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

by Mari Collier

  Gerde was unable to say anything for a moment. She took several quick breaths while her mind tried to find a way to leave here.

  “There is no Lutheran pastor or church.” Surely, that would convince Kasper.

  “That is true, Gerde, but now we will be two families. We can apply to the Synod for a circuit rider to come through here. Some of the Lutheran churches in Texas are affiliated with the Lutheran Synod of Missouri.” Satisfied that he had met all her objections, hunger reasserted its demands.

  “Is there something to eat now, or shall I just wait for supper?”

  Gerde almost ground her teeth. How could the man be so considerate on one matter and so dense and inconsiderate on another? Still, she was the good Frau and she responded.

  “Ach, ja, mein Herr, you must be starving. You can't have eaten decently during your travels. Come in, come in. I have some stew and biscuits left for you and Mr. Rolfe to share.”

  Herman appeared in the doorway from the bedroom and saw that Gerde was setting out the bowls. “We could wait until supper. There's work to do. The ropes, extra saddle, and branding irons all need to be ready plus we need to clean out the saddlebags. If Mac can't make it, I'll be hiring a man to help with a cattle drive up to Chisholm in Indian Territory.”

  Gerde looked with horror at Kasper and her voice lowered to a whisper. “Are you going with him?”

  Kasper raised his eyebrows. “No, Frau Schmidt, I must remain here to see about our store, stable, and home. Mr. Rolfe needs someone far more accustomed to cattle than I am.”

  He smiled at them. “However, if I can be of any assistance now, I gladly offer my services.”

  Chapter 16: The Saloon Keeper

  Jesse Owens reined in his mule when he topped a small rise and looked around. He had seen smoke billowing several miles back and wondered who was out in this empty stretch of the Texas plains besides wild animals, wild cattle, wild horses, wild men, wild Indians, and occasional foothills of stone trying to be mountains. This was prairie grass with stands of juniper and scrub oak. Cottonwood and oak trees grew where water ran or percolated up in a spring, but it was too dry for good farming land. He'd seen what looked like maybe two ranches a couple of miles back, but this smoke was more than what came from a couple of stoves. It couldn't be a prairie fire as the smoke was fairly constant and remained in one place. To the east were several high bluffs, more prairie, and rolling hills. The hills became higher and carpeted with trees and continued upward into stone mounds that some might call mountains. They were too low to be like the mountains back in the South where his folks came from. When he looked southward he saw a settlement of three houses, a stable, and two other buildings. One had a steady stream of smoke and now he could hear the clanging of metal against an anvil.

  “Well, now, maybe they have something liquid to offer a man.” His brown eyes lighted at the thought and he tapped the mule lightly and rode on down.

  He dismounted in front of the building that had a sign proclaiming, “Schmidt's Corner.” The building had been whitewashed and the black lettering over the door announced this to be a General Store. It wouldn't hurt to see what they had. Jesse tied the mule to the hitching rail and entered.

  A slender, dark haired man was emerging from what looked like a hall running back to a storage area. “Welcome, you are my first customer of the day.” Kasper smiled as both men took stock of each other.

  To Jesse, Kasper looked more like a city person than someone out in the middle of Texas. Kasper's shirt was white and starched, he wore a grey vest, and dark trousers with shined, laced up shoes.

  Kasper saw a medium-sized man, tending to the stocky side, dark hair and eyes, dusty, trail-worn clothes and boots. When Jesse removed his hat, it was obvious his hair was beginning to thin although he didn't look more than about thirty.

  Kasper moved behind the counter. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

  “I was hoping to find a drink, some beer. It's been a dry trip.”

  “I do have beer, but it is by the bottle. Mrs. Schmidt prefers that you drink it outside.”

  Kasper bent and brought up a bottle. “You're in luck. I still have a few left before the next freight load comes through.” He became a business man. “That'll be a dime since it would fill two mugs.”

  Jesse considered. “I don't suppose there is a tavern here?”

