Time Plains Drifter

by Cheryl Pierson

  Taking his knife from its sheath, Rafe walked to where Joel stood. He examined the rawhide straps carefully, then tried to work them free. They wouldn’t budge.

  “Can’t you just—uh, cut them?” Joel asked anxiously.

  Rafe glanced up at him. “Could. But you don’t want to do that unless you have to.” He worked the end of the knife under the top strap and loosened it some, then worked the other strap loose. Pushing them through the loop, he freed the reins and handed them to Joel.

  Joel grinned. “Thanks for helping me out, Marshal.”

  “You’re welcome.” Rafe turned to walk back to his own horse, started to re-sheathe his knife.

  He glanced up at Kip as he passed by. He’d thought a meal might help Kip return to normal. Yet, the boy was looking even the worse for wear. Rafe touched Kip’s booted foot as he passed, reassuring himself it was in the stirrup, glad they didn’t have far to go.

  Suddenly, Kip’s head tilted back, his hands releasing the reins.

  “Rafe, look out!” Jenni’s warning came too late as Kip started to pitch from his saddle in a dead faint. Elizabeth screamed and grabbed for him, unable to hold on, his shirt slipping beneath her grasping fingers.

  Rafe meant to drop the knife, told himself to let it go, but it was too late. As he made a lunge for Kip, he felt the knife go into his own side, pressed through the flesh by Kip’s falling weight. Surprisingly, there was very little pain.

  Joel ran to Kip and turned him over. Cash slid off of his own horse, as did Lance. They converged on the unconscious boy, looking helplessly at one another.

  Rafe’s hand went to his side as he pulled the knife free. He felt for the warm ooze of sticky crimson that he knew should be there—and wasn’t. Re-sheathing the long blade quickly, he glanced around, and met Jenni’s wide-eyed stare. Instantly, he turned away, ignoring her look and his own slight discomfort. In two long strides, he was at Kip’s side, bending over the boy as he lifted an eyelid. He pulled the blade from the leather case once again, then laid the flat of it just under Kip’s nose. After a moment, he held it up to the light to see the moisture from Kip’s breath.

  The Territory Inn was only a few yards down the dusty street. Rafe nodded toward it, bending to help lift Kip. “Let’s get him over there.”

  ~*~

  Jenni sat astride the horse watching them. He didn’t bleed. The knife went in deep. Yet, there wasn’t one drop of blood on the blade or his clothing. She looked at Beck as Rafe and the boys entered the establishment. His blue gaze was speculative, she thought. Almost...secretive. Her chin came up a notch, and Beck looked at her, then glanced quickly away. He turned his attention to the others, gathering the reins of the riderless horses and herding everyone across the street to the Territory Inn.

  It’s not over yet, Becket Jansen, Jenni thought. Beck Jansen and Rafe d’Angelico were—different. She’d been a fool to think otherwise. The comet must have addled her wits—affected her as it had Kip, but to a lesser degree.

  It was ridiculous to believe these two men had just “appeared” at the same time the comet had changed everything in her own world. There was no “coincidence” that strong. Somehow, they were connected to the comet, too. She shook her head, dismounting in front of the hotel along with the others.

  Jenni touched Beck’s sleeve as he looped the reins, securing the horses until they could locate a livery stable. “Mr. Jansen, I think you and I need to have a talk. Of course, I must see about Kip before we do another thing, but after we have a doctor look at him, I’d very much like to have an honest discussion with you about...several things.”

  Reluctantly, he nodded. “All right, Miss Dalton. That’ll be fine. I’ll go try to find a doc for the boy.”

  Jenni relaxed her expression, not wanting to appear ungrateful for all that Rafe and Beck had done for them so far. “Thank you.”

  She turned to follow Anna inside just in time to hear Kody ask the clerk for one room for himself and Anna. Anna’s bright smile made her almost beautiful, Jenni thought, and it was plain to see that she was in love with Kody, no doubt about it. Jenni supposed this day together had drawn them even closer. But one room? She shook her head and stepped up to the counter. “No, sir, what he means is—”

  Kody turned and looked at her with the eyes of a man. “I meant what I asked for, Miss Dalton,” he said quietly. “Anna and I, we’re getting married—just as soon as we can find a preacher.”

