Earthbound: Science Fiction in the Old West (Chronicles of the Maca Book 1) (11 page)

Rolfe and Kasper pulled up their horses at the O'Neal plantation. They had been on the trail for three weeks. Before he left, MacDonald had offered to pay for their grub and any expenses. Kasper wouldn't hear of it as Mrs. Lawrence was using her portion from their grandparents' estate. It was a small amount of cash since she was female and not male, but Kasper had carefully put it aside. Somehow he knew his twin lived. He had been surprised when MacDonald approached him.

“Mr. Schmidt, in the ways of yere land, I need to request yere permission to court yere sister when I return.”

Kasper had stood speechless for a moment and almost answered in Deutsche. Then a huge smile lit his face and he clasped MacDonald's hand. “Of course, Mr. MacDonald, of course, I give my permission and my blessing; if Mrs. Lawrence will agree to it.”

It was MacDonald's turn to smile. “She has already done so. That tis why I am anxious to see the divorce settled. I wish I could attend ye, but I must return the mules and the cart within a specified time. They can be small minded about such things, and there tis a matter of them reimbursing my receipts. Twill probably take them months.” He had left the next morning and Rolfe and Kasper two days later.

Both Rolfe and Kasper took time to shave and put on their clean clothes before approaching the O'Neal ranch. Neither was sure of their reception as O'Neal had not been overly civil the first time. It was as though he had begrudged them every moment, but felt obligated by moral law to show them the grave sites.

A Mexican man held their horses while they went up the porch stairs and knocked at the door. A Mexican woman responded to their knock and directed them to wait in the foyer. Out of courtesy, they removed their hats. If there were slaves, Kasper didn't see any. That seemed strange on a cotton plantation, but felt it better to hold his tongue.

O'Neal appeared with the servant girl and narrowed his eyes. Southern hospitality vied with open dislike.

“Why have ye two returned?”

Kasper remembered that O'Neal had been annoyed with Rolfe's heavy accent, although the Irish lilt still sang in his voice.

“My sister, Mrs. Lawrence, has been rescued. She told us that Mr. Lawrence had taken his rifle, their shotgun, and all their ammunition. He also took his riding horse to the field rather than the workhorse and handed their oldest son over to the Comanche. She would like to bring charges against the man for attempted murder. When we were here previously, you mentioned that someone had seen him ride away when the Comanche attacked and that they had not followed him. Perhaps you could tell us who that was. Then we could secure a deposition from the man to present to the authorities.”

Rolfe had cautioned Kasper not to mention divorce. “That man is Catholic. He is against all divorces unless the Pope grants them.”

O'Neal's eyes brightened. “Yes, that is possible. Meet me in Wooden at the Justice of the Peace this afternoon. He functions as the Notary Public. I'll have the man with me. Lawrence needs to be on a handbill as a wanted man. He was a despicable neighbor and a despicable man.” He turned and walked back down the hall towards a far room.

Rolfe jerked his head toward the door, stifling an itch to toss his bowie knife into the man's back. They mounted their horses and rode down the long lane past white fences holding riding horses and cattle. Wooden was but a two hour ride from here.

As they rode, Rolfe unfolded his plan. “We can ask him about the dead children again when we have someone else listening.” Rolfe disliked O'Neal. He was too hate-filled and vindictive—and for what? Mrs. Lawrence or Clara had not enlightened him if there was a reason.

“O'Neal hates everything about your brother-in-law. I can't figure out why unless they were in a fight and he lost.”

Kasper ducked his head and his mouth twitched.

“You know the reason. What the hell is going on, Herr Schmidt? I need to know if there's going to be a fight.”

Kasper swallowed. “It seems Mr. Lawrence might have fathered a son with the current Mrs. O'Neal.”

Rolfe put out his arm. “Ve stop now and jaw.” German words seemed inadequate.

The men dismounted and stood next to each other letting the horses crop at the grass. “Why didn't you tell me?” Rolfe's voice had risen. “And how do you know?”

“Some laundress or like person whispered as much to my sister after O'Neal made sneering remarks about poor, white trash while she was in the store. It seems the son looked exactly like Mr. Lawrence.”

“Did she see the son?”

“No, he had left the area. Anna does not know where he went.”

“If that's true, why would Lawrence come back here?”

“He was unaware that such a birth had occurred. He had been wounded in 1836 during the war with Mexico for Texas's independence. Anna didn't think he'd been a participant, but someone nursed him back to health. When she confronted him, he admitted it was Mrs. O'Neal. Lawrence had left soon after he recovered. He owned land in Texas, and wanted to return here after he and Anna were married for several years. He had no idea that the woman who nursed him had married someone else and lived in the vicinity. At least that is what he told Anna.

“Anna never understood why he wished to return to Texas as he was not a farmer.”

Rolfe shook his head. “He doesn't sound like much of a man. What else did Mrs. Lawrence say about the Comanche attack?”

