A kitchen area against one wall held a wood-burning cookstove with an oven, a warming drawer, and a heavy cast-iron top with four round inserts that could be removed with a tool hanging off the side. The stove also had a tank attached for heating water.
Various pots and pans hung from pegs on the wall. A hand pump, sink, and a small expanse of wood counter took up a good part of that wall, and a cupboard had been built into the corner. Beneath the counter the open shelves held supplies.
A table and four chairs had been placed beside one of the cabin’s two windows. At the end of the cabin opposite to the first floor bedroom, a steep, narrow staircase led to what she presumed was another bedroom.
Meredith couldn’t sit still, so she wandered around, studying the place where Daniel lived. These two men kept their home neat. The room held no clutter, no piles of unwashed dishes or dirty laundry. The two were sticklers when it came to neatness.
Her chest tightened, the ache bittersweet. In a few moments, Daniel would read the letter he’d written to himself. How would he react?
Daniel couldn’t stop thinking about the woman. The moment he’d set eyes on her, he’d been filled with inexplicable gladness, and a sense of familiarity. He pumped water from their well into the tub they kept in a walled off corner of their shed. Here is where they did their wash and bathed when the weather permitted. Now that they had a surplus of funds, they’d ordered another stove and materials to make the room more weather proof.
“I can’t believe you almost told two total strangers we were going to celebrate another sizable haul of gold,” Charles said as he added the pail of heated water to the tub. “Mark my words, Danny, those two want something.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything about the gold. I was going to say we were about to celebrate the end of another good day of honest labor.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why, but I’m certain Miss MacCarthy is the decent sort. Somehow I …” How could he describe the odd sensation that he knew her well when he couldn’t remember ever meeting her before. “Well, I sense her goodness.”
Charles barked out a laugh. “What you sense is that she’s a pretty lassie with a sweet, curvy figure. You’re like a pup. You greet every new encounter and every stranger with your tail wagging and your tongue lolling.”
“I can’t explain it, Charles, but somehow I know her, and—”
“She’s American, Dan! How the hell could you know her? Have you forgotten you and I have been friends our entire lives? Did we not travel to this country and across this continent together? If you’d met her before today, I would have met her as well.” Charles grunted and shook his head. “The fact that she played on your attraction to her is how I know she’s after something.”
“I might be a pup, but you’re as tightly wound as a clock spring. You greet every new encounter and every stranger with suspicion and distrust.” He glanced at his friend. “That’s no way to live, Charlie. Let’s reserve judgement until after we’ve read the letter she brought, aye?”
“To each his own,” Charles replied.
Sighing, Daniel divested himself of his work clothes and reached for the soap they kept on a shelf with their other cleaning supplies. He dunked his head into the trough, scooped water over himself with a wooden ladle, and washed faster than usual. “Don’t pretend you don’t find Miss MacCarthy as comely as I do,” he said, toweling off his wet hair.
“I never would. She is an attractive woman, but it’s the pretty ones you need to worry about, Dan.”
Daniel dressed in his clean clothes, shook out his work clothes and hung them on pegs on the wall for the next day’s labor. “So … you hope one day to marry a dowdy lass?”
Charles nodded. “Aye, and just so you know, my dowdy wife and I will be quite content in each other’s company.”
Daniel barked out a laugh. “Like you said, to each his own. Spend as much time as you like with your ablutions. Doing so is not likely to improve your looks or your disposition,” he teased. “Also, it’s your turn to feed and water the mules.” With that, he dressed, left his friend and hurried back to the cabin to the alluring young woman who caused his blood to sing as it raced through his veins.
Good, lord what did they have to feed the two? He’d have to add water, what few vegetables they had left, and the last of the potatoes to yesterday’s venison stew. He grimaced. Tomorrow he’d be heading into Garretsville for supplies. Perhaps Miss MacCarthy might agree to join him. If so, he’d take her to Klein’s Diner and treat her to a proper meal. His mouth watered in agreement with the idea. Prudence Klein and her children were very fine cooks indeed.
