by Norman Fitts
"You're just full of surprises." She said.
"It's a hobby of mine. Your replicater did a very good job, maybe too good if someone gets a close look. With an original, I would've been lucky to hit the ground." He holstered the gun.
"Well, let's hope you don't need to use it at all." She stepped away from the ship. The opening disappeared and with it, all trace of the ship. "I can't take a chance someone'll stumble onto it. I'll have to leave it cloaked."
"That uses energy, right? Could help the bad guys."
She was carrying her bag. "It doesn't use much." She joined him.
Something occurred to him. "You know, why would they even look? Unless they know you're broken down you could be half way across the galaxy by now."
"They know. Even if the equipment was still working, you can’t move more than a light-year in any direction and there’s only one way out. By now they know it isn't working. I'm not going anywhere and they know it." She looked up. "They know I'm here, somewhere. Come on, we've got a long walk." She pointed. "That way."
She handed him the canteen and they walked away together. By now he was sure he wasn't going to just wake up.
***
The Leader of the Vergon bounty hunters sat in front of a communication console. The image of the political enemy of Margaret’s father was on the screen. “We were unaware of this portal. The link is gone. Wherever she is, she’s no longer a moving target.”
The image on the screen was not interested in hearing this. “I’m not paying for near misses, or excuses. I assume you have the technology to follow her. You have four days to have her standing in front of me, or I’ll terminate this contract and as I understand it, the contract isn’t the only thing in danger of termination.”
The screen went blank.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The moment Margaret and Lawrence stepped out of her ship, and into the past, forces were set in motion, ripples in time that would change the lives of certain people from that day on. As the two visitors from the future made their way down the mountain in the early morning light, Sarah, Joseph and Martin McKenly were just beginning their day. From this point on, the future was no longer fixed.
The McKenlys had occupied the two thousand acre mountain ranch for three generations. Now Martin McKenly was raising his own there.
Martin was a big man, tall and burly, with a full beard. His daughter, Sarah, was nineteen. She had long blond hair and favored her mother in so many ways. His son, Joseph, was seventeen and fast becoming a man.
Martin’s wife had died two winters before of the fever. He'd been left alone to raise their children. He often thought of his wife and hoped she'd approve of the way Sarah and Joseph were turning out.
The McKenly ranch over looked the only passage into the mountains from the valley below. Most of his range consisted of a series of mesas. The flatter ground allowed him to run a few more head than his neighbors.
None of these small mountain holdings offered any competition for the valley ranchers. Most of the highland families were more concerned with taking care of their own needs. What was left went to the valley herds at a fraction of what they were worth.
The Cattleman's Association was made up of the valley ranchers. Until recently, the mountains held little or no interest for them.
With the rising demand for beef in the East, Henry Morton, a local businessman, with eastern contacts, managed to secure several beef contracts separate from those given to the Wyoming Stock Grazers Association. In order to convince the eastern markets to risk beef deliveries from an independent as far away as Wyoming, Henry had to promise a minimum head count instead of the usual book count.
When it began to look like the valley ranches were going to have a problem making the quota, he talked the Cattleman's Association into making offers to the mountain ranchers for their land. By themselves, the small cattle spreads weren't worth much. The idea was to combine them together and manage them as a common grazing range. The beef output could be increased by twenty-five percent. When the offer of money didn't work, Henry tried other means.
Most of the highland families were ready to get out. Those who weren’t finally fell to Henry's persuasive ways. Henry owned the bank and held paper on most of them. When the valley market dried up they were forced to sell. Those who didn't were foreclosed on and the land taken. That is, all but one, the one that made it all work, the McKenly place. With most of the mountain range controlled by the Cattleman's Association, pressure was being put on Martin to sell. Martin McKenly was not a man to be pressured.
***
The McKenly ranch was nestled into the tree line of a high mountain mesa. It over looked a series of mesas stair stepping their way down the mountain. A main house, an outhouse, a barn, a horse corral and a small smoke house made up the ranch. All were constructed from mountain timber.
This wasn't the original homestead. Martin's father had built it for his new bride years before.
Martin's grandparents lived on the original site until they both died. Now the old place sat empty, higher up the mountain.
Smoke was swirling out of the chimney and stovepipe. The sun was above the mountains. The early morning chores were done. The family sat down to breakfast.
The layout of the main house was simple. The big, central room performed all of the family functions. The wood stove, pump and basin were in one corner. A large table occupied the center of the room. There was a chair at both ends and benches down each side. Martin had built a hutch for this wife's dishes and other knickknacks. It stood along one wall. His wife's rocker and knitting basket sat in front of the fireplace. A rifle hung above the mantelpiece. Their bedrooms and a storeroom made up the rest of the cabin.
Martin and Joseph sat at the table. Sarah served them from the stove. She dished up the plates.
Martin looked back at her, "Smells mighty good."
She smiled at him. She liked pleasing her father. In her mind she'd taken over for her mother. She looked after her dad and raised her brother, although Joseph would have never admitted to being raised by his sister.
