Earthbound: Science Fiction in the Old West (Chronicles of the Maca Book 1) (19 page)

Kasper met MacDonald coming up the steps to the porch. “We really need to stay out here and not disturb Gerde and Anna.”

“But what if she dies this time?” MacDonald's view of birthing on this planet was set in the realities of the age. Women and babies died during the birthing process. Even if there were a doctor present, the man was often worse than none as strips of pus could be on his hands or coat. Nay seemed to ken the danger of infections.

“Don't worry, my friend. Johanna served as midwife when Anna had the others. Johanna insisted there is something abnormal about Anna. She has no problem, doesn't scream more than once or twice, and the babies arrive healthy and hale.”

It was enough to make MacDonald grit his teeth. Why had he agreed to this madness? Was it to prove that he, Maca of Don, truly had seed and could start the House of Don again on this planet? Anna had been insistent.

“I want to give you a baby, Zeb.” She had smiled that glorious transforming smile and he was swept away with her plans.

“I never have any trouble,” Anna had continued. “The last time was because I was exhausted and then I became ill. Now I am healthy again. This will be like the others; an easy pregnancy and four to five hours for delivery.”

Her prediction about the pregnancy was correct. There was no morning sickness. She did not show until the fourth month and did not slow her work that much.

In the fifth month, she had looked at him and said, “I am sorry, Mr. MacDonald, but this baby will be a girl.”

“What tis that to be sorry about?”

“I thought all men wanted a son.”

“All I want tis my counselor safe. A lassie or a laddie makes nay difference. Either twill be part of my House.”

In the ninth month Anna slowed down much to MacDonald relief. One unsettling event did occur.

“I'm sorry Zeb, but we can no longer be husband and wife until after the baby is born. Then it will be two to six weeks before we can be together again.”

“Why?”

She had looked at him puzzled. “Because, well, it, it hurts inside to be a wife to you now.”

“Dear, Gar, why did ye nay tell me?”

She had blushed before looking straight at him. “Because I like being your wife.”

That had brought a smile to his lips and he had stepped closer and put his arms around her.

“And why so long afterwards?”

Anna had let out an exasperated sigh. “Because nature cleans out the womb.”

“Ye Gods, woman, I should be able to get something from the
Golden One
to stop it.”

“It is necessary to….” once again she had colored. “If it doesn't clean out, a woman can become infected. Then you can't nurse your baby and it is very dangerous.”

“And if it tis longer?”

“Then something else is wrong and once again, it is dangerous for the woman.” MacDonald lost the thread of his memories as a scream from upstairs made both men stand straighter.

MacDonald gritted his teeth, his muscles were bunched as though ready to knock Kasper out of the way and run upstairs. Silence descended and only flies buzzing around could be heard.

Kasper had a quizzical look on his face and shook his head no. “You can't intrude now.”

“What tis the matter with ye? That twas my Anna screaming in pain.”

Kasper looked at MacDonald. “You are the most upset father I have ever seen. Most women carry on like that for hours. According to Johanna, Anna usually screams when it is pretty well over. Anna has her babies more rapidly than others.” He decided a change of conversation would do the agitated father a good turn.

“Either way, it will be a long night for me.”

MacDonald swung his head to look at Kasper. “Why?”

“Oh, Malcolm is now threatening to burn us Yankees out.”

“Are the rest of the men in town joining him?”

Kasper found himself looking at a very angry MacDonald. “No, Tom Jackson has left to join the Confederate Army and Benjamin isn't interested. Neither is Jesse.” The next thing Kasper saw was MacDonald heading towards the Phillips's place.

MacDonald found Phillips loading the wagon with his wife's trunks.

“Phillips!” The name came out in a full-throttled roar.

Malcolm turned to find himself confronting a Thalian Warrior. The dark eyes were hard and unrelenting, the throat and chest expanded, and a strong musk odor exuded from MacDonald's body.

MacDonald grasped the man by his arms and slammed him up against the wagon.

