Earthbound: Science Fiction in the Old West (Chronicles of the Maca Book 1) (10 page)

The morning clouds obscured the early sunlight and a cool, crisp breeze swept over the prairie when Anna returned from the latrine area. Her mind and heart were in turmoil. This would be their last day on the trail. Mr. MacDonald was hooking the harnessed mules to the wagon tongue. His horse was not saddled, but tied to the back of the wagon.

He smiled at her and held the reins as she climbed up onto the seat. He kept the reins in his hands and climbed up beside her. “We twill be at yere brither's place ere nightfall.”

Anna turned on him and put her arms akimbo. “Mr. MacDonald, vhat are du doing?”

“I am driving today.”

“I am not your horse riding.”

His smile was broader. “Mrs. Lawrence, ye are excited about returning to House. One minute I can see the elation in yere eyes and in yere walk. The next minute, ye close up and will nay look at me or anything else. Those mules twill feel the agitation from ye through the reins. If they decide to stop, they twill nay be easy to start again.”

She spoke rapidly in German. “Are you so eager to be rid of me?”

For a moment MacDonald looked shocked. “Mrs. Lawrence, I intend to adhere to all rules, but once ye are with yere brither, I wish to court ye.”

“What?”

“I wish to wed ye, Anna Lawrence. I have nay seen any like ye in this land.” He was pleading with his own words. “Ye are a magnificent woman. Ye fought like a Warrior when attacked. Ye did nay give in for two years. Tis an admirable display of courage. I am awed. Ye also are a Kenning Woman.”

It was Anna's turn to be in shock. This strong, gentle man wished to wed her? Was he serious? Why would he joke now?

“Mr. MacDonald, du must know I am Christian and belong to a Lutheran church.”

“Of course, Mr. Schmidt has mentioned it, but I dinna ken. What tis Lutheran? Tis that somewhat like the Methodists?”

“No, we are looked down upon by Methodists because we permit alcohol. We are Christian. My children will be raised as Christians and our beliefs taught. I have not seen you praying. Do you have a Bible?”

“Mrs. Lawrence, we are on the trail. As a scout, I must travel light, but ye are correct. I dinna believe as ye do; however, I twould nay interfere with yere beliefs or practice.”

“And what if there are children?”

He swallowed. “I fear there twill nay be any. I, I had, how to say this, I dinna wish to offend ye.” He hesitated and then remembered the men talking about a trapper who came down with mumps. The man had not remained in bed and the swelling had descended to his balls. The men had guffawed about the man never being able to have children and called it the swelling disease.

“I had the swelling disease. I am told that that takes away the ability to have children.” It was the most plausible explanation he could devise.

She stared at him. “Not always.” Her words snapped out. “So, the question remains, would you object?” Anger was in her voice.

The half-smile was back on his face. “I twould rejoice.”

Her head was high and her mouth stiff. “You must know that you need to ask my brother's permission.”

“Aye, I ken that, but I doubt if yere brither has that much control over what ye twill do.”

A small smile appeared on Anna's face.

“Do you know me so well, Mr. MacDonald?”

“Mrs. Lawrence, I have told ye. Ye are a magnificent woman. If I twere nay driving this team, I twould kiss ye.”

Anna drew in her breath. “That is not allowed until we are married.”

“Are ye saying ye twill agree to wed?”

“I did not say that. A person should know what to expect from a suitor.” She looked down at her folded hands. Then she lifted her head and stared straight ahead and her voice became fierce. “I will not make that mistake again.”

“I can nay blame ye for that. Soon we twill be at the start of my land. I'll show ye where I have planned to build a home. We twill nay stop, but ye twill agree it tis a wise choice.”

The morning had been sunny, but clouds covered the sky and the temperature began to slide. Shortly before noon, MacDonald topped a rise and pulled the team to a halt. He pointed at the prairie below where a spring could be seen sending a small rivulet of water towards the lowest area.

“I plan to build to a home just to the north of the spring where the ground tis higher. The spring can be capped…”

“And a springhouse built around it.” Anna's grey eyes had widened.

“Aye, if that tis what ye want.” His rumbling voice filled with enthusiasm. “The barn and stables twill be to the south where the land rises again.”

“If and when I am granted a divorce, Mr. MacDonald, I will consider marrying you.”

He wrapped the reins around his left hand and turned enough to pull her close and taste her lips. It was a kiss unlike any Anna had known. Mr. Lawrence rarely bothered. This one started soft and then she could feel the demand for more, the gentle moving back and forth over the mouth, and finally firm, hard against her lips. And she was matching his every movement, wanting more, liking the smell of him, his touch, and the demand was in her lips.

She came up gasping for air. “Mr. MacDonald! That is not allowed.”

His smile was broad, his white teeth gleaming. “Of course, Mrs. Lawrence, it nay happened.”

He unwrapped the reins from around his hand and snapped them against the animals' backs.

“Schmidt's Corner tis about three hours from here. We twill be there in the late afternoon. Let me know when ye wish to stop. If ye twould fish out some of that jerky we can have a bit of sustenance on our way.”