  ~*~

  The doctor arrived shortly, following Beck up the stairs to the second floor room where Kip lay.

  Doctor Callahan advanced to the bed, putting on his stethoscope. Reluctantly, Elizabeth released Kip’s hand and stood up, giving the doctor her place.

  Anna knocked softly. Beck let her in. “I wanted to be with Elizabeth,” she whispered as she slipped through the door.

  Doctor Callahan listened to Kip’s chest, then lifted his eyelid and pulled the bedside lantern closer, peering into one eye, then the other. He laid a hand across Kip’s forehead, brushing back a dark wave of hair.

  Jenni carefully pushed the door open, her gaze immediately on Rafe, lounging against the far wall. He caught her gaze and held it.

  She closed the door behind her and walked to where the two girls stood.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Dalton. About—downstairs,” Anna offered shyly. “We didn’t mean to tell you quite that way—about us. But, Kody says we can make it here. He says—” she broke off, looking at Elizabeth, then back at Jenni, “he doesn’t think we’ll be able to get back to—to our own time. And I believe him, Miss Dalton.”

  Elizabeth gave a small gasp. “Is he serious? Everything is so—so backward here! And look at what’s happened to Kip.”

  Doctor Callahan threw them an exasperated glance over his shoulder “Please!”

  Jenni nodded. “Let’s go outside and wait,” she suggested, prepared for Elizabeth’s protest.

  Before the girl could form a denial, Anna said, “Yes, let’s, Elizabeth. Kody’s out looking for a preacher, and I want you to stand up with me—you and Miss Dalton.”

  They moved toward the door, and Jenni saw the doctor’s relieved glance as they exited, leaving Rafe and Beck to keep a silent vigil.

  Jenni shut the door behind them and turned her attention to the auburn-haired girl. “Anna, are you—sure this is what you want? You and Kody, I mean?”

  Anna looked into Jenni’s eyes with a clear, sweet expression. “I—I’ve cared for Kody for a long time,” Anna admitted. She looked down at the floor. “I know you might think it was because of the comet, but, I just want you to know—this is real.”

  Just then, Kody’s head appeared at the top of the stairs, his eyes meeting Anna’s. “There you are! Guess who I found,” he announced triumphantly.

  The preacher approached the women slowly, his black frock coattails swaying decorously as he walked. His face was gaunt, but tanned dark from years in the western sun.

  “This is Anna, Reverend,” Kody began enthusiastically. “My fiancée.” His voice became softer, his gaze holding Anna’s across the space. “Anna, Reverend Murdoch Bolton.”

  “Good afternoon, Miss Anna.” His gaze swept Anna’s pixie-ish features, scrutinizing her almost imperceptibly, then Elizabeth, in turn.

  “Reverend.” Jenni extended her hand. “I’m Jenni Dalton.”

  As he took Jenni’s fingers gently in his, the expression in his dark eyes changed slightly. But when he smiled at her, it was kind and genuine, and she knew that he could be trusted.

  “Reverend, I wonder if I could borrow you for a moment?” Jenni slipped her hand through his arm and headed back for Kip’s room. “One of our group has been— He’s not himself,” she amended. “I was wondering if you might take a look—”

  “You know I’m no doctor.”

  Jenni nodded. “Yes, I—I know. The doctor is already with him. I thought it might help if you came in and said a prayer for him, that’s all.”

  “Well, the power of
prayer is great. I would be glad to do whatever I can to help.”

  They retraced their steps to Kip’s room, and Jenni reached to turn the doorknob.

  “We’ll just wait out here,” Kody said, his arm going around Anna’s slim shoulders protectively. He glanced down the hall as Lance, Joel, and Cash came out of a room two doors down.

  The preacher nodded. “I won’t be long.” He followed Jenni through the door, Elizabeth close behind him.

  Jenni met Rafe’s hooded gaze as Doctor Callahan stood up, slowly unfolding his lanky body. He removed his stethoscope with deliberation, then carefully put it inside his bag. His mouth quirked crookedly in puzzlement. He glanced at Beck, then Rafe.

