Timeless Healing (Timeless Hearts Book 4)

by Peggy L Henderson

  “Do they drive rigs like this where you’re from?”

  At least the small talk distracted her from worrying about what might happen once they got to town.

  Chris chuckled. “No, we have much different ways of getting from one place to another.” He turned his head slightly to look at her. Although he smiled, there was sadness in his eyes.

  Frannie adjusted her seat, using both hands to support her stomach.

  “Then where did you learn to drive a team of horses?”

  “My parents own a ranch in Montana. They breed horses, and I have relatives in Kentucky who breed and race horses there. I picked up a thing or two growing up.” He laughed. “Maybe I should go and look them up, stop by and say hello to my parents’ ancestors while I’m here.”

  Frannie looked straight ahead. The first buildings of Heartsbridge came into view. She wasn’t going to read too much into what he’d said. Chris hadn’t mentioned going home, only that he needed to speak to the proprietress of the boarding house in town. In fact, he talked as if he planned on staying. She shook her head. It was her wishful thinking creating false hope.

  Chris drove the team up the main street of town. They passed several businesses, including the bank, before Chris pulled the rig up in front of Drayson’s Mercantile. She’d been here a few times. Lester had brought her into the store on a few occasions when he’d bought supplies. He’d never asked for her input on what she needed or might even want, and Frannie had stood quietly next to her husband as he’d made his purchases.

  Chris jumped from the rig and came around the other side. He reached up to help her down. Frannie fumbled with her hands on the seat, and with stepping on the wagon wheel to get down.

  “I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”

  Chris’s reassuring voice so close behind her made her pulse race all over again. Strong hands held her by the waist, or where her waist should have been, guiding her down. She turned and offered a hesitant smile when her feet were safely on the ground. Chris grinned, and took her hand. Frannie pulled back. He frowned as she slipped her hand from his.

  Frannie glanced around at the people walking along the boardwalk. Several women giggled amongst themselves as they passed, but they paid her no attention. A man in a suit and top hat rushed by, clearly in a hurry.

  “It’s not proper for you to hold my hand,” she whispered at the unspoken question on Chris’s face.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  He led the way across the street to the boarding house. “I can take you to see the banker if you want, but I’d really like to talk to Cissie Durham first, if you don’t mind.”

  She nodded. What else could she say? That she didn’t want to see this woman who might possibly send him back to where he came from, and rip her heart out in the process?

  They’d barely crossed the street when the door to the boarding house opened and a woman with red hair emerged and rushed toward them.

  “Oh, my goodness, I’ve been trying to find you for nearly two weeks. I can’t believe you ran off the way you did, Mr. Hawley. Where have you been?”

  The woman glared at Chris before her gaze dropped to Frannie. Her forehead wrinkled, then her eyes widened. She darted glances back and forth, then lingered on Frannie’s belly for a moment.

  “Cissie Durham, this is Francine Eaton. I’ve been staying at her place.”

  Cissie Durham’s face changed from looking angry to almost appearing satisfied about something.

  “You look and sound a whole lot different since the last time we met, Mr. Hawley. It’s important you and I talk. I’ve never had this happen before where someone –”

  She broke off in mid-sentence and glanced at Frannie, as if realizing she may have said too much already in her presence. She glanced up and down the street, then said, “You need to come with me to the boarding house, Mr. Hawley. It’s not safe for you here.”

  No sooner had she spoken the words, when a man called out, “Frannie Eaton.”

  Frannie’s heart leapt in her chest at the raspy voice. She’d heard it before, and it only brought memories of Lester. She turned to face the person who’d called to her. Next to her, Chris took a step forward.

  “We need to go inside now, Mr. Hawley,” Cissie Durham hissed in a warning tone.

  A man in tattered trousers and a dirty shirt came up the boardwalk. His unshaven face was grimy, and his eyes appeared glassy, with an all-too-familiar look of someone who’d been drinking.

  “Frannie Eaton,” the man said again. “Lester’s widow. Been meaning to come and pay a visit. Lester was my best friend, as I’m sure you know. We met a few months back.”

  Frannie tensed. This man had come to the farm and played cards with Lester, and they’d gotten drunk late into the night. He’d often glanced at her with predatory eyes. “Yes, I remember you, Mr. Blake.”

  Chris took a step forward. He placed his hand on her arm. “Is he a friend of yours, Francine?”

  Before she could respond, the other man said, “Lester would have wanted me to take over his farm, Frannie. I’ll take good care of you, too. You need a man out at that place.”

  “I don’t think she’s looking for someone like you.” Chris stepped fully in front of her, cutting off her view of Herbert Blake. Behind her, Cissie warned him to come to the boarding house.

