“It’s time to go to bed,” Becci said. She placed the books
in the storage box, making sure they were in order with the
18 5-18 6 volume on the bottom.
She wanted to read them in order, yet the journal on Caleb
lured her away from her plan. “The next time I read,” Becci
vowed, “I’ll start with the journal written in 18 0.”
She lugged the heavy box upstairs. Until she found the
time to read them, she would keep the books close by. No one
would get the chance to gain more information without her
knowing.
***
Caleb held his plate in both hands and tried to focus his
attention on nature’s music. Frogs and crickets began their
nightly chorus, extolling a lively and, usually, tranquilizing
serenade. He’d gone to sleep to the soothing songs for years.
Tonight the sounds only heightened the anxiety churning in his
stomach. With an exasperated sigh, Caleb tossed his plate on
top of Becci’s, grabbed the bucket she’d left, and made his
way to the water’s edge.
“Why couldn’t your namesake have been as caring and
sensitive as you, Rebecca?” Caleb addressed his question to
the stars. “I think I’m losing my mind, but I’ve got to talk to
someone. Over the past year, you’ve always been there for me.”
Could Rebecca hear him? Would he regain consciousness
in the guest bedroom, recovering from a fall? Or wake up from
a deep sleep in his own bed, having dreamed this nightmare?
But what if this was real? What if he was stuck in this time?
Caleb massaged the muscles at his neck. This must really
be getting to him. He couldn’t be in the future. It was impossible
to travel through time. Wasn’t it? He set the bucket beside a
small oak tree and scooped up a handful of acorns. He had to
think. Leaning against the tree trunk he tossed the small nuts
into the water.
“What am I going to do? I figured that when the right time
comes along, I’ll walk through that doorway and be back where
I came from. I must go back for Luke’s sake.” His promise to
raise Luke demanded that he find the way back. If he didn’t,
Obadiah would end up stealing everything from Luke, and the
boy would end up as impoverished as he’d once been. Caleb
would never be able to live with himself if that happened.
The last acorn joined the others in the water. He dusted his
hands and bent to pick up the bucket. Then he caught the trunk
of one of the small oaks and leaned out over the water to fill
the bucket. Swinging to the side, he set the bucket down,
regained his balance and stared up at the last rays of the setting
sun.
Tomorrow he would get the medallion out of the dresser. It
had to still be hidden in there. How else could he have heard
Becci’s and then Mr. Latham’s thoughts when he touched the
dresser at the same time they did?
His breath caught in his throat. After a hundred and sixty
years of being hidden, would the medallion’s powers be strong
enough to return him to Rebecca and Luke? How could he find
out?
He didn’t dare enter Becci’s room without being invited. A
gentleman didn’t do that unless the woman in question spent
her evenings entertaining the gents of the area.
But he knew he Becci wouldn’t invite him in, and he
couldn’t tell her why he needed to go into her bedroom. She
might take the medallion, and he’d never get back to Luke and
Rebecca. He would have to figure out a way to get into her
room without her knowing it. Surely she had a few indoor chores
for him to do. He didn’t like sneaking about, but he didn’t
have a choice. He’d also have to find Jacobs, but he didn’t
figure that would be too hard. All he’d have to do is look for
the nearest saloon.
With renewed vigor Caleb dumped another bucket of water
on the fire and spread the ashes. He repeated each move again
to make sure the fire was dead. Then he returned to his place
under the oak tree.
Caleb stretched, then leaned against the tree trunk and
watched the sun drop below the horizon. He’d always enjoyed
the way the water reflected the beautiful sunsets. At least that
much hadn’t changed.
With a weary sigh, he pushed himself up and headed for
the shed. If he planned on sleeping there, he had to straighten
up some of the clutter.
A few minutes later, he flipped the switch that flooded the
shed with glorious light. Sleepless nights would no longer be a
problem. He shook his head. The whole room gleamed as if
the noonday sun shown inside.
Caleb grabbed a scrap of canvas off the floor and scrubbed
some of the gritty dust off the lettering on several of the boxes.
When he was done his heart pounded against his ribs. Most of
the boxes held books. Books were the best teachers. He would
start with them to learn about this time.
As he opened a box, he recalled that when he was six Sister
Teresa told him he needed to read if he planned on leaving the
orphanage some day. She loaned him a Bible and several other
books. At that moment his whole life changed.
He returned the books to the Sister the day Farmer Boyd
took him out of the orphanage. Sister Teresa wrote in the Bible
and gave it to him as a gift. He’d left it under the wagon seat
when he passed through time, and he felt a sense of loss. Maybe
he would find a Bible stored in one of the boxes. One by one
he went through them.
