Faithfully Yours (The Forever Time Travel Romance Series, Book 1)

by Spradling, Carol A.

  "Can't you be satisfied with what you have?" Faith asked, already confident of the answer.

  He leaned forward, and Faith was certain he would unseat himself with his anger. "I will not have that woman dictate to me what I can and cannot have, do you hear me?" Hank shrieked his question. Hopefully, he would lose his voice all together.

  Faith winced and pressed her ear onto her shoulder. The acoustics in the well amplified his voice to harsh levels of volume. Having spent time with Trista, there was no doubt in Faith's mind that the old woman had a vindictive side. Having seen the commotion that brewed in Trista's eyes when various names were mentioned, Faith hoped to never have that storm directed at her.

  Still, she couldn't help but grin at the satisfaction she got from knowing Hank had not won a single battle against the woman. She would have to seek Trista out once she freed herself of Hank. Trista may have won every battle, but Faith was certain none of their skirmishes compared to being forced into a well. Although everyone in the valley feared Trista, peace swept over Faith. Perhaps she and Trista might become friends.

  "What do you want me to do, Hank?" Faith asked. "Ask Trista to sell you more property? Pull me up. I can do that now."

  Hank laughed, and drew his legs up. "You are going to do more than that. While it is true, I want the property by the river, and I will have it, I want more than that."

  Faith shifted her seat and slouched against the wall. Was this how the genies in the stories felt? Anxious to leave their confinement, but forced to wait for their greedy rescuer to make his list of demands known. She had listened to many of these tales throughout her childhood. They always ended the same way. The recipient was disappointed and the genie was re-imprisoned. She thoroughly intended for Hank to be disappointed, but she would not be left without a way to return to Aidan.

  "What are your other wishes?" Faith shouted up to him. She stopped short of reminding him that he only had two more to ask. There was no need to give him ideas he had not considered.

  "From what I've been told," Hank said. "Trista was a beautiful woman in her youth, silky hair, bright eyes, skin like honey. You'd never believe it now." He stood with his arms braced on the ridge and leaned forward. "The story goes that she used her womanly wiles in exchange for the mountain. Apparently, she had a certain appeal."

  Faith shook her head. Hearing about another woman's scandalous past was not something she cared to know.

  "When I petitioned the county clerk," Hank said. "He told me I could only homestead where property is considered public domain. Public domain," he sneered. "The witch tried to evict me off my land. If it hadn't been for me allowing your family to sharecrop, she would have done it, too."

  Faith jerked her head upward. Is this why Hank had insisted she and her sisters remain on the property after her parents' died? He knew Trista would reclaim his farm and force him to leave.

  "There's nothing I can do about that, Hank."

  He tossed a pebble against the far wall. It trickled down the side, landing next to Faith's foot. "It appears you have developed a friendship with her," he said. "If you want to leave this well, you will convince her to deed this mountain over to me, every speck of it. Once that is done, I won't need you anymore and you will be free to go to whomever you like."

  Hank's solution seemed simple enough, but Faith wasn't sure it would work as he thought. For whatever reason, her time traveling ability seemed to be tied to him. She doubted his word would be enough to free her of the connection.

  "Why do you want this land so badly, Hank? You have more than enough fields for tobacco."

  He threw his head back and laughed. "Tobacco. Do you think I'm interested in crops? I farm to keep spectators away."

  "Spectators? There's no gold here."

  "You're right, there isn't. But there is silver down river from here, and I plan to mine all of it."

  Down river? That was Aidan's farm. Faith remembered the interest Trista had shown when she learned that Faith had met Aidan. Was that why Trista sold that piece of property to him, to infuriate Hank? Sourness filled Faith's stomach. If Hank possessed all of the property on the mountain, Aidan would not buy his farm from Trista in the future. Faith and Aidan would never marry.

  Faith leaned her shoulder against the wall, and rubbed her chin in thought. Time traveling due to intense emotion must have been designed as an emergency escape. That advantage would certainly come in handy if the traveler needed to leave a hostile situation. With Hank on the surface, and Faith twenty feet below, there was no chance of any type of passion passing between them to trigger her exit. Faith put her hands on her hips and paced the small space. She had not thought of anything but returning to Aidan. If she were with him, she would never want to time travel again.

