Before anyone could answer, a knock on the door preceded Don Emilio’s entrance. Cody turned bright red, and Lisa-Marie resumed her big-eyed look of adoration for Noel. By now he’d figured out that most of her seeming infatuation with him was just an act to put Don Emilio off.
“Ah,” said Don Emilio, raising his brows. “So this is where you have disappeared to. I thought I said Senor Kedran should not have visitors until tomorrow.”
“I was just seeing to his dinner tray,” said Lisa-Marie, batting her lashes. “A hero has to have sustenance.”
“And I just came by to thank him for rescuing my sister,” said Cody, stammering over his words. “We weren’t doing anything wrong.”
“No, of course not,” said Don Emilio, his hazel gaze moving watchfully to each of their faces. “But Senor Kedran needs his rest. You must not tire him.”
Apologizing, both of the twins headed reluctantly for the door. Lisa-Marie glanced over her shoulder with a look of entreaty. Fortunately Don Emilio misunderstood it.
“Naughty, muchacha,” he said with a smile and shook his finger at her. “These looks of passion will bring back his fever, I think. Tomorrow you will speak to him only in the drawing room, as is proper. And you will have your brother or Senora Chavez to chaperone you.”
Lisa-Marie stared at him in outrage. “That’s gothic! Noel is a perfect gentleman.”
“Perfect gentlemen do not entertain young ladies in their bedchambers while they are half-dressed.”
“But he’s sick.”
“He has been, but he is no longer. You will have a duena. Now off to bed, both of you.”
“Good night, Noel,” they chorused.
This time both of them sent him looks of appeal. He wondered why they weren’t more obvious about it. Why didn’t they cross their eyes at him or make cryptic gestures? They might as well shout in front of Don Emilio, who was bound to get suspicious if they kept this up.
“Night,” Noel said shortly and scowled at them.
“Oh, one last thing,” said Don Emilio. “The messenger I sent to the Double T has returned.”
They turned to him eagerly. “How’s Uncle Frank?” said Cody.
“I regret that your uncle is dead.”
Their eyes widened. Both turned pale and stricken. Lisa-Marie put her fingers to her mouth and wept.
“I am sorry,” said Don Emilio, and his rich voice was soft with compassion. “There was no kind way to tell you this terrible news. My men are still hunting the Comancheros. You can be sure they will find them. These outlaws will pay.”
Cody put his arm around his weeping sister and faced Don Emilio. “We’d like to go home for the funeral.”
“Of course. However, your grandfather is on his way to fetch you. He will be here late tomorrow. Now go to bed and say your prayers for the soul of your uncle. Buenas noches.”
When they were gone, Don Emilio turned to stare at Noel. Their eyes held for a long, long time. Steel lay at the back of Don Emilio’s gaze.
“They fear me, these children, because of the long enmity between my father and their grandfather. You are a good man, Noel. I like you very much. But I warn you now, do not interfere.”
Trying to look innocent and noncommittal, Noel said nothing. Don Emilio left without another word.
As soon as he was alone, Noel activated his LOC.
“Data retrieval, you useless pile of junk,” he said. “Make it fast, and it had better be accurate. Tell me about the silver deposits on the Double T.”
Humming, the LOC said, “Initially silver mining in New Mexico territory was centered in Magdalena and Socorro in mid-nineteenth century. By the early part of twentieth century, Silver City had surpassed other mining centers.”
“Great,” muttered Noel, his patience running thin, “but that isn’t what I asked for. Specifically I want to know about silver deposits on the Double T.”
The LOC remained silent.
“Are you malfunctioning?” asked Noel.
“Negative. Anomaly warning. Parallel history.”
“Aha!” said Noel. “Tell me about each of the parallels. Quickly!”
“Original history: Lisa-Marie Navarres inherited Double T from Frank Trask. Her husband, Don Emilio Navarres, opened extensive mining production, with gross profits in excess of $500,000 yearly.”
“My God,” said Noel in astonishment. “Half a million dollars? Silver was never that lucrative.”
