“I wouldn’t be surprised, my friend. We can do without folks like that in our town, let me tell you.”
“So she rode out with him last night?”
“If she did they went in different directions. Boys formed a posse to go out for a look-see. We’ll catch that dirty pair of con artists.”
“Good luck to you, sheriff,” Ed said blandly.
Brandi sunk into the clothes and wondered if Ed knew about the living cargo mixed in with the luggage. The wagon jolted to the sound of a snapping whip; wheels creaked as they started off. She dozed while the road was even enough to keep from knocking around, but when the bumps grew more uneven sleep was impossible. And her head ached so horribly she wanted to scream.
Pounding rain on the canvas didn’t help her fragile feelings. The wagon stopped. A gust of wind rapped on the covering, the noise intensifying when the trunk lid opened again.
“No one’s following us,” Lila said, helping Brandi to get out of her small cell. “We decided to stop a while. The rain won’t last long.”
The flap on the wagon was pulled back. Brandi squinted into the dull light, sheets of rain flaying the earth.
“Still have that headache?” Lila asked.
“Yes. I can’t seem to shake it.” It hurt to talk; she rubbed the troublesome spot with care.
“Here,” Lila invited. “Take a couple of swigs of this.” She rummaged in a bag and passed Brandi a dark bottle.
“What is it?” She took the bottle with gratitude. At this point she’d take just about anything if it would take away the incessant ache.
“Laudanum,” was the answer. A popular pain reliever of the time, it was a combination of alcohol and opium. It was also highly addictive. Brandi remembered reading about Wyatt Earp’s second wife, Mattie Blaylock, who eventually overdosed, killing herself once she realized her husband had run off with the showgirl who became his third and final wife. No health warnings on this bottle, she mused as she unplugged the cork and took two long swigs. Anything to kill the pain. It might also help the sting she suffered from the hole where her heart had been.
It did. Within minutes a warm glow worked through her stomach and limbs, quickly numbing her pain. She floated within a drug-induced cloud, one that convinced her that the world was a happy place despite her problems. It felt good to be free.
The rain lasted longer than predicted. Lila found a guitar and played a tune she had composed herself, the words reflecting the loss of a perfect partner. It was a delicate, sincere song, short and sweet.
“You have a lot of talent,” Brandi praised.
Lila flushed. “Thank you. I write poetry and sometimes it just turns into a song. It helps, you know, when I think about Joel and the love we shared.” Shaking away the sad memory she stated, “I write stories, too. Not that I’d share any of them.”
“If your stories are as heartfelt as your song, then you’re making a mistake. I’d bet there are a lot of women who share such sentiment.”
Lila’s flush deepened. “Maybe someday.”
“I have a song,” Brandi said. She felt as though she was moving in a dream but relaxed and warmed by the company of another yearning heart she wanted to add to the mood. The guitar was passed over.
If I could save time in a bottle, the first thing that I’d like to do, is to save every day ‘til eternity passes away just to spend them with you.
Brandi’s fingers strummed without her even thinking about it.
If I could make days last forever, if words could make wishes come true, I’d save every day, like a treasure and then, again, I would spend them with you.
Outside the rain continued to splatter over them but inside there was a warm silence.
But there never seems to be enough time, to do the things you want to do once you find them. I’ve looked around enough to know, that you’re the one I want to go through time with.
Pausing to take a deep breath, Brandi visualized Devon’s handsome face.
If I had a box just for wishes, and dreams that had never come true, the box would be empty, except for the memory, of how they were answered by you.
Finishing the chorus Brandi felt a tear roll down her cheek. The emptiness of being parted from Devon bore down on her again. She stared into nothingness, broken from the trance by a sob from Lila.
“That’s a beautiful song,” Lila whispered. “Did you write that?”
“No,” Brandi said, shaking the sadness away best she could. “This was written by a man named Jim Croce. He died young, in a plane crash.”
“You mean a train crash?”