  Hope had said their mother had taught Honor and Hope how to time travel. She could picture her mother sitting opposite of the twin girls. Their eyes were most likely opened wide with curiosity. They would lean in, absorbing as many details as they could. This would be information that would need to be held deep in their memory, nothing to be written down, only shared from one member of the family to the other.

  From what Faith remembered of her mother, her gestures would be exaggerated. This had been her custom when emphasizing an important message. Always kind and gentle in her approach, she would have been diligent in seeing that her daughters were well versed in how to use their gifts. Although sad to have missed out on the lesson, Faith knew that if she had been older, she would have sat next to her sisters, learning, while at their mother's knee.

  Blood drained from Faith's head. Her knees grew weak, and she fell to the ground. Trista. She knew everything about time travel. She had taken care of Faith when she had nearly died. Was it possible? Was Trista her mother? If she were, why would she hide her identity?

  A shadow blocked sunlight from falling into the bottom of the well. Hank held his fist over the opening, a small pouch dangling from his hand. The bundle fell toward her, and Faith scrambled to her feet. She stepped to the side of the pit as it hit the ground. She glanced up at him, not certain she wanted to open his gift.

  "It won't bite you," he sneered from above. "Go ahead and open it. You have to be hungry by now."

  The idea of putting something in her stomach was more than enough motivation. She pounced on the dirty wad of fabric and worked the knot loose. Inside the cloth, bread, a slice of ham, and a red apple looked like a feast. She bit into the meat, savoring the bite.

  "Enjoy your meal because it will be the last one you get unless you help me."

  Faith bit off a chunk of bread. She closed her eyes as she chewed and tried to think of something other than her food.

  She wouldn't do what Hank asked. She would not help him gain control of the mountain. She would return to Aidan, and she would find out if Trista was her mother. She looked over to the apple. A shiny spot winked over at her. Every crooked-dealing man loved to deal with honest people. No matter what the agreement, an honest person would always keep their bond. Hank counted on her to be true to her word. Faith picked up the apple and sank her teeth deep into the polished flesh.

  A thick rope fell in front of her face. It hung from the top of the well like a long braid down a little girl's back.

  "Well, Faith," Hank said, peering over the ledge. "What's your answer?"

  Faith swallowed and wiped her finger under her lip. The tone in which he spoke chilled her blood colder than a freshly thawed stream. Faith gathered the cloth and pushed it from her lap. He would be wrong to trust her, but she would convince him of nothing but genuine sincerity.

  Chapter 27

  Aidan swung up into the saddle, and a strong, rose scent surrounded him. The reminder of Faith overpowered the normal hay and horse odors that generally accompanied his trips to the barn. Even with her missing, she filled his thoughts and senses. Only a few hours ago, he had held her in his arms. Skin to skin, they had lain entwined in each other's arms, and he drowned himself in every part o
f her. His throat tightened at the memories of their lovemaking, nearly choking him. Trying to remember how to breathe, he glanced around, his vision blurry. She was nowhere to be seen, but her scent lingered. He shook his head, and blinked back tears, hoping the fragrance was an indication that she was nearby.

  His muscles tightened, and he kicked his heels into his horse's ribs. His thigh knotted reflexively, reminding him of the wound in his leg. He glanced down to see if there was any blood, not sure why he looked. Even if the limb bled profusely, it didn't matter. Nothing would stop him from searching for Faith.

  Aidan remembered every blinding pain that had taken place during the accident. The memory was as fresh now as when it had occurred. He rubbed his hand over his dry pant leg. The events of his mishap were always at the forefront of his thoughts, but as painful as his misfortune had been, nothing would compare to the possible loss of Faith.