She'd fixed their plates first, with dried beef, eggs and a drop biscuit. Hers would come last. Even though Wyoming had granted women equality and the right to vote in 1869, in the home her needs would come second to the men. It was just the way things were. She didn't mind. She set the plates in front of them and returned to the stove for her father's coffee. She poured the coffee, picked up another mug and returned to the table. The coffee was placed by her father's plate. She handed the mug to her brother.
"We've got fresh milk this morning." She said.
Joseph took the mug, started to drink, and then remembered his manners. He looked at his father, who was looking back. Joseph sat down the mug and waited for his sister. Sarah brought hers to the table and took a seat across from her brother.
They all put their hands in their laps. Martin began. "Kind and heavenly father bless and sanctify this food for the nourishment of our bodies. Amen." With that, they began to eat.
Martin took a bite of his biscuit. "Joseph and me gotta start breakin' stock this morning. Those military buyers gonna be around next week."
Martin supplied Fort Clark with remounts. He and the fort's commander, Colonel Bennington, became friends when Martin pulled him off the mountain after being thrown from his horse. Martin was hunting and happened onto him laid up with a broken leg. If it hadn't been for Martin, his body might have been recover after the spring thaw.
The government meat contract was with the Cattleman's Association. The Colonel saw to it the fort bought enough beef from Martin to keep him going. Henry Morton found out about it and wrote Washington. Washington was too far away to care, as long as the command at the fort purchased the head count specified in the contract. When Martin found out about the letter, Henry lost any chance he had of finding common ground and Henry knew it.
Joseph swallowed what was in his mouth. "I was on the north mesa yesterday takin' a
count. Saw that wild bunch grazing below me. Could be worth havin' a look at."
A few years ago a wild stallion had shown up on the mountain. He'd been stealing horses from the valley ranches ever since. Any unbranded stock was a source of remounts.
"Northwest of here?" Martin asked.
"This side of the water hole," Joseph answered. "I was on Nob. No way I was gonna keep up with 'em."
Sarah never liked it when they chased the wild ones. She looked at Joseph. "You best be leavin' 'em alone." She looked at her father. "Right daddy..."
Joseph hated it when she tried to mother him. "Don't you worry. I can take care of myself."
Martin decided to nip this in the bud. "She's right. It's too much for one man to be takin' on."
"Looked like a couple good saddle horses been added to it," Joseph said, wanting to get the last word on his sister.
She wasn't about to let that happen. "You heard daddy..."
Martin broke in. "We got plenty to do outside. When that's done we'll have a look. Now, both of you eat your food."
Sarah grinned across the table. Joseph went back to his breakfast. She'd done it to him again.
***
Lawrence and Margaret made their way steadily northeast. The sky was clear and the afternoon sun was bright. She seemed absolutely sure of herself. He'd quit trying to keep track of their heading, and just followed her lead.
He walked slightly behind her. "One thing's been bothering me ever since we left the ship."
She looked back. "What's that?"
"How are they gonna know which way? For all anybody knows, we could've stopped a hundred and twenty-two years in the future."
She waited for him to catch up. "It doesn't work like that. You can move back in time, but not forward." She could see he was confused. "How can I put this? The future doesn't exist till you get there." She still wasn't sure he understood. "It exist from here because it's already happened, but not beyond the present. Think of it like this... If time was controlled by some kind of clock, the future won't exist till that clock ticks it off."
"Then we'll go back to where we left."
"Not exactly. That clock keeps ticking. Where we left is getting farther away by the minute."
"Then no ones gonna miss me for two weeks."
"I guess." She said, and then something occurred to her. "They weren't expecting you back from lunch, were they? You said you might lose your job."
"I put everything on Mr. Ward's desk before I left. I didn't say anything. They probably think I just kept going."
"You asshole. Making me feel sorry for you..." He started to say something. She was right in his face. "All that whining you did about getting into trouble."
His face was getting redder by the second. "You almost got me killed. Totaled, doesn't begin to describe my truck. Then you all but kidnap my ass and drag me a hundred and twenty..."
She leaned up and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Lighten up, can't you take a little joke." She smiled.
"You little..." He reached for her. She back peddled away. Now they were both laughing.
She raised her hands. "Okay, okay... I give up." She stopped. He walked up to her, put his arms around her and held her for a moment. She had to push him away. She couldn't control her breathing.
"What is it?" He wasn't sure what was wrong.
"Nothing. I just need to catch my breath. Your atmosphere is a little thinner than I’m used to." She'd come very close to doing something about her needs.
He looked at her. "I've got another question. You got any way of telling the good guys, from the bad guys, at a distance?"
She went into her pocket and produced a small device. She held it where he could see it. “The resonating crystals used to control the power source required for interstellar space flight are universal. Even when operating in sub-light mode they still admit a fixed frequency. This will pick them up and a light at the bottom will tell me.”
“Okay, so much for what’s around, how about who?”