Anna reached back and pulled up his possible bag. She was still panting. Part of her wanted to slap his face, the other part wanted to tell him to stop and kiss her again. The latter, she suspected would be a sin or would become one. Her prolonged separation from her family, her children, from her known world had left her yearning for human contact. Anna would forever damn the Comanche for taking her children. She opened the bag, extracted the jerky, and handed him two strips.

“Ye should eat.”

“I am not hungry.” She stared straight ahead. Three hours he had said. What would Kasper and Gerde say when they saw her? Would they be horrified? What would their reaction be to Zebediah's request that he be allowed to court her? It struck her that she just thought of him by his first name and she clasped her hands together in a prayer.
Forgive me, forgive me, I am a silly woman.

MacDonald seemed to realize that she had withdrawn again and remained silent for many a bumpy mile. There was a trail of sorts here from people and freight wagons coming from Arles going toward Schmidt's Corner and the German settlements further north. The prairie grass was shorter, the ground cut into ruts in places when the wagons came through after a rain. Wheels and horses helped to pack the ground. The prairie grass was brown from lack of rain, drooping in places, and waiting, knowing the rains were soon to blow in from the south.

They pulled up near a scrub oak and MacDonald stepped down and tied the mules. They immediately began to munch at the grass. Anna was grateful as they had not stopped since morning. Both went separate ways to attend to nature's demands.

He was leaning against his side of the cart when she returned. He heard her step, turned, and smiled.

“Shall I come around to the other side to assist ye up into the cart?”

“You know that isn't necessary.” The fierceness was back in her voice and she bounded upward.

He shrugged, untied the mules, and resumed his seat. “Up Jennies, ye'll soon have a rest and a cool drink of water.”

He turned towards Anna who was once again sitting with hands clasped while staring straight ahead. He decided to speak in German as she looked truly lost. “Just think, you'll soon be with your brother's family and have your Bible to read again.”

Her shoulders relaxed and her eyes closed for a prolong moment. “Yes,” she agreed. “Does Kasper still have other books?”

“He has a great many books—for out here. He kept some of his textbooks and is teaching me Latin.”

Anna stared at him. “Why Latin?”

“I chose it as the language to help me understand the other languages of this world.” He winced inwardly. He had let down his guard and referred to Earth as “this world.”

“But you already know German.”

“I know enough to read it also, yes, but not to write it.”

“Which other language are you learning?”

“Well, like others out here I'm familiar with Spanish, but someone told me they were using a dialect, not Spanish.

“Do you read other books, Mrs. Lawrence?” It was a fair question as many women did not unless their family was wealthy.

“Yes, I used to read the textbooks that Kasper brought home. My father could not see any reason for a girl to advance beyond eighth grade. I was lucky. Some of those older Germans thought that fourth or fifth grade was enough for a woman.” Once again she looked straight ahead and clamped her mouth tight.

Anna was white-faced. Her fingers were knotted together, her eyes dry, and her back and shoulders held as straight as a soldier at attention. MacDonald had ceased all attempts at conversation when she had grown silent. The road had brought them into Schmidt's Corner.

They had seen the smoke rising from the different chimneys. She was tempted to tell him to turn around, but did not trust her voice. She did not move as they drove past a two-story house and then a cabin that looked like it had four rooms, a blacksmith shop was set at one side of the cabin, but further back on the property. Next was a small tavern. A wainwright shop set directly across from the blacksmith and corrals were at the side. A house was being built behind the shop. The prairie was gone from the road through town.

Ahead Anna could see another two story building with a long porch overhang and a sign was positioned high between two of its side posts. She could see the lettering proclaiming “SCHMIDT'S CORNER.” She saw that the clapboards had been whitewashed as they drove between the tavern and the general store. In the back she could see there was a stable set a few feet north of the store. A garden was between the store and the river. The garden didn't look too large and the fence was a strange combination of posts, wire, and rocks.

MacDonald pulled the mules to a stop and yelled. “Hello the house.” This would bring either Kasper or Gerde to the door. He was afraid Anna would bolt if he swung down and left her with the cart and mules.

Kasper appeared within a few minutes and looked at them with puzzlement. He could not understand why Mac wouldn't just bring a visitor into the house. Disbelief began to spread across his face when he realized the woman beside his friend was extremely tall.

“Anna,” he whispered. His beautiful sister was white-haired and not moving. He jumped down the three steps and ran towards the left side of the cart.

“Anna!” This time it was a full-throated welcoming roar.

Anna turned to look at her brother running towards her and the tears welled up. Suddenly, his arms were there to support her and she found herself on the ground hugging him and being hugged.

Gerde appeared in the doorway holding the hand of four-year-old Hans. She had heard Kasper's yell and at first the name had not registered. All she saw was Kasper holding an ill-clad woman, and she turned a puzzled face to MacDonald. He was grinning broadly at her as though he had just achieved something grand.

Like Kasper she realized the woman was tall, taller than most men, and her eyes widened. How could it be Anna? How could she have white hair? She swallowed. She knew them both well. That meant Anna would be staying with them and sleeping in the bedroom that was meant for Hans. It would not matter to Kasper how much his twin had changed or been changed.

