ayanas from our portion of the galaxy.”

  “If the Justines, for whatever reasons, aren't going to search for Toma, perhaps he would assist you in returning, or perhaps the Ayanas might simply to get rid of Toma.”

  “The Slavies have nay love for Thalians. At the time, we were aligned with the Justines and helped to drive them out. As for Toma, should we meet again, I am apt to finish the fight.”

  “Then how long do you plan to live here?”

  “First I must raise my wee lassie, and study the math and the star systems. Mayhap another century, I am nay sure, but when I leave, I'd like for ye to come with us.”

  “Your offer extends to that time?” Red was skeptical.

  “Aye, ye are a man that takes risks, and ye seem to draw a better class of adventurous men to ye.”

  “That's because I promise them a reasonable return for their time.” Red grinned and looked at his empty glass. “Another round?”

  MacDonald shook his head. “I have nay finished this one.” He watched Red pour himself and Daniel a drink. Lorenz shook his head. Once Red was at the table again, MacDonald continued. “I wish ye to keep the offer in mind. This land changes rapidly within a short time. Mayhap tis because the inhabitants of this planet have such a short life span in comparison to other known beings. Ye may find in a hundred years or so a trip to other worlds a good idea.”

  Red sat back. “You're right; the perspective could be different then.” Amusement lighted his copper eyes. “You'd still have to make it worth my while. I'm beginning to think you want a band of mercenaries. Why? Mercenaries cost a great deal of money.”

  MacDonald's eyes were hard, obsidian glints. “I twill need a few fighters as I canna fight twenty Justines and the whole Krepyon nation by myself. Ye may have noticed that ye canna enter the minds of all the adults here, have ye?”

  Red's eyes narrowed, and he nodded yes.

  The laughter was back in MacDonald's eyes. “Nay can To
ma, nay can I. Lorenz, however, may be able to do so one day. I twill need those who can block the Justine mind. I dinna care if they be man or woman.”

  Red felt his jaw clenched. He had been right, and now Lorenz worshipped this man across from him. It looked like he would permit the letter exchange for awhile longer. “How does that help you?” He kept his voice smooth.

  “If the Justine canna enter the mind, they must fight physically with the person in front of them. A trained fighter could win.”

  Red slugged down his drink. “That would mean a whole planet for the taking.”

  “Their planet tis gone.”

  Red blinked his eyes. “Gone? Gone where?”

  “Into oblivion. They now inhabit a large asteroid made habitable by their technology.”

  “Still, they would have treasures, gold, something of value.”

  “Tis possible. They must pay the Kreppies,” MacDonald sneered out the word, “for their services, and the Kreppies planet tis still there.”

  Red smiled. “In that case, Mr. MacDonald, you are correct. I might well be interested in such an undertaking.” The two men shook hands.

  Chapter 22: A Proposal of Marriage

  Late in the month of August, Olga pulled her buckboard to a stop in front of Tom Jackson's cabin. The noonday sun beat down with unrelenting heat and beads of water ran down the sides of her face. She knew the horses would announce her arrival. Tom would be in the tavern, if only for companionship. She was almost twenty and no young beau was on the horizon. The young men in Arles would have nothing to do with a Yankee girl, or one that went to a church that baptized infants and had preachers that talked in a foreign language. She pulled a small bundle from under the seat and strode into the cabin after knocking lightly. Once inside she wrinkled her nose at the smell, but set about her task. She knew Tom would be arriving shortly. They would have heard her enter town, and would soon investigate why someone hadn't gone to Schmidt's or the tavern.

  Olga was right. Tom came clumping in on his crutch just as she finished her chore. The wooden leg was too painful to wear except on special days. He stood open mouth watching the bright, flowered curtains flapping at the one window. “Miss Olga, what are y'all doing?”

  Olga put both hands on her hips and turned. “I have hung curtains. They are made from some left over material. Vhat do y'all think?” The 'vat' betrayed her emotions but she kept her face expectant.

  “Why, why, they look fine, Miss Olga, but ain't they a little fancy for this place?” He looked around at the dish laden table, the unmade bed, and he was suddenly aware that there was far more dirt in here than in her clean kitchen.

  Olga turned back to look at the curtains and slowly pivoted to look at the one room. “It would not take much to make it look different in here.” She lifted her head, “I need to know your intentions, Mr. Jackson.”

  Tom swallowed. He felt his eyes must be twice their normal size. “Miss Olga, my intentions are truly honorable, but, well, it's been hard to earn a living just for me. I couldn't speak for y'all now.”

  Olga looked at the sweat appearing on his forehead with a certain satisfaction. “Mr. Jackson, the war is over, and things are getting better. There will be freighter wagons going through here at least twice a year now, maybe more often. Papa and Mr. MacDonald will be bringing in more horses to shoe, and they are going to need y'all to build a special wagon for them. Y'all can do wainwright work, ja?”

  “Yes, ma'am, the tools are out in my shop.”

  “There, see, y'all will do much better this year. When I marry, the chickens come with me. My mother's dishes and household goods, I also bring. They are mine.” She snapped the last sentence out.

  Tom suddenly had visions of an egg every morning for breakfast and quickly put the thought out of mind. He made another attempt, not sure how to deflect this obviously determined, young woman.

  “Miss Olga, since I came back, I, ah, if y'all haven't notice, I mean, well, look at me, woman. I'm but half a man now.”