“If I press it here, it’ll transmit a coded request. If the response is correct it’ll be instantaneous and a com-link will open. Any questions?”
"Yes, since you asked, I think it's time you filled me in on why these Bounty Hunters, or whatever they are, are after you?"
She watched him for a moment. He was still trying to pin her down. She changed the subject. She looked behind her. "Do you hear that?" She turned and stepped away.
"Hear what?" Not again, he thought.
She looked back. "You don't hear it? Follow me." She started into the trees.
"Following you is becoming a habit." He started after her. "What is it?"
She began to run. "Come on. Keep up."
He started to run. She was pulling away. "Hey, slow down", he yelled. She's pretty damn fast to be out of breath, he thought.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Earlier that morning, about the time Martin and Joseph settled into their days work, a meeting was held in Henry Morton's office at the hotel. Several members of the Cattleman's Association were losing their patience with Henry's inability to deal with Martin McKenly.
Ben Kramer, the owner of the Bar "K", was the most outspoken. He considered the mountain people little more than rustlers and horse thieves. It was true that in his father's day a certain amount of that went on. Rustlers had used the mountains to hide while they raided the valley herds. That had ended decades ago when Martin’s father and others had driven them out. Now, the wild stallion carried out the only horse stealing. The Indians occasionally raided the herds for food.
Henry sat behind his desk. He lit a cigar. Several others sat around the room. Ben paced and made known their collective point of view.
"You knew when we started this, we had to have McKenly's place to make it work." Ben argued. He stopped pacing and leaned on the desk. "You said you could handle it. Well, handle it." He pushed off the desk. "And make it soon."
Henry drew on his cigar and exhaled. "You... all of you, act like you're the only ones with something to lose. Half the money to buy those people out came from my bank, money that belongs to the town." He stood up. "I'm ridin' up there this afternoon. I'm gonna offer him twice what we gave the others..."
Ben jumped on it. "Twice, hell it'd be cheaper to just shoot the son-of-a-bitch."
Henry looked over the room. "If he won't listen to reason we'll try something else. One way or another we're gonna be summer grazin' that mountain." Ben and Henry were still eye-to-eye. "Well gentlemen..." Henry motioned toward the door. "Let's go down to the bar. Drinks are on the house."
Everyone got up and moved toward the door. Henry opened it. The others walked out mumbling among themselves.
Ben paused in the doorway and turned to Henry. "Do what you have to do. I'll see the rest of 'em back you."
Henry drew on his cigar. He knew exactly what Ben meant. Both men left the office.
***
Joseph and Martin had worked with the horses all morning and most of the afternoon. Sarah stepped out on the porch. She carried a bucket of water. It was heavy. It took both hands. She stopped at the edge of the porch, sat down the bucket and watched the goings on in the corral. She liked to watch her brother. He was younger, but he was big and strong and she felt safe when he was around. She would never tell him that, but she figured he knew. She took a dipper of water from the bucket and took a sip. She put it back, picked up the bucket and started for the corral.
There were half a dozen horses tied to the rail fence. Joseph and Martin had been taking turns at them all day. At first the horses were winning. He and his father were scraped and bruised. By late afternoon the tide had turned and all the animals were beginning to accept a saddle and rider.
Sarah slowly made her way toward the corral. She tried not to spill any of the water. The bucket was heavy, but she wasn't about to ask for help, at least not while Joseph was watching.
Joseph and Martin knelt inside the corral next to the near fence. Mar
tin tried to repair the chinch on the saddle. He was about to ask Joseph to fetch a needle and thread. Joseph glanced up and noticed two men, on horseback, approaching the corral from the far side.
"We got company”, Joseph said.
Martin looked around and stood up. "Looks like Henry Morton and one of his men."
Joseph stood up. His father watched the two riders. Joseph had no use for Mr. Morton ever since he foreclosed on the two homesteads next to theirs. He heard a noise behind him, looked around and saw Sarah struggling with her bucket. Martin started across the corral. Joseph stepped through the fence and headed for his sister.
Sarah was bending over the bucket. She held the rope handle trying to catch her breath. She didn't notice Joseph until he took her by the arm. She jumped, sloshing the water in the bucket.
"What are you doin", she snapped. "You made me spill it." She let go of the bucket.
"Forget that. Come to the house."
"Why?" She looked toward the corral. "What's goin' on?"
Joseph didn't want to argue. He was bigger and stronger and pulled her with him.
She almost stumbled over her dress. "Don't, you're gonna tear my dress." She got her arm free and looked over her shoulder. "What's wrong? Where's Daddy?"
Joseph moved so fast she had to run to catch up. He entered the house. She stopped on the porch and looked back at the corral. She could see the two riders approaching. Her father leaned against the fence. A moment later, Joseph joined her carrying his rifle.
She looked at the gun. "Who is it? What do they want?"
"It's Henry Morton. Maybe trouble is what he wants." He looked at her. "You stay here." He started for the corral.
She didn't like being ordered around, but she didn't say anything. She stood on the porch and watched.