  “No, there isn't. I stock the beer because my customers want it. The other business is the Jackson's ironworks and blacksmith shop.”

  Jesse fished in his pocket for a dime and came up with two half dimes. “I don't suppose you offer any food with that.”

  “No, we don't as we aren't a tavern.”

  “Do you get much traffic through here?”

  “Not a whole lot.” Kasper hated to admit it, but he depended on travelers passing through, the two Tillman ranches, a few scattered small spreads, the Rolfe's, and MacDonald whenever the man chose to be in the area. He was thankful that Gerde had never upbraided him for settling here. The search for his sister had yielded no information. Rolfe wouldn't be back for another month and who knew when MacDonald would ride in?

  “While our neighbors appreciate the fact that I stock the beer, my wife really doesn't like the idea. It brings in the rowdies.” He smiled. “They're not bad men, just young. Our home is in this building and we have a small son.”

  “Do tell.” Jesse laid his change on the counter as Kasper opened the bottle. “Since you ain't overrun with customers why don't you step outside with me and tell me more about this area.”

  “Gladly, I don't have any children for lessons today.” Kasper removed his apron and walked outside with Owens.

  “If you wish to water your mule, the river is behind us. It's not too far and the water is free.” He smiled again. The elder Jackson was a taciturn man and Kasper enjoyed talking with people.

  “I'll do that in a bit. I was wondering how much you do in the way of business.” He saw the quick flash of concern in Kasper's eyes.

  “This looks like a good place. There's plenty of grass and water. The way you talked, you get enough business with the booze to upset your missus.”

  “She'd like for me to give it up, but it is rather profitable and it keeps people coming into the store to buy their sundries here. We get the ranchers, any hands they might have, travelers going between here and the farm settlements further north. While travelers aren't many, there's enough to make a profit on the stable, plus the freighters stop here if it is towards evening when they arrive.”

  “So you wouldn't object if somebody came in and put up a saloon.” Jesse winced as soon as he said the word, but why not? Taverns were considered old-fashioned places. He just hoped this Yankee wouldn't take offense.

  “My name is Jesse Owens.” He shifted the bottle to his left hand and extended his right.

  “Kasper Schmidt.” The two men shook.

  Jesse took a pull from the bottle. “Who owns the land between here and the blacksmith and ironworks place?”

  “I own the land back to the river on this side of the block up to the blacksmith shop. Herman Rolfe owns most of the land on the other side of the road. His ranch starts on the other side of the blacksmith's house and lot. Across the street a wainwright is planning to open a business and build a house. I was hoping to purchase the land across the road someday, but Mr. Rolfe has already seen the wisdom of dividing it up into lots. We intend to build a church on the other side, but a little farther north.”

  Jesse stuck the information in the back of his mind that he had landed among a bunch of Dutchman.

  “Mr. Rolfe has taken a small herd of steers up to Chisholm in the Indian Territory. It seems they knew each other while they were trappers. His wife, Mrs. Rolfe, is in the larger house at the end.”

  “Y'all interested in selling that land?”

  “What sort of saloon do you intend to open?”

  Jesse scratched at this scalp under his hat and took another swig while he considered.


  “Well, it'd be a small-sized one. Just a regular place where a man could come in, buy a beer, and play a game of cards. Y'all know, like the corner tavern in a big city; a place to get away from the missus and kids for awhile and relax.” He assumed Kasper would find the opportunity a plus since he'd mentioned having a son.

  Kasper considered. “As long as it isn't a rowdy place with women, I think it would be an excellent addition to Schmidt's Corner.”

  Jesse eyed the man. This one was definitely different. He had a strange sounding name and he was talking like a scholar, plus he seemed to have a bunch of highfalutin morals. It wouldn't matter. Jesse couldn't afford to bring in women. He'd be lucky to afford putting up the building and a smaller place in back to live.

  “Suppose we came to an agreement, where can we make it legal like?”

  “We could go to the courthouse in Arles. It's the county seat. There's a Justice of the Peace and a Notary there. It takes about four and one-half days to get there. They also have a lumberyard.”

