Vestige of Hope

by Sara Blackard

  Hunter’s stomach dropped, making him want to vomit. He tried to keep the anxiety building within him at bay. “Say for a second I believe you. How is it even possible? I may be from the future, but even in my time we don’t have time machines.”

  “I don’t understand it either.” Viola sighed and reached for her Bible on the table. “It does happen though. God sent my pa that way. One minute he was falling into the swollen creek here in Colorado, the next he’d landed in Pittsburg and was able to save my mother from a kidnapping attempt. I seemed to have focused on the romantic part of Pa and Ma’s story of how they met, where Beatrice focused on the supernatural. I went back and read the part Beatrice was talking about with Phillip, including some others she brought up after you’d fallen asleep. There’s a lot of evidence supporting the fact that it’s possible for God to bend time and space.”

  “Ok, so it’s possible, not probable, but possible,” Hunter conceded. “Why in the world would He want a nobody who’s failed Him so completely that He has closed communication down? No, if He was going to do something this spectacular, He’d choose someone worthy.”

  “If I remember right, God specializes in working with the nobodies,” Viola whispered. “Think about Moses, Joshua, David, Elijah, even the disciples, all nobodies used by God to do great things through the miraculous wonders God did for them to succeed. God hasn’t changed in the few thousands of years since then. If He could stop time for Joshua and the Israelites, He could manipulate time to bring you here.”

  Hunter’s brain threatened to explode at any moment. His logical mind kept going through the situation, looking for inconsistencies, searching for the logic in this illogical yet seemingly evident circumstance. His emotions kept vacillating between elation that God would deem him worthy of such a miracle and anger at the possibility this might all be a joke. If this was a reality, though … His heart gripped with terror that he’d never see his brother again, never live up to God’s desire for him, and remain stuck in this wilderness for the rest of his life, which according to historical statistics wouldn’t be long in the 1800s.

  “No,” Hunter said, his throat clogged with conflicting emotions. “Hand me my SAT phone so I can get out of here and get back to reality.”

  Viola grabbed the phone from the top of a pile of his clothes which sat on a crude homemade table. The table’s legs wobbled on the split log floor of the small cabin that was far too rustic to be a hunting cabin. Bile rose up his throat. Reality was starting to appear to be 1877. He snatched the phone and prayed desperately that it would work.

  Viola stood as Hunter started pushing buttons on his contraption. She’d seen the desperation upon his face as the wide range of emotions had flitted across it. She ached to comfort him, to reach over and just hold him close, which was inappropriate and dangerous. So, to keep herself from doing something idiotic, she decided some distance was necessary.

  Viola crossed to the stove, picking up dishes and medical supplies as she passed. She dumped the dishes in the dry sink and placed the medical supplies on their shelf, all the while very aware of the man lying on the bed, muttering in frustration and pushing button after button on his “sat,” as he kept calling it. She made herself busy with gathering the ingredients for breakfast, knowing that while Hunter might not be up for eating, her stomach rubbed her backbone after forgetting to eat supper the night before.

  “I don’t hear the wind.” Hunter’s voice brought her attention back to him. “Has the storm passed?”

  Viola walked to the door and opened it. A few inches of snow covered the ground, but the wind had stopped and the sky was clear.

  “Yes,” Viola answered. “The storm has passed. We didn’t get as much snow as I was thinking we would. If it warms up enough, this will all melt off fast enough.”

  “Yeah, that’s nice,” Hunter muttered. “I need to get outside to the open air to make sure there’s no interference for the phone.”

  Before Viola could protest, Hunter was sitting up and attempting to stand. She hurried to his side and eased in under his right arm. He groaned as he attempted to put weight on his ankle.

  “Hunter, you shouldn’t be out of bed,” Viola said.

  “Are you going to help me outside, or do I need to make it on my own?” Hunter asked, a bit terse.

  Viola smirked at Hunter’s resemblance to her father and brother when they were sick and helped him across the floor to the door. He stopped at the threshold and stared at the snow that covered the ground, indecision marking his countenance. He glanced at his bare feet, then back to the snow, and shrugged.

  Before he could take a step, Viola realized the problem and stopped him. “Wait a moment.”

  She left him leaning upon the doorjamb and went into her father’s room. She opened the trunk at the bottom of his bed and dug to the bottom. In triumph, she pulled the old pair of moccasins her father had put there after she’d made him a new pair last year for his birthday. She closed the lid and rushed to the front room where Hunter still stood in the doorway, looking into the sky.

  “I have my pa’s old moccasins here,” she said as she knelt before him and slipped them onto his feet. “They’re worn and falling apart, but they’ll work to get you out to the yard and back without your feet getting too cold.”

  Hunter peeked down at his feet and then over to her. His voice was tight and gruff as he said, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Viola said. “Will the fencing by the corral work? It’s away from the buildings but will give you something to lean on.”

  “Yeah, that will work.” Hunter took a deep breath as if to prepare himself for the short walk.

  “All right, let’s go,” Viola said, taking more and more of his weight as they approached the fence.

  By the time they made it to the fence, Hunter was panting and sweat dripped from his forehead. His face appeared etched in pain and had drained white as clouds. He leaned upon the fence and collected his breath.

