Vestige of Hope

by Sara Blackard

  “Would one of you please tell me what’s going on?” Hunter said, sounding frustrated.

  Viola and Beatrice glanced from each other to him and back again. Viola raised an eyebrow silently questioning Beatrice about telling Hunter, which Beatrice answered with a negative shake of her head.

  “Bea—”

  “No, Viola,” Beatrice said in exasperation. “No one’s to know.”

  “I think with the current situation, Pa would understand us telling Hunter,” Viola said. “How’s he to help us if he doesn’t have all the information?”

  “Exactly!” Hunter said in triumph, causing Beatrice to glare at him.

  “You yourself said that God must’ve brought him here for a reason,” Viola said, furthering her case. “If God finds him trustworthy and honorable enough to bring him all the way back here to us, shouldn’t we trust him as well?”

  “Fine,” Beatrice said, turning a sharp eye to Hunter. “But if you betray us, I’ll hunt you down and gut you.”

  “Fair enough,” Hunter said. “Now will you tell me what’s got you so fired up?”

  Viola shook her head. “I’m thinking the Sweeneys must’ve realized that we have a gold mine. They just must not know where it is.”

  “That would be a Sweeney for you.” Beatrice snorted in disgust. “Instead of finding a way of their own or going where there’s work, they slink around the mountains for two years trying to take what’s not theirs.”

  “Isn’t it public record when someone claims a mine?” Hunter asked.

  “It’s public record when you claim land, but you don’t need to disclose that you’ve found anything,” Viola explained. “Most people are so plumb excited that they struck it rich that they tell the whole dang world. Pa didn’t want it to be public knowledge, so he went along like he had before, trapping and trading pelts for supplies like he’d always done.”

  “Couldn’t the Sweeneys have just researched the land records to see where your mine is?” Hunter asked.

  “They could’ve and maybe even tried, but we own property all up and down these mountains,” Beatrice answered. “Granddaddy moved out here in his early twenties, and Pa was born and raised here. They’d been claiming and buying up property as soon as they could, wanting to keep the mountains they love as untouched as possible, knowing people would start flooding in as soon as they realized the potential.”

  “The truth is, the gold’s pretty much all mined out,” Viola said, shaking her head. “Pa found the gold by accident about twenty-five years ago, so even if the Sweeneys found it, there isn’t anything left worth much. Pa still goes there to get the ‘fever’ as he calls it out of him, but he hasn’t found any more veins. Most all the gold was sent back to my mother’s father for him to put in banks or invest. We only kept a little bit hidden here for incidentals.”

  “So they’ve been following your dad and brother around for two years and now show up here,” Hunter pondered aloud. “What caused them to change tactics?”

  “Maybe Robert and William got sick of Linc’s wild goose chase,” Beatrice said.

  “Could what he said about your dad and brother be true?” Hunter asked.

  Beatrice shrugged, slumping into her chair. When Viola began picking at the table, Hunter knew they both were hesitant to admit there might be truth to the Sweeneys’ claim. Hunter reached over and took her hand in his.

  “I guess it’s possible.” Viola sighed again, then straightened her shoulders in resolution. “But I’m sure not going to believe it until I have more proof than the word of a Sweeney.”

  Hunter gave her hand a squeeze before letting go. “We need to be diligent until we have proof or the Sweeneys return. Linc will not give up that easily, and now that he knows I’m here, he’s not just going to ride up to the front door again.”

  “He’s too yellow-bellied to do that.” Beatrice’s mouth tightened, as if she tasted something bad.

  “Thank you, Hunter, for stepping in like that,” Viola said. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come to the door, but I know it wouldn’t have been good. I worry about Linc. Something doesn’t seem right with him.”

  “He’s definitely got a few screws loose,” Hunter said.

  Viola looked at him, her forehead scrunching in confusion. Some of the words he said baffled her. He shook his head and shrugged.

  “Sorry. It’s a saying from my time that means he’s not all there in the head,” Hunter said. “And if that’s the case, we’ll have to be extra careful. Don’t go anywhere without a weapon, and don’t go out of the sight of the house without all of us present. It’d probably even be best if you didn’t go to the barn or for water alone.”