Grinning, he stomped the grit from his boots and stepped inside. Meredith stood by the window, she turned and smiled. His stomach flipped, and his blood once again hummed. Time seemed to stop as their gazes met and held. “How do I know you?”
Oliver rose from the chair by the stove. “Well, you see—”
“Oliver, this is not your story to tell,” Meredith glared daggers at her half-brother. “You’ve never laid eyes on Daniel until today.”
“No, but I knew he was there. You know I felt his presence.”
What the hell did that mean? Daniel’s gaze went from Meredith to the gangly youth. Clearly the two did not get along. “I’ll be right back.” He hurried up to his loft and gazed around his space, making sure it was tidy. He wished he had more than one set of sheets for the bed, so he could change them for her. He’d give his room to Meredith for however long she stayed, which he hoped might be for a long while indeed. As he came back downstairs, he found the two in the middle of an exchange.
“Please go outside and get my duffle bag and your backpack, Oliver,” she said, her tone schoolmarm stern.
“Are you going to order me around like I’m your servant the whole time we’re here?” Oliver grumbled.
“Well, let’s see,” she quipped, placing her hands on her hips. “Your debit card is useless here, kiddo. Do you have any currency of your own that can be used in this era?”
Debit card? Daniel frowned in confusion. This era?
Oliver’s face turned a blotchy red. “Nope.”
“I did not invite you to join me on this venture. Don’t forget that for a moment.” Her brow arched, she nodded toward the door, and Oliver stomped out.
Sighing, she turned to face to him. “He’s not my half-brother or any relation to me at all. He followed me here uninvited.”
Daniel’s brow shot up, and a trace of unease edged its way into his mind. “I don’t understand.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.” She bit her lip and her eyes took on a sheen of moisture. “As soon as your friend returns, I’ll explain everything.”
“All right. In the meantime, I’ll get supper started.” Miss MacCarthy didn’t present a I have great news for you demeanor, and everything took on different feel, this one more foreboding.
Now he worried. Had something happened to his family? If so, how had it fallen to Miss MacCarthy to bring him the news? Though he wrote regularly to his mother and siblings, he hadn’t received word in months. He’d also sent money, and perhaps that had been foolhardy. Mail coaches were often robbed.
He cast a curious glance at Miss MacCarthy’s bag. Why must he wait until Charles returned to read the letter? She’d said she was here to deliver it to him, not them. He took the covered pot from inside the cookstove and set it on the counter.
“May I help?” Meredith came to stand beside him.
“Certainly. He handed her a bowl. “Fill this with water if you please.”
She smelled sweet, like wild flowers with a hint of fresh ocean breeze. Her scent was exactly as he’d imagined it would be, floral and fresh. His frown returned. When exactly had he imagined how Miss MacCarthy smelled?
He leaned down and rummaged through their supplies, coming up with his hands full of an onion, wild garlic and a few wilted vegetables.
Meredith set the bowl of water on the counter and took the paring knife
he handed her. She picked up the last wedge of cabbage he’d kept wrapped in linen. “With your farming background, I’m surprised you don’t at least keep chickens out here.”
He froze, his knife poised over the peeled onion. “How do we know each other, Miss MacCarthy? How do you know anything about me?”
The cabin door opened, and Charles walked in, followed by Oliver. The young man dropped Meredith’s bag by the door, and he placed his backpack on the floor by one of the two chairs. He sank into the chair as if he’d been hard put-upon to do such an onerous task. There he remained, sullen and silent as only an adolescent male could be.
“Let’s see this letter,” Charles said.
“Let me get this stew on the hob first, and then we can read the letter as our supper cooks. Incidentally, Miss MacCarthy informed me that Oliver is no relation to her. He followed her here without permission.” He flashed his partner a pointed look, knowing Charles would understand Daniel now had concerns about their visitors as well. “Light the stove and things will go faster.”