“Ye threatened my brither-by-marriage with fire. Ken ye that my wife and child are there? If any harm comes to them or the Schmidt's, I twill hunt ye down and break every bone in yere body. If ye are foolish enough to burn Rolfe place, Mr. Rolfe twill hunt ye down faster than I and take yere scalp. Do ye ken?”

Malcolm tried to put on a brave, angry face, but his body betrayed him and piss ran down the front of his britches.

“Answer me!” And MacDonald slammed him into the wagon again.

“Yes, yes, put me down. I…I was just talking—no harm meant—me and my missus are leaving tomorrow.”

MacDonald released him. “If ye think ye can burn my place on yere way to Arles, dinna try it. I twill be following and I care nay if yere wife tis with ye. Dinna forget.” He turned and walked towards the Rolfe home and upon arrival banged on the door with his fist.

Olga opened the door, her brown eyes sparkling, her brown hair pulled back severely into a bun, and her raspberry mouth smiling. “Hullo, Uncle Mac. Has Tante Anna had the baby?”

“Nay yet. Where tis yere fither? I need to speak with him.”

“He's out hunting, Uncle. He should be back soon.”

“When he rides in, tell him to come see me. If he does nay return by this eve, I twill need to speak with Martin.” With that he ran back to Kasper's place.

“Anything? Any news?”

Kasper smiled. “Gerde waved a towel out the window. That is our signal that the baby is here.” He quickly reached out and grasped MacDonald's arm.

“You can't go up there yet. Some other, ah things need to happen.”

MacDonald was staring at him. “What things? Oh…” and he remembered the animals always had the afterbirth. Earth beings were probably no different.

“Yes, and, of course, Gerde and Anna will want to have things cleaned up when they let us mere men see what God has wrought.”

Jesse appeared carrying three mugs of beer. “I thought you gentlemen might need this while waiting.”

“We probably could have used it more when my sister screamed.” Kasper gratefully accepted one. Jesse was not generous with free drinks. “I had to assure Mac that most women would have been screaming for hours.”

“That's true,” said Jesse. “At home all the men would retire to the woodshed and drink from a bottle my pappy had stored there. Course, I don't carry anything that strong. If y'all want anymore, I'll have to charge.” He smiled and looked at the untaken mug.

“I surely do suggest y'all wet your whistle.”

Gerde's head appeared in the upper window. “It's a girl. I'll let you know when we're ready.”

Jesse look startled. MacDonald gave a huge sigh of relief and reached for the mug. He drained half of it before stopping.

Kasper shook his head and laughter edged his words. “Mac, calm down.”

“Aye, but tis a vexing situation when there tis nay I can do.”

Thirty minutes later, Gerde appeared at the doorway. It looked like she was smiling, but the effort to turn away the bitterness of her own loss defeated her attempt.

“The father may go up first and then the rest.”

She stood aside as MacDonald bolted past her and up the stairs. Gerde had wisely left the door open when she carried the box containing the afterbirth down the stairs. She handed the box to Kasper and returned to the upstairs to fetch the bedding.

MacDonald was oblivious to all the details. All he saw was Anna in the bed, holding a blanket-wrapped baby, and looking weary yet smiling that wonderful smile at him.

Within seconds he was on the floor beside the bed pulling them both into his arms. He kissed Anna and released her. His hands began unwrapping the blanket and clothes covering baby.

“Zeb, what are you doing?”

“I wish to see my wee one.”

“I told you it would be a girl and she is.”

“Anna, ye have given me the greatest gift possible. I am Maca and my House twill be renewed. In my land, the baby tis always presented to the Maca; his own and all newborn House members.”

“But not without proper covering.”

He smiled. “They are always nude. Then ye can see the formation.”

Anna's teeth were gritted. “She'll catch her death of cold.”

“The beings of this world wear too many clothes.” The booties Anna had so carefully knitted went the way of the blanket and MacDonald gazed with wonder on his child.

“Dear Gar, she tis such a wee mite.” He gently took the baby up in his arms and touched her face.

The eyelids with four lashes each went upward revealing brown eyes and closed again.

A smile went across his face. “See, she kens it tis her fither.”

