Earthbound: Science Fiction in the Old West (Chronicles of the Maca Book 1) by Mari Collier
Authors: Mari Collier
Ads: Link
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
“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
Similar Books