“Silver is frequently a by-product of copper mining. After 1905, copper production bypassed that of silver and gold. Navarres was able to produce copper, silver, zinc, and lead from deposits discovered on the Double T. In 1942, Esteban Navarres sold the mining rights to Federated Mining, Inc. In 1960, a revised survey in search of vanadium deposits turned up carnotite—one of the main mineral sources of vanadium and uranium. The discovery of uranium ore in the southwest region of the state revived mining operations there. Previously, uranium deposits in New Mexico had been found primarily in the San Juan Basin. By 1994, this was the largest source of uranium in the United States. Production—”
“Stop,” said Noel. “What’s the parallel?”
“Anomaly warning.”
“Yes, yes, I know there’s an anomaly. Go on.”
“Parallel one: Lisa-Marie Trask inherits the Double T from Thomas Trask as the sole survivor of the family. In 1890 she marries Don Emilio Navarres—”
“Stop. What’s the next parallel?”
“Parallel two: Cody Trask inherits the Double T in 1889. No mining operations are conducted. In 1936, his daughter Rebeccah Trask inherits the ranch. In 1938, she sells it to Horton Avery of Roswell. Avery and his family run cattle on the land until 1957 when a drought puts them out of business. The state leases expire, and—”
“Stop,” said Noel. “Question: Is uranium discovered on the property?”
“Negative. The southwest region of the state is never developed. Dr. Samuel Corto’s experiments with the Stanheid Fission Accelerator fail due to lack of sufficient uranium supplies. The—”
“Wait a minute,” broke in Noel anxiously. “Corto was the leading physics genius of the late twenty-first century. His work with isotopes was ultimately a dead end, but some of his quantum theories were used by Sanders and—and by Korbachevsky to discover the Time Dynamics Principles. Corto was the great-great-grandfather of time travel. Are you saying that without the uranium on this little cattle ranch, time travel is never invented?”
The LOC hummed a moment. “Affirmative.”
Noel’s knees lost their strength. He sank down on the edge of his bed, feeling stunned as though someone had socked all the breath from him.
“Any more parallels?” he asked weakly.
“Negative. Parallel two is increasing. Parallel one and original history are decreasing.”
“How much time do I have left before the safety-chain programming yanks me out of here?”
“Maximum remaining time forty-eight hours, six minutes, eighteen seconds.”
Noel bent over until his elbows rested on his knees. He ignored the pain in his back, and thought he had never faced such a terrible choice in his life. “Unless Cody Trask dies in the next two days,” he said aloud, “time travel ceases to exist. Then what happens to me? What happens to all the other travelers out there in their respective time streams?”
“Unknown,” said the LOC.
“I wasn’t asking you,” he snapped.
“Affirmative.”
Noel sighed. “I caused this. I changed history. Damnit, I like that boy! I don’t want him to die.”
The LOC remained silent.
It was like a nightmare he couldn’t escape. Noel rubbed his face. His head was throbbing. He knew the temptation to lie down and pull the covers over his head. The candles burning by his bed were guttering, white wax bubbling and pooling over the base of the silver candlesticks. Long shadows stretched across the room. He thought of Cody and Lisa-Marie, tucked away somewhere in this silent
house, waiting in the night for him to come and lead them to safety.
I have to lead that boy to his death, he thought, and everything in him protested.
“How does Cody die?” he asked. “LOC, respond.”
“Unknown.”
“I won’t kill him myself,” said Noel fiercely. “I saved his life. I won’t take it.”
“Is that a rhetorical—”
“No, it’s not!” He heard his voice getting shrill and fought to calm himself down. “There have to be alternatives. Maybe I can persuade Cody to open a mine. The end result would be the same, right?”
“Probability factor is—”
“Don’t give me the odds,” said Noel. “Scan this house and tell me where Cody and Lisa-Marie are. I’ve got a breakout to plan.”
