A Ranger's Time

by Edward Gates

  “After me? How?” Russell questioned.

  “By the time I jumped, time travel and teleportation was a precise science and the technology was pretty wide spread,” Charlie said. “It was all strictly controlled by the government, but it was a regular occurrence. It was becoming a lot easier and quicker to teleport from one place to another than to take conventional transportation.”

  “When did you jump?”

  “Let’s see, it was August, 2275.”

  “2275! That’s over 50 years after I jumped.”

  “Like I said, I jumped after you.”

  “But what about this belt?” Russell asked.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll see it soon enough. When I jumped, I just turned it on and disappeared. I didn’t know much about it. I didn’t know where or when I would end up. I just wanted to get away. That was a long time ago. I was just twenty-one years old. I jumped back to August of 1862.”

  “You came here in 1862?” Russell said. “That was thirty years ago. That must have been a shock.”

  “I didn’t exactly come here to Amarillo. Amarillo didn’t exist thirty years ago,” Charlie said. “I ended up on top of Mr. Slaughter’s mountain in Culpepper County, Virginia, looking down on the Civil War battle of Cedar Mountain. I was scared to death. I was a very young and naive twenty-one year old.”

  “You fought in the Civil War?”

  “I wouldn’t call it fought. I sort of watched from atop that mountain,” Charlie said. “I never saw anything so barbaric in my life. The smoke and fire, the mass killings and brutality was beyond description. People standing out in the open getting shot at, and lines of men blindly charging into certain death. It was lunacy.”

  Charlie paused, stood up and walked back over to the window. He let out a heavy sigh.

  “How did you kill someone?” Russell asked.

  “It was a mistake; a stupid mistake. The government, and the rest of the world leaders for that matter, agreed that time travel and teleportation had to be strictly controlled and regulated. They wanted to keep it out of the hands of the commercial market and potential criminal abuses. So they set up specific, designated, government controlled travel ports.”

  “Travel ports?” Russell asked.

  “They’re like the old airport terminals or train depots. If someone wanted to travel, they had to go through a travel port. My father ended up being in charge of a number of these ports throughout the northeast.” Charlie paused, removed his hat and wiped his brow with his sleeve. “Most people used the ports to travel from one place to another. Very few ever used it for time jumping. Time travelling was a lot more controlled and monitored.”

  “And you worked with your father?” Russell guessed.

  “I reluctantly worked for my father, not with him,” Charlie said. “He was a brilliant man, one of the top scientists involved in space/time alteration. Not much of a father, but a great scientist and administrator.”

  “Sounds like you didn’t like him very much.” Russell said.

  “Let’s just say we saw things differently. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps. I had other ideas. He thought that if I worked in a teleport station maybe I would come to like it as much as he did.”

  “But you didn’t,” Russell interjected.

  Charlie smiled. “Actually, I did like it. It was really fascinating. I learned a lot. But I wouldn’t give my father the satisfaction of knowing that.”

  Charlie stopped and sat back down, he repositioned his hat back on his head. The memory of that night was as clear as yesterday. “One night, I showed up to work a little late. I was out celebrating my engagement with some friends and we had dinner and a few drinks. I wasn’t drunk, but I wasn’t a hundred percent. I was working the night shift at my usual teleport station. I had no one scheduled to go out the entire night, which was a blessing. However, I was scheduled to receive three people during my shift. I set up the station to receive.”

  Russell leaned forward with eyes widened, hanging on every one of Charlie’s words. “Did all three come together? Or one at a time?”

  “They traveled separately. They had to. They were all scheduled at different times,” Charlie answered. “The first traveler was a woman who came in without any problems. I reset the station for the next traveler, who wasn’t due for another couple of hours. I put the station back online, ready to receive.” Charlie paused. “Usually I read, watched vids, listened to music, or filled out reports, anything to pass the time. But this night I was tired and thought I would catch a quick nap.” Charlie lowered his head.

  “During my nap, there was a problem,” Charlie continued. “An airlock seal failed and I didn’t catch it. When the next teleport transmission happened, the jumper was destroyed at the receiving station. My station. Had I woke up sooner, I would have caught the error and took it offline or shut it down.”

  Russell sat with his mouth agape. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the right words. He finally broke the awkward silence. “All this experimenting and I never considered the danger of all this. What’d you do?”

  Charlie nodded an understanding. “It’s not a game. You remember that. Anyway, alarms were going off all over. Lights were flashing, systems were shutting down, and I didn’t know what to do. I panicked. I was scared and ran into my father’s office to hide. I was afraid of the Enforcers. If they found me I’d be taken away or maybe even eliminated. I was hiding in my father’s office trying to think of a way out of there when I noticed his time belt on the shelf behind his desk. I strapped it on and hit the switch and here I am.”

  “Didn’t they look for you?” Russell asked.

  “Zealously,” Charlie said. “When I got to the top of Slaughter’s Mountain, I hid the belt under a rock by a tree. It must have taken them a while to figure out what happened to me. I’m sure my father was involved. He’s the only one who would have noticed his belt was missing. I think they tracked me to the time and to the general area but couldn’t pinpoint me personally.”

