The needle was too big for humans and the jab needed for a horse hide was too hard for human skin. I made certain all the air was out of the syringe and shook off the fear I’d be killing Charley Perkins . . . and myself.
Grimacing, I stuck him in the hip, slowly depressing the plunger. It was most likely a good thing he was unconscious.
Joey’s eyes bulged to the shape of fried eggs. “What did you do to him?”
I took a step back to watch Charley. After a few minutes he hadn’t begun to struggle for breath or turn black or anything. There was no change at all. I hiked up his underwear and rolled him back face-up, drawing the quilt up.
“Sit down, Joey. There are some things you should know.” I drew a deep breath. “Charley and I never expected we’d have to tell you what I’m about to say, and hear me when I say that I’ll flat kill you if you spill a word of this to anyone else. Understand?”
He nodded. The fried egg eyes had deflated some. Now they plumped back up again.
“That spring you found years ago isn’t a normal spring. I suppose someday there might be a scientific explanation for it. For right now your brother and I just think of it as magical. Or weird. Lightning unearthed that spring in 1876 and you found it the next day.”
He nodded again. I wondered what he remembered of that day when he was six. I imagined he didn’t remember falling off the rock and drowning. I didn’t see the need to tell him he died that day.
“Drinking that water is dangerous and I want you to swear your most sincere and sacred swear that you will never ever drink it. Not even a little sip. Swear it.”
The eyes stretched even more. “I pinky-swear it, Emma. I swear to cut off my little finger if ever I break this promise. But why?”
“Because that water can transport you back in time. It takes different people to different years, randomly I guess. Once it picks a year for you, you will always go back to the same year. It can’t take you back any farther than 1876 when it broke the ground’s surface. You were six then and drinking the water would turn you into your six-year-old self without your knowing you are supposed to be twelve.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Your brother found out by accident. He goes back only to 1876 and becomes his ten-year-old self. I’m different. I come from way in your future and only come back to this year. Because I wasn’t alive in 1882, I stay my actual age. When the effects of the water wear off, I go back to my own year of 2016 whether I want to or not.”
Joey’s mouth dropped open. “What’s 2016 like?”
I turned around and began bathing Charley’s face and chest again with cold water. “I haven’t time to tell you right now. We’ll talk about it later. That’s why I brought spring water with me in those gallon jugs. When I feel the water’s effects starting to wear off, I’ll just drink some more to let me stay long enough to try and help your brother.”
Joey scratched his head. “Are you a nurse in your time?”
I grinned. It would never have occurred to Joey that a female might be a doctor in my time. “Far from it,” I said with a laugh. Though we do have certain medicines that you folks do not. The most important for Charley is this one.” I pointed at the Combiotic. “It takes quite a few shots, and it’s supposed to kill infections. At least in horses. It may not kill Charlie’s infection, or I may be too late now to save him. Don’t get your hopes up. If it does works on humans as well as animals, there is a small possibility it might just save his life.”
I took Charley’s bad arm out from under the quilt and laid it on the toweling I’d brought. Carefully, I unwrapped the bloody bandage covering his wound. The Sweet Creek doc had done one thing right. He had slit Charley’s arm the entire length of the splinter, opening the wound and infected tissues without stitching them closed. That way I could doctor the wound end to end.
His arm was dirty, the wound filled with pus and foul-smelling. I won’t pretend that didn’t bother me, but I couldn’t afford to be squeamish now. Since Charley couldn’t feel a thing anyway, I bathed his arm in alcohol, removing dirt and carrying away bits of diseased tissue from his wound. Then I poured hydrogen peroxide into the wound, watching it bubble angrily, further attacking the infection. Blotting his arm dry, I squeezed a generous amount of antibiotic ointment into the length of the wound. I knew this wouldn’t touch the infection that had worked its way into his bloodstream and was killing him, but at least it might stop more infection at the site.
“Here, Joey, prop up his arm while I re-bandage it.” This time I used some of the sterile gauze pads and wrapping I had brought. I have to admit being impressed that Joey didn’t react badly to the blood and stench of the wound. Lots of big tough guys I know in 2016 faint at the sight of blood.
Finished at last, I set Joey to cooling Charley’s face and chest again with a damp rag and turned to the kitchen to scrounge up some dinner. I didn’t believe in the vengeful God who threatened the flock of great-grandma’s Baptized by Fire Evangelical Church of God, but I had a strong faith in the mercy and forgiveness of my God. I prayed silently, as I boiled ham hocks and beans over the wood stove, that He would send an angel down to watch over Charley and help him survive the night.
Chapter 23
I gave Charley another shot late that night, explaining to Joey that Combiotic attacked the bacteria in his brother’s system. That’s what was making him sick. The Combiotic hopefully would help him, unless it just worked on livestock. He didn’t understand bacteria, though he’d heard somewhere about the germ theory, and asked endless questions about what else Combiotic could cure. I told him it couldn’t touch anything caused by viruses and that brought on another avalanche of questions.
We took turns sitting with Charley all night, trying to bring down his fever by keeping him cool. Before dawn we had both fallen asleep and didn’t wake until the Perkins’s rooster crowed. Charley seemed unchanged from the day before. At least he seemed no worse.
