Time Will Tell (Timeless Series)

by Loyd, Sandy

  Like the previous day, when she neared the two trees, Libby felt their pull. This time, curiosity conflicted with common sense and won. She stopped the car and climbed out. After walking over to the trees and peering up at the monstrous branches, she remained rooted for countless moments, trying to understand why they seemed so important. Maybe they really were wishing trees and her problems with Dave could be solved as easily as wishing.

  As silly as it seemed, she decided what the heck. She closed her eyes. “I want it all. I want him to love me for me, to work at what I love, and to fit into his world.”

  Suddenly, she felt a jolt.

  The earth shook. Panic engulfed her when everything seemed to break apart and she felt herself falling. Her mind went blank as the world around her flew by in a hazy blur.

  Time seemed to stand still as the scene came back into focus. Eventually, her equilibrium returned and she could think again. Libby pivoted. Oh my God, her mind screamed at the two big oaks standing before her, only much smaller than just seconds ago.

  What had just happened?

  The other majestic trees lining the drive were gone, so were the accompanying white fences and outbuildings. The scene looked bare, yet recognizable. Libby tried to make sense of it. There was something familiar about the experience, yet at the same time totally different. Was this a dream just like the last episode had been? Or was this some kind of answer to her wish?

  She pinched herself. Other than hurting a bit, it did nothing to wake her up or change the scenery as she took another look around. The only thing that made sense was that she’d gone back in time somehow.

  No.

  She had to be dreaming. How did going back in time grant her wish? Maybe the last two days had been a dream and she’d wake up still employed at Dillard’s. She halted, stood completely still, and closed her eyes.

  “Wake up,” she said none too softly, pinching herself again, only harder. When she opened her eyes, the two smaller trees were still visible. This definitely wasn’t a dream. A bit of fear mixed with complete wonderment filled her. Had she actually been transported back in time? She could barely believe it possible, but she was here, wasn’t she?

  But how? And why? Maybe that other time hadn’t been a dream either. Maybe she really had gone back in time to see her mother. She vaguely remembered wishing to see her mom back then, but wishing seemed to be the only similarity. She darned sure had no wish to be in the past.

  Giggling interrupted Libby’s thoughts.

  Chapter 3

  Libby heard the laughter again. That’s when she noticed the heat—not terribly hot—but warmer than minutes earlier. She looked up into the green tree, now fully leafed. Through a narrowed gaze, she spotted a boy about ten years old, dressed in what looked to be homespun clothes. He

  hung on to a tree limb while standing on the branch below.

  “Hello.” Her voice held none of the apprehension coursing through her. She forced herself to remain calm.

  “How’d you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Appear from nothing. Are you magic?”

  “No. I’m Libby. What’s your name?” she replied, hoping to distract him from asking more about her appearing from nothing, because she had no ready answer. She glanced around, still trying to figure it all out.

  “Nathan.”

  “Nathan? That’s a nice name.” Libby placed a hand over her eyes to shade them. “Hey, Nathan? What’s the date?”

  “Are you daft?” Everything about his look said he thought so. “How come you don’t know?”

  She laughed and shrugged. “I must be daft because I don’t know. It’s also why I’m asking.”

  He contemplated her reply before nodding. “It’s June nineteenth.”

  “And,” she prompted.

  “Huh?”

  “What year?”

  He stared at her as if she were a Rubik’s cube. Finally he smiled. “Eighteen seventy-four.”

  Libby blinked. “Eighteen seventy-four? Are you sure?”

  When he nodded, his look now indicating he thought she’d lost more than just her marbles, she fought to keep the panic out of her voice. “Where do you live, Nathan?”

  He pointed toward the main house. Without the treelined drive, the roof was barely visible from where Libby stood. “We live in the caretaker’s house. Behind the big house. My ma is Mr. Thorpe’s housekeeper and my pa runs his stables.”

  “Stables?” Libby looked to where the boy pointed.

  Nathan nodded. “Mr. Thorpe breeds horses.”

  With her eyes on the landscape, reality hit her. Thorpe? The same name of the man who owned this land in her own time—Sam Thorpe. Of course. That made sense, but what in the world should she do now? Libby kept her shaded eyes on Nathan as her mind churned.