  “I don’t know what to say.” He scratched his head and fell silent for a moment. “I’ve—never seen anything like it.” He nodded at the preacher. “It’s just as well you’re here, Reverend.” His eyes were bleak, and with his next words, it was as if he were passing the torch to Reverend Bolton and bowing out of the arena. “Maybe you will have better luck than I. There are no visible signs of head injury, which is what I’d normally associate with these symptoms. That only leaves one explanation.” He looked around the room slowly, then said, “Emotional hardship can sometimes cause symptoms such as what this young man exhibits. If I had to make a diagnosis, that would be it.”

  Jenni was aware of Rafe’s gaze on her, but she didn’t look at him. She kept her attention on the doctor. “So, you’re saying he could improve—”

  “It’s possible.” But his tone said he didn’t think it very likely. He looked at Beck. “You know where to find me—if you need me.”

  Beck nodded, reaching into his pocket for the doctor’s fee. The preacher stepped to Kip’s side. He sat down in the space just vacated by the doctor. He grasped the boy’s forearm in his strong hand.

  “Kip,” he began, “I want you to know you are safe inside this room, with the beings who dwell within these walls.”

  Jenni shot Rafe a look. He raised unreadable ebony eyes to hers—and held.

  “Beings,” the preacher had said. Why had he used that particular word, rather than “people”? Jenni wondered.

  “You have the power to heal yourself, with the extraordinary love of those present—and our Lord and Savior, who died for the remission...” he stopped and looked up at Rafe, then at Beck, “of all of our sins.”

  Somehow, Jenny felt Reverend Bolton knew more than he was saying, just by the guarded glances he gave the other two men, men who didn’t seem to need to eat or sleep. One who didn’t even shed a drop of blood when six-inches of the Bowie knife disappeared into his side. Men who had appeared from thin air at the most desperate of times, when she had most sorely needed them. Her mind drifted back to Reverend Bolton’s strange phrasing.

  Beings. Angels.

  She rejected it, even as the conscious thought formed in her brain. How could Becket Jansen and Rafe d’Angelico possibly be...angels?

  They were two unlikely traveling companions, let alone “angelic” in any sense. Yet, Becket Jansen never touched a bite of food or a drop of water. He never slept, either. He always had a ready excuse. He’d already eaten. He wasn’t hungry. He’d gotten up earlier to start breakfast—

  But Rafael d’Angelico was another story entirely. He ate. He drank. And he slept. Or at least, Jenni thought he must have; but she couldn’t be sure. But then, there was the matter of the knife.

  She replayed the scene in her mind. Kip falling, Rafe’s hand turning, the blade catching the sunlight for a moment, shining, then dull—not there. Dull, because it had disappeared into Rafe’s clothing...then into his skin. And when he had pulled it out, his look of puzzled fascination at the fact there was no blood, and from what Jenni could determine, very little—if any—pain.

  Now, her gaze strayed to the hole in Rafe’s faded blue chambray shirt. His hand automatically started downward to cover it, then stopped. The preacher’s voice continued in the background, but neither of them showed any awareness of what he was saying. All Jenni could think of was the fact she had seen the knife deliver a wound that would have killed most men—or at least, wounded them badly enough they’d need stitches and bed rest for a week or two. Rafe d’Angelico stood before her whole, with not a speck of blood on him anywhere—or on the blade.

  ~*~

  She knew. Rafe kept his expression impassive, but inside, his thoughts ran rampant. What now? At least, she hadn’t run screaming from the room. The thought almost brought a smile to his lips. Almost. It was unsettling, this being dead, then coming back—not knowing why he was here or what would happen, now that he was “back.” He knew one thing. He didn’t want to be an angel—not like Becket Jansen. How could he refuse it? Did he have a choice? What would happen if he didn’t do the things Beck had told him? He shook his head impatiently, trying to clear his thoughts. I want my life back—now that I’ve found the woman I was meant to spend it with.

  He’d never been in love before...before now. Sadistic, was what this was. From the moment he saw her, before they even said two sentences to one another, he’d realized he was in trouble. After riding with her snug against him in the saddle all day, her arms around his waist, her head resting on his back from time to time, he knew he’d never get enough of Miss Jenni Dalton. Not if they had the rest of eternity together.