“No,” Brandi said. “A plane.”
Brandi, subdued by the laudanum combined with the surrealism of the situation she was in, confessed. “Planes fly through the sky, carrying people and things all over the world. It’s a popular mode of transportation where I come from.”
“You’ve had too much laudanum,” came a sympathetic reply.
“It’s true.” Brandi put the guitar down. “I’ve come here by accident, Lila. I am twenty five years old, yet it’s another ninety five years before I am born.”
There was a long pause. “Best give back that bottle,” Lila said, her voice compassionate.
“I know it sounds crazy,” Brandi sighed. “I don’t understand it myself. But I assure you it’s the truth.” She knew her words could only be met with disbelief. Yet the confession of the secret lifted a weight that had been a troublesome burden. It was of the utmost importance to make Lila believe. “Ask me something,” she coaxed. “Ask me something about the future.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think much about the future beyond where the next performance will be.” She looked a little frightened. Her eyes darted from side to side and her lips shivered.
“Please, Lila.”
“All right. Will I marry soon?”
“I don’t know that,” Brandi said. “But if you do make sure it’s not a cattle baron.” She offered a weak smile.
“Why?”
“Because the next three winters are going to be terribly cold. A large percentage of the cattle population in Texas is going to freeze to death. The days of the great cattle drives to Kansas are virtually over. The cowboy era is about to fade away.”
Lila laughed, nervously. “I’d never marry a cowboy. I miss the ocean, though. If I stayed here I’d have to live near the sea.”
“Just make certain it’s not in Galveston,” Brandi continued, despite the guarded gaze. “A hurricane is going to decimate the city in the new century. Other cities will flourish though. Dallas, San Antonio, Austin. Electricity and telephones will change life as you know it.”
“I heard of telephones,” Lila said. “Talking telegraphs, right?”
Brandi nodded, pleased Lila was absorbing what she was saying. “Yes, that’s right. Radio, television, computers: all these inventions will make the world a small place.”
“How can the earth get smaller?”
“Not physically. I mean through communication and travel. A plane can carry hundreds of people from New York to San Francisco in a matter of hours. With a telephone you can talk to someone in China as clearly as we speak now.”
“Brandi,” Lila stated, her face screwed with bewilderment. “No one can travel beyond the time they’re in. Unless you’re some kind of…”
“Witch?” Brandi puffed a laugh. “I’m not a witch. And until last week I would have agreed with you. My friend, Sara, and I went to a resort, to live in the old west, for fun. People in the twenty first century like the romance of this era. To get away from technology they enjoy living a simpler time. But there was a storm and when we woke up, we were here. And then I met Devon and we fell in love. He has to be the reason this happened to me.”
They sat quietly, each with their own thoughts.
“Why don’t you go back?”
“I don’t know how,” Brandi said. “I don’t know that I want to. All I want now is to be with Devon.”
�
��Where’s your friend? Did she come here too?”
“Yes. She’s with Romano, Devon’s partner. They’re in Mexico, I think. That’s where we were headed. He and Devon are after Victor Trilby, a man they say killed Devon’s brother.”
“Victor Trilby? Isn’t he being touted as the next governor?” Lila said. “He can’t be a killer.”
“The next governor is a man named James Hogg.” Brandi said. “I never read anything about a Victor Trilby in the history books.”
Lila shifted slightly away from Brandi. “It can’t be possible,” she murmured.
“Please,” Brandi whispered. “Please don’t tell anyone what I told you.”
“Does Devon know?” Lila asked. “Have you told him all this?”
“I haven’t told anyone, till now. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. It sounds too bizarre to be imaginable.”