  “What do you mean, couldn’t pinpoint you?” Russell asked.

  “It would have taken days or even weeks for them to figure out the exact path I took through the matrix. So they just guessed where I was, probably based on my father’s last trip. He was a fanatic about history. He would take trips to the past, recording his findings. He was writing his own history book. You’d be amazed at how much history has been inaccurately recorded.” Charlie stood and began a slow pace around the room. “I was mesmerized by watching the battle go on below me. The Union had the advantage over the Confederates. Then the strangest thing started happening. Union soldiers started to disappear in a blue flash of light. One here, three over there, two over there.”

  “A blue light?” Russell asked.

  “Yeah. Similar to the one you came here in,” Charlie answered. “I was wondering about the light and it suddenly dawned on me. The enforcers were locking in on any warm body they could pick up, thinking it might be me and they were transporting them to 2275. It was awful.”

  “Whatever happened to them? Didn’t they send them back?”

  “I don’t know,” Charlie said. “Hundreds of troops just vanished. In the Civil War records of the Battle of Cedar Mountain, they are all still listed as missing. I don’t know what happened to them. After a while, I guess they gave up looking for me.”

  “Troops just vanished?” Russell exclaimed. “That’s unbelievable.”

  “The soldiers on both sides saw this happening, and the battle sort of stalled with everyone just watching. I can’t imagine what must have been going through their minds.”

  “That must have been horrible for those guys!” Russell tried to sit up straighter in bed but let out a groan of pain. Charlie helped Russell get into a comfortable position. “You okay?”

  Russell nodded and placed a new wet pad on his wound.

  “After the vanishing stopped,” Charlie said. “The Union army was in disarray. They had to have be
en psychologically destroyed. They just witnessed a good part of their army disappear right before their eyes.”

  “I imagine so,” Russell said.

  “The Rebels counterattacked and some officer on a white horse swinging his sword in the air brought his troops around the Union’s flank and the momentum of the battle shifted to the Confederates. They ended up overpowering the Union and driving them north and back across the creek.”

  The two sat for a moment in silence. Charlie was about to say something and continue his story when there was a knock at the door. He opened the door, and one of the hotel’s staff brought in a pewter pitcher of water and two glasses and set them on the bedside table.

  “Will you be wanting dinner this evening, sir?” the man asked.

  “Yes, he will. Not for me,” Charlie answered for Russell.

  The servant bowed slightly and left the room closing the door behind him.

  Charlie filled the two glasses with water and handed one to Russell. Charlie took a long drink. “You doing okay?”

  “Yeah. Fine. What happened after the battle?” Russell asked.

  “Later that evening, just as the sun was setting and the battle died down, I walked down the hill. I came across the body of a confederate soldier who’d been shot in the head. His uniform was intact. I pulled his body and his rifle back up the hill and put on his shirt and his uniform jacket. I could tell without trying that his pants and boots would be way too small for me.”

  “Who was he? Did you know the soldier’s name?” Russell asked.

  “Not at first. I found out his name later. But that doesn’t matter now.” Charlie walked over to the window again and just stood there watching the town while sipping his water. “I should have gone back,” he said under his breath, “it would have saved so much turmoil.”

  “How about you? Are you all right?” Russell asked after a long pause.

  Charlie nodded and turned back and looked at Russell. “I slept up on top of that mountain that night. The next day I picked up the time belt, a few of the soldier’s belongings, including his pistol, and started heading west. For the next five years I just worked and clawed my way across the country until I got to Texas. I met some good people and some bad people. I learned something from all of them. There were some hard lessons and some tough scraps, but through it all I learned how to stay alive in this time.” Charlie stopped and thought about his conversation. “This isn’t exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. How and why I got here really isn’t important. What I wanted to talk to you about is you.”

  “Me?” Russell asked. “What about me?”

  “Believe it or not, you play an important role later on.”

  “In what?”

  “Well, the problem is that I can’t tell you anything about it.”

  Russell shook his head appearing confused. “I play an important role in something and you can’t tell me what it is?” Russell tilted his head and scowled at Charlie. The young man’s eyes pleaded for more information.

  Charlie wanted to tell him all about the role Russell would play in the future development of time travel and teleportation. But, just like he was trying not to affect life in the past, he knew he could not influence life in the future either.

  Charlie sat next to Russell on the bed. “Listen. I can’t tell you certain things because that knowledge may affect your actions in the future and I can’t have that happen. The less you know the better.”

  “I can’t believe this.” Russell put his hand to his forehead and looked down at the floor. After a moment he looked up. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “What I can tell you is that the work you and your team are doing now with time travel is pivotal in its future development. Keep doing what you’re doing. I want you to remember this conversation when you get back. And that’s all I’m going to say about it.”

  “That can’t be. There has to be some mistake.”

  “No mistake,” Charlie answered. “You have to get back home so you can continue doing what you do.”

  Russell’s face turned pale.

  “You don’t look so good,” Charlie said.

  “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Charlie helped Russell lie back down and get comfortable. He then pulled the chair a little closer to the bed and sat down. He thought it best not to burden Russell with any more information because he appeared troubled and overwhelmed by all that was said.