  Whoever had been in charge of this little expedition must be having a side-splitting laugh at his expense, Rafe thought bitterly. The whole world truly was a stage, after all. And, he decided, he’d damn well better come up with what he planned to tell Jenni, one way or the other: some made-up explanation they would both pretend to go along with for the time being—or, the truth.

  CHAPTER 12

  The hotel room where Kip lay was small and too close, stifling, Rafe thought. He wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there. The only thing that kept him from crossing the small, dim interior and going through the door was the sight of Jenni, trying so hard to be strong for those who obviously didn’t appreciate her. She was all alone, trying to do her best for them, even though what she really needed was someone to take care of her.

  He couldn’t help staring at her as she stood beside Elizabeth, their arms wrapped about one another in mutual support and comfort. Her back was stiff, her full lips pressed together grimly. She wasn’t crying, but he saw her take a deep shuddering breath as if to stifle her inner turmoil.

  Unconsciously, he stood away from the wall where he’d been leaning, idly watching the proceedings. Fists clenched, he almost took a step toward her. She needed him. He stopped short, catching Beck’s warning look. The feeling of defiance in his chest struggled with the need to keep things as calm as possible. For Jenni. He would go to her later, he vowed, and he didn’t care what Becket Jansen thought of that.

  Suddenly, he couldn’t stay in this room another moment. He wasn’t really needed here, anyway. Abruptly, he moved across the room, and kept right on going, out the door, giving the young people in the hallway a cursory glance before he started down the stairs.

  He didn’t know how long he had to “live” this time, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to waste it. Just as he got halfway down the stairs, he saw a man leaving the lobby, pulling the door closed behind him. The man walked away quickly, crossing the street and disappearing into a throng of people on the corner.

  Rafe felt an odd tingle at the back of his neck. The outline of the man dimmed through the beveled glass of the doorway and window, then disappeared altogether.

  Josiah Kemp? Could it have been him? Rafe’s first instinct was to go after him and see for sure, but he knew that was unwise. What would he do? Kill me? Hard to kill a ghost. Slowly, he descended the rest of the stairs, his gaze going to the clerk. The man was shaking as he tried to go about his duties.

  “H-Help you, sir?”

  Rafe smiled as he came forward. “The man who just left—do you know him?”

  The clerk shook his head. “Hope to never see him again!�
�� he stated vehemently. “He’d started to take a room, then changed his mind.” He wiped sweaty palms on his dark blue pants. “I like to make a buck as well as the next man, but...” he shrugged, “I’d just as soon he kept his money. Just had a way about him.” He shuddered. “Gave me the willies, for sure.”

  “Did he say his name?”

  “He signed the register.” He reached to turn the thick book around for Rafe to see.

  Rafe read the bottom line aloud. “Mr. and Mrs. Kodiak Everett.” He glanced up at the clerk questioningly.

  “Huh? No—that was that young redheaded feller and that little girl he was gonna marry.”

  Rafe waved an impatient hand. “Yeah, I know. So, where did he sign?”

  The clerk’s expression vacillated between puzzled consternation and fear, as he read down the list of names.

  Rafe bent over the signatures, scrutinizing each of them. Becket Jansen had signed for himself, Rafe assumed, as well as the three boys, who’d been helping with Kip, and probably for Kip, as well. But Beck’s name wasn’t on the register either. Only a blank line appeared where his signature should’ve been, above the other boys’ names.

  Elizabeth’s hurried scrawl appeared just above Kody’s declaration to the world that he was in love with Anna. Mr. and Mrs. Kodiak Everett. The corners of Rafe’s lips tugged upward in a reluctant grin. Nothing could stop young love. Not even the effects of a comet jolting the couple out of their own time, catapulting them backward a hundred and twenty years.

  Or forward, sixteen years, and back from the dead. Rafe shook his head to clear it. He was not in love with Jennifer Dalton, he told himself firmly. He was...interested in her. He cared about her; but he knew that much of his concern was due to her being helplessly thrust back into a time period she knew nothing about.

  Rafe set his thoughts aside and pored over the register one last time. All the names were there, except Becket Jansen’s. Even Rafe’s bold signature remained intact, and that gave him pause. He glanced up at the blank line again where, he was certain, Beck’s signature had appeared earlier...before it had mysteriously vanished.