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Konner Khronicles: Back to the Past
Konner Khronicles: Back to the Past
Konner Khronicles: Back to the Past
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Konner Khronicles: Back to the Past

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Matthew and Robert Konner cross another item off their bucket list when they head down the Mississippi River on their historical steamboat, Malta Deuce. Destination set for New Orleans in 2015 but a natural disaster detours them to 1840. With a steamboat equipped with modern conveniences of 2015, how will they hide what the future holds as they struggle to survive politics, social classes, and proper etiquette in Victorian Society? Will they ever return to 2015?

LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 14, 2024
ISBN9798224688913
Konner Khronicles: Back to the Past

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    Book preview

    Konner Khronicles - Julie Swigart

    Dedication

    My husband, RL Swigart, whose idea is the basis for this book series.

    My editor, Deb Kemper, who met with me every week for months, with a great deal of patience, taught me how to be a better writer.

    My daughters, Shelby and Savannah Swigart, who gave me a teen’s viewpoint even though this book does not contain werewolves, vampires, fairies, or any other fantastical creatures.

    Table of Contents

    Dedication

    Introduction

    Prologue

    Chapter One: Earthquake

    Chapter Two: Meet Professor

    Chapter Three:  A river runs backwards

    Chapter Four: What weird clothes you wear

    Chapter Five: Supplies are needed

    Chapter Six: Professor’s Warning

    Chapter Seven: On the way to Natchez

    Chapter Eight: Papers for Rob

    Chapter Nine: Fugitive Slave Catcher

    Chapter Ten: Baton Rouge, Louisiana

    Chapter Eleven: Sucre Doux

    Introduction

    The New Madrid Earthquake consisted of 4 different quakes. The first and second quakes occurred in Arkansas on December 16, 1811. The second and third quakes were centered in Missouri and occurred on January 23 and February 7 of 1812. Some have speculated that there were actually three earthquakes on December 16, 1811 increasing the total earthquakes to five. The magnitudes of the quakes ranged from 7.0 to 8.8.

    Prologue

    Plumb Point (Osceola), Arkansas

    December 16, 1811 after the initial earthquake struck.

    Xavier was fifteen years old. Scared, he crawled to the door through Mama’s wedding dishes, broken and strewn across the dining room floor. He pressed his palm against the lump over his aching eye. He dragged the door open, pushed himself to his feet and stepped outside.

    Mr. Xavier, Mr. Xavier! shouted Mary as she crawled from under the table in the kitchen. She glanced back at her sleeping infant. Sister, watch my boy. I gotta find those young’uns.

    The door to the whistle walk stood open. She could see through to the dining room. Grabbing the jamb, she cautiously placed her foot on the porch.

    Xavier stared at the crumpled chimney when he heard his mammy call. He ran toward the voice of comfort.

    She left the whistle walk’s bottom step. Xavier appeared from the corner of the house. Mr. Xavier, where were you? She sighed with relief.

    Mammy, was that an earthquake? Xavier hugged her tightly.

    Where’s Mr. Beau at? Mary asked as she grabbed his shoulders.

    He shouted, running toward the house, Beau! Beau, where are you!

    Mary grabbed her skirts and followed.

    Xavier ran through the dining room, stepping on pieces of smashed china and on to the hallway.

    Crying and screeching, ten-year-old Beauchamp Henri Heyward huddled on the floor holding his arm. Mammy! I fell down the stairs.

    Mary knelt next to him. Let me see that arm, Mr. Beau? She gently nudged his grip away to examine his injury.

    Beau answered in a small voice. My shoulder hurts so bad.

    Shush now. Mary felt for signs of injury, helping him to his feet. Mr. Beau, nothing appears to be broken, let’s get you to the kitchen. Ah got some rub we can put on it to ease your pain.

    Holding back tears, Beau let Mammy Mary lead him to the porch between the house and kitchen.

    Xavier followed.

    As they crossed the whistle walk, Xavier ran down the steps.

    Mary shouted, Mr. Xavier, where’re you going?

    Pausing for a second he responded, To see what’s happening at the river!

    Oh, no you ain’t! Your mama and papa expect me to keep you alive while they gone to Louisiana! Mr. Xavier, get back here!

    Mary shook her head, mumbling, That boy is going to be the death of me. She turned back to care for Mr. Beau.

    Xavier wanted to see the source of the roaring noise that drowned out even the birds. He made his way down to the edge of the river. His homemade raft was tied to a cottonwood tree. The Escape, as it was aptly named, bobbed rapidly back and forth testing its tether.

    The river current swirled in eddies and broke waves against the bank. He paused for a moment wondering if it was a good idea to take the raft out into the open river. The swiftness of the river was not going to discourage him. He grabbed the long bar from the fork of the tree, pulled the knot holding the boat and stepped onboard. The river heaved him into the main current knocking him down to his knees.