He handed his wee one back. “I think ye can dress her more rapidly than I.” And he beamed at Anna and picked up the booties to hand to her.

It took a few minutes to put the booties, diaper, and flannel gown on, then position the small square of oilcloth before wrapping the blanket around the child. When it was done Anna nodded at him.

He opened the door to the group standing outside. All of Schmidt's Corner's populace entered except the Phillips. Rolfe had appeared and nodded at MacDonald as he stepped into the room. Olga managed to reach the bedside before the others.

“Oh, is it a little girl?” Not waiting for an answer she looked at Anna. “Oh, Tante, she's so beautiful. Look, she even has fuzzy hair.”

Kasper was next and he smiled at his twin. “Have you picked a name?”

“Aye, she tis Wilhelmina LouElla MacDonald in honor of our mithers.”

“It is a suitable name for her. Have you considered letting us baptize her before you return to your ranch? With the war going on, it may be a long time before a pastor will be able to get here.”

“Ja, it would be a good thing.” Anna answered for them both. MacDonald held his tongue. He wasn't entirely sure what that entailed, but didn't wish to show his ignorance.

“Y'all baptize them that young?” Benjamin Jackson was puzzled. He thought only Catholics, Episcopalians, and Methodists did that. 'Course Methodists called it a Christening, but, hell, there wasn't any difference that he could see.

“Yes, we'll probably do that in two weeks when Mrs. MacDonald can walk again.” Kasper was hoping that this time Anna would stay down the prescribed two weeks.

MacDonald looked puzzled. Why would a new mither nay walk for two weeks? Anna had other ideas.

“Don't be silly, Kasper. You know very well I won't stay down that long, but I would like some rest now.” She looked at MacDonald and smiled.

“I should be able to ride home in five to seven days, Mr. MacDonald.”

Gerde stepped forward. “Everyone out now. Miss Rolfe has brought an angel food cake. Please stay for a slice and coffee.” Inside Gerde was seething. How dare that upstart child outdo her? But then she had been busy.

Everyone went downstairs and dutifully had the cake (which to Gerde's disgust was amazingly good) and a cup of coffee.

“This may be the last time we get anything like this cake. That war will keep supplies short.” Jesse remembered his grandpap telling what it was like in 1813.

“Naw, it ain't going to last that long.” Jackson was confident that the Yankees would run at the sight of a Southern force. Everybody knew the folks back East were too squeamish for real killing.

“I forgot to tell Anna something. I twill be right back. When I return, it tis a round of beer for everyone at Jesse's.” He ran up the stairs with Gerde glaring at him.

Anna looked at him as he came in the door.

“I had nay time to tell ye, but Phillips has made threats against Kasper and this town. Rolfe and I twill need to follow him and be certain he does nay burn our places. Also I've had a letter from the last Captain I served under. He wishes me to rejoin the troops. We'll discus that when I return, but I…I… Ye ken that I am a warrior. Ye may wish to stay here whilst I am gone.”

“I will not!”

His smile broadened. “Ye are truly a Mistress of Don.” He bent and kissed her forehead before he left.

Anna took a deep breath as the door closed. Now she would rest a bit and then have something to eat. She smiled down at the baby, and for a moment her stomach cramped. Dear God, where were her other babies?

“Mr. O'Neal is here to see you, Margareatha. Put on a clean apron and go to Mother Superior's parlor. Cover that wild red hair. Do try to control your tongue. You will be without the evening meal if you insult either. And hurry. They are too important for the likes of you to keep waiting.”

Sister Agnes frowned at the young woman washing the dishes. She was a disgrace; a heretic. Sister Agnes would be happy to see this one depart, but Mother Elizabeth was not to be disputed.

Margareatha glared at the woman. Why would she want to see him? He had refused to help Mama and the boys. He had knocked her down and locked her in that shed. Then he drugged her to get her on that stage to the nunnery. If she threw one of the dishes the Sisters would drag her into that basement room again, and withhold food for two days. She wouldn't have to see him then.

