by Cathy Peper
“We can each have a snack after we find the treasure,” Ari replied.
Bryce was suddenly glad to have her with him even though he worried what might happen if they did find Sebastien and Tori. Glad, too, that she had brought what he considered a ridiculous amount of supplies. “You’re a slave driver,” he muttered, but he put his back into the work and she did as well. Even Hannah joined them after she finished eating and exploring the clearing.
Bryce had buried the items deep enough that they wouldn’t be accidentally discovered, but not excessively deep. With their combined efforts, it only took about an hour to unearth the burlap sack. “That’s it!” he exclaimed as his blade struck something hard. He dropped to the ground and cleared away the remaining dirt with his hands. The bag, which had rotted with time and water in the twenty-first century, was still intact. He pulled the drawstring and poured the items out. A rifle, pistol, velvet sack containing his mother’s jewelry, a pouch filled with coins and three gold candlesticks spread over the ground. “I expected all four candlesticks to be here.”
“How could they when you removed one a few days ago?”
“It may have been a few days ago in our timeline, but it’s over two hundred years in the future.”
“Time travel is unpredictable. I know you have a hard time believing that your journey to the future somehow caused my brother’s death, but he was in the records before you came, and after, he was not.”
Bryce placed the items back in the bag. He couldn’t see any way his actions affected Sebastien’s fate, but also couldn’t explain why he disappeared from the records. Ari would not have risked traveling to the past if she didn’t truly believe her brother was in danger and that they could somehow save him. “Are you sure you want to do this? We could activate the stone now and be back in time to turn in the ATV. No risk of running into bandits or catching a disease incurable in the nineteenth century.”
“I would never forgive myself for deserting Sebastien when I could have helped him. Besides, Di Merrel will ambush us the second we return to the twenty-first century and I haven’t figured out what to say to her yet.”
“Don’t worry about Di. It’s her word against ours. She didn’t have time to snap a photo.”
“She knows Bryce. We need to keep the number of people who know as small as possible.”
“Agreed, but she doesn’t really know what happened to us and once we get back we will retire permanently from the time travel business. She can follow us until she’s a gray-haired old lady and she won’t find any definitive proof.”
“It still bothers me.”
“If you think it’s necessary, we will start over someplace new.”
To Bryce’s relief, Ari stopped arguing. Though he found the woman she had become more interesting than the girl she had been, he sometimes longed for her formerly compliant personality. The Ari who had survived traveling through time and raising a daughter on her own didn’t hesitate to voice her opinions. He didn’t worry about the reporter, but the specter of Reggie haunted them both. If the man’s body turned up, he would be a prime suspect, especially since Di knew they were in the area at the time of his disappearance. If forensic evidence was found even after soaking in the lake, he could be in real trouble.
They divvied up the treasure. Ari and Hannah each took a candlestick while Bryce took the third along with the jewelry and coins. He pulled Ari’s modern gun from the waistband of his breeches and replaced it with his Colt.
“Keep this where you can easily reach it,” he said as he handed Ari her gun.
He strapped the rifle on top of the ATV. “There’s a road on this side of the Mississippi, but we’d be conspicuous there even though it’s not well traveled. Our best bet is to continue to follow animal tracks.”
Ari kept quiet, but he could sense her impatience with their slow progress. “We’re going much faster than your brother. You’ve grown spoiled by the fast pace of twenty-first century life. Remember that a keelboat must be pulled upriver by sheer muscle. Add to that the extra debris in the water and the uncertainty of new channels. Trust me, we will catch them.”
“But will we be in time?”
Bryce didn’t have an answer for her. “If we haven’t caught them within a few days of the next quake, we will risk the road.”
She gave him a tremulous smile and he almost found himself hoping they would succeed.
* * *
Mississippi River, January 1812
Tori slipped into her coat and headed back to the small galley at the end of the boat to make tea. She no longer felt ill at ease in the blue hooded jacket. New people still tended to stare, but everyone on the Fury was used to it and it was her last link to her own time. Most importantly, it was warm and helped block the ever-present cold associated with life on the river in winter. She filled a tray with two steaming mugs, a few hardtack biscuits and a handful of dried apples. Breakfast. Tori sighed. What she wouldn’t give for a bowl of cereal with milk and a can of Diet Pepsi. At least Sebastien now kept her favorite tea on hand so she didn’t have to drink the dreadful coffee that was a staple beverage on the Fury, along with water pulled directly from the river and each man’s ration of rum.
She carried the tray to where Sebastien already sat on the roof, observing the river for submerged trees and other river hazards. He took the tray from her and then gave her a hand up.
“Thank you,” he said, taking one of the mugs. “This will help ward off the chill.”
“It is cold this morning,” Tori agreed, cradling the other mug in her gloved hands. She sipped slowly as she chewed on the dry, unappetizing biscuit. She missed the rich, flavorful food of the twenty-first century, but she had made her choice that day on the river-bank, during the second big earthquake, and she didn’t regret it. Life with Sebastien was worth giving up some creature comforts and although she worried about her lack of rights as a woman in the nineteenth century, she had to trust that Sebastien would protect and provide for her as best he could.
