Earthbound: Science Fiction in the Old West (Chronicles of the Maca Book 1) (25 page)

MacDonald stirred the fire in the iron cook stove. Rolfe had not been at Schmidt's Corner. He'd left Anna and Mina there after warning everyone of an impending raid and went in search of Rolfe. This was the third day. Time was running out and Rolfe was nowhere to be found. He didn't think anyone could afford to hire a wolf hunter now. Had the man gone off to the Comanche tribe he visited? If so, there was nay telling when Rolfe twould return. He needed to be in Schmidt's Corner with his counselor and lassie. He felt the raiders would burn his place, but they would be too many for him to defeat by himself. He threw a handful of chicory into the coffeepot and headed for the outhouse.

On his return he saw the outlines of men and horses on the road to the south. He veered to the north to be positioned behind the washhouse. If they rode this way, he would have just enough time to get inside and grab his Henry. He had braced it against the kitchen table. Why had a Thalian Warrior left his weapon? He could hear Rolfe saying, “Dummkopf!” The words Rolfe had used when he had erred in the early days.

The seven men out on the road saw the smoke coming out of the chimney. They had missed seeing MacDonald stepping behind the washhouse.

“Burn it,” two of the men muttered.

“He's there.”

“He can't stop us.”

“He can kill enough of us or slow us down. If we burn this now, it will alert the people in Schmidt's Corner. It would be better to hit there first and then get this ranch on our way back. Besides, he might have some liquor stashed away somewhere if that fence sitter Owens doesn't have any.”

The group continued towards Schmidt's Corner. They did slow their mounts and look down towards the first place Rolfe had created for his ranch before bringing out his wife. It was a simple hovel dug into the side of a bluff that once fronted a much larger, swifter moving river. A timbered roof extended outward to keep off the sun. A small campfire in front of the roofline had a coffee pot swinging over the fire.

“Well, he's somewhere. Let's keep going. We'll pick up the pace when we're closer to the damn Yankees. We don't want to roust him. He's probably out in the bushes somewhere.”

They walked the horses for two miles and then broke into a fast trot. They were a quarter of a mile out of Schmidt's Corner when the leader pulled a white, homemade mask over his head and neck and raised his quirt. The other six emulated him and a harsh yell broke from their lips as they spurred forward.

No shots from the Rolfe home greeted them and three men dismounted long enough to set fire to rags and place them alongside the house. The rest started firing while riding through town. Ben Jackson slung his hammer at them and they shot him. Then they began to shoot up his house. Slugs tore into Owens's Tavern and the Phillips's home. Jesse was standing at the backside of the tavern and started to yell, “I'm a Southerner,” when he saw three men setting fire to the Phillips's place. He ran into his tavern, ducked down behind the bar and came up with his shotgun. If they wanted a fight, by God, he was a Southerner and knew how to shoot.

Anna was in the garden weeding and wishing she was home weeding in her own garden. Mina was playing on a rug placed a few feet away. At the first shot, Anna stood, bent over, picked up Mina, and ran bent low to protect Mina. She could hear yells and galloping horses as she ran for the house. Gerde and Kasper were standing wide-eyed in the kitchen, both incapable of moving. Anna shoved Mina into Gerde's arms.

“Here, put her behind the big chair.

“Kasper, where is your shotgun?”

He pointed towards the hall. It was impossible to tell if he meant the office or the front of the store. Anna whirled and took her shotgun down from over the kitchen door. She went nowhere without it. She would not be defenseless if Comanche struck again.

“Get it!” Anna was yelling. She clawed at the box with the shells and stuck two of them into the breech.

Her yells woke Kasper and he ran towards his office.

Anna heard someone come into the store and she stepped through the kitchen door into the hall and fired both barrels directly at the man in the store.

Kasper appeared in the office doorway.

“Mein Gott, Anna, you've killed a man.”

Someone grabbed the downed man by his boots and pulled him out. More bullets sprayed glass from the windows and Kasper ducked down.

“Get back!” This time he was yelling at anyone who might be near.

The smell of smoke began to fill the air. The Phillips's place was burning rapidly. The raiders had ridden out of range, but they turned and came roaring back into town.

Olga was pulling Young James by the hand and running for cover to the barn. Flames were licking up the front of their house and she feared for their lives.