    Debris tumbled across the surface of the water knocking the raft about. Ducking, Xavier barely missed a piece of driftwood rocketed into the air. The wood crashed onto the corner of the raft causing it to spin. It righted itself. Caught in the current, he soared up the river, away from the gulf.

    Just as Xavier settled his raft, the ground began to shake again.

    The river current became giant ocean waves.

    He rode high on a wave crest.

    The long bar slipped away.

    He gripped the raft for dear life. Spread out flat. Face down. His fingers entwined with the rope that held the logs together.

    Wave after wave hit— spinning the raft even faster. He struggled to locate the river’s edge.

    He pushed his hair out of his eyes. He wiped the water from his eyes, across his sleeve.

    The banks liquefied before his eyes.

    Entire tree lines tumbled into the river taking huge chunks of sand and soil with them into the roiling water.

    In slow motion Xavier’s raft peaked on the crest of the largest wave he had ever seen. Suspended in midair, he viewed the devastation. The earth rolled as if it too was an ocean. Sand spewed from the ground in places like steam from Mama’s kettle. The ground heaved open, leaving huge cracks in the earth. 

    That picture stayed in his mind for the rest of his life.

    Then his raft plummeted and he could see nothing but water again.

    The raft settled at the bottom of the swell, another large wave loomed above him. He watched the crest break.

    The wall collapsed.

    Xavier tightened his fingers. He clinched his arms. He stiffened his shoulders. He held on and drawing a big breath....

    The wave swallowed him. It spewed him out on dry land, like Jonah from the whale. He hung onto the raft. His fingers still laced on the ropes. His shoulders and arms still clinched. His eyes closed tightly as he slowly exhaled and thanked God he was no longer riding the Mississippi River.

    The ground began to tremor....

    ––––––––

    Chapter One: Earthquake

    Mississippi River North of New Madrid, MO 2015

    The late afternoon sun continued to heat the deck on the Malta Deuce. Rob scrambled across in bare feet. Ow, Ow, Ow.

    A shaded area on the port side of the bow provided relief from the hot deck. He gazed out at the Mississippi River flowing past and slid his hands into the front pockets of his shorts.

    Rob and his brother Matt traveled toward New Orleans in the modernized sidewheel packet to work for their uncle, Albert Conner, who owned a riverboat touring company.

    As Rob watched, a four-foot gar took to the air and landed on the deck at his feet. He jumped back to avoid its double row of razor sharp teeth. They barely missed his left calf. The prehistoric armored fish flopped around on the deck as Rob attempted to grab the boney fan shaped tail.

    Matt looked down from the pilothouse just in time to witness Rob tottering across the deck and landing on his back. The large gar proceeded to beat him about the head with its boney tail.

    Matt pulled the throttle back and the packet slowed down. He dashed to the nearest hog chain and with both hands slid down to the first brace. Then he grabbed the next hog chain and continued down to the main deck and to his brother’s rescue.  Matt grabbed the gar’s fan shaped tail and slid the fish over the gunwale, saving his brother from further thrashing.

    Matt doubled over in laughter while he extended his hand to Rob. That fish slapped you around almost as much as last year’s prom date.

    Well yeah but I enjoyed that experience much more than this one. Rob raised his coffee colored right foot to the deck floor and rose to his full six foot one inch height. His hands brushed the sand off his shorts back to the deck.

    C:\Users\User\Desktop\Conner Chronicals Research\Fish.jpgC:\Users\User\AppData\Local\Microsoft\Windows\INetCache\IE\O40K6P09\136972,1317320440,2[1].jpg

    Matt and Rob stood at the railing where they observed the continued odd behavior of the fish. Something has the fish upset for them to be jumping out of the water. Matt propped his chin in his right hand, his brow furrowed.

    "‘Domestic animals had become feral and wild animals were tame seeking out humans to be near.’" Rob quoted from Coach Dunkin’s history class.

    Yeah, I thought it was weird at the time but seeing it firsthand is even weirder, Matt replied.

    Wish I’d paid more attention that day in class. Rob crossed his arms over his chest.

    Matt smiled. I’m shocked to hear you say that. I thought you listened to everything that Coach said.

    How well I paid attention to Coach depended on what Sara wore. On that day, she wore jeans with a pink t-shirt that went up when she bent forward showing the small of her back. Rob worshipped Coach Dunkin. He admired his coaching and his love of history.

    The sound of bird calls snapped Rob out of his fish quandary. Raising his left hand to his brow he looked up and watched as the sky turned black with hundreds of birds flocking together. "I’ve never seen different bird species fly

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