Chronicles Of The Maca Collection

Chapter 14

Smeaton spread the paperwork out for MacDonald and Rolfe. It had taken a month to get all his readings and another two weeks to prepare both drawings. His face was tanner and if anything, the clothes a bit baggier as though the time on the prairie had squeezed the moisture out of him

“You all might want to refile your claims right here in Arles. They can record it and send everything to Austin. The state"s lines were drawn up on old records.

“Mr. Rolfe, your land is pretty much the way it"s drawn and abuts the Tillman ranches.” His finger pointed to the plat he had drawn out on one set of papers. “The only thing different is that the river has moved about one-half of a mile to the east.

“Mr. MacDonald, I"m sorry to say that your land ends here.” His finger touched a point on the map. That"s only about a mile and a half up into the timber. It doesn"t go to the top. Somebody had purchased a chunk of that land to look for silver and gold way back before Texas was a state.” Smeaton cleared his throat. He had already warned Franklin that there could be trouble today.

MacDonald stared at the paper with the black ink lines in disbelief. He did nay own the land where the Golden One rested. Somehow he had to get control of it.

Golden One“Who does own it? Tis it someone here in town?” His mind was racing. “Twould they be willing to sell?”

“Right now, someone with the first name of Buster and the last name of Miller or his descendants, if he or they exist own it. The state of Texas isn"t interested in rocks and neither is anybody that wants to ranch or farm. That"s damn poor land up there. Why would you want it?”

“Dot"s vhere the mustangs like to hide in the summer. Und there"s a good spring up there und lots of timber.” Rolfe realized that his friend had taken this like a blow to the temple. Disappointment can mess up a man"s mind. “Ve planned to build a shack up there for vhen ve go after vood or horses.” Not that the former was true, but both saw Smeaton nod his head.

“Well, I don"t think anyone will stop you. Like I said, no one knows who really owns it and no one wants it.”

He cleared his throat again. “Is everything else satisfactory?” He waited.

Rolfe felt like kicking MacDonald, but that wouldn"t do much good. The man had already been kicked by fate twice. Rolfe dug into his money belt and took out two twenty and one ten dollar gold pieces. “Dot"s for my side. Mac, pay the man and I"ll buy du a drink.”

MacDonald gave his head a slight shake. He checked Smeaton"s mind. The man hadn"t lied. Reluctantly, he put his own two twenty dollar gold pieces into Smeaton"s hand.

“Thank ye, for a job well done. Tis there really any need to file these papers again?”

“Not really. A problem could develop if someone starts to claim land next to yours or on it. Like I said, Mr. Rolfe"s boundaries are so similar, it would take another survey to prove they aren"t correct, and no one wants the land y"all thought was yours. My signature and date are written there and the notary has stamped it.” Smeaton figured the two were close to broke. It was just like a frontiersman to blow all his remaining funds on booze.

“Good day then, Mr. Smeaton.” Rolfe and MacDonald rolled up their papers and stepped outside. A light breeze was blowing from the South and grey clouds scudded high in the sky.

“Well, it"s not going to rain for a while. You want that drink, Mac? You look like you could use it.”

“Nay, I dinna. I wish to go out and get rid of this anger or I may hurt someone.” He stalked to his horse and mounted.

“I twill meet ye up at that spring. Then we can deposit the survey with the gold.” He turned the huge stallion and rode north, anger surging and waning. Strange, 1850 had started out so promising.