The Magnificent Flying Baron Estate by Eric Bower

Author:Eric Bower
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Flying machines, Science experiments, Inventors, Wild West, 19th century US, Adventure, Humorous stories, Westerns
ISBN: 9781944995188
Publisher: Amberjack Publishing
Published: 2017-05-16T04:00:00+00:00

Snortlebaum, Alabama. Badgerknee, Arkansas. Grunchville, Kansas. Wubbawubba, Wyoming. Silleenaim, Idaho.

We passed through these towns in a blur, picking up all of the random items from the Hortense’s Tooth Powder list. It almost seemed too easy. Because M and P kept drinking tea, they rarely slept; because they rarely slept, we rarely took any breaks. Soon we were so far ahead of everyone else that it seemed as though we could win the race with our eyes closed, though both Rose and I had to convince my parents that it wouldn’t be a particularly good idea to try that.

I still spotted the sharp-nosed woman on the bicycle in every town we stopped at, and I still had no idea how she was following us. Maybe she had a rocket powered bicycle or something. Who knows? But since we continued ignoring each other, and I had enough to worry about without having to consider a person who I was pretending wasn’t there in the first place, it didn’t really seem to matter.

It wasn’t until we reached Newer Oldtown, Nevada, or the place that we thought was Newer Oldtown, Nevada, that we had our first major problem on the ground.

M and P decided to take a much needed nap when we landed in the Nevada desert. They had been awake for days, and they were absolutely exhausted. Rose and I finished our breakfast of pancakes and fresh berries before we left the Baron Estate in order to fetch the next-to-last item from our list.

“Newer Oldtown Old Fashioned Beans,” Rose said as she read from the list. “Yuck. I really hate baked beans. They’re my least favorite food. Let’s go, kiddo.”

She tousled my hair and motioned for me to follow her.

Rose had started calling me kiddo and tousling my hair a lot, treating me more like a little brother than like someone she had kidnapped. She no longer held on to me like I was a prisoner when we walked through the towns, since she trusted me not to run away. She was being really nice to me, my parents, and Aunt Dorcas (or at least to the person who she thought was Aunt Dorcas, since it was really just me dressed in her nightgown), but she always carried her gun with her. Even when she cooked us all a big and delicious dinner, she did it with her gun tucked into her apron.

As we walked into town, I spotted the big wooden sign that welcomed us and told us how many people lived there. But it was so dirty and full of little, round holes that I couldn’t read what it said. It looked like this:

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