“Why would I want to see that old man? He's the reason I'm here.”

Sister Agnes gasped. “It is not the elder Mr. O'Neal, but the younger, and why they bother with the likes of you I'll never know. They are truly sainted.” She turned and hurried away. There was no other explanation than witch for a woman so tall with red hair and strange copper eyes with gold circles around the pupils. The disgusting girl never became ill like normal people; not once in the nearly five years she had been here. Sister Agnes had been certain of it when Sister Carla had said there was something else wrong too, but was forbidden to speak of it other than it had to be the Devil's work.

Margareatha stared after the departing black skirt. Younger? What younger? Then she remembered. Mama had said there was a son, but he had been sent away to school. The son was the reason the older Mr. O'Neal hated them. It didn't make much sense to her twelve-year-old mind, but Mama had not explained anything else.

“Not until you are older,” Mama had snapped.

Well, I am older, and I am not going to do anything to please anybody here. She slammed another dish on the table, not caring whether it broke or not. I'll go as I am, she thought and marched to the parlor.

No one paid any attention to her. Some of the younger sisters averted their eyes, sure that she was a witch or a heretic and probably both.

She knocked on the door and opened it when she heard the Mother Superior say, “Come in.”

Margareatha walked in with her head held high. “Always be proud of your height,” Mama had said. She would not droop or lower her head for the nuns no matter how many times they beat her. Neither would she curtsy to that woman. Her profession did not make her holy and she glared at them both.

Mother Superior Elizabeth's eyes widened. The disgusting Lutheran had not even put on a clean apron, but that was the Germans for you. Filthy unbelievers.

Jeremiah “Red” O'Neal set aside the cup he was pretending to sip from and smiled. Once cleaned up, Margareatha Lawrence would be a beautiful, imposing asset. He had gleaned enough to suspect she would also be very, very grateful. At twenty-two, Red was six feet tall, two hundred and twenty pounds, broad shouldered and slim flanked. His clothes were tailored, his boots were cobbled, and in his chest beat two hearts.

“Hello, Miss Lawrence, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I was gone when that horrific attack took place on your home.”

The sharp words Margareatha had planned to say were stilled when she saw his eyes. How could that be? The sisters said that hers were unnatural and no one had eyes like that. This man looked like her father.

O'Neal smiled and stood. He had been able to enter her mind and confusion filled her eyes and face instead of the defiance that had been there. He doubted if she had the same ability as his hadn't been there until he was nineteen. According to his mother's letter Margareatha was now about sixteen or seventeen. Perfect for his needs and she was beautiful despite being tall.

“Mr. O'Neal, I apologize for her rudeness.

“Margareatha, you are to acknowledge Mr. O'Neal.”

“Why? His family forced me here and my mother and brothers died because of them.”

Mother Superior rose to her full height of five feet. She looked like a child among giants.

“No reprimand is necessary, Mother Superior.” Red smiled at her and turned to Margareatha.

“I can't blame you for being upset. Why don't you go fetch your coat and then we'll leave here.”

For one moment wild hope surged through Margareatha, and then she realized that she could not live on the outside without shelter or food. The hell with it she thought. I'll do anything to get out of here.

Mother Superior turned on Red. “That is impossible, Mr. O'Neal. Your father's instructions were to keep her here until she is eighteen; longer if she repents and becomes one of us.”

“I'd have to see that letter, Mother Superior, for my instructions were to bring her back to Texas.”

The Mother Superior stared at Red. To Margareatha's amazement, the women said, “Very well, give me a moment, please.” She turned and walked out the door Margareatha had entered.

Red swung around to Margareatha.

“Quick, we have to leave now.”

“They'll stop us.”

“No, they won't.” He grinned at her and took her arm. “Hurry, I can't hold them all.”

Margareatha found his words puzzling, but they were stepping out of the other door of the parlor. This door led into the entry hallway where visitors to the nunnery could enter if given permission.

Red nodded at the woman sitting behind the lightly veiled cubicle and took his coat and hat from the wooden tree by the door.

“Good day to you, Sister.”

