Earthbound: Science Fiction in the Old West (Chronicles of the Maca Book 1) by Mari Collier Page A
Authors: Mari Collier
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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
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
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