  “That was worse than I expected.” Hunter sighed.

  “I told you it was too soon,” Viola softly scolded.

  “Well, at least I didn’t pass out again,” Hunter joked, then sobered as he pulled the phone out of his waistband.

  Hunter stared at the phone for a few seconds, then regarded her, apology written clear on his face. “This is going to sound horribly rude after everything you’ve done for me, but do you think I can just have a few minutes alone. My brain is so scrambled right now, and you’re a distraction that scrambles it more. A great distraction. A wonderful distraction … I mean, geesh, I’m really screwing this up.”

  “If you think you’ll be okay here, I’ll just go get breakfast started,” Viola said as she backed away, his stumbling words making her heart skip and beat erratically.

  When he nodded sheepishly, Viola made a quick escape back to the cabin. She closed the door and leaned against it. Tears pricked her eyes. What was Hunter going to think when his sat phone didn’t work?

  She bowed her head as she wiped her eyes. “Father God, please help him. Give a peace that surpasses all knowledge. Help him accept the fact that You’ve brought him here.”

  “Viola?” Beatrice asked from the doorway to their room, causing Viola to squeak in surprise. “Where is he?”

  “He’s outside trying to use that phone thing of his,” Viola answered as she crossed the cabin to start breakfast.

  She peeled and chopped a potato to fry. They were getting to the bottom of their supply, so Viola only prepared one, knowing Hunter might not eat. After it was sizzling in the pan, she mixed up a batch of pancakes. The entire time her hands were busy, her mind raced with wondering how Hunter was doing. Should she go help him? Should she leave him alone? Had he fainted again? If he did, would they be able to get him into the house or would he be okay with a blanket thrown over him? Questions raced over each other like the rabbits that played in the fields. She looked back toward the table and sighed in frustration.

  �
��Would you put that silly thing away and help?” Viola admonished Beatrice, who was once again messing with the eye phone. “I need more eggs, and the animals need checked on.”

  Beatrice grimaced and put it down. “You’re right. This device is just so interesting; I can’t seem to help it. I’m sorry, Vi. I’ll get out to the barn, check the animals, and be right back to help.”

  By the time Viola had the potatoes finished cooking and a stack of pancakes piling up, Beatrice had returned with a basket of eggs. She placed the basket on the counter, shaking her head.

  “What?” Viola asked. “What’s wrong? Is Hunter all right?”

  “He’s still upright, but ‘all right’ is relative.” Beatrice snorted. “He’s just standing out there staring up at the sky as if he’s expecting something to happen.”

  “Can you finish up here, and I’ll go check on him?” Viola asked, as hundreds of questions romping through her head began running so fast she could hardly think.

  Why hadn’t she checked on him earlier? She flew to the door, forgetting to take off her splattered apron. She headed outside and sent up a silent prayer for help.

  Chapter 6

  “God, please help me,” Hunter prayed, knowing there wouldn’t be an answer, but desiring one anyway. As he stood there, staring into the sky with his heart beating so hard he might choke, a calm settled over him. Its familiarity surprised and comforted him, as a tear trekked down his cheek.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, knowing that, though he was completely out of his element and beyond confused, God was here with him and had revealed Himself to him again.

  Hunter stared up at the clear blue sky. The trepidation was still there, but a resignation that felt right was there as well. He would complete this mission God had put him on and get back home. He heard soft footsteps coming toward him, and he quickly wiped his eyes of all evidence.

  “Hunter?” Viola’s sweet voice spoke with such compassion and concern he wondered if she had an endless supply of it. “Are you okay?”

  She came up beside where he stood with his back to the corral fence. Her hands were wringing her apron into knots. Her presence, even with her nervousness, brought him another comfort he couldn’t help but thank God for. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to turn and stand beside him against the fence.

  He knew he should let her hand go, but he needed a point of contact in this insane circumstance. So instead, he threaded his fingers through hers and held tight. A crazy sense of home rushed through his heart as he gazed down into her face. Why she would elicit such feelings confused him just as much as this whole time travel thing, though in a more pleasant way.

  “Are you all right?” she whispered again.

  “There are no jet streams,” he answered as he cleared his throat and observed the sky.

  “What?” Viola asked, looking to the sky with a look of confusion.

  “Jet streams,” Hunter answered. “I’ve been out here for over thirty minutes and haven’t seen a single jet stream. My phone doesn’t work, which makes sense, but it was the lack of jet streams that convinced me. By now there should have been at least one, if not more, marking the sky. But there’s nothing. It’s clear.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “In my time, 2019, we have this mode of transportation called airplanes,” Hunter answered, breathing out slowly in an attempt to stay in control. “They are large metal vehicles with wings that carry passengers all over the world through the sky.”

  Viola gasped and tightened her grip on his hand. “No. It’s not possible.”

  “I might have a picture in my phone I can show you,” Hunter replied. “Anyway, the planes fly so high most of the time you can’t even see them, but they leave a trail, a line through the sky with their exhaust, called a jet stream. There should be some here in the sky. Denver is a hub and has a major international airport with flights coming and going twenty-four-seven, yet the sky is completely clear. In fact, it’s clearer than I’ve ever seen it, probably because of the lack of pollution.”