  He yanked the reins to his right, pointing his horse toward the door. The beast needn't think this was to be a leisurely ride. Normally, Aidan would let the animal take the lead and walk the distance to the road before urging him into a run. Nothing about today had happened as it should. Aidan looked to the tree line. The path along the river would be the easiest to travel, but he wanted to ride through the woods. The horse would need to cover a lot of ground over rough terrain if Aidan hoped to arrive at the neighboring farm before Mr. Rhodes returned home.

  Nothing would set Aidan's world back on course until he found Faith, safe and whole. He wasn't certain if the elderly man knew anything about her disappearance. Aidan's stomach rolled at the thought of Faith being held at the mercy of that man. While Mr. Rhodes seemed old and feeble, a weapon would more than compensate for what he lacked in physical strength and agility. He had been in Aidan's barn, seeming to inspect an area of the building as though he looked for something specific. Aidan shivered as though he faced a deathly future. His neighbor's actions were more than suspicious, especially with his visit occurring within a few hours from when Aidan had last seen Faith.

  He glanced once more in the direction Mr. Rhodes had taken when leaving the barn. The route wrapped around the woods, mimicking the bends in the river. The man had returned home on foot. Surely a young gelding and a nearly mad husband could out maneuver an old man with a pronounced limp.

  Aidan straightened his back, and looked to the side. His eyes widened as though he discovered a lost treasure. It was odd that he hadn't noticed this impediment when they spoke several weeks ago. His heart faltered, and he stiffened as though struck by lightning. How recent was Mr. Rhodes' injury, and how did he get it? Aidan shouldn't have let him leave his home so easily. He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. If he found any connection to the old man and Faith, the cause for the man's limp would not have time to heal.

  Aidan's horse snorted and sidled to the left. He reared his head and pranced. The animal was as anxious to get en route as his rider. Aidan leaned forward, and tightened his knees. Taking off at a gallop, the bay stretched and pawed the ground, throwing large clumps of soil behind them as he ran. Aidan rose up out of the saddle as his horse leaped over a downed log. Once clear of the tree, he crouched low, keeping the reins loose. Giving the animal his head, a slight pull on the bridle would be enough to keep him on course.

  Trees and saplings were spread haphazardly throughout the copse. The bay pressed harder, skirting and dodging the foliage with elegant ease. Cool wind and horse's mane whipped Aidan's face as man and beast moved as one. He leaned forward, using the horse's ears for pivot points. He looked only within the limits of the two cones for their route.

  Exhilaration rushed through him like a waterfall through fresh snow. The possibility of finding Faith grew with each foot of ground they crossed. Refusing to consider defeat, Aidan was determined to leave the Rhodes' farm with Faith, and not heartbreak. The Rhodes' tobacco fields were less than a mile away, and the way horse and rider sped through the woods, the empty fields should be in sight within minutes. If Mr. Rhodes knew anything about Faith's disappearance, there was no need to give him a chance to hide his secret.

  The woods thinned, and the bay broke into the clearing. Aidan pulled back on the reins, bringing the horse to an abrupt stop. Dirt and grass puffed around them along with Aidan's confusion. In front of him, dry tobacco shoots poked sharply from the barren ground. Aidan scanned the property from one side of the meadow to the other. The tobacco fields looked as though they hadn't been turned in years. Mr. Rhodes had been insistent on mixing his crop with Aidan's. Perhaps there was a second field Aidan wasn't aware of. Still...Aidan nudged his horse closer. Mr. Rhodes had promised to take care of Faith if he saw her. If his property was any indication of the kind of care he provided, Aidan had better find her quickly. He shook his head. What could make a man allow his fields to become fallow?

  To the other side of the husks, a barn and house stood within several yards of each other. Neither building looked inviting. Aidan nudged his horse out of the shadow and into the sunlight. The animal reared and balked as though he were being led past a burning building. He sniffed the air and snorted. Still not willing to follow Aidan's command, the beast stomped his hooves, and refused to move forward. Aidan gathered the reins in his hand, and stroked his mount's neck.

  "Easy. Easy," he said, his voice soothing, yet commanding.