And they were out in the fresh, wind-nipping air of Houston.

Red slung his coat around Margareatha's shoulders. “There wasn't time for you to get your wrap. Hurry, they'll be after us in a moment.”

Questions rolled through Margareatha's mind. How had this happened? Why did that Sister in the hallway let them depart without questions, but sat there mute?

Margareatha's long legs matched his hurrying steps.

“Why did they let us out? Me, that is?”

“Because I held them with my mind; it's an ability that you may one day possess.”

“That's not possible.”

“Didn't you feel me brush your mind?”

They had turned the corner and Red saw the conveyance he had arrived in. The man's jaws were working his chaw. He spit out a brown stream on the board sidewalk and mounted to his seat.

Once inside the cab, Red drew the curtains.

“Where are we going?”

“You, Miss Lawrence, are going to a safe house where you can get cleaned up and hide while the police search for you. I've already made arrangements for new clothes to be tailored for you as I figured whatever you had in the nunnery would not be suitable outside. I just didn't realize it would be so bad.”

Margareatha set her lips. How dare he?

“Why not stop and let me out now? We can end this charade. I have no idea what you are planning, but, I, sir, am not part of it.”

Red settled back against the cushion. “Oh, cut the melodramatic crap. Didn't you notice we have the same type of eyes? Don't you wonder why that is?”

His words made Margareatha draw in her breath. She hadn't heard such words for the last five years, but this was a man from the outside world, not a nun.

“Why?”

“Because, Miss Lawrence, we have the same father and in all probability share another one of his strange anatomical traits.”

“And that would be?”

He grinned wickedly. “We'd have to listen to each other's chest to prove it, but I have two hearts. I'm guessing that with those eyes that you have two hearts also.”

This time the intake of breath was much sharper. Her two hearts had been discovered when the nuns were binding her chest because she was growing (according to them) an enlarged bosom. She and the three nuns in the room had all been sworn to secrecy.

“And just what, Mr. O'Neal, are your plans?”

“I'd rather not say at this point. If the police are called, which I doubt, I don't want them questioning this driver. I can assure you it is nothing illegal and you will not be expected to, uh, be with men alone. Right now, why don't you just enjoy the ride?”

“Will there be food?”

Red looked at her and realized she had very little weight on her, but that wasn't unusual for people in poor circumstances.

“Of course, Miss Lawrence, although it may not be fancy at first, I'm sure it will be better than what they had at the nunnery.”

After about twenty minutes the driver pulled the team to a halt.

“Don't be alarmed at where we are, but it is the safest place I could think of. Everything is ready for you and you will be treated like a queen until all the clothes are ready. It's just that it would be better that you not walk in this, ah neighborhood.”

“You mean I'm a prisoner again?”

“Oh, hell, no, but this is colored town.”

“What precisely is that?”

It was Red's turn to be puzzled and then he realized that all those years in the nunnery meant the girl was probably as innocent as the nuns.

“It's the section of town where the results of the father's sinning live.” He saw the blank look on her face and continued. “They are the ones who had white fathers and were given money or set free to stay far away from their white fathers.”

He grinned again. “This lady has fallen on hard times. Her father passed away, but she sews quite well and will make sure that you are decently quartered and fed. I've paid her well to do that.”

“You can't expect me to believe the O'Neal family is paying for this.”

“They are not. I am paying for it. I'm a gambler, and you, my dear are going to be my edge.”

“I have no money to repay you.” The teachings of her mother and der Pastor were still etched into her mind.

“When we start working together, you'll receive a percent; let's say five and then ten. We can always adjust it.”

“And what will I be doing, Mr. O'Neal?” She suspected this was not normal. The nuns had hounded her with the fact that there was no employment for females like her other than cleaning, being married, or becoming a nun. All of them were occupations that she rejected. She was too young. What if her mother still lived? Grandpa Schmidt or Uncle Kasper might still be alive, but she had no idea how to get to St. Louis from Houston. Margareatha rightly assumed such a journey would cost money and she had none.

He smiled broadly. “You are going to be my eyes.”