“It can’t be,” he whispered when he finally found a bible.
He flipped the front cover open to the first page and traced the
faded inscription. James Caleb Harrison. It was his bible.
He stripped off his clothes, brushed the day’s grime off
and moved the cot under the window so he could see the stars.
He pulled a thin sheet over his naked body and stared up at the
sky with his Bible clutched to his chest. He fought the emotions
churning inside him. He’d managed to keep his journal with
him as he traveled through time, and he’d found his Bible. But
he’d lost so much.
He’d lost Luke.
If Rebecca had agreed to his plan, the boy would have
been his son. Would he ever hold the boy again? He didn’t
know, and only time would give him an answer. He closed his
eyes, covered them with his forearm and slipped into a restless
sleep.
***
Caleb rolled off the cot instantly alert. Something had
woken him, but what?
A light tapping sounded, followed by Lilly’s frail voice.
“Mr. Harrison, are you decent?”
“No, ma’am. Give me a minute.” Caleb grabbed his trousers
and hurriedly pulled them on, then shrugged into his shirt before
he opened the door.
“Good morning. I’m sorry if I woke you,” Lilly said. “I’ve
made you some biscuits and sausage for breakfast, and I thought
you might prefer them hot. And here’s a thermos of coffee,
to
o.” Lilly twisted off the top on a strange looking cylinder,
poured the coffee into a cup and handed it to him, then she
resealed the “thermos.” Another word to remember.
Thanks for the breakfast and the coffee, too, ma’am,” Caleb
said. Last night he’d wondered what he would do for his next
meal. He’d planned on catching another fish, but this was
definitely a better breakfast.
“Becci has to work today, but she left a list of things for
you to do.”
Caleb scanned the list Lilly handed him. Becci’s
penmanship was very different from the writing of his time,
but he was able to read it. Every job Becci wanted done was
outside.
He felt a wave of frustration. He’d promised to help, but
he’d thought the jobs would be inside, and he would have a
chance to check the dresser for the medallion. He knew it was
there. He just wanted to verify it before he dragged Jacobs into
the house for the trip back to their time.
That wouldn’t happen today and probably not tomorrow,
if this list indicated the amount of work Becci planned to pile
on him every day.
“Thanks for the breakfast, Miss Lilly. I think I’ll eat these
down by the pond.” He grabbed his hat off the stack of boxes
by the door, took the plate in one hand, the cup in the other and
followed Lilly outside.
“I’ll let you work at your own pace and call you to the
house when lunch is ready,” Lilly said.
Caleb waited until she went inside then headed back to the
clearing where he’d taken his evening meal. He had just sat
down when a movement on the far side of the pond caught his
attention. He stood to get a better look. William Jacobs was
sneaking through the bushes. Caleb moved to the top of the
hill and watched as Jacobs staggered into the shed. At least
now he knew where the drunk was and, if he were as drunk as
he looked, he would sleep most of the day.
***
Caleb opened the shed door and cringed. The whole room
reeked of Jacobs, but the man was nowhere in sight. He cursed
both the man’s disappearance and the smell.
He raked his fingers through his hair. If he planned to sleep
in the shed it would need airing out. He propped open the door
and raised the window so the breeze flowed through the room.
Then he grabbed his Bible and sat outside under the oak tree,
using the last of the day’s light to read by.
He hadn’t seen Becci all day. He’d returned from the other
side of the pond to find a covered plate sitting on a rickety old
chair that someone had placed beside the shed door. After he
ate, he’d taken the plate back to the house, hoping to see Becci,
but Lilly said she had already gone upstairs for the night.
***
Becci woke to the sound of glass shattering. “Who’s there?”
she yelled as she snatched her robe off the foot of her bed. She
yanked it on and quickly tied the sash. Her heart pounded so
hard she knew the burglar could probably hear it all the way
downstairs.
Aunt Lilly, please don’t interrupt who ever it is, Becci
pleaded silently. There were no phones upstairs, no way to call
for help. The door hinges squealed when she ventured into the
hall. Something fell with a loud crash, followed by an explicit
curse in a raspy, masculine voice.
Becci pressed her back flat against the wall. She needed a
weapon before she confronted the burglar.
No. She wouldn’t go down. Aunt Lilly would stay out of
harm’s way, and so would she. As she stood helplessly in the
upstairs hallway listening to a thief pilfer through her
belongings a floor below, her temper reached the boiling point.
In her journal, Rebecca had written, “Trinkets missing from
my cupboard.” Had Caleb been Raleigh’s thief back then?
A door rattled, then the screen clapped against its frame.