  He felt as uneasy about the dwelling as his horse. Other than the look of neglect, there was something unseen about the property that drew him closer, yet simultaneously warned him to stay away. Leaving his home moments ago, he had hoped to find Faith at the Rhodes' farm. Now, more than ever, he had to make sure she wasn't on the premises. Unable to shake the ghastly layer that covered him, he rubbed his hands over his arms, hoping he could remove each droplet of gloom.

  Pulling his horse up to the barn, he dismounted. Wind brushed against him, caressing his body like a deathly shadow. There was no smell of death or decay in the area. He forced his feet forward. With each step, the distance to the barn seemed to increase. He glanced over his shoulder and looked to see if Mr. Rhodes was coming within view. He pushed the thought of possibly finding Faith's remains aside and concentrated on finding her alive and well.

  Rushing into the barn, he glanced from one side of the building to the other. There were no animals stabled or any feed for them. Old hay, etched with black mildew, lined the stall parameters. Everything within the space indicated the barn workings were as lifeless as the fields. Why would Mr. Rhodes want to strike a bargain when he had no crops? Aidan swallowed and glanced around to see if any of the dirt had been freshly turned over, or if there had been any sign of a scuffle. Nothing appeared disturbed.

  He turned to his right and looked outside. His horse waited nervously on the other side of the door. His eyes were wide, and he pranced in place. Aidan rushed from the barn, glancing from the roadway to the house. Mr. Rhodes walked with a pronounced limp. It would take him close to an hour to return home. Aidan and his horse had crossed the river and covered the distance through the woods within minutes. Even with that much of a lead, he didn't want to waste time unnecessarily.

  Leaving his horse where he stood, Aidan hurried to the porch. He took the three steps to the landing in one leap. His footsteps pounded the wood as he crossed the warped boards to the door. Reaching for the handle, he stopped moving. The realization of what possibly awaited him on the other side of the entrance doused him like an icy waterfall. He held to the knob, but took a moment to prepare himself for what he might find.

  Faith could be in there, but would she be alive? A worse thought niggled at him. Would she be the woman he had held in his arms and made love to all night, or would she be an older version of herself? He inhaled deeply, hoping to bolster his confidence, twisted the handle, and barged in without knocking. It didn't matter to him what age Faith was. She was his wife, and he wouldn't live without her.

  The stagnant odors of dirt and mildew lingered in the room, filling his nose and throat. Aidan's imagination jump
ed to a variety of conclusions. After mentally charging past images of Faith being tortured or injured, he accepted the dank and dismal smell. He could only hope that she was hidden away in a smelly room and uncomfortable. His shoulders flexed and his arms tensed. He was a man in need of a fight but so far, he had no enemy to confront. The gloom surrounding him seemed to be the only way he could clear his pessimistic thoughts. Leaning against the front of the door, he propped the entryway open with his shoulder. If there was any breeze coming in from the river, he would need it to cleanse more than the air in this room.

  Aidan coughed into his hand and glanced over the top of his cupped fingers. To his right, his gaze followed the sunbeam, which floated ethereally through the torn curtain and onto the kitchen table. Lint and dust particles drifted across the shaft, landing delicately on the soiled layers of neglect. A mouse scurried down the table leg, and through a crack in the wall. The rodent couldn't have carried anything to eat in his mouth. The house looked as though it had been empty for several years.

  A peculiar sensation touched Aidan's shoulders. He turned toward the feeling, half hoping to see Faith standing next to him. A smile already spread across his face in anticipation. His heart pumped harder, and his throat went dry. Searching the space next to him, the corners of his mouth drooped, and his shoulders sagged. Tears blurred his vision. His head fell to his chest, along with his hopes. He shook his head, refusing to accept anything but Faith, alive and well, and in his arms. He would not give up on her, no matter how desperately the thought nudged him to do so. He lifted his head and looked around. There had to be a clue amongst the rubble he stood in.

  The area looked as though it hadn't been used any more recently than the barn or the fields. Cobwebs hung from each corner of the room in a thick, latticework design. The unattached ends swung loosely near an overturned cup. Like a bear waking from hibernation, a spider climbed out from the inside of the tin.