They moved slowly upstream, propelled by human muscle as the men poled the boat upriver. Usually, Sebastien would have worked among them, but he was still recovering from the gunshot wounds. One had been inflicted by a settler driven half-mad by hardship and grief, but the other had come from one of their own, Dalton, a hardened river-man who had resented Tori from the beginning, but nevertheless, had been employed by Sebastien and trusted to some extent. They had never expected him to turn on them, shooting Sebastien and stealing Tori’s necklace with its mysterious, blue stone which had enabled her to travel into the past. The necklace was gone, vanished along with Bob Rivers, the man who had hired Dalton to steal the necklace. Tori had to accept that she would never be able to return to her own time.
“I want to be down there with them, pitting my strength against the river,” Sebastien said, eying the men who grappled with the poles, sweat gleaming on their faces even in the cold morning air.
“I know you do, but you almost died, Sebastien. I was this close to losing you forever.” Tori held up her hand, her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “You have to be very careful. Medicine is so primitive now.”
“But the people are stronger,” Sebastien replied, his eyes twinkling.
“That may be, but I shudder when I think of all the diseases that are rampant in this time but nearly eradicated in mine.”
The twinkle dimmed and he reached out to clasp her arm. “I’ve not forgotten the sacrifices you made to stay with me, Victoria. I’ll do all I can to see you don’t regret it.”
“I don’t regret it.” Well, maybe some of it. “I just feel like I haven’t much control over my life here.”
“No one does. That’s not what life’s about. Life should be an adventure.”
“The earthquakes are enough adventure to last me a while.”
“One more big shake and then we are done?”
“Except for the tremors, which will continue for months.”
“I’ve
been thinking I should go to Colorado next fall and spend the winter trapping beaver. It’s been a few years since I’ve done that and we make a higher profit margin if I don’t have to buy from other trappers.”
“You’d be gone for months! What would I do?”
“You would stay at our house in St. Louis.”
“Doing what? I don’t even know anyone.”
“You will meet people. The other trappers’ wives keep house, raise their children and throw occasional parties.”
“We don’t have any children and I don’t know how to keep house in this time period.”
“We don’t have any children, yet, but we will. And you will learn how to keep house. We will have servants so all you really need to do is supervise.”
Tori gulped part of her tea. She could be pregnant even now. She was late, but she’d never been super regular and with all the trauma she’d suffered the past month, it wouldn’t be unusual for her schedule to be out of whack. But she and Sebastien had not used protection while in New Orleans. Other than a primitive form of condoms, she wasn’t even sure what types of protections existed in the nineteenth century. She hoped she wasn’t pregnant. She hoped someday to have Sebastien’s children, but she feared giving birth in a time when many women died. She certainly didn’t want to face it alone.
“What if I came with you?” And gave birth without even the help of a midwife? Was she crazy?
“You could, but it’s lonely work. I’ve spent weeks holed up in the cabin during a blizzard and the only people around are the natives, and they aren’t always friendly.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
“You would stay busy in St. Louis. You could even give violin lessons.”
Tori had considered giving music lessons when trying to figure out how to make a living in the nineteenth century. She didn’t have most of the skills a nineteenth century woman should have, but she was better educated than many nineteenth-century men and could have supplemented her income with other forms of teaching. As Sebastien’s wife, she could focus just on music, something she’d missed dearly since traveling to the past. Sebastien had bought her a violin in New Orleans and she’d been playing it daily since then, but would enjoy the challenge of students.
“I could give lessons either way and the additional money could help offset what you make trapping. Besides, if you spend a year trapping, that’s a year you can’t take make money transporting cargo.”
“Roger could take a load downriver on his own.”
Roger, Sebastien’s good friend and second in command, could handle the responsibility, but Tori didn’t want to consider the option. “We aren’t even married yet and already you talk about leaving me.”
“It’s an investment in our future and our children’s future.”
“And what I think doesn’t matter?”
“It matters, but my mother never complained when my father went out trading and trapping. She understood it was his job.”
“I’m not your mother. I wasn’t raised to blindly obey my husband.”
Sebastien was angry, furrows lined his brow, but a hint of a smile curved his mouth. “Mother never blindly obeyed my father. She spoke her own mind.”
Reluctantly Tori smiled back. “I wish I could have known her.”
“So do I. She might well be the reason why I fell in love with a bossy, twenty-first century woman.”
“I’m not bossy.”
“Always have to have the last word.” He leaned in for a kiss, gathering her gently in his arms. Tori relaxed against him basking in the warmth of his love and the security of his strong arms. The subject wasn’t closed; as a nineteenth-century man, Sebastien intended to have his own way in the end. She, however, would not give up without a fight.
Chapter 16
When the Fury pulled into the still dilapidated town of New Madrid, Tori prepared to disembark. She had notes from Jenny to deliver to her children and relished any excuse to get off the boat. Sebastien would join her at the tavern after he completed his business dealings.
