Chronicles Of The Maca Collection

Chapter 8

MacDonald and Rolfe walked out of the American Fur Company, their backs straight and their shoulders swaying. MacDonald walked with his rolling gait and Rolfe was not much different with his legs bowed from the time spent in the saddle. Not until they were outside and mounted did they speak. When Rolfe did speak, it was in German.

“I still have to go home and tell Mrs. Rolfe what happened to the prices. You wait a couple hours and then come by. Don"t do anything stupid, Friend Mac, and drink up what little you do have.”

MacDonald looked at him. “It twas a good two years.” It was their normal conversation pattern. Rolfe spoke German, MacDonald his own brand of English.

“No, there was one good year, one halfway decent year, and this year we barely made a profit. We"ve got to plan for next year. I have an idea, but don"t want to bray it all over the streets. Now that I think about it, you have enough to rent a place. Come by in the morning and we"ll make our plans.”

MacDonald decided to save his pittance from this year. He was up to thirty percent after three years of working with Rolfe, but it looked like 1845 was the last of the good times for fur trappers. The men in the camps the last two years had been different, rougher, and meaner. Rolfe claimed they were far less educated than the earliest trappers and most of them were Frenchmen out of Canada. They were a dissipated lot and drank their furs away before they even made it to St. Louis or left the Rendezvous. The Indians were prone to drinking and trading their women. The tribal women and men appeared slovenly compared to the first year MacDonald had seen them. Rolfe was different from the other trappers. He had a wife and an established home here in St. Louis. MacDonald still puzzled over the rapidity in which the female of the Earth species bore their young. Rolfe had married Miss Clara Reiker in 1842 and their daughter, Maria Gretchen, was born that same year. Maria died before her second birthday, Olga had been born last year, and now another was expected or already born. Rolfe had even been prudent with his funds, either leaving them with his wife or securing letters of credit.

Banks were risky. They were given to collapsing and their script became worthless. MacDonald had either carried gold coins in a belt around his waist or left his funds in the care of Mrs. Rolfe. He was afraid to speculate in land in Missouri or anywhere else. Right now he planned to visit a bathhouse, find an eating establishment, and then spend the night outside of town hidden away for a needed rest. The hotels would be bedbug infested or filled with people ready to take what funds someone dressed as a trapper might be carrying. Sharing a bed with a snoring, farting, probably unwashed stranger did not appeal to his Thalian sensibilities.

The sun was well over the eastern horizon when MacDonald knocked on the Rolfe"s door. Rolfe opened the door with a wide grin.

“Welcome, Friend Mac. Frau Rolfe is in bed with our son, and the midwife is still with her. As soon as they wake, I"ll introduce you to Martin Luther Rolfe. Maybe he will be a pastor or a rich merchant.”

“I rejoice with ye.” MacDonald used the formal words of Thalia.

“Twould ye rather I come back tomorrow?”

“No, with another mouth to feed, I need to make our plans. I think with all that has happened this will work.” He continued speaking as he closed the door and led MacDonald into the small kitchen. “We will become traders out of here and Santa Fe with a route clear into Texas.”

“But Texas might go to Spain. Last night at the restaurant, I heard men discussing that it would be a protectorate under Britain.”

“The South won"t let that happen. They want Texas for a slave state. Once it becomes a state, we won"t have to pay the country of Texas anything for trading there. There are German communities in the state and they would welcome us.

“Are you ready for a cup of coffee, Mac? There"s some damn good coffee cake a neighbor brought over. Then we can look at figures. We"ll need one, maybe two wagons. If we have two, we"ll need to hire one or two men.”

“Aye, to the coffee and the treat. I dinna ken about selling merchandise till I see yere costs and what we twill be selling. It sounds risky. Mayhap we should do more trapping or join the army. If the Union takes in Texas, there may be war with Mexico. They twill nay like it.”

“The army doesn"t pay enough to live on, Mac, but they need supplies. That"s where an established firm would make more money.”

“Are there nay traders there?”

“Ja, but they can"t fight off marauders like we can. Some might know the country, but it"s always an iffy business. If we get lucky, we can become rich. Then I"ll move Mrs. Rolfe and the family to Santa Fe or Texas. That way we"ll see each other more often.”

“What kind of merchandise do we sell? Do ye ken about keeping accounts?”

“We sell doodads for the ladies, blankets, fabric, some whiskey, some guns and ammo, some beads for the tribes we run into, and maybe some metal pots and pans. First we go see what other traders are buying. That will tell us how we need to plan. Don"t want food goods. Too heavy and might spoil. Ships take that in faster anyway.”

“Don"t they take the same goods ye are planning on?”

“Yes, but they don"t make it to the little towns and smaller settlements. Even if the goods get that far, they cost double, triple, or more. A trader coming in from the north would be welcomed.”