  Viola stood staring into the sky, shaking her head. She inched closer as she brought her other hand over to hold on to his arm. She looked horrified and pale.

  “I don’t understand most of what you just said, but people can’t fly,” she whispered. “That’s impossible.”

  “It’s very possible,” Hunter said, shifting as the pain of standing there became unbearable. “In fact, people have flown all the way into space and landed on the moon.”

  “No!” She gasped. Her slight hands were shaking. He realized this whole time travel stuff, or whatever had happened to him, would disconcert Viola and Beatrice too, though Beatrice seemed to take it better than any of them.

  “I think I need to go lie down,” Hunter said as he shifted on the fence. Viola might need to sit down as well, maybe even more than he needed to. “I’m not sure how much longer I can stand here.”

  “Oh goodness, yes. I’m sorry.” Viola rushed quickly through her words, letting go of his hand and shifting under his arm. “We made breakfast if you are up to eating something.”

  Hunter grunted an agreement and then took the first of many agonizing steps back to the cabin. By the time they made it to the door, he had sweat dripping down his face and back, and his breath was coming out in sharp knifing gusts. He knew if the walk took much longer he’d probably pass out again, so he tried to hurry, though each step got slower and heavier.

  “Beatrice, come help,” Viola spoke out in obvious strain as they came into the cabin that smelled of pancakes and eggs.

  He realized the little sprite was probably taking just about as much of his weight as she could, but try as he might, he didn’t have the strength to help her. Beatrice came up to his other side, and the two ladies practically carried him to the bed. They definitely made women strong in 1877, or whatever year this was. They even attempted to get him on the bed gently, though he was sure with his weight they wanted to just drop him.

  He lay back upon the pillow, the dark edges of sleep pulling him under. “I think I’ll just rest for a bit.”

  As the strong fingers of unconsciousness tugged him into darkness, Hunter had another moment of panic. How would Chase take Hunter’s disappearance? Would it throw Chase over the edge of no return he’d been tittering on since their parents’ deaths? Lord, please, help him.

  “Sure glad he made it to the bed.” Beatrice chuckled. “Otherwise we would’ve had to keep him where he landed.”

  Viola nodded as she sucked air into her lungs to gain her breath. Though, to be honest, she didn’t know if it was the walk to the cabin or Hunter’s realization and explanation that had her out of breath.

  “Breakfast is done,” Beatrice said, going to the stove and bringing two platters to set on the table.

  “Good.” Viola huffed as she straightened from where she’d bent over. “We’ll need to eat quickly so I can help you outside before he wakes up again.”

  They sat down and served up. Beatrice offered a quick prayer and ate. Viola looked across the table at Beatrice and sighed.

  “It’s true,” she said as Beatrice peeked up from her plate. “He’s from the future.”

  “So his sat phone thing didn’t work, and he’s realized he’s here instead of there?” Beatrice asked.

  “No, he said it was the absence of what they call jet streams in the air that made him realize.” Talking about people flying in the air made Viola’s heart rate hitch higher again. The idea of being encased in metal traveling through the air terrified her.

  “What’s that?” Beatrice asked in fascination.

  “It’s these lines in the sky made by some kind of machine with wings which flies people around the world,” Viola answered, her lack of belief evident even to her own ears.

  “No! That’s impossible.” Beatrice gasped in amazement, as opposed to Viola’s own gasp of horror earlier. She realized her sister was taking the idea of time travel much better than Viola was. A little too
much better, if you asked her.

  “Apparently, they can fly all the way into space and have landed on the moon.” Viola shuddered at the thought.

  “That’s amazing.” Beatrice sighed and sat back in her chair. “Imagine, if they can land on the moon, what other incredible things are possible in his time? I can’t wait to hear him tell us all about it.”

  “Bea, you’ll need to pay attention and observe his reactions,” Viola cautioned. “He’s gonna be overwhelmed and hurting by being here, at least that’s how I would feel. It might be hard for him to talk about his time, especially if we can’t figure out how to get him back.”

  Beatrice studied Hunter on the bed. “He might also need to talk about his time, his people, in order to adjust.”

  “Just be careful. I don’t want you so enamored with the future that you become discontent with the present.”

  Beatrice exhaled as she got up from the table and took her plate to the washstand. She walked away, and Viola heard a whisper. “I can’t get any more discontent than I already am.”

  Viola began to answer, but Beatrice turned with a forced smile. “You’re right. I’ll be careful, and I’ll watch him for cues I’m pushing too hard. I’m going to go let the animals out and get busy on smoking the meat.”

  She left the cabin before Viola could even form a response. She bowed her head and prayed for Beatrice, for Hunter and this entire situation that threatened to drown her in anxiety.

  Linc Sweeney watched nervously as his brother Robert kneeled next to the unconscious, bloody lump that earlier that day was a man of legends, a mighty mountain man birthed from the mountains themselves. Robert’s shoulders slumped. Linc cursed violently and kicked the pot that sat on the log they’d set up as a makeshift table, sending it flying into the forest.