  “Charlie. Why didn’t you ever go back? Why did you stay here?” Russell asked.

  “I should have. It would have been a lot easier on everyone.”

  “On everyone except you,” Russell added.

  “At first, I was afraid to go back,” Charlie said. “I wanted to go back. I really did. I missed my friends, my coworkers, my fiancé, and, believe it or not, even my father. Every time I considered it, I got scared. I kept telling myself I’d go back tomorrow or the next day. After thirty years of tomorrows I just sort of felt like I belonged here. Even now, after all this time, I’m still afraid to go back.” He paused and snickered. “Doesn’t make any sense, does it? But, it doesn’t matter anymore because you’re going back instead.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as possible. Tomorrow, maybe. It all depends on you being able to move around on your own or not.”

  “Tomorrow,” Russell muttered to himself. He turned his head away from Charlie and stared up at the ceiling.

  Charlie wanted to talk to him about how Russell got here and the problems he might face when he got back, but he wanted Russell to digest what he had told him so far. “Are you going to be all right?”

  “I’m a little overwhelmed, but I’ll be okay. Tomorrow, huh?” Russell seemed happy over the prospect of going back home.

  Charlie stood and moved the chair back against the wall.

  “You leaving?” Russell asked.

  “It’s getting late. Gus had a rough day today. I thought I’d get him back to the cabin; give him a chance to rest.”

  “But we have dinner coming,”

  “You have dinner coming,” Charlie countered. “It ain’t as good as Hanna’s, but it’s still good food. And you’d better eat all of it. You’ll need your strength.” He backed toward the door. “I’ll swing by in the morning to check on you. See how you’re feeling.”

  “Charlie ...” Russell said just before Charlie closed the door. Charlie stuck his head back inside. “Thanks for telling me all this. I know it was hard for you.”

  Charlie nodded and closed the door. He had never told anyone his story before, carrying that secret around inside him for over thirty years. It gave Charlie a therapeutic relief that he had not expected. His shoulders relaxed as if a great burden had been lifted from him. He felt so good that he decided to treat himself to a drink before he went back to his cabin.

  He walked through the lobby and entered the saloon. It was a little quiet for this late in the afternoon. Charlie knew it would start filling up as the evening drew closer. He crossed to the bar.

  “What’ll it be?” the bartender asked.

  “You got any real whiskey back there?” Charlie asked, “Or is all you got that rotgut you get from Ethyl?”

  The bartender leaned forward and whispered. “I got a little whiskey left that came all the way from Kentucky. But it’s a dollar a drink.”

  Charlie pulled some coins from his vest pocket and did a quick tally.

  “Well, give me one of those Kentucky whiskeys, and a glass of beer.” Charlie laid his coins on the bar.

  The bartender set a small whiskey glass on the bar, selected a bottle he kept hidden, and poured Charlie a generous shot of Kentucky bourbon. He returned a minute later with a glass of warm beer. Charlie sipped the whiskey and let the soothing oak flavor slide down his throat and warm his chest. He felt good and relaxed for the first time in days.

  Charlie noticed a couple of Abe’s riders staring at him from the other end of the bar. The light-hearted euphoria that Char
lie was feeling evaporated as he recalled the events of the past couple of days. Marshal Cook was stewing over twice losing Mac and letting Abe out of jail. He also didn’t seem very pleased with the idea of having Charlie as a deputy. Russell was lying upstairs with a hole in his side that was meant for him. Charlie was worn out from being up all day after a horrible night’s sleep on Doc Morgan’s sofa.

  He shot back the remaining whiskey and then took a few drinks from his glass of beer. All of a sudden he didn’t want to be there anymore. He thought it best to get deputized and go home. Without finishing his beer, he left the saloon through the hotel lobby and walked to the marshal’s office.

  “Okay, I’m here, swear me in,” Charlie said as he entered.

  “Well, hello to you too,” the marshal said. “How’s the boy doing?”

  “Doc says his wound is infected. But he’s going to be fine. Should be up on his feet in a day or so.”

  “I feel bad for the boy.” Marshal Cook pulled a badge from a drawer in his desk. “Here he stops for a visit and almost gets himself killed.”

  “Yeah. He’s a little anxious to get out of here,” Charlie said. “Let’s get this done so I can get back up the hill and get some rest.”

  The marshal went about swearing Charlie in as a Deputy City Marshal for the town of Amarillo and put him on a special duty to track down the wanted fugitive Mac Sherman. Charlie thanked the marshal and walked outside to Gus, who was still tied at the hitch rail in front of Hanna’s.

  “Okay, boy, you’re leading,” Charlie said. “Let’s go home. Tomorrow is shaping up to be one hell of a day.”

  20

  Cattle

  It was dusk when Chaney, dispatched to find Mac, reached Tascosa. The backwater cattle town of Tascosa was about 35 miles from where Abe Walker set up his camp and grazed his herd. For a seasoned rider with a fresh horse, it was a little over a half day’s ride. Most of the businesses were primarily one-story adobe structures that lined both sides of Main Street which paralleled the Canadian River.