Chapter 13
The hacienda Navarres was laid out in a large U shape surrounding a courtyard filled with a splashing fountain, small willow trees, roses, bougainvillea, and jasmine. The adobe walls were four feet thick and stuccoed. Most of the windows were tiny, but the interior of the house remained cool and comfortable no matter how hot the temperatures climbed outside. Beyond the house stood extensive stables housing the don’s prized collection of Arabian and Barbary horses imported from Spain as well as the remuda of sturdy mustangs used by his vaqueros to work cattle. In addition there were various other outbuildings, including the bunkhouses and servants quarters. The whole of this compound was enclosed by a tall adobe and plaster fence perhaps six feet high and thick enough to stop any bullets or arrows from marauding Apaches. Sentries walked the top of the fence by day. At night, they kept themselves hidden at the corners of the walls, crouched to present a lesser target in the moonlight. Another sentry was always in place on top of the windmill tower as well.
The place was a fortress, practically a town. Nearly a hundred people lived inside the compound, and the nearest village was five miles due west. The U.S.-Mexican border lay nearly a day’s ride north, and the Double T was maybe another ten or fifteen miles beyond it.
Using the LOC’s electromagnetic damping field, Noel was able to skulk through the hacienda’s rambling corridors and loggias without detection by the few sleepy servants still up and around. Most of the house lay shrouded in dark silence. Reaching Cody’s room was a simple matter.
Noel crept stealthily inside and let his eyes adjust to the room’s shadows. Cody slept on a narrow bed with the sheet in a wild tangle and one foot thrust out through the slats of the painted iron footboard. The window was open to let in the night air, and a cat crouched on the deep sill.
It hissed at Noel and sprang away. Cody never stirred. Noel advanced to his side and stood gazing down at him. The boy slept with deathlike quietness, the way young children sleep, their very innocence freeing them from the restless, worried slumbers of adulthood. Cody looked cramped as though the bed was too small for him. His head was burrowed half beneath the pillow. His chest barely rose and fell with each slow, steady breath.
Do it now, whispered a voice in Noel’s mind.
His hands curled into fists and he stepped back, horrified at himself and by how easy it would be. The choice coiled before him like a rattlesnake: survival or murder.
That was the way Leon thought. Noel grimaced, wondering if part of Leon hadn’t tainted him during that brief joining in the time stream. Leon would not hesitate to eliminate the boy if he deemed it necessary. How ironic that this time the tampering with history was not Leon’s fault.
Noel bent over Cody and placed his palm across the boy’s mouth.
Cody awakened with a start.
“Hush,” whispered Noel. “It’s me.”
The whites of Cody’s eyes glimmered pale in the shadows.
“Noel,” he whispered back, his lips tickling Noel’s palm. Noel dropped his hand away. “Golly, I thought you were never coming. Have you got Lisa-Marie?”
“No. Get dressed.”
The boy didn’t waste any time. He jerked his pants and boots on, then stuffed his shirttails in with his shirt still unbuttoned. Picking up his hat, he gave Noel a nod. The whole process took maybe two minutes.
Noel admired his quick readiness to action, supposing it was a quality necessary for survival in this land. Hair-trigger reactions, no artifice, no self-delusions, and a clear sense of right and wrong were all characteristics vital for a Westerner. Come to think of it, Noel mused, those characteristics would serve anyone just about anywhere. They were qualities desperately needed in his own time, where people preferred to live in dream states supplied by chips in their heads, letting others make their decisions, letting machines and technology do all the work for them, letting their lives slide by unnoticed while they sought something better.
Together, Noel and Cody made their way into the grander portion of the hacienda, where the drawing rooms, dining room, music room, and library were located. A beautifully carved staircase rose to the upper story. Now they had to be cautious indeed. The family bedchambers were located upstairs, Don Emilio’s included.
At the top of the stairs, Cody caught Noel’s arm. “She’s down at the far end,” he whispered. “Senora Chavez sleeps in her room.”
“Hell,” breathed Noel. “This is worse than the Middle Ages.”
“Maybe we should try the window.”
Noel looked at Cody through the darkness. He wondered if the boy had any idea of what climbing to an upstairs window entailed. Thorny vines, rotten trellises, insufficient toeholds, the threat of breaking your neck, not to mention the possibility of getting the wrong room altogether.