I could only imagine what hand-wringing my absence was causing at home. Out all night, no sign of me. The Queen probably thought I was out with a boy, which wasn’t too far from the truth. When I got back I’d be in big trouble. Huge trouble. Trouble I couldn’t explain without being thrown into some psych ward. And when I remained silent about where I’d been and what I’d been doing, between the Witch and Simon, the consequences for my actions and defiance would probably last six months. Of course, if I was unsuccessful here in 1882, my worries about facing Simon and Penelope would amount to nothing. If Charlie didn’t make it, I’d simply cease to exist and the Queen wouldn’t miss me because I would never have been born. Same with my dad, Ben. Charlotte would never have lived her wretched life under a blanket of scandal or had to escape her mother with the help of a length of rope and a barn rafter, and Ezekiel Platt’s portrait would still hang in the foyer at City Hall.
I thought back to my shock that day seeing the portrait of Joseph A. Perkins hanging in Ezekiel’s place. The bronze plaque below his portrait said he had become a doctor, saving scores of people in the Sweet Creek area. How many other lives would be tweaked and changed or cut short by Joey’s absence? The plaque said, too, that Joseph had predicted that one day a medicine would be invented that cured infections. That gave me a tiny thrill of hope. Maybe I would be successful in saving Charley. The hope didn’t last. That was only one possible future, and it would also wink out if I failed now to save Charley. The future was fluid and perpetually uncertain. It hinged on the choices we made, the actions we took, and the people we met purely by chance.
It was weird to think that Brad had no neighbors named Gordon until I saved Joey. Afterward, it was as if the Gordons had always lived there. The Gordons were another lot who would instantly disappear, house and all, if Charley died. If that happened, Brad’s family would never have known anyone named Gordon or missed the neighbors they never had, and L
ucas Long Bear would still be Brad’s best friend.
It shouldn’t be that surprising. The same was true of our present lives. Had my parents, even one of them, survived the boating accident, Brad might still be with Melinda. He wouldn’t miss me because he never would have met me. If Mom and Dad had not decided to take a vacation at Lake Tahoe, I’d still be hanging out with my friends in Pasadena. I wouldn’t have missed Brad at all. If Charlotte had never been asked to gather pinecones that winter day or had decided to look for them in another direction, my dad and I would never have been born, and there would have been no scandal following Charlotte to the end of her days. Everything we do affects us and the people around us, including perfect strangers and their children. Each of us possesses a thousand different possible futures depending not only on our choices and actions, but the choices and actions of others. It was mind boggling. I only wished I could have had a chance to say one last goodbye to Brad if things didn’t work out here.
Three times since supper I had felt the effects of the spring water begin to wear off. Three times I’d taken a deep drink from one of the gallon jugs and stayed in 1882.
I gave Charley a third injection after breakfast, stripped his arm of bandages and redressed the wound. Restless, Joey went fishing, bringing back a string of fat trout for dinner. He fell asleep right after dinner, and I woke him after midnight to watch his brother to let me get some rest.
~ ~ ~
It was just before lunch the third day that Charley’s eyelids flickered and he groaned. The fever had broken and by mid-afternoon he opened his eyes. At first he simply blinked at the ceiling. Then his eyes focused and he glanced around seeming confused.
“Emma? What are you doing here? What happened?”
Joey broke in before I could say a word. “Don’t you remember? We was out splitting rails and you slipped an’ fell on a split rail. Got you one huge splinter run up into your arm.”
Well, that wasn’t quite the truth, but it would do.
Charley glanced down at his bandaged arm. “Yeah. I do remember that. Ma poured carbolic acid on it and said the splinter would work its way out.”
“But it didn’t,” Joey said. “It festered and got all hot and red and swollen, and the doc from Sweet Creek cut it out of your arm and told Ma you’d likely die. Said you were too far gone before he was fetched.”
I pushed Charley back against the pillows as he sat up looking for his folks. “They’ve gone to Eugene for a better doctor. You won’t need one now.”
Joey sat on the end of the bed. “You owe me your life on account I found Emma. She brought you some modern stuff from her own time to save you.”
Charley’s eyes widened. He sat up in bed and grabbed his little brother hard by the arm. “She what?” he yelled. His breathing sounded ragged, like a winded horse.
I pushed him gently back down. “He knows,” I said softly. “I had to explain it to him.”
“Don’t worry, big brother. I won’t leak it to a soul. I promised.”
Charley relaxed a little. “Better not, or I’ll take you apart like a rag doll.”
“Think you could eat something?” I asked to change the subject.
~ ~ ~
I stayed two more days, chugging spring water until I had only a little left in one jug. At first Charley made a big stink about letting me stab him with a needle on a spot I had no business seeing in the first place. Joey explained how this procedure was saving his worthless life and to quit acting like a crybaby little girl.