  “You’re the feller who got in a tuff with Lester out front of the saloon, the one I’ve told the sheriff about.” He swayed forward slightly, pointing a finger at Chris. “You killed Lester, and now you’ve taken up with his woman?” The man’s voice rose in anger with each word.

  “I didn’t kill anyone,” Chris growled. He took a step toward Blake, and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “And I suggest you stay away from Mrs. Eaton, or I’m going to do to you what I should have done to your friend, Lester.”

  “Mr. Hawley, walk away.” Cissie Durham’s voice grew more insistent.

  A small crowd had already gathered, which seemed to encourage Blake.

  “He’s making threats against me, now. You all heard it. He also said to Lester the day he died that Lester had better be careful the next time they crossed paths. Sure as shootin’, he killed him.”

  Frannie glanced around at the people, who started murmuring. A familiar figure parted the crowd. Sheriff Stanton had arrived. Hopefully, he could straighten out this mess and send Blake on his way.

  “That’s the man you’re looking for, Sheriff,” Blake called loudly. “He’s the one that killed Lester.”

  “You’re drunk, and insane. I didn’t kill anyone,” Chris said, glaring at the man.

  Sheriff Stanton stepped between both men. He looked from Chris to Frannie.

  “This is Chris Hawley, Sheriff Stanton.” Cissie Durham stepped up. “He’s an acquaintance of mine, and he’s been visiting Heartsbridge. He certainly didn’t kill anyone.”

  The sheriff looked at the proprietress of the boarding house, then back to Chris.

  “I’ve got to look at everything, Cissie,” the sheriff said. “There were several people who did hear this man tell Lester that he’d better watch out the next time they met. Then Lester turned up dead the same day. I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you into custody for now, Mr. Hawley. The judge is going to have to sort this out.”

  Next to Frannie, Chris cursed.

  “I don’t think that’s necessary, Sheriff. He can stay with me at the boarding house until the judge arrives,” Cissie Durham said quickly.

  “He’s been missing for two weeks. I’m not going to take the chance that he might leave.” Turning to Chris, the sheriff said, “Mr. Hawley, you’re under arrest for the possible murder of Lester Eaton.”

  Chapter 11

  Chris sat on the hard and uncomfortable cot in the jail cell, leaning forward with his forearms draped over his knees. He stared through the bars into the small room that made up the sheriff’s office. There was a simple desk near the door, a gun rack on the wall to his left, and a pot-bellied sto
ve in the corner. Sheriff Stanton sat at his desk, leafing through some papers.

  To avoid any more trouble, Chris had gone willingly with the sheriff earlier. His rights were no doubt different in this time than in 2017, and now wasn’t the time to test the boundaries of the law, of which he had little knowledge.

  “He’s innocent, Sheriff Stanton,” Francine had cried, rushing along next to the sheriff. “You can’t lock him up. He didn’t kill my husband.”

  Chris had met her fearful eyes and offered a grin that was supposed to project confidence and reassurance. The worry she’d displayed for him had hit him like a jab to the gut. Whatever happened to him didn’t really matter, except Francine didn’t have anyone to take care of her now. She couldn’t be left all alone, and someone definitely had to make sure that scum, Herbert Blake, stayed away from her and her farm. How was she going to get back home? What if she went into labor?

  Chris had stared at Cissie, who’d also followed them. She seemed to be on friendly terms with the sheriff, even though she hadn’t been able to talk the lawman into letting him go.

  “Take care of Francine,” he’d told Cissie as the sheriff had led him into the jail. He’d stared at her with an imploring look before his eyes had drifted to Francine. Cissie had held her back while Francine had pleaded with the sheriff to let him go. Tears had filled her eyes, and Chris had nearly broken away from the sheriff to pull her into his arms and tell her everything would be all right.

  The small crowd had followed them all the way up the street from the boarding house to the jail, talking and murmuring as if they were happy that something exciting was finally happening in their town. Thankfully, Sheriff Stanton had closed the door behind them to prevent anyone from entering. He’d left the building right after locking him up, but hadn’t been gone long.

  “What’s going to happen now?” Chris called, ending the stillness in the room. The only sounds were those of horses moving along the street outside, or the muffled voices of people passing by.

  Sheriff Stanton glanced up from his papers and twisted his upper body to look toward the cell.

  “Sorry I had to lock you up, son,” he drawled. He seemed like a reasonable man with a level head. “Thought I’d better bring you here for your own good. Lester Eaton and Herbert Blake have been causing trouble in town for quite a while, especially when they were drunk. You’re better off in here than out on the street.”