Lila took her hand. “I believe you, Brandi. I believe you. Love has a power unto itself, a power the human soul can never begin to understand. The night Joel was hung he appeared to me in my dressing room. I looked up and he was standing right there, a light all around his head. He told me not to cry because he would love me forever. Then he just disappeared.” She choked back tears, her dainty chin shivering with the memory. “I found out the next day it was the very moment his neck was broke. Oh, Brandi, I believe. You have a grave responsibility. I’ll do whatever I can to help you fulfill it. I wish fate could see that I had a chance to change what happened to my Joel. You’ve been given a wonderful gift. I envy that.”
“Do you mean it?” Brandi asked. “You’re not just saying that, are you?”
Lila leaned forward and took hold of Brandi. “Your secret is safe with me. You are living proof that miracles can happen. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” She hugged Brandi and the two women rocked within the embrace.
“Thank you, Lila. You’re a true friend.”
“And you,” Lila said. “Maybe you were sent here to be with Devon, to help him in a way no other could. But I’ll tell you what, you’ve helped me, too.”
“Really?” Brandi sniffed, overwhelmed by the compassion between them.
“Really. Hope, Brandi. You have renewed my belief there can be hope. Thank you for telling me. Thank you for saving my life.”
Brandi wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but as they hugged again she felt she had indeed saved a life. It made the strangest of miracles, and whatever turmoil the next few days had to offer, worth every second.
Chapter Four
Devon pulled his slicker over his shoulders. Between the rain and riding the horse through streams, his tracks had dissolved. The lights of a posse had turned back to town. They twinkled like distant stars until disappearing completely. He was alone again, scanning the flat earth from the incline where he decided to stay the night. Come morning they’d be out again, looking for his trail. He’d be out, too, looking for the wagons that carried the troop and Brandi, if they had been as successful as he. Trusting a showgirl for Brandi’s safety wasn’t exactly what he had wanted to do, but it was a chance he had to take. If he had lingered he would surely have spent the night in a cold cell. Or worse.
Why did she have to go and bring on such unwanted attention? Bad enough she had to be a part of a stage performance, but then to dress like that and then sing some ridiculous song about shooting sheriffs and deputies ... it was inconceivable, especially when she knew how important it was to be invisible. For a fleeting instant he considered leaving her with the troop. She did have a flare for entertainment. Remembering the mortified expression on Sheriff Holland’s face when she sang that song evoked a smile to Devon’s face. Then instinct took over when she was propositioned by another man, one who was not worthy of her favors. Honor dictated the rest. He had hoped they’d ride out together. He hadn’t expected her to been injured. And now he had to trust Lila to get her out safely. He couldn’t leave her with them, despite his annoyance at her impetuous behavior. Brandi was his. Part of his love was based on such reckless behavior. It was what made her stand out in a crowd, even though standing out wasn’t the best option for either of them.
“Devon Fault?”
Devon rolled on the wet earth, drawing his gun before the shock of hearing his name even had time to register. The stranger held his greatcoat open without threat. “I’m not heeled,” he said gently.
This made no difference to Devon. Weapons could easily be hidden within coats and vests. He kept his gun pointed at the stranger’s chest. “Where the hell did you come from?” Devon growled. He had been alone a few seconds ago, the landscape clear of any living inhabitant bigger than a snake. And then suddenly there was a dark figure looming not two feet away. It was impossible. “And how do you know my name?”
“I can’t answer all your questions,” the stranger said without moving. “But I mean to help. May I sit down?”
“Not till you tell me who you are.”
“Call me Professor.” The figure never moved, waiting without apprehension for Devon’s next move. After a lull he added, “I’m a ... friend of Bonnie Johansson. You know her as Brandi.”
Devon squinted to see the stranger’s features. Obscured by rain and murky darkness it was almost as though he didn’t have a face. It gave Devon the most uncomfortable sensation, like the man was some sort of phantom, appearing like he did out of nowhere. Devon’s flesh crawled. “Step closer,” he ordered, his cracked voice betraying his apprehension.
The stranger did as asked. He had a face. A neatly trimmed moustache fell to join a goatee. Square chin, long nose. He looked quite normal, nothing supernatural. His eyes were odd, however. One never blinked.