Kasper and Anna were walking toward the porch, their arms still around each other as if afraid the other would disappear if they lost contact. At the steps, Kasper halted as Anna grasped his arm.

She had been reciting, “They took my babies, they took my babies,” in a broken voice. Now she took a deep breath.

“You owe Mr. MacDonald money. I am sorry, but he bought the material for me to make clothes.” She choked unable to say more.

Kasper turned toward MacDonald.

“Mr. MacDonald, may God bless you.” His voice was ragged and he took a deep breath. “Will you give me a few minutes with my family before I thank you properly and repay you.” Tears were on his cheeks.

“Mr. Schmidt, please, take all the time ye need. I shall visit friend Rolfe or Owens. Tis there room to stable these Army mules in yere livery?”

“Yes, there's no charge. Thank you.” He choked the words out. Kasper and Anna stumbled up the stairs and then Gerde was hugging Anna.

The little saloon was packed. Jesse Owens was behind the bar, happily pouring drinks and taking bets. Kasper celebrated the return of his sister by buying a round of drinks for those present and inviting his neighbors to a Texas barbeque in three days. He had stayed long enough to drink two filled mugs without commenting how much better his own brew was. He had even bet on the outcome of the evening's poker game. Most of the men had snickered at Kasper betting on a fellow Dutchman. Rolfe had bet that he would win, but the others believed differently. MacDonald was the one to pick. Look at the size of the man. He had to have a larger capacity. He would be able to sit and drink longer than Rolfe without going outside to piss.

Jesse, as owner of the saloon, held the bets. He would collect ten percent no matter who won. The pot was to keep growing by one cent as long as the players sat there. Any man that went outside to piss lost his winnings, his place at the table, and the chance at the pot. Another was eligible to take the empty chair if they had five cents and had not gone outside. If they lost their money, they would still have a chance at the pot as long as they didn't take a trip outside—for any reason. Every man had to drink the same amount of beer.

Both Tilden brothers were here and one hand from each ranch. The Jacksons, both Ben and Tom, had drifted in early and were sipping their beers. Tom was really too young to drink, but if the old man didn't give a damn, neither did Jesse. Profit was profit. Malcolm Phillips, the wainwright, had his hat pushed back and a frown on his lean face. He was determined to beat both Rolfe and MacDonald.

The Blue Diamond mule train had arrived just before twilight and unloaded Kasper's cargo before delivering to Jesse. They'd stacked his beer kegs along the wall behind the bar and stayed. Some of them paid Consuela for a plate of the beans she had cooking outside. Jesse needed to consider having that available more often. Consuela and her husband, Cruz, might be without dinner occasionally, but they were using his place of business to make money. They had also moved their shack onto his property. Where they had been was part of Rolfe's land, and Jesse didn't charge rent. Consuela cleaned for him and Cruz did small jobs.

The game had seesawed back and forth. Rolfe had won an early pot, and then Phillips pulled in a bunch of chips. The cost of the ante wasn't high. These were friends and neighbors and they valued the chips at a penny each. No one could afford to lose big in these times. The Tillman's hands were young and had dropped out early. Malcolm played until his last two nickels. He kept them for more beer if the game ran much later. He was frowning at the men playing.

It was well after the midnight hour and MacDonald and Rolfe were the only two left playing and the only two who had not been outside. Jesse kept filling their mugs whenever they both were empty and each laid a nickel on the table. All of the men were sipping slowly to forestall running out of money for beer. The late crowd was seriously depleting his delivery, and Jesse was wondering if he'd ordered enough beer for the month.

Rolfe dealt another hand. “Tell du vhat, Mac. Ve drain these fast and order another.”

“Go to hell, Rolfe. I'll bet two pennies.” A strained look came over the broad face and he stood, leaned over the table, and glared at Rolfe.

“Friend Rolfe, ye are nay human!” He stomped out.

Rolfe grinned at the retreating back and pulled in the pot. He stood, stuffed the coins into the bag hanging down from his belt, lifted his mug, and drained the contents.

“Vell, boys, dot ends this evening's play. I'll be back in to collect my vinnings.” He followed the big man out the door.

Jesse considered running after him. If some of those freighters hadn't slipped into a drunken sleep he might have for it was Rolfe's and Kasper's money that he held, plus his own ten percent. Anger and bafflement were on every face.

“What the hell? Was that planned? Did those foreigners make fools of us?” Malcolm was bitter. He didn't trust those men. They weren't true Texans or Southerners. Buchanan was a shit poor president, but he was too weak to do anything about the South.

Leighton Andrew, head Blue Diamond freighter, placed his empty mug on the bar. “I doubt it. I've dealt with Kasper since he's been here. If he has a fault, it's being too damn honest.” He nodded at Jesse and turned to his crew.

“Let's go. We're rolling out early. Somebody kick McPherson and Kincaid awake.”

Rolfe was still emptying his bladder as they left the saloon. MacDonald was buttoning his flap. The deep rumble of MacDonald's voice was heard.

“Twould ye care for another drink, friend Rolfe?”

“Hell, no, Mac, Clara's going to be on a warpath tomorrow. Let's go collect my winnings.”