Silence.
A moment later Aunt Lilly called to her from the foot of
the stairs. “Becci, honey, he’s gone. Come down and help me
assess the damage.”
Anger rippled over Becci. What had Caleb stolen? She’d
been understanding, had even given him a place to stay. And
how had he repaid her?
With thievery. Tomorrow she would order him off her
property.
Eight
Becci jerked a pair of jeans from her closet, then tossed
them on the bed with the others she’d rejected for one reason
or another. She tapped her foot impatiently. What did it matter
what she wore to kick Caleb off her property? It shouldn’t
matter, but it did.
She finally selected a dark green outfit, then tried to force
some control to her unruly hair. She slammed the brush down
and braced her fists on her hips. Primping? She’d lost her mind.
With one last look in the mirror, she rolled her eyes and
hurried downstairs. She would drink a glass of milk instead of
her usual coffee. Maybe that would calm her nerves. Then she
would face Caleb.
Her aunt puttered around the kitchen, making biscuits and
setting the table for breakfast. Becci carried her glass of milk
to the dining room and studied the destroyed cabinet door. Glass
crunched under her feet, and Becci’s anger rose another notch.
Forget calming down. She was going to get rid of Caleb now.
***
As he’d done the last two nights, Caleb went to sleep with
the Bible’s weight resting on his chest. He’d rolled away from
the light coming in the window and fought through the fog of
his first few waking moments. He gradually opened his eyes,
hoping to see that the last two days had been just a vivid dream,
but he knew that this morning wouldn’t be any different than
yesterday’s.
The early morning sun etched bright squares on the stacks
of boxes. Nothing had changed. He’d really walked into the
future. At least today there wasn’t a storm brewing.
That thought died instantly when the door bounced open
with a loud explosion. The weather might have changed, but
Miss Berclair sure hadn’t.
Sunlight silhouetted her figure where she stood in the entry,
but he didn’t have to see her face to know it was her. Becci’s
trim, youthful body gave her away. She was younger than the
Rebecca he knew, but just as beautiful. And Lord, he wanted
her in his bed.
Through half-closed eyes, Caleb watched her pivot around.
She’d glanced at something in the far corner, but what?
“Get out,” Becci ordered as she advanced toward him, her
hands on her hips. “Unless you’re snake bit or dying from some
unnamed wound that you thought alcohol would cure, I want
you off my property. I’ll not cater to thieves. A liar is bad
enough, but when you steal from the people trying to help you,
you’re lower than the scum of the earth.”
Her words slowly penetrated his sleep-fogged mind. He
stretched his arms above his head and stifled a groan. “I take it
&nbs
p; something’s missing.” He’d been right about her eyes sparking
when she got mad. And right now they didn’t hold just sparks,
they were in full blaze.
“Damn right. If you wanted our whiskey, all you had to do
was ask. But no, you have to break into the cabinet and steal it.
The glass alone will cost sixty dollars to replace. That’s money
I don’t have.”
Caleb laid his Bible on the floor and cupped his hands
behind his head. He wouldn’t get angry at her accusation that
he was a thief. There had to be a logical answer. He certainly
hadn’t taken her whiskey.
As he tried to think how to approach the matter, he swept
his gaze over her. Today she wore long pants in a muted green
and a matching top that brought out the color of her eyes and
covered her torso completely. The outfit didn’t erase the memory
of her bare legs and slender waistline. If anything, he liked the
less revealing garments better. Her anger heightened the color
in her cheeks, giving her a fresh, glowing look. He fought to
keep his masculine needs under control. If only he knew if she
were a proper lady or not. She might dress like a bordello
woman, but after their earlier misunderstanding, he doubted
she worked at the local brothel.
Caleb closed his eyes and stifled another groan. Even if
she did work at the brothel, he couldn’t touch her. She belonged
to someone else, and he’d bet a ranch hand’s wages the man
wasn’t a sleazy saloon type or a bastard, like Caleb.
Besides, she’d come here in anger, and he knew her anger
would get worse if he got up. His clothes hung on a nail beside
the door. It would serve her right if he decided to toss aside his
cover and traipse across the room with nothing on but what
God brought him into the world with.
“I didn’t take the whiskey,” he told her. “Spirits rob a man
of his ability to think straight, and in my situation I need all my
wits intact.”
“If you didn’t take it, then how did that get in here?” Becci
asked, pointing toward the far end of the room.
Caleb rolled his head to the side and looked where she
pointed. The sunlight flickered off something on the opposite
side of the room. Catching the corners of the sheet securely, he
whirled to a sitting position. An empty bottle lay in plain sight
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