“Need me to accompany you?” Roger asked as he helped her down the gangplank.
“No, this isn’t New Orleans. I’ll be perfectly safe.” Not only did she believe her words to be true, but she also didn’t want to expose him to the pain of seeing Jenny’s children, and her husband, Eli. Though neither had breathed a word to her, she still suspected he and Jenny had fallen in love on the trip downriver. However, with Jenny married and divorce almost unheard of, there was little hope for the couple.
Tori surveyed the broken remains of the house as she made her way to the tent city that had sprung up just outside the town boundaries. It looked much the same as the day she had left, just after the first big quake. Chimneys had been the biggest casualty in the December earthquake, but since then some of the houses had collapsed, victims of the second large quake or the nearly incessant tremors. She was glad to see that little effort had been put into restoring them since New Madrid would be completely destroyed in the third and final major upheaval.
Squalid and uninviting, the tent city seethed with refugees living in tight quarters. Fires smoked along the edges, providing a place to cook, but inadequate for heat in the frigid January weather. It didn’t take her long to find the Sellers family. Eli gave her a sour look as she passed out the mail. Tori guessed he blamed her for his wife’s desertion, but frankly, the poor woman had had enough. They should have all left the area. Not aboard the Fury, Sebastien didn’t have room for them all, but at the earliest opportunity. If Eli had promised to leave, Jenny would have waited with them for passage. But he was too stubborn. Or determined. She supposed it depended on your point of view.
The boys, Seth and Mark, seemed happy to receive their letters. Lizzie read Mark’s to him, before tackling her own.
“I should have gone with her,” she said to Tori after finishing the missive. “It’s hard to live like this.” A nod indicated the tents, filthy with mud and stinking of unwashed bodies and cooking odors.
She had stayed behind for a boy. The relationship might have ended or just proved unequal to harsh reality. Tori didn’t ask. “Perhaps your mom will send for you when she reaches Virginia.”
Lizzie shrugged. “Hopefully by then, we will be back in our house. If only the tremors would cease.”
Tori stared down at the ground. In a few short weeks, New Madrid would essentially fall into the Mississippi River. The town would rebuild, but many would move on. Perhaps even Eli would give up on the place.
Her duty done, Tori headed for the tavern. She appreciated being on dry land and although there was always plenty of whiskey on the Fury, she hoped to find something better to eat than keelboat rations. Like most of the buildings in New Madrid, the tavern had suffered damage, but they had patched the chimney and braced the walls here and there. It had stood for the past month, so Tori didn’t think it was going to disintegrate today. She went inside and found a table in a corner, but not too far from the fire. A serving girl came to take her order.
When her food came, Tori dug into the flaky pastry filled with meat, vegetables and a rich gravy. She nearly moaned as she took her first bite. Life would be just about perfect if only she had a Diet Pepsi. Instead, she would have to make do with tea. She hoped Sebastien would arrive soon for although she didn’t think she would come to any harm, some of the men in the bar were eying her in a way that made her uneasy.
Half expecting to be accosted by a man, Tori was surprised when a woman approached her, especially since the woman was African-American. She had seen a few free people of color since coming to the past, but to her dismay, most of the African-Americans she had met were slaves. Even if the woman were free, it was highly unusual for her to approach a white woman.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Do you remember me?”
Tori frowned. The only African-American she had really interacted with in the nineteenth century was Zeke, whom they had rescued from Littl
e Prairie along with his pregnant owner, Mrs. Metz. No, that wasn’t right. There had been the woman at the Legrand house who had made them her special medicinal tea. But this wasn’t that woman. “I think you may have mistaken me for someone else.”
The woman chuckled, low and throaty. “I know exactly who you are.”
A chill went down Tori’s spine. Could she know this woman from the twenty-first century? She stared at her. The woman was lovely, with deep brown eyes and smooth mocha colored skin, but dressed in drab gray wool, she looked unassuming. She would be stunning in bright red or vivid blue. A memory flitted across her mind and Tori gasped.
“You remember.” The woman sounded delighted.
“You’re the woman from the voodoo shop in New Orleans. The one who sold me the love potion.” And claimed to be unable to help with the necklace. The chill returned with double the force. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the woman was here in New Madrid. “Are you following me?”
“Waiting for you. My friend and I have been here several days already. What took you so long to get here?”
“We had a spot of trouble.” Understatement of the year. Sebastien had been shot and nearly died, while she had been kidnapped and almost transported back to the twenty-first century.
The woman nodded. Trouble on the river was common. “I never introduced myself. I am Taekondwa Fontaine.”
“Victoria Foster.” Tori held out her hand and Taekondwa shook it, looking vaguely amused. Tori grimaced. She had acted on instinct, responding to an introduction as she would have in the twenty-first century, and forgetting that only men shook hands in the nineteenth.
“I told my friend about the necklace you showed me and he would like to buy it. He is willing to pay a great deal of money for it.”
“You told me the stone was dead.”
“My friend believes he can reawaken it.”
“It doesn’t matter. I no longer have it.”