Though I didn’t like that comment much, I let it go and taught Joey how to give his brother a shot twice a day for the next three days. I had to go home and face the music. It hurt me in a strange way not to tell Charley he was my great-great-great-grandfather as well as my grandfather or to tell Joey he was my great-great-great-uncle. I guess some fields are best left unplowed. I also warned them both against telling their parents that Charley’s recovery was anything more than a miracle from God, and not to breathe a word about me or the Combiotic. When they finished with it, I said, the bottle and anything else I had brought should be buried out in the forest.
I hated to leave them. They were family, after all. Once I said goodbye, I’d never see either of them again. If I returned to the past, who knew what other trouble I would cause. Most likely trouble I couldn’t fix.
Joey saddled the horses and escorted me to within half a mile of the Ross house. I stepped down there, shouldering the empty saddlebags and handing the sorrel’s reins to him. Already I was feeling the popping sensation inside my head. Time was short.
“Tell Charley I will never forget him, or you either,” I said. “You feel like family to me and I’ve come to love you both.”
Joey, who had been acting tough and manly for the last couple of days, paled. His eyes filled with tears.
“What do you mean, Emma?”
“I’m sorry, Joey. I need to stay in my own time from now on . . . I won’t be seeing either of you again. I have my reasons. Don’t forget me, and make sure you look after your big brother, as if my life depends on it.”
“You can’t leave us, Emma! You have to come back.” The tears started for real this time and I struggled to hold back my own.
“I couldn’t bear to say goodbye to your brother, Joey. Please do it for me. Tell him how special you both are to me and how much I’ll miss you.” The sickness had begun and the world began to shimmy and shudder. “Tell Charley to take it easy for a while and—”
I don’t remember getting knocked off my feet, only opening my eyes, lying in a lesser forest in another time. Joey and the horses were gone. Forever gone.
Chapter 24
I stood up and brushed off my dress. At some point Simon would discover the missing jugs of hard cider. He’d be madder than I’d ever seen him about that for sure. Then he’d discover the missing syringes and bottle of Combiotic. I shuddered at having to face him and his accusations when that happened. He’d probably think I was on drugs or selling the syringes to someone who was. In a thousand years he’d never guess the truth and I couldn’t tell him. Not even if it meant losing his friendship and his trust. Just the thought of that tightened my throat.
Of course, I had bigger problems just now. I’d been gone five days. Likely, the police had been out searching for me. Certainly the ranch employees had been scouring the forests and pastures. The Warden didn’t have a thimbleful of mercy in her entire wrinkled body and going back to her house now meant facing the worst fang-toothed Demon Hell had to offer.
Maybe I should run away for real. Only where would I go? There was no place to hide in a town this small. Maybe I could fake a badly sprained ankle and tell Grandmother this had been the first day I was able to walk home. No. There would be no evidence and I couldn’t just lie because I was afraid of facing her. Of course, I couldn’t tell her the truth either. I came the closest right then to understanding that rope and rafter Charlotte had chosen. I was just as trapped with the empty-hearted Penelope as Charlotte had been. Yet it wasn’t in me to escape the way my grandmother had. Charlotte had dealt with higher stakes and greater hopelessness. I had a great deal to live for.
“Quit being such a coward,” I mumbled to myself. “After all, what’s the worst she could do to you, anyway?” However, that thought brought no comfort as my imagination conjured one grisly answer after another.
Life, I now knew, was all about choices. A person under great pressure or intense fear was apt to make the wrong ones and really screw things up. One chicken-hearted choice could start the ball rolling toward a miserable future.
Sometimes the hardest choices lead to the best conclusions in the end. I began walking toward the Ross house, willing my hands to stop trembling.
Before I even came within sight of the house, my intuition signaled something was not right. What, I couldn�
�t guess. As I made my way closer and the barn and house came into view, I saw several unfamiliar cars parked in front of the house. One was a police cruiser. One black van had the words “County Coroner” painted in gold on the side. Were they here to arrest me or did they think I was already dead? My heart trip-hammered into third gear. I ran to the house and bounded up the porch steps, stopping just outside the door.
The wooden door was wide open and I could see through the rusted screen door. Three men in dark suits stood in the parlor talking to Simon and Cook. I couldn’t hear them well enough to make out the conversation.
Gently, I pulled open the screen door. It creaked as it always did and all five faces turned toward me as I entered.
“Emma! Oh, Emma,” Cook cried, running over and wrapping her arms around me. She had been crying which I didn’t notice until she pushed me back and held my shoulders. “Land sakes, child. Where the devil have you been? We’ve all been sick with worry, imagining every horrible thing that could have happened to you.”
I knew I’d be in bad trouble. I just didn’t think it would be with Cook. One of the men turned from the group and spoke. He wore a dark uniform with a badge and a gun, and was clearly here on official business. Maybe I was in even bigger trouble than I thought. “Not now, Miss Hamby,” he said. “There’ll be time for that later.”
Hamby? Cook had a name?
Simon appeared bent, as if he‘d aged ten years since I’d been gone. He gave me a long sad gaze of disappointment that sent a pain needling through my heart. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. Just the look on his face dredged up a glut of guilt that sat in my stomach like a chunk of concrete. Where was Great-grandmother?
A Certain Twist in Time Page 20