  The trees. It had to be the trees, especially since she’d made a wish under them. Only, being in 1874 wasn’t exactly the answer she’d expected.

  Thoughts of Dave, Bev, and her dad, along with Sam, Doug, and her new job went through her mind, as did the memory of riding Thorpe’s Pride the day before. As much as the idea of seeing the past intrigued her, she had no desire to be here. Apparently her wish had something to do with it, and she just had to figure out what. If the oaks truly had some kind of power to make wishes come true, then they had to be her ticket home. Or maybe all she had to do was wish herself home. She closed her eyes and wished. “Please take me home!” Libby chanted the words over and over.

  “Whatcha doin’?”

  Nathan’s voice slipped into her thoughts and was a clear indication that wishing wasn’t working.

  “I’m thinking out loud.” Maybe she needed to do something while she was here. Or learn something. Yeah, that seemed like a decent explanation. Maybe discovering something in the past would help her deal with Dave so that her wish could come true. Or maybe she was just plumb crazy. Either way, it didn’t matter.

  Blend in and stay by these trees. That’s what she needed to do.

  Libby looked down at her clothing and an indelicate snort popped out. Yeah, right. I’ll blend in. The same way pepper blends with salt. She was pretty sure women didn’t run around in the late nineteenth century in jeans and short hair.

  She sighed. Considering her gender and the time period, one where men ruled, blending in might be a bit of a problem.

  So, what could she do? Pretend to be a boy?

  “That’s it,” she said out loud, laughing because it made perfect sense. With her size, everyone would think she was a young male teenager. It shouldn’t be too hard to pull off. Without makeup, Libby knew she was pretty plain. “Not real original, but so what?” It always worked in all those novels she’d read.

  “What’d you say?”

  “Nothing.” Libby craned her neck and grinned at the boy now situated on the branch with his legs swinging freely. “Nathan, do you think your dad—er, pa—could use some help with the horses?” She needed this kid. He was her lifeline to survival. “I’m looking for work and I’m a pretty good handler.” She slipped off her engagement ring and stuck it in her pocket. Boys didn’t wear diamond rings in 1874.

  “I dunno.” Nathan shrugged. “I wanna help him, but he ain’t got time.” Then his voice became suspicious and his eyes narrowed. “Hey, where’d you come from? How come you just appeared outta nowhere?”

  Libby smiled. Smart little guy. Hopefully he’d be an ally. Taking a chance, she confessed. “I came from the future. See these trees?” He nodded, his expression solemn. “Well, I think they brought me here. Only I don’t know why. I’m hoping you’ll help me.”

  “Sure.” Nathan’s legs started swinging faster. “I’ll help ya if’n you’ll be my frien’. I ain’t got any since Tobby left to work on the docks in Lou’ville. I get to see him when we go to town. But that ain’t very often. ’Course, he was older’n me. But we’re still friends. Now all I have to play with’re prissy girls.” He hesitated a heartbeat. “So how ’bout it? You w
anna be my frien’?”

  “I’d love to be your friend, but you’ll have to keep my secret. You can’t say anything to anyone about me appearing out of nowhere, especially adults. They’ll think we’re crazy. OK?”

  “Sure.” Nathan beamed and scooted over on the branch. “Wanna join me?”

  “OK.” Libby lifted herself up into the tree and climbed. In moments, she sat with her legs swinging back and forth, imitating Nathan.

  “Great.” The boy grabbed a branch to pull himself up and stood. “I’m glad you’re not some prissy girl.”

  She stilled the impulse to smile. “I take it you don’t like prissy girls?”

  He shook his head.

  “How come?” Libby would have to make sure he didn’t discover her true gender.

  “They’re bossy an’ think they know everythin’. Take Clara May Johnson.” Nathan rolled his eyes. “She’s as prissy as they come. Always bossin’ me aroun’, tellin’ me what to do. She thinks she’s so smart. She’s my sister’s best friend.” He stopped to take a deep breath. “My sister Sarah’s not so bad—only when she’s aroun’ Clara May. An’ I have a new baby brother. He’s only two though. It’ll be awhile before he can climb trees like us.” His words died and he remained quiet for a drawn-out moment, eyeing her thoughtfully. “So where in th’ future are ya from?”