“She suspects Mr. Lawrence may have taken personal things, but can't be certain.”

“Why?”

“She said two of his books were gone from the chest in their bedroom when she was packing to leave.”

Rolfe considered. “We'll head towards Wooden, but we aren't going into town until this afternoon. It's run by O'Neal. Did you notice that the General Store, Feed Store, and livery stable are all owned by an O'Neal?”

“Yes, I did.” Both men had remounted.

“There could be a lot more of them. If his whole family came here, they'd pretty much stick together, no matter who was right or wrong. Don't say anything to upset O'Neal. We don't want him to change his mind.”

It was not difficult to find the Notary's office. It was located beside the small bank next to a lawyer's office. The buildings were wooden, but only the bank had the false front to give an impression of a higher, more substantial building.

“Ve vait outside.” In town among Southerners, Rolfe spoke his brand of English as German upset their sensibilities as much as a Mexican speaking Spanish.

O'Neal and another man rode up after they had waited about fifteen minutes. O'Neal's horse was a Tennessee Walker and he wore a grey suit topped by a white hat. The man accompanying him was dressed as a typical hand, canvas trousers, cotton shirt, boots, and an older, wider brimmed hat. His clothes were dusty, dirty, and trail worn. His horse was a mustang, with shorter, wider hindquarters for making quick turns when chasing cattle.

They dismounted and walked into the Notary's office. Another man sat chatting with the man behind the desk. He saw who it was, stood, and grabbed his hat.

“So long, Hollister, I'll see y'all tomorrow.”

O'Neal looked at the man. “On your way out, get the Sheriff over here.”

“Yes, sir.” The man hurried out as Rolfe's blocky form was about to fill the doorway.

Hollister stood. “Mr. O'Neal, it's a pleasure to see you. May I be of service?”

“Yes, I want you to take a deposition from Mr. Allen regarding that Comanche raid a couple of years ago. Because of the woman's brother, we are finally able to prove that Lawrence is a contemptible renegade, or at least a white man working with Indians to kill his family.”

Rolfe and Kasper were in time to hear the exchange. Kasper was about to comment when Rolfe nudged him and shook his head.

Hollister looked at Kasper and Rolfe. O'Neal must have realized he was neglecting form. “Mr. Hollister, this is Mr. Kasper Schmidt, the brother of the unfortunate woman held captive by the Comanche. The other is a Mr. Rolfe, his guide.”

Once again Kasper received a nudge to remain silent. Hollister nodded “hello.”

“Mr. Schmidt wishes to be able to press charges and save what is left of his sister's reputation.” The words implied it was futile, but family loyalty overrode reality.

“Shall I wait for the sheriff, Mr. O'Neal?”

“No, he can read the document.”

Paper, pen, ink, and the seal appeared from the desk drawer. Hollister nodded at Allen. “Go ahead. Write down the date, your name, and what you saw that fateful day.”

“I cain't write more than my name.” Allen's voice was sullen, angry at having to admit this in front of men that could read and write.

“Very well, I'll write down what you have to say. Proceed with your name first.”

Allen told of how he had seen Thomas Lawrence hand a heavy bag and a rifle or shotgun to one of the Comanche warriors. Mr. Lawrence then rode away. He had left his son standing in the field and an Indian rode over and picked up the boy. Then the Comanche rode towards the Lawrence cabin.

The sheriff walked in and introductions were performed again. It was with profound relief that Kasper and Rolfe were finally outside with the signed, witnessed, and stamped deposition. They wasted no time mounting their horses.

“Shouldn't we stop for supplies?”

“Hell, no, we're getting out of here before he changes his mind. Maybe that Allen saw something, maybe not, but it won't matter in a court. We'll ride slow and steady for a mile and then we'll trot a bit.”

When they finally reined in their horses, dusk was falling. Rolfe had selected a spot by one of the creeks that were in this wetter part of Texas. They could hobble their horses in the grass after watering them, and they would sleep beneath the trees.

“I'm going to get one of O'Neal's cows. We may be on his land and he owes us a meal.” Rolfe rode off.

Kasper shook his head. He wasn't sure who had done the most sinning. Himself for not protesting the whole procedure when Rolfe said Allen and O'Neal might be lying or not protesting when Rolfe said he was going to steal a cow.

It took one year for the divorce decree to become final. During this time, MacDonald arranged for his home to be built. By Thalian word usage, his House was his family, his abode his home. The barn, washhouse, and springhouse were also constructed. A cistern was installed just outside the springhouse so that Anna would not have to labor so hard for water. Cruz Moreno, from Schmidt's Corner, had been hired to build a rock fence around the garden plot behind the washhouse.

Three crab tree seedlings had been ordered through Kasper's store. When they arrived, the trees were transferred to larger containers, but left behind the Schmidt's Corner's general store. Cruz had installed fencing around the trees to keep the jackrabbits out. Anna had watered and tended them. Real apple trees would not do well here, but crab apples could grow almost anywhere and they made wonderful apple butter and apple jelly. She would transplant them after their marriage.