  “Well, now, suppose we talk about price?”

  Kasper smiled. “The lot is yours for fifty-five dollars.”

  “Can y'all make it fifty? Of course, that's after I look at this river to see if there'll be water enough.”

  “I believe Mrs. Schmidt and I will accept that. Right this way.”

  They walked around and behind the store. He doesn't want to bother his missus, thought Jesse. The walk led to an open space of about forty feet from the river.

  “Why is everything set so far back?”

  “In case the river floods, we do not have to worry about the damage it could do.”

  “Who owns that shack across the river?”

  “That belongs to a Mexican family. They were there before I arrived. They have a cow and the woman raises some vegetables. They have a little girl named Olivia.”

  “They ever cause any trouble?”

  “Why would they?” Kasper was puzzled.

  Jesse shrugged. “Y'all never know with a Mex. Does he do any work?”

  “Once in a while Mr. Rolfe or Mr. MacDonald will hire him.”

  “No complaints from them about his work?”

  “I've not heard any. They wouldn't hire him again if it wasn't what they wanted.”

  Jesse nodded. He figured he could hire the woman to do some cooking for the saloon. He'd been on the road long enough. It was time to settle down and plant some roots.

  “Will this Rolfe have any objections to a saloon?” Jesse realized that a man with a wife or kids could object if the man let his wife browbeat him into doing something to protect the morals of their children.

  “Why, no, I don't believe he would. He would probably be one of your steady customers when he is here.”

  Jesse smiled widely. “Mr. Schmidt, you've just made a sale.”

  Chapter 17: Rescue

  The men and horses were moving as silently as possible through the night's fading moonlight and starlight. They were following their Captain and a huge form on an oversized black horse. Grey light had begun to peak over the far away hills when the signal came to halt. The sergeants rode forward, received their orders, and rode back to deliver the command to spread out. No smoking, talking, spitting, or hacking until after the attack.

  They formed a huge arc. Those that were looking forward saw the scout point out the direction to the Captain and then he moved to the far side of the attackers. The scout was allowed to join in the attack, but he was not part of the 2nd Dragoons. His risks were his own and he was to note if any large segment of the Comanche men or horses escaped, the direction they went, and report to the Captain immediately.

  The arc surged forward. MacDonald, the scout, was kicking his heels into his horse to chase a man fleeing back to the village. The Captain waved and the bugler raised his horn. As one the men unloosened their revolvers and they surged forward at the sound of the bugle. Dust rose in the air and men began crawling out of the teepees as the horsemen poured into the village firing their dragoons. They fired six shots per man, holstered their revolvers, and pulled out their swords. By now the dust was rising from the ground, dogs were barking and yelping, teepees were being pulled over, and women and children were screaming, crying, and running as they looked for a place to hide from the Dragoons circling the area.

  One tall, white-haired woman clad in a mended deerskin dress was shoving other women and children out of her way as she tried to head for the hills to the north. MacDonald rushed his horse into the trooper riding towards her.

  “Nay, she tis too tall.” He yelled at the Dragoon chasing her. “She must be white.” He pushed his animal closer and his long arm shot out to pull the woman up.

  “Ye twill be killed if ye run with yere back to the soldiers. They canna tell that ye are white.” He was yelling to be heard over the noise and confusion.

  Fists beat at the air and the woman tried to turn and fight him. Her feet were kicking at his horse. MacDonald galloped back to the wagon and swung down, the woman still held tight against his side. As soon as he dismounted, he released her and her angry, ice-cold grey eyes were glaring at him. Tiny white curls surrounded her face and fought to be loose from the braids. Her lips were white with fury.

  “Mein Daniel, mein sohn.” Her teeth clenched together and she balled her hands into fists, and she turned to run back.

  He grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Dear Gar, are ye Anna Lawrence?” He began speaking in German. “Are you Kasper Schmidt's sibling? Do you mean one of your sons is alive and up there?”