No one heard the hooves of two more horses as MacDonald and Rolfe barreled into town. They had met up in front of Rolfe's dirt home and pushed their horses the six miles into town. Both had their Henry rifles out and were guiding their horses with their knees.

Rolfe was screeching a war scream and no one understood MacDonald's bellow of “Thalia!” One slug took out the raiders' front rider and another raider felt the smashing pain in his leg that began spurting blood. The Henry slug kept going and the rider's horse went down. They had set the town on fire and knew it was doomed. Three of their men were down; one badly wounded and the other two dead. Bullets were firing from six different locations. They turned, rode behind the Phillips's house, and then headed back towards Arles. They were not young fighting men. They were men in their late forties and fifties that preferred town life over ranching or farming and offered quick access to a saloon.

MacDonald and Rolfe fought the urge to charge after them for Rolfe's home and children needed saving. The fire was rapidly spreading upward.

“Mama's organ. It's in there. You can't let it burn. It's Mama's!” Olga's screams angered Rolfe

“Shut up. Ve're trying to save der house!”

“We can't, Friend Rolfe.”

By this time everyone had grabbed buckets for carrying water from the river to keep the fires from spreading. MacDonald threw his hat on the ground, dumped the bucket of water from Anna over his head, pulled his kerchief up over his nose, and ran into the house through the kitchen door. Smoke filled the place and seeing was difficult in the haze. He knew where the organ was. It sat against the back wall of the room a few feet in front of him. His long legs carried him to the doorway. Sunlight filtered through the small front window creating a greyish yellow smoke blanket that hovered in the room. He pulled the organ towards him and the door. It had not broken into flames, but the wood was heating up. Once he had the rosewood organ into the kitchen, he pushed it toward the door.

At the kitchen door he stopped. It was narrower than the front door and he needed to enlarge the opening. MacDonald kicked at the doorframe several times, the blows landing solidly, and chunks of wood began flying outward. It left a jagged line of lath and plaster, but now he could barely breathe and he felt the heat increasing at his back. He pushed the organ outside, hefted it to his shoulder and staggered across the porch. He grabbed the post by the steps leading to the ground and felt fresh air enter his lungs. From somewhere came the sound of cheering and Rolfe's voice.

“Mac, get the hell out of there. Vhat's der matter mitt du?”

He looked out at the men and women cheering, took another deep breath, and straightened his back before walking down the steps while trying to ignore the pain in his left leg.

The buckets of water were futile. The Rolfe home and the rest of the contents burned to the ground. One charred stud remained a defiant finger sticking upward.

“Keep the Jackson's place from burning. The fire twill spread if we dinna.” MacDonald bellowed after placing the organ nearer to the barn.

“An ember has hit Smitty's stable.” Jesse reported on a trip back from the river with a sloshing bucket. Everyone ran to refill their buckets. If the stable hay caught, there would be no Schmidt's Corner by nightfall.

Every man and woman was sweat-soaked and smelled of smoke by dusk, but the fires were out. The back portion of the stable had been spared. The front portion was blackened and they tore the charred timbers away from the rest of the structure. The store and the rest of Schmidt's Corner remained.

Rolfe and MacDonald nodded at each other and both went for their rifles and horses.

“Tante Anna, where are they going?” Olga pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, smearing smoke-stained sweat across the side of her face.

“They are going to track the men who did this and check on our ranches.” Anna let herself look to the south. She took a deep breath when she saw no smoke.

Olga swallowed. Her home was gone along with their clothes and linens. She had saved her mother's china, but that was all. There was no food. She started to walk forward and then stopped. Where should she go? To the barn? The thought of sleeping there made her skin itch. It was dirt floors with hay in the middle portion and manure covered the stable area.

Anna's arms were around her. “It's all right, Olga.” She looked at Gerde.

Gerde was no exception to the rest. Her clothes and exposed skin were grey and black. Strands of hair had escaped from her tight bun of rolled dark hair.

“Get everybody together and maybe a little cleaned up. We'll all eat at our place and decide what to do.” She nodded at Kasper standing by the men.

“Why are they pointing to the cemetery?”

Tears were running down Olga's face. “I saw Mr. Jackson on the ground when we ran out of the house. He—he's dead, and Tom's fighting for the South, and we don't even know how to write to him.” She hiccupped.

