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

at the two dust-covered men; one a giant, the other a hunter in buckskin with a sheathed bowie knife slung on his right hip. Neither looked like the type that would bother with a law officer if something was wrong. He felt his shoulders tightening, ready for trouble.
    “Good day, sir, I am Zebediah MacDonald and this tis my friend, Herman Rolfe.” The voice had a rumbling quality to it and the r sound was rolled. Probably from Scotland, thought Franklin.
    “We are in need of a surveyor as we have purchased the Ortega Land Grant. Could ye tell us if one tis in this town and if so, where he tis located?”
    Franklin took a moment to study them a bit more closely. Where did two men come up with money for that? Why here? There were a couple of spreads up north a bit, but the Tillman brothers did as much farming as they did ranching. Still an honest question deserved an honest answer.
    “Welcome to our community, gentlemen. I'm Sheriff Franklin.” He stood and extended his hand. A handshake could tell you a lot about a man. He blessed Providence when his hand wasn't crushed by either.
    “You all will find the surveyor, Mr. Smeaton, behind the Blue Diamond freight station. If you all run into any problems, let me know.” No need to antagonize potential voters. He realized both men were probably in their thirties and ready to settle down. “We're a fine growing community. There's everything here you all might need in the way of sundries.”
    “Thank ye, Sheriff Franklin. We twill keep that in mind.” Both nodded at him and left.
    Outside they mounted and rode to the surveyor's office. It was a small wooden building tucked away behind the freight depot.
    “Things look slow, not like in Saint Louis.” Rolfe spat on the rutted street. It wasn't the heat of the day and no one was loading wagons or acting like freight needed to be delivered. Blue Diamond's freight buildings were normally a hive of activity.
    “Perhaps they have down days here.
    “Did ye wish me to speak again?”
    “You might as well. He might try to cheat us else.”
    “If he rides out with us, ye canna remain silent.”
    Rolfe grinned. “Then he would think me a real blockhead.”
    They entered the building and found a small man dressed in a chambray shirt and canvas trousers laboring over a plat for future lot sales in Arles. His brown hair was rapidly receding from his forehead. He looked up as they entered.
    Once again MacDonald performed the introductions and Smeaton rose to shake hands.
    “We have purchased the Ortega Land Grant. Tis split twixt the two of us, but we need to ken where the boundaries are on all sides. What tis the cost for a survey like that and how long twould it take?”
    “That would cost at least one hundred dollars and it would take at least two weeks. The river probably serves as a natural boundary for the land bordering it. The lands to the east that run into hilly country pretty well end at the highest rock, but no one knows for certain. The Spanish didn't have time for precise measurements here. They just sent whoever was rich enough and daring enough to settle.” He waited for the men to object outright to the price. At least their interruption gave him an excuse to stand. The town council was becoming downright demanding about the plat.
    “That seems a bit high,” rumbled out of MacDonald's throat. “Ninety dollars sounds fairer to me.”
    Smeaton swallowed. Either the man was a skilled negotiator or he was reading his mind.
    “All right ninety it is, but I can't get out there until next week.”
    The two men looked at each other and nodded.
    “Very well, Mr. Smeaton, we twill expect ye then. Now if ye twould draw up a contract, we twill sign it.”
    It meant, thought Smeaton, that one of them was capable of reading. He sat and pulled a sheet of paper from his desk.
    It took but a few minutes for the contract to be written. As he laid it out to sign, MacDonald smiled at him.
    “Why do we nay walk over to the