  For a moment she drew in her breath, swallowed, closed her eyes, and snapped them open. “Ja, I must go to him.” Desperation and hardness filled her eyes, and she started to kick.

  He picked her up by the waist while her arms and legs flailed the air. He lowered the back gate of the wagon and smacked her down on the hard wood. “You will stay here. I shall go see if there is anyone up there, but I doubt it. They are not shooting arrows at the troopers. How many are in his group and how tall is he now?”

  She swallowed and shook her head. “Two, three others I, I, am not sure.” The two years of not speaking German or English were dragging at her tongue and Anna felt a rising frustration. She wanted to speak clearly, but in her panic the words jumbled in her mind. The tribe had given her youngest, Auggie, to another group and Daniel to a family in this one. She could not lose her one remaining child.

  “He's ten, but tall. Go, go. Do not let them take him.” She continued to use German even if this man's speech was badly accented.

  “Will you stay here? If you go out there someone is apt to think you are Comanche and kill you. Promise me you will stay.”

  Anna tightened her lips. How to fight this man? She knew she had lost weight and strength, and he was so strong; so rock hard.

  MacDonald looked up at the driver. “This tis Mrs. Lawrence. She has relatives at Schmidt's Corner. Dinna let her go.”

  He swung back up on his horse and rode off. Anna was left blinking in the soft morning sunlight. Relatives? That word she understood. Here? Where? In Texas? Was she still in Texas? Where was Schmidt's Corner?

  Confusion and dust filled her senses and mind. Auggie she felt was dead, but Daniel she knew was alive just a few minutes ago. In her innermost being, she knew that somewhere Margareatha and Lorenz were alive. Was God giving her this chance to get them back?

  The yells grew dimmer, but women and children were still screaming. A contingent of troopers was herding another woman and two children back towards the wagon. Anna recognized the woman as the wife of one of the main hunters. That one had been with the group for seven years and had gone completely primitive in Anna's mind. Anna had starved and endured torture rather than succumb to the Comanche or bear children that might die tomorrow. They had let her live because they were not certain of her sanity. She was as strong as a man when it came to certain chores and they set her at them while withholding food. No sane person willingly refused food when
starving.

  The dust cleared enough that Anna realized the few Comanche women left were being stripped and raped before being killed. Their screams were muted and hoarse. She turned away, sick at heart. These men were no better than the savages that had captured her.

  Anna hated the savagery of the world that had taken her children. She had prayed for God to help her to forgive, to take the hate out of her heart, but every child's cry made her see an image of her children and her heart wept for them and the red rage inside would begin again.

  Chapter 18: A Way Home

  Captain Lewis was trying to interrogate the women found in the Comanche camp. It was late morning, and most of his men were preparing for their ride back to the fort. The younger woman (he assumed she must be younger as her hair was not white or grey streaked) sat cross-legged on the ground, holding her youngest of three children, rocking back and forth, and refusing to look at him. Her lips were compressed and almost white. The white-haired woman was looking at him with a strange glowing light in her grey eyes. The younger woman's buckskin dress was clean and intact. The older woman's was dirty, a bit ragged, and too short.

  “We can return you to your family if you will tell us your name and when and where you were captured.”

  Anna was standing and she looked first at the other woman and then at him when finally the English words came back. “I am Mrs. Anna Lawrence. She has so primitive become she vill not tell anyvon her real name. The babies have savage names.” Anna continued, slipping back into German.

  “I was taken in August of 1854 from a small farm in central Texas. We were about five miles out of Wooden.” She saw the puzzled look on his face and bit her tongue. English, she thought, speak English like Kasper. She repeated her words ending with, “Ve vere about five miles out of Vooden. I had four children then. My daughter has red hair. Has the army found a girl named Margareatha Lawrence and a dark-haired boy named Lorenz?” Her grey eyes were intent on his face.

  “No, I'm sorry to say we have not found any children like that, but thank you, Mrs. Lawrence. Would you be able to get her to speak?”