  “Same place, only a hundred and thirty-eight years from now,” Libby answered honestly, propping her chin on her hand and looking out over the landscape. From her position she could see for miles and the view didn’t look much different than it did in the future, except for the missing buildings. Twin Oaks, the horse farm in her time, had more stables along with another bunkhouse. Also missing were the cabins. “I’m pretty sure the trees brought me through time.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded.

  Nathan’s eyes grew rounder. “They’re magical, just like you. I can tell.”

  Libby offered a conspiratorial wink. “Remember, no one can know.” Hopefully, returning home would be as simple as wishing herself there. It had to work. Of course, it might take some time to figure out the correlation between her being here and her wish. In the meantime, it would be fun to have a look around and experience life in the past. At least for a day or so.

  “It’ll be our secret.” She made the motion of locking her mouth with a pretend key. “Most adults don’t believe in magic.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ll keep yer secret. I like havin’ you for a frien’.”

  “I like having you for one, too.”

  “Hey, do you like to fish? My pa can’t take me fishin’ on account he has to work. The mares’re foaling.”

  “As a matter of fact, I love to fish,” she lied, crossing her fingers. He didn’t have to know she hated the slimy things. Hopefully he wouldn’t want to catch frogs too, which might be more than she, a true prissy girl, could handle. “That’s too bad about your pa having to work, though. Maybe he could use my help,” she asked, broaching the subject of work again. “I need to stay near these oaks to get home, so I need a job. What do you think?”

  “Mr. Thorpe’s always lookin’ for hands, ’cuz my pa’s says good hands tend to drift, whatever that means.” He pointed toward the stables, visible from their high perch. “There’s Pa now. He’s with Mr. Thorpe.”

  Libby’s gaze followed his finger. A group of men were leaving the main stable. Two, who were complete opposites in coloring but physically very similar, stood out among them. They split from the others and stopped to talk. Both were tall and broad-shouldered, sporting the lean, muscular build of active males, one blond and one with jet-black hair. She couldn’t see their faces and figured they’d both be good-looking, but it was the darker-haired man who caught her attention. Something about his presence held her gaze. She spent a long moment staring, sensing a strong connection and trying to understand why.

  “Does Mr. Thorpe have black hair?” Since the blond boy was paler than her, with startling blue eyes, it seemed a good guess.

  Nathan nodded.

  Her gaze returned to the two men, and Libby watched them disappear into the main house. Would they believe she was a boy and let her work until she figured things out? Or would they tell her to get lost?

  “What’s Mr. Thorpe like?” Maybe Nathan could enlighten her more about the owner, which might help her secure a job working with his horses until she found her way home.

  “I dunno. Nice, I s’pose. My pa’s helping him build a thoroughbred stud farm.”

  Libby looked around the land. Was this the beginnings of the original farm?

  Just then she saw a man riding a horse off in the distance. The animal had rivulets of sweat running down his sides and looked to be struggling. When the horse flat-out stopped, the man began whipping the beast.

  Incensed, Libby pointed. “Look at that! Do all of Mr. Thorpe’s men ride their horses to death?”

  Nathan squinted. His gaze followed her finger. He shook his head. “He must be new. If Pa saw anyone riding a horse too hard or beating ’im, he’d take the whip away and start using it on the fellow doin’ the whippin’. I seen him do it.”

  Her anger mounting, Libby clenched her fists as the rider bullied the horse into obeying him. As they rode out of sight, she tamped down the frustration of feeling helpless. Even if it were possible to catch up with him, she was powerless to act. This was another era, one where men who treated animals cruelly usually got away with it. Those same men probably got away with abusing women and children too.

  “Don’t worry, Libby,” Nathan said, patting her hand. “I’ll tell Pa. He’ll send him packing. You just wait and see if he don’t.”

  Libby nodded and offered a slight smile. Then remembering her plight, she asked, “Do you think now might be a good time to see about that job?”