“Aye, and there are biscuits leftover from breakfast we can warm.” Charles gathered tinder and larger sticks of wood for the stove and set to work.
Daniel placed the augmented stew on the stove to heat, set tea to steeping, and brought mugs to the table. “Come, Miss MacCarthy. Have a seat,” he said. “I cannot wait any longer. Let us see this mysterious letter.” He didn’t know what to think or what to expect and steeled himself for the worst.
He kept his eyes on Meredith as she crossed the room and dug around inside her canvas pack, pulling out a flat sort of satchel. Daniel exchanged a glance with Charles, who had joined him at the table. Oliver remained seated by the stove, staring morosely at nothing in particular, chin in hand, elbow propped on the arm of the chair.
As she approached the table, Daniel slid a chair out for her. “Tea?” he offered.
“Yes, please,” she said.
She took a seat, looking as nervous as he felt. While he fetched the teapot and sugar bowl, she slid her hand into the satchel and pulled out a folded letter consisting of several pages. She drew in a long breath, blew it out, and placed it on top of the satchel before her. His hands shook slightly as he poured tea for each of them. Finally, he sat down. “Let’s have it then.”
Without a word, she slid the pages across the table. Daniel unfolded them. Nothing could have prepared him for this.
Charles gasped. “By God, I’d recognize Daniel’s handwriting anywhere. What the devil? Did you forge this, Miss MacCarthy?” He shot up from his place, knocking his chair over in the process. He glowered down at her.
“No, I didn’t forge anything. Go on, read it, Daniel.”
A chill sluiced through him as he read. “It’s dated June twenty-second … two thousand and … This appears to have been written in the twenty-first century?” His gaze shot to the woman, and just as quickly back to the letter. He read the first three paragraphs, and all the blood left his head.
“Sweet Jesus.” Stars danced before his eyes, and a cold sweat beaded his brow. Daniel scooted his chair away from the table. “I need air.”
Pushing himself up on shaky legs, he lurched for the front door, desperate to escape the cabin, the woman who—by his own account—had come to him from the distant future—a future in which he’d been a ghost.
11
“Well, that went well.” Meredith wiped her sweaty palms down the fabric of her skirt. Charles remained standing, as rigid as a fence post, keeping a safe distance from the table … from her.
“You should read this, Mr. Hannigan.” She tapped the letter. “The contents involve you as well.”
He didn’t move.
“I suggested Daniel write a few personal things in order to convince you both of the letter’s authenticity.”
“The both of us?” he hissed out.
“Yes, because you need to know what will happen to you both two weeks from now.” She lifted her chin. “To convince you, Daniel wrote about the time you two stole a blackberry pie from Mrs. Delaney’s windowsill. He also mentioned Katherine Rose, the girl you both fancied when you were fourteen.”
Charles sucked in an audible breath. His face went pale, and a fine sheen of perspiration glistened on his brow. “You can’t know those things. It isn’t possible.”
“Yet I do, and it is.” Her last nerve snapped. Beginning with Oliver’s stupid stunt, the physical toll of time travel, the reality of actually being in the past with all its dangers, Charles’s suspicious glare, and Daniel’s hasty exit, she was perilously close to a meltdown.
“Please read the damned letter! I’ve risked a lot to try and save the two of you, and I’d appreciate it if you’d at least do your part.” Meredith plopped her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. Exhaustion rolled over her like one of those road construction machines that flatten hot asphalt. To make matters worse, the beginnings of a headache throbbed at the back of her skull.
The silence inside the cabin was deafening, and then the sound of … foil? Her head snapped up in time to see Oliver pop a square of dark chocolate into his mouth. “I’d like one of those, Oliver.”
“Tough.” He flashed her a resentful look. “I’ll sell you a piece for five silver dollars.”
Meredith was about to remind him that he hadn’t paid for the bags of chocolate in the first place. John Schulte had, but then Charles let loose a growl and turned his glare to Oliver.