  Olga straightened. “Mr. Jackson, don't du all ever say such a thing again.” She quickly adjusted her English. “Y'all are a fine figure of a man, and so much more than those scraggly, bearded youngsters that come through here.” She was not about to mention that she and Daniel had kissed at one of the get-togethers at the MacDonald's. He had been young and hard, but too demanding and Olga had sense enough to know that he would be riding on.

  Tom stared at the short, plump woman dressed in a brown and white checkered day dress. She looked as normal as usual, but her eyes did seem brighter, and there was more color in her cheeks, but being a man he did not think of that. He saw a comely, young woman offering herself to him and he swallowed as Olga continued.

  “Are y'all going to ask me to marry y'all?”

  Tom was reduced to stammering. “Yes, ma'am, I surely do so intend to ask your pa for your hand, just as soon…” And Olga broke in on him.

  “Do you believe in Jesus as your Savior?” Inside her stomach turned at her boldness.

  “Well, yes, ma'am, of course. Who doesn't?”

  Olga smiled, pleased at his response. “I will continue to be a Lutheran. Y'all may attend services with me, or go to a church you like.” She did not say if there's ever one around. “I will raise our children as Lutherans. Are y'all in agreement?”

  “Whatever y'all want, ma'am.” Tom fervently believed in the theory that women did most of the child rearing.

  Olga moved closer, and put her arms around his neck. “Den I vill marry y'all.”

  Tom wasn't sure how it happened, but he was kissing her and his crutch was on the floor. He straightened, and put his hands on her shoulders for balance. “I, I guess, I'd better go ask your Pa for your hand.”

  Olga was very flushed, and her brown eyes were sparkling. She smiled and nodded. “We can go in my buckboard.”

  “No, ma'am, we won't.” Tom was firm on this issue. “I'll hitch up my buggy, and we'll tie your rig and horses to the back.”

  “Good. We'll go into Arles with Papa when they go after the material for the wagon. We'll get the license then.”

  Tom stared at her. At least she hadn't argued about taking his rig.

  Chapter 23: New Arrivals

  Lorenz and Martin were sorting through the trousers in Kasper's store when they heard the sound of approaching horses and they turned their attention to the window to watch a wagon pull to a stop. “Lookie there,” said Martin his blue eyes suddenly gleaming.

  The new arrival's gaunt team stood with bowed heads, half-heartedly switching their tails at the flies. Two more horses were tethered at the back of the wagon which had once been red, but was now faded like a barn on some war-deserted farm. Dirty canvas was lashed over the ribs extending from side to side. The man handling the horses looked to be of average height and possibly middle-aged when he jumped down, dust swirling around him and off of him. The next to step down was a woman clad in a cotton sweat, stained dress. She wore a sunbonnet and her figure was that of a mature woman.

  Lorenz was staring at the three sunbonnet capped girls. One looked to be older than him and another at least in her teens by her figure. He really wasn't good at figuring female ages; he just knew this was better than anything else that had happened in Schmidt's Corner for awhile. He paid no attention to the smallest girl. She probably wasn't as old as Young James.

  Kasper was the only adult male in the store. The others were at Jesse's, reviving themselves after raising the walls, setting and nailing the heavy roof beams, and then placing the church rafters into place. The Master Carpenter, Fredrick Richmann, from Houston and his apprentice, Frank Hegman, had secured the rafters and hurried after them. The men stopped drinking as they heard the sounds of the wagon in the street and halting at the general store. They piled outside for a look. MacDonald and Rolfe looked long enough to decide they would finish their beers before investigating the new comers.

  The man strode into the store followed closely by his family. Al
l of them blinked their eyes at the sudden lack of sunlight and the man glared at the two young men. He then made straight for the counter where Kasper had been reading while waiting for Lorenz or Martin to make a selection.

  “Howdy, my name is Shelton and I was told there was good land with plenty of water here abouts. Y'all reckon y'all can direct me?”

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Shelton.” Kasper extended his hand and they shook. “My name is Kasper Schmidt. It's good to have a newcomer. The land around town, however, is privately owned. Mr. Tillman, one of the ranchers, may know whether the ranch across from him is available or not.”

  Lorenz and Martin were trying to edge closer without tripping over each other and still look like they were searching through the merchandise. The teenage girl managed to sneak a look, offer a shy smile, and show a glimpse of brown eyes peering from beneath the bonnet.

  Martin was so intrigued he decided a diversion was necessary to get her attention again. He held up a pair of trousers that were obviously meant for a much larger man and asked, “Hey, Unkle, how much is this pair?”

  The man at the counter stopped his questions long enough to turn his head and frown at the two. His woman and girls seemed to cluster around him, the woman not even glancing at them. The littlest girl took a quick peek before hiding her face in her mother's long skirt.

  The man turned his attention back to Kasper. “Do y'all mean there's no open land? Ah wuz told there wuz plenty of free land with flowing water here. Y'all do know the land around here, don't y'all?”

  “Yes, it's true that there is land with water, but you either need to go over to the saloon and ask Mr. Tillman if he has the deed to his brother's place or if the ranch is even for sale. Mr. Rolfe and Mr. MacDonald own the land on the other side of town. You would need to ask them where their boundary lines are. Another option is to continue on to Arles, the county seat, and find out where the open ranges are. The recent war has caused a great many problems in determining where the property lines are or if there are any of the owners left.”