  “Sure.” He climbed down with a minimum of movements and waited for her at the tree’s base. When she had both feet planted firmly on the ground, he grabbed her hand, pulling her along. “Hell an’ tarnation, let’s go before they leave the stables.”

  “Hell and tarnation?” Libby eyed him with raised eyebrows, grinning.

  “Yeah. Heard my pa say it once.” Nathan shrugged. “Sounds important. I like saying important stuff.” As they walked toward the main house, he pointed to the left. “The fishin’ hole’s that way. Maybe we can fish after you get your job.”

  “I don’t see why not.” Two pressing questions consumed Libby as she kept up with the boy. What was so important to bring her all this way, and would she be able to wish herself back home once she learned it?

  Along their short trek, the two came up with a believable story. Libby heard about the Thorpe farm through word of mouth. She, or he in this case, had come on foot from Louisville after arriving on a steamboat from Cincinnati looking for fame and fortune, like so many others who preceded her.

  They neared the main stable. Libby looked around in awe. Though the structure stood in the same spot as the one in the twenty-first century, the other buildings were missing. Everything looked timeless. Even the Thorpe house appeared much the same as the house she was very familiar with. The differences were so minor. The trees were smaller and the main landscaping had changed.

  A loud whinny cut into the air, the piercing sound of distress belying the peaceful setting. Libby ran the few feet to the stable door and shoved it open. Nathan followed.

  “Stop that,” Libby shouted as the man she’d seen from atop her perch struck the overridden, sweating horse.

  Enraged, she rushed over to him and yanked the whip out of his hand. Unable to control her temper at seeing such a beautiful animal being abused, not just once, but twice, she drew the whip back and hit him with it as hard as she could.

  “Why, you little bastard.” Anger flared in his eyes. “I’ll teach you to mind your betters.” He backhanded her, sending her flat on her back.

  For a moment Libby could only see stars. Never in her life had anyone struck her. Shaking her head
to clear it, she spied Nathan grab on to the monster’s arm to keep him from laying into her. The boy, half her size, clearly waged a losing battle. The monster broke free and she closed her eyes, bracing for the next blow. In those few seconds, her life flashed inside her brain, a quick video telling her she was too young to die.

  “What the hell is going on?” said a booming voice. Libby opened her eyes just as the whip her attacker was about to wield on her was torn from his grasp. Her focus trailed down her savior’s arm to a broad chest, then moved higher to take in a handsome face, reddened in anger.

  “He was whipping the horse,” Nathan said, wiping his tears and sniffling. “When my frien’ Libby stopped him, he hit him. He knocked me down and was meanin’ to whip my frien’.”

  The black-haired man, obviously Mr. Thorpe, considering the boy had pointed him out earlier, turned his focus to her attacker. While he dealt with him, Libby jumped up, more concerned with calming the heavily panting horse. “That’s OK, big guy,” she crooned, grabbing his bridle and staying out of kicking range. “That bad man won’t hurt you anymore. I’ll make sure of it.” She stroked his sweaty neck, digging her fingers in to soothe him.

  “You were warned, Smithers. I want you off my land.” As her attacker walked to the animal Libby was trying to calm, Thorpe shook his head. “Without the horse.”

  “I ain’t going nowhere without my mount.”

  Ignoring the two men, Libby continued her deep strokes, talking to the stallion in a soft tone the entire time. Eventually, the horse’s nervous panting became even breathing and he quieted, even nudging Libby for more when she dropped her hand. She laughed. “You like that, do you?”

  By this point, several men had gathered to form a half circle around them.

  “Pay the man for his mount.” Thorpe turned to the tall blond man in the center, the same one Nathan had identified as his dad. “And have someone escort him to the edge of my property.”

  “I won’t forget this.” Smithers looked over at Libby and she swore hatred shone in those beady eyes. “You should learn to mind yer own business, boy,” he said, sneering. “You’ll be sorry you ever messed with Clyde Smithers.” He picked his hat off the ground and dusted it off. “You’ll all be sorry.” He shoved the hat on his head, took the offered money, and stormed out, shrugging off the hands belonging to the two men heeding their boss’s order.