“It’s made of glass,” he said, knowing Devon was trying to figure out the oddity. “May I sit down?”
Devon jerked a quick nod but kept the gun cocked. His mind buzzed with questions, even though he said nothing. Let the man talk. He must have news of Brandi.
“The air here is so clean,” the stranger said, a smile touching one corner of his mouth. “Rain makes the earth smell so sweet.” He sat, cross-legged, the coat draped over each knee. Water dripped off the brim of his hat.
There was a lingering pause. Devon never broke his glare. Nor did he lower his weapon.
“She’s a lovely girl, isn’t she?”
Devon didn’t answer. He wanted the stranger to understand the depth of his distrust.
“She is passionate in many ways.”
Devon’s stomach flinched. What did that mean, passionate? Did this man know her intimately? He could barely stand the thought. Of course Brandi had a past but he didn’t want a stranger telling him about it. Jealousy found Devon’s voice. “How do you know her?” he rasped.
“Not the way you think.”
Devon was being studied.
“I can understand why she loves you so much,” the stranger said, his voice even and calm. “And your future with her depends on what you do this night, my friend.”
“I ain’t yer friend,” Devon spit.
“I understand. I’ve given you no reason to trust me. But I assure you my intent is true. And as a matter of consequence you are much more than a friend.” He reached a gloved hand to the inside of his coat.
Devon stiffened, the finger on the trigger shook.
“Cigarette?” The glove slowly pulled out a square package. Neatly shaped cigarettes were pulled from the package. One was presented to Devon. “Go ahead, take it.”
Odd, but there was something about the man’s demeanor that was trustworthy. Cautiously Devon leaned forward and took the cigarette, examining it quickly with surprise. He had never seen one so round and evenly made. A small flame clicked from a metal box and wavered forward next. Devon accepted and drew a breath. The tobacco was light, like air.
The alcohol in a silver flask was not as light. Devon accepted it, too, and the contents burned his throat. He spluttered yet luxuriated in the heat that warmed his gut.
“Glenfiddich,” the
stranger smiled. “Twelve year old Scotch. Good, isn’t it? The appreciation of fine whiskey is a family trait, I’ve been told.”
“Who are you?” Devon asked. He had become oddly comfortable, yearning to know more. There was a look in the one blue eye, something familiar. “Have we ever met?”
“We are connected through ... relatives. But we have never met, no.”
“Who?”
“I have word about your friend, Romano Vasquez,” he said, lighting his cigarette and placing the small metal firebox on the ground between them. “He and Janet ... I mean, Sara, aren’t far from here.”
“You a hunter?” Devon asked, his suspicions suddenly renewed.
“No. I told you, I am your friend.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“I know your impulse is to find Brandi,” the stranger went on. “That is too dangerous. I’ll get word to her that you’ve met up with Mr. Vasquez, near the border. It’s the only way you’ll be reunited. Trust me.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“If you go to Brandi while she’s with the entertainers, you’ll be shot down like a dog.”
“How would you know that?”
“Because Nicolas Holland is as clever as he is greedy. He’s paid a scout to follow the troop. The minute you show up you’re dead. And I don’t need to elaborate on what would follow for Brandi.” The stranger waited, letting the information sink in. “Your friend and Sara are not twenty miles from here, due south. If you leave now you’ll catch up with them by morning. Go to the river. Brandi will join you by the next day and you’ll all get safely across the border.”
“I don’t understand. How could you …”
“It doesn’t matter how,” the stranger said, his voice lifting with sternness for the first time. “I just know.”
The sudden volume took Devon aback, yet he believed what he was being told. “You love her?” Devon asked. It was the last question he had wanted to ask, but it simply fell from his lips.
“Yes, very much.”
The honesty had solidified Devon’s belief the stranger spoke the truth. “So how do I know you ain’t sendin’ me on some wild goose chase while you steal her fer yerself?”
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