  Chris stood and moved forward until he reached the bars of the jail cell. It was more like a cage. He stared across the space at the sheriff. He was better off at Francine’s farm than in town, not locked up like a dog that had been sent to the pound.

  “I’m concerned about Francine Eaton. What’s going to happen to her? She can’t drive the buckboard back to her farm all by herself, not in her condition.”

  Sheriff Stanton rubbed at his jaw. “I feel sorry for Lester’s young widow. Gotta be hard on her, being with child and now without a man to take care of things.” He shook his head. “Something tells me she’s better off without her husband. I’ll talk to Cissie at the boarding house and see if someone at the livery can take care of the buckboard.”

  Chris gritted his teeth to keep from cursing out loud. “I didn’t kill her husband. I only saw him once, when I accidentally bumped into him. He threw a punch at me first, then forced me to fight back. I never saw him again after he got on his horse and rode away.”

  The sheriff stood, and moved closer to the cell. “That’ll be for Judge Thornton to decide. I wired him already. He should be here in a couple of days.”

  Chris cursed under his breath.

  “Two days?”

  He was going to have to spend two days in a jail in 1880. He shook his head. It didn’t matter, except Francine was out there, all alone. That scum, Blake, should be sitting in jail instead, for Francine’s safety.

  “How’d you end up at the Eaton place? Seems a little odd that you’d show up there the day Lester died.” The sheriff shot him a curious look. “I’ll say, it did look like his horse simply threw him and he fell and broke his neck, but some people will argue that you made it look like an accident.”

  Chris scoffed. This was a no-brainer case in the future, but here, without modern investigative science and methods, evidence was based on what people wanted to believe and what they saw. It would be his word against everyone else’s, and people were leery of strangers. People in town would probably believe an abusive drunk over someone passing through.

  “I wasn’t feeling well when I left town. I was getting disoriented when it started to rain, and ended up in Francine Eaton’s barn for the night. I was sick, and she took care of me. Afterward, I stayed to help out around the place. Today, we came to town because I had to talk to Cissie Durham about something, and Francine needed to take care of some paperwork.”

  The sheriff studied him with a critical eye. “It doesn’t look so good for Mrs. Eaton, having a strange man living at her place when she’s all alone, and right after her husband died. Herbert Blake will twist this into something it ain’t.”

  Chris moved a little closer to the bars and grabbed hold of them. “Sheriff Stanton, I’m sure you’re aware that Lester Eaton beat his wife and didn’t care much about his farm. The place is run-down. I was only there to help her out.”

  The sheriff studied him some more. He gave a slight nod. “No law against a man disciplining his wife,” he mumbled. “Don’t mean I agree with it.” His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward slightly. “You got plans of staying in town, Mr. Hawley?”

  Chris frowned and shook his head. The door opened at that moment, saving him from answering. Cissie Durham marched in, her eyes directed at Sheriff Stanton.

  “I’d like to speak to Mr. Hawley.” Her back was straight and her chin was raised.

  The sheriff stepped away from the cell and walked toward her. “I don’t know what you need to discuss with him, Cissie. If I let you visit with him, other people will want to barge in here, too.”

  “Come on, Frank. Give me just a few minutes alone with him. I needed to talk to him, in private, before you came along and arrested him.”

  She stared at the sheriff with the eye of a woman who was used to getting her way.

  “What harm can it do?” she prodded when the sheriff shifted weight, as if undecided about his options. “I’m not going to break him out of jail, Frank,” she huffed.

  “Oh, all right, Cissie,” the sheriff grumbled. He reached for his hat that lay on his desk. “Ten minutes. I’ll be right outside.”

  She waited until the sheriff closed the door behind him, then rushed up to the cell. Her glare was now directed at Chris.

  “A fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into,” she reprimanded. “Why couldn’t you have listened to me right from the start, when you first arrived in this time?”

  Chris scoffed. “Forgive me, Cissie, but I wasn’t quite prepared to be told that I’d landed in another time after I woke up from my nap.” He gripped the bars to his cell. “I was kinda out of it at the time.”

  “That was perfectly obvious. I hope you’ve given up your drinking habits.”

  “I wasn’t drinking. At least one person saw it for what it was, and she helped me get through it.”

  A smile brightened up Cissie’s features. She nodded. “Frannie Eaton. An interesting choice.”

  Chris glared at the woman. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The answer wasn’t important at the moment. Francine’s safety occupied his mind more than anything else.

  “Where is she?” he asked without waiting for an answer to his prior question. “I asked you to look out for her. She doesn’t know anyone in this town and shouldn’t have to fend for herself right now, especially with Blake running around chasing after her.”

  Cissie’s smile brightened.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