The barn and the springhouse went up first. Then the fences were built around the sides and back of the barn to create barnyards. MacDonald took to sleeping in the barn loft. He could keep an eye on the construction while he was there. Most of the time, he and Rolfe were out on the range branding and checking the cattle. Martin was old enough that he spent the weekends with them or anytime that Kasper was not conducting classes. They had driven another herd up to Chisholm, the Indian Agent in the Indian Territory.

“Too damn dangerous to go to New Orleans now, Mac. Some of them Southerners really hate Yankees, and me, they consider a Yankee. They ain't sure about du, but if du answer the question wrong or refuse to drink to sechees they ain't going to like du any better.”

“What the hell is 'sechees'?”

“Dot's vhen they leave the Union.”

“Ye Gods, it twill nay go Secession.”

“Don't bet on it, Mac. Some are ready to do it now. Vhy do du think all that killing in Kansas?”

Anna worked with Kasper in the store, the stables, and with either Kasper or Gerde in their garden. She helped with Gerde's cleaning, laundered MacDonald's clothes, and spent any spare moment sewing clothes for both of them. She refused to take any money from MacDonald. This was her way of paying him back. MacDonald smiled. Her stubborn pride amused him, but the clothes were a better fit than his other clothes during his sojourn on Earth.

He courted Anna in accordance to the proprieties of the 1850s' mores. He did not touch her, hug her, or kiss her. At times his body would quiver whether from desire or restraint was difficult to tell for Thalians touched, they stroked, they hugged, and he was physically so close to her. The longing at times was overwhelming and sleep fled from his brain. The years of isolation at the Justine Refuge had nay been as difficult. Kreppies and Justines were nay desirable beings.

A year had passed and they planned to leave for Arles in the morning to procure the license and to be married. From there they would take the stage to Houston and a boat to New Orleans. Then they would ride a steamship up to St. Louis.

“It costs too much money, Mr. MacDonald.”

“Don't ye wish to see yere fither and introduce yere new husband?”

“Of course, I do.” Anna stamped her foot in frustration. “But you have worked so hard for your money and it will cost more to finish this place.”

“That tis all accounted for, Mrs. Lawrence. If I canna give ye pleasure and the things ye deserve as mistress of my heart, what good tis money?”

Anna shook her head. “You might need it for something important on this ranch.”

He had brought her to the ranch to see the almost completed kitchen and great room. He grabbed both of her hands in his.

“Mrs. Lawrence, how long has it been since ye have seen yere fither?”

“Almost four years.”

“And how eld tis he?”

Anna winced. “He is almost 60.”

“There, ye see. We may nay have this opportunity again. While we are in St. Louis, ye can see about buying a sewing machine and I twill see about one of those pumps I heard about from the freighters. That way ye twould nay need to pull up water for anything.”

Anna stared at him and shook her head. The man was mad.

“Now we shall go inside. I have a surprise for ye in the kitchen.”

They walked through the back door and Anna stopped.

“Mr. MacDonald, the cabinets—they—they are for my height.” For a moment, all Anna could think of was the backache that resulted every time she did dishes in Gerde's kitchen. “How did you know?”

Anna ran her hands over the wooden cabinet top, marveling at its newness and the correct height. Here she would not need to stoop for kneading, for stirring, for washing dishes. If she looked to the right, she was looking out onto what would be part of the front yard. If she turned to the left, there was a corner cabinet and another small set of lower cabinets. Then came the window that looked out onto the springhouse, the fence that ran from the edge of the house, and followed the springhouse around to where one of the crab apple trees would be, and then on to the washhouse. She turned to MacDonald, her grey eyes shining, “Mr. MacDonald, I could kiss du.”

It was too much for MacDonald. All the years of longing, needing the touch of another being, of holding someone close, the need of a caress all overcame his good intentions, and he gathered her into his arms, his lips finding hers with a pent up demand.

At first Anna was too startled to object and then she found herself returning the kiss, her own loneliness and loss meeting his. It lasted until she could feel the heat coming off of his hands and his body. His hands and kiss demanded more and she wasn't sure she had the strength to refuse him. Just as suddenly the kiss stopped and he held her close, swaying back and forth, and murmuring.

“My Anna, my love, I ken I must wait.”

And he broke away as he almost ran for the door. “I twill get the z…horses.”

She was left gasping, unsure, what should she do now? Dare she confront him? It was too improbable, too cruel, and yet he, like Mr. Lawrence, had said there would be no children. Silent tears ran through her heart and she knew what she must do. To be safe she would wait until they were back at Schmidt's Corner for Anna knew her children lived. What was inexplicable, she had seen them all in this house opening Christmas presents, but that was in the early days of her captivity and she was half mad. When a vision was true, she would have more than one. She had not seen Mr. MacDonald in that dream, nor had she ever dreamt that scene again.