Anna's mind was too tired and numb to realize that Olga, almost eighteen, had a crush on the only young man in town.

“Then they are probably talking about burying him.” She turned to her sister-in-law.

“Gerde, you are right. We need to clean up and start dinner.

“Mein Gott, Mina.” She ran for the house.

“Mina, Mina, Mama's here. Where are you?”

Anna burst into the kitchen and saw nothing. She ran to the hall and hesitated. Should she look in the store or in the living room? She had told Gerde to put Mina behind the big chair when she ran into the house, but had she? If so, had Mina stayed there? Rage had swept through Anna when the attackers shot at the store and bullets came through the open door. It was the same red rage that had plagued her all her life. When it started, Anna would strike out against the opponent. It didn't matter if she used words or a weapon. All she could think of was to destroy the enemy. Today she had feared for Mina's life, but the fires started and they had to be put out. Fire was the enemy once the shooters from Arles had left.

Mina was lying beside the chair, eyelids closed over a tear-streaked face and a wooden block in one hand. She must have gone into the kitchen where the play blocks were stored in a box under the sink, and returned here. She had pulled a doily down from the little table and the Bible that had rested on it lay on the floor.

Anna scooped her up and held her tightly. Mina looked at her mother and tears started rolling down her face.

“My heart, my love, I thank God you are all right. Will you ever forgive your Mama?” It was a question that would plague her for years. Dear God, forgive me my horrible temper.

“Is she all right?” It was Gerde on her way to retrieve another towel.

“Ja, she is fine. A little frightened. I will need to hold her for awhile.”

Gerde nodded. “The fire in the cook stove went out and it will take a while to finish cooking the beans. They aren't enough to feed everyone. I've maybe enough bread and pickles. We can share the clabbered milk, but our sugar supply is getting low. The Rolfe's store of honey is gone.”

“What about the crab apple jelly Johanna sent?”

“There's some. We've tried to conserve everything. If Mr. Rolfe could get us another shipment down through Indian Territory, we'd be all right. How are your stores at the ranch?”

Anna closed her eyes before answering. “We have enough to share, but Mr. MacDonald won't think to bring any back with him when he comes—if there is anything left.”

Kasper had walked back over and was bringing Olga with him. As he stepped through the door, he spoke to them both. “We need our spade. We'll bury Mr. Jackson tonight and hold the ceremony tomorrow.”

He turned to Olga. “You and your family will stay here until your Papa decides what he will do.”

“Thank you, Uncle Kasper.” Olga's eyes sought Gerde's for a confirmation. The invitation meant her, Martin, and Young James. James was now the same age as Hans was when Hans died. Would Gerde accept him in her house?

Gerde gave a quick nod of yes to Olga and looked around. “Where is James? He can carry the bucket of water from the river for washing. We need more than what is in the basin now.”

“We'll go downstream and rinse off after we bury Mister Jackson. Tomorrow we'll see what is left of the Phillips place. I don't think there is anything more than the fencing and the back shed.”

“Why did they burn the Phillips's place and shoot Mr. Jackson?” Olga's crying was turning into wails. “They were on the same side.”

“A bunch of drunken fools don't care about that. They just wanted to destroy us. They are worse than the Comanche.” Anna began to feel her rage returning. She set her teeth. There was no one to fight.

“Olga, why don't you find Young James? He can carry the water, bring in more wood, and if necessary watch Mina.”

Gerde was busy stirring the fire in the cook stove to life. “Some more water is needed for the beans too. They soaked up all the broth.”

“I'll get the first bucket while Olga finds James.” Anything to keep Olga busy. She had lost her mother and now the house and everything in it but the organ. Anna didn't realize that Olga had managed to rescue her mother's white china. At least the Rolfe's have chickens.

Anna tried to put Mina down, but she clung to her mother's neck.

“Mama, Papa?” Mina was crying again.

“He's chasing the bad men away to keep us safe. Now you stay here with Tante Gerde like a good girl.”

Mina tightened her grip.

Gerde looked up. “You'd better keep her with you. She's different from your others.”

The words struck a cold chord within Anna. Had Gerde realized how different two of her children were? Had Gerde been around the children that much? Rather than argue, Anna nodded, perched Mina on her left hip, went out the door, and picked up the bucket she had used to throw water on the flames.