“Stay here,” he whispered and moved stealthily down the hallway to Lisa-Marie’s door. It was flanked on either side by heavy Spanish chairs covered in red brocade. The door itself was constructed of thick wood planks bound with strap iron. The lock held firm.
Noel turned his back to Cody, still waiting near the staircase, although in the dim light he doubted the boy could see anything. “LOC,” he whispered, “retain disguise mode, but extend electrical field and loosen the door hinges.”
The LOC grew warm on his wrist. A few seconds passed, then the top hinge creaked alarmingly and shattered. Metal shards whizzed dangerously past Noel, who ducked just in time. From inside Lisa-Marie’s room, he heard a woman’s voice raised in frightened inquiry.
Swearing beneath his breath, Noel whirled from the door and ran down the hallway. He was even with Don Emilio’s door when Senora Chavez wrenched hers open.
“Thief! Seducer! Bandit!” she screeched. “Help!”
Don Emilio’s door opened, and Noel bolted past Cody to the stairs. He missed the top step and went down the rest off balance, feet skidding and arms flailing. At the bottom, Noel lost his balance completely and fell on his hands and knees.
The jolt made him swear, but Cody leapt past him at a run, his boots clumping on the tiled floor. “Come on!” he called.
Noel scrambled to his feet, feeling as though his knees were broken. He tangled himself promptly in a rug lying at the foot of the stairs and went sprawling again, catching himself on his scraped palms.
A bullet whizzed over his head, followed by Don Emilio’s furious shout.
“Santa Maria! Are you mad? You will kill everyone in the house, shooting in the dark like that.”
Lantern light flared down the staircase. Noel righted himself and glanced back just in time to see Don Emilio wrench a pistol from the hand of a servant. Noel ran for it, feeling like a rabbit caught in a maze.
He caught up with Cody in the library, a dead end. Cody crouched by a massive mahogany desk, digging through the drawers with a desperation that left the contents strewn ruthlessly.
Noel said, “What in blazes are you doing?”
“Got to get me a gun,” said Cody. “I’m gonna take Lisa-Marie out of here, and if they’re shooting, I’m shooting back.”
Noel grabbed his arm and yanked him up. Cody still had hold of the drawer, and it flew out of the desk, scattering papers in all directions.
“Don’t be a fool!” said Noel. “No one’s going to shoot.”
“They done started it,” said Cody grimly.
“We don’t have time to argue now. We’ve got to get out of here. Come this way—”
“No!” cried Cody, twisting free. “I ain’t leaving without my sister.”
“We can’t help her if they catch us. Come on!”
Noel pushed him back toward the music room, where tall French windows overlooked the gardens in the courtyard. Noel barked his shin in the darkness on the sharp corner of a low table and swore furiously, limping the rest of the way to the windows.
“Get these open,” he panted.
Together, they pushed their way outside into the lush greenery, a startling oasis of leaf and blossom created in this sere climate. Noel blundered through a thorny rosebush, snagging his clothing and sending crimson petals cascading to the ground. A startled bird flew from the willow tree.
Inside the house, he heard voices raised in commotion.
Candles and lanterns were lit, spreading light through the windows into the garden.
“Keep to cover,” whispered Noel. “Where’s her window?”
“You going to double back?” asked Cody excitedly. “With nerves like that, no wonder you could take on the ’paches.”
“Yeah, I’m so brave I scare myself,” muttered Noel.
Crouching low, they scurried from bush to bush, trampling flowers and low shrubs. The perfumed fragrances of jasmine and gardenia cloyed the air.
Cody snagged Noel’s sleeve and pointed skyward. “Up there. See where the light’s shining?”
“Oh, great,” said Noel. He glanced back across the courtyard to the point where they’d exited. Although they’d closed the French doors behind them, someone would soon think to search out here. They had very little time.
“I’ll climb up there—”
“No,” said Noel. “I’ll do it. Do you know which way the stables are from here?”
“Yeah, but how can we steal horses now with everyone on the warpath?”
“No problem,” said Noel, refusing to admit he hadn’t thought of a solution yet. “You keep watch and give me a signal if anyone comes this way.”
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