“I don’t like your attitude, boyo. Give the lady a piece of whatever it is she wants, or leave. Those are your only two options.” He lifted his chair from the floor and brought it back to the table. Charles sat down and reached for the letter, not bothering to look at Oliver again.
His eyes wide, Oliver’s face blotched with red again. Meredith was as surprised as he was by Charles’s outburst.
“Now, lad, and seeing as how we’ll be feeding and providing you with a roof over your head for the foreseeable future, I’ll have one as well. Bring a few to the table for Daniel while you’re at it.”
Oliver hopped to and fetched a handful of chocolates from his backpack. Without a word, he brought them over and placed the foil-wrapped squares at the center of the table. Then he resumed his place beside the stove, once again retreating into a sulk.
Meredith’s eyes filled, mostly from exhaustion, but also from anxiety and uncertainty. So much hinged upon this trip. There were other considerations as well, things she hadn’t thought of, like whether or not she was up to date on her tetanus shots. What other diseases could she catch? Were there poisonous snakes in these mountains? What if they failed to stop the maniacal miscreants?
She blinked furiously as she unwrapped the chocolate and bit into the dark, velvety sweetness. “Daniel told me he has quite the sweet tooth.” Another personal detail he’d shared with her.
“Aye, that he does,” Charles said in a distracted tone. He set one page aside and began reading the next. “God above, I don’t know what to make of this,” he muttered to himself.
“I can imagine.” She glanced at Charles. “Should I go after Daniel?”
“If you wish. He’ll be at the goldmine. Even before we discovered the wee cave, he’d always go to that hill when needing privacy or to clear his head.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “Do you know where it is?”
She nodded. “Daniel showed me.”
“Take him a few of the chocolates if you would, Miss MacCarthy. He’ll appreciate the gesture.”
“I will.” She scooped up four pieces and slid them into her pocket. “Please, call me Meredith.”
He nodded, continuing to read.
Meredith stopped by her duffle bag and pulled out the cashmere throw she’d brought with her. She folded the blanket in half and slid it around her shoulders, using it like a shawl. Once out of the cabin, she paused to calm herself, and to take in the grandeur surrounding her. Charles had been correct, the temperature did drop quickly in the mountains, and the air was now crisp.
The infinite Montana sky had begun to darken, and only the western horizon held on to the last vestiges of the day, a slightly lighter shade of crimson-streaked cerulean. The half-moon, coupled with a few stars making their early evening debut would provide her with enough light to pick her way safely to the mine.
She stepped off the narrow porch and onto the faint path that would lead her to Daniel. At the top of the hill, she caught sight of him, a dark silhouette against the backdrop of the gathering nightfall A thrill shot through her. They were alive together in the same time and in the same place. She could hardly absorb the fact that she’d managed to arrive when and where she’d intended.
Daniel stood perfectly still as he peered up at the sky, and she could only imagine what was going through his mind. He hadn’t gone to that spot because he wanted company, and he might not welcome her presence. Her sudden appearance, the letter informing him of his impending death, knowledge that he’d spent more than a century and a half as a ghost … he’d suffered a great shock. She knew him well enough to understand he needed time to process everything. Maybe it would be best to leave him to his privacy.
She was just about to turn around when he caught sight of her. Neither of them moved for several seconds, but then she started forward again. “I was worried about you,” she said as she reached him. “I know how difficult all of this must be to take in.”
Nodding, he stuffed his hands into his front pockets and went back to staring at the sky.
“You told me about the premonitions you sometimes experience when something is about to happen to someone you care about. Have you had any regarding you and Charles lately?”
“Aye, and you’ve no need to convince me, Miss MacCarthy. I know all of this is real. Though I only read the first few paragraphs, I … know.”
Summoned in Time: A magical, ghostly, time travel romance... (The MacCarthy Sisters Book 3) Page 14