  “That would be too much hassle,” Beatrice said. “They aren’t going to hide out in the barn, and even if they did, the animals would give them away in an instant.”

  “You don’t know that, Beatrice,” Viola said. “If they snuck in there in the middle of the night, by the time we went in, the animals would probably all have calmed down. Even though it’ll be a pain, I think it’s smart to do what Hunter says.”

  “I could always bunk down in the barn,” Hunter suggested. “You could bar the door and then both the cabin and the barn would be protected.”

  “You aren’t bedding down in the barn in your condition.” Viola glared over at him. “How do you expect to get better in that smelly old thing? No, you’ll stay right in the front room. I don’t like the idea of us separated at night, anyway.”

  Beatrice snickered. Viola glanced over at her in confusion. As understanding dawned on her, Viola’s heat scorched up her neck and cheeks.

  “Well, I don’t like the idea of being separated at night either, sweetheart,” Hunter said saucily, throwing her a wink.

  Viola’s blush raced the rest of the way up to her hairline. She pushed away from the table and went to the stove, muttering to herself. Beatrice laughed so hard Viola hoped she fell out of her chair. Viola heard Hunter’s deep chuckle as she grabbed the coffeepot and brought it to the table, refilling everyone’s mug.

  “She walked right into that one, didn’t she?” he joked.

  “You could say that again.” Beatrice laughed, pointing her finger at him. “You should’ve heard her talking about taking off your clothes yesterday.”

  “Oh, really?” Hunter wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

  “I did nothing of the kind, Beatrice, and you know what I meant,” Viola said turning to the sink and slamming clean dishes onto the counter as she washed and rinsed them. “This conversation is inappropriate, and you know it. You two are taking innocent comments and twisting them into something they aren’t.”

  “Lighten up, Viola,” Beatrice replied. “We’re just teasing. We know you didn’t mean nothing untoward.”

  “I know,” Viola said, her shoulders loosening up. “It’s just that I seem all in a dither since we found you, and I’m not this way.”

  “I don’t think you’ve seemed in a dither,” Hunter said. “In fact, I think you’ve both handled me popping up here half dead after somehow traveling through time quite well. Add to that the Sweeney’s visit, you’ve done better than any woman, and most men, I know back home.”

  Viola shook her head, placed the last dish on the counter to dry, and came to sit down again. “You know,” Viola said, “I’ve been thinking about you traveling through time. Please, don’t take this the wrong way, but I think we might need to hide your stuff until we can figure out a way to get you back.”

  “Okay,” Hunter said, nodding his head. “You’ve got my attention.”

  “Well, everything you have is just so different from what we are used to. Even the weapon you pointed at Linc is far more advanced than any gun we have —”

  “I’d love for you to show me how it works, if you don’t mind,” Beatrice interrupted. “Your other gear as well. It’s all so fascinating.”

  “I don’t mind showing you.” Hunter nodded at Beatrice before turning bac
k to Viola.

  “It’s just that I don’t think we should let out where you are from.” Viola motioned at Beatrice. “While we are accepting of the idea, most people won’t be. It could just add more problems onto the ones we already have.”

  Hunter nodded in agreement. “I see what you’re saying. So what’s your plan?”

  “Well, I’ve been mending Orlando’s clothes that he left here.” Viola pointed to a pile of clothes in a basket next to the rocking chair. “The only problem is that I think you’re taller and broader than he is. So I will need to let out seams and cuffs. It won’t be difficult for me to mend, but it might be hard for you to try things on to adjust fit, given your injuries.”

  “The easiest thing at the moment would be a shirt that buttons up the front. That way I don’t have to lift it over my head to get it on and off,” Hunter suggested. “I can tell you have lots of guns, but most of them I have minimal experience with, if any. Can you teach me how to use them, and do you have more pistols?”

  Viola smiled her approval at the mention of them teaching him. Maybe he wouldn’t be one of those men who thought women couldn’t take care of themselves. Shoot, Voila thought, she and Beatrice had been on their own for what seemed like forever now. While it was definitely nice to have a man around, it wasn’t a necessity.

  “I can have you a shirt made by tomorrow.” Viola wished her mother had been able to teach her more sewing. Maybe then she could get his shirt finished faster. “We also have more revolvers we can get for you. Plus, I don’t think it’d take long for you to learn them or any other gun you wanted.”

  “Perfect,” Hunter said as he rubbed his face. His countenance held a weariness, like he was weighed down. “I think if you want to swap out my bandages, we should get me over to the bed. I’m fading fast.”

  After he had hobbled over to the bed with Viola’s help, he sat down, his shoulders slumped. She helped him take his shirt off to check on his injuries. Before he lay down, he looked at Beatrice, who was busy putting away the dishes.

  “Beatrice, do you think you could pack my gear in my bag and find a place to hide it where we can still get to it?” Hunter asked.

  “No problem,” Beatrice answered. “I know the perfect place to put it.”

  “Great. Thanks,” Hunter said, then turned to Viola. “You wouldn’t happen to have a pair of pants in that pile you’ve already mended, do you? If she’s packing away my gear, I should probably strip off these pants as well before I lie down.”

  Viola walked to the pile, trying to keep her face from blushing again, and brought back a pair of buckskin pants. “I’ll just turn around so if you need any help or get off balance, I’ll be here to help.”

  Hunter chuckled. “Sweetheart, when I’m around you, I’m always off balance.”

  Viola sighed and listened as fabric rustled behind her.

  “I’m decent.” Hunter grunted as he lay back on the bed.

  “Let me get you some tea for the pain before I change your bandages,” Viola whispered.

  Viola hurried to get the tea, trying to be as quiet as possible. Viola marveled at all Hunter had been through and his strength of character that didn’t have him lashing out or outwardly upset. Even admitting he’d need their help in learning about this life here showed the kind of man he was deep inside.

  Viola peered over at where Hunter lay watching her. What would it be like to be married to a man who put his pride aside and admitted his weaknesses? Should she even consider such a possibility with a man that God might sweep back to his own time? His eyes softened as she brought the tea over. She probably shouldn’t, but that didn’t mean her mind wouldn’t mull over the idea on its own.

  Chapter 10

  Four days after the Sweeneys’ visit, Hunter stood at the door, staring out into the dark pink that pushed the curtain of night away to day. He exhaled, knowing that the longer he waited, the less he’d want to do what needed to be done. All night he’d lain in bed, contemplating his next step of action.

  He’d been so confused what to pray for, part of him knowing he should pray to go back home, and part—a bigger part, if he was honest—wanted to pray that God had brought him here for good, to start a new life. A life with Viola. But those thoughts made him feel guilty. How could he possibly be okay with never seeing his brother, Chase, again? How could he be so selfish to not desire to be back where his responsibilities, friends, and family were? In the end, he just prayed that God would give him direction and peace with whatever happened.

  Late the night before, he knew, without a doubt, that if he didn’t try to get back to his time, and try today, the guilt of wanting to stay would eat at him. If God sent him back, he’d thank God for the experience and try to get back into his life. But if God kept him here, he’d stay with the peace of knowing this is where he needed to be.

  A delicate swish of fabric and a soft “Oh!” turned him from the sunrise painting the sky to the woman that had been rapidly pushing the darkness that shrouded his heart back so that a vestige of hope appeared. As if the weight of his failures wouldn’t weigh him down like a soaking cloak that would eventually suffocate him. Would he accept it if God sent him back, away from her?

  “I didn’t realize you were up,” Viola said, hurrying to the stove. “Give me just a few minutes, and I’ll have breakfast started.”

  Hunter watched her hustle to stoke the fire and move the tin coffee pot she’d prepared the night before over the heat. He moved to the table and grabbed the back of a chair, squeezing it for help when the words he needed to say lodged within his throat.

  He cleared the lump of words where they stuck and forced them out. “I need to go back to where you found me. If you and Bea can take me today, I’d be appreciative.”

  He watched as her hands slowed and her shoulders slumped. Slowly she turned to face him, leaning back onto the worktable.

  “Are you sure that’s wise?” she asked, her voice shaking. She cleared her throat and continued, her voice solid again. “What I mean is, do you suppose you can handle the ride? Your ribs are still healing, and your fever left not two days ago. Plus, you can hardly put weight on your ankle. Don’t you think it’d be smarter to wait another week until you are stronger?”

  “No, I can’t wait. Not even another day,” he answered, feeling horrible when she flinched as if he’d struck her. “Viola, the not knowing if I’ll be going back home or if I’m here for good is weighing on me like a ton of bricks. I need to know.”

  Her eyes became glossy with unshed tears as he spoke, and he turned away from the searing pain her emotion caused within his heart. He walked back to the door, hearing her sniff once and the slamming of metal as she moved pans around. Did she believe he wanted to get away from her? Was she more worried about being here without male protection against the Sweeneys? No, that couldn’t be it since Beatrice wouldn’t hesitate to shoot, and Viola was just as brave and strong. They could take care of themselves if need be. Maybe her tender heart just worried he’d hurt himself more with the trip? Or possibly she cared for him, like he was coming to care for her. He couldn’t contemplate the reasons for her reaction or else it’d throw him into more turmoil of vacillating between hurt and his desires. No, he’d decided. He had to know, because he just wasn’t strong enough to stay here one more day to risk being ripped away back to his time later.

  “I can’t be in limbo any longer, Viola,” he said as he peered up at the sky now shaded light pink and orange. He whispered to himself, “My heart can’t take leaving you if I stay any longer.”

  “I understand,” she answered, her voice strong now. “I’ll make a quick breakfast and pack the saddlebags for the trip.”

  “Trip? What trip?” Beatrice asked as she walked through the bedroom door, tying a rawhide strip to the end of her braid.

  Beatrice’s buckskin pants and faded calico blouse seemed a contrast to Viola’s light green dress, which he realized was one of the few she had. These sisters were night and day.
Strong in their own ways, stronger than most women he’d ever known. Yet where Viola embraced the elegant beauty of being a female in her dress and mannerisms, Beatrice clung to the manlier clothes and trappings, though no one would ever consider her a man. He hadn’t once seen her in a dress and wondered if it was for simplicity’s sake that she dressed so contrary to this time’s norm or if there was another reason.

  “Hunter needs us to take him back to where we found him,” Viola said as she cracked eggs into a pan sizzling with butter. “He wants to see if he can get back to his time.”

  Beatrice looked from Viola, whose shoulders were stiff as she thrashed the eggs on the stove, to Hunter as he rubbed his hand across his neck in frustration. The tension was palpable in the air.

  “You up for this? It’ll be a long, rough ride.” Beatrice eyed him with doubt.

  “Yep.” He answered as confidently as he could, hoping his own doubt wasn’t blaring to their ears.

  Viola huffed and stirred the eggs faster, mumbling under her breath. Beatrice smirked at her as she walked up to him.

  “All right,” Beatrice warned. “But if you think for one minute that I will haul your carcass anywhere because you’re too stubborn to wait until you’re healed more and you end up fainting like some lily-livered city dandy, you’d better think again. I’ve already done that once. Next time, I’ll leave you for the mountain lions.”

  “Okay,” Hunter answered. “No passing out, I promise. Can you get my gear from where you hid it?”

  “Fine,” Beatrice said, before turning to face Viola. “Viola, I’ll get the horses saddled up and the barn chores done.”

  Viola slammed another pan on the stove and started slicing ham into it. “Fine.”

  Hunter decided taking Beatrice’s normal testy attitude would be better than trying to converse with Viola. He hightailed it outside to the barn with a mumble of helping “gather eggs or something.” His years of military training and avoidance of most women had done absolutely no good in preparing him for the constantly shifting and changing field of operation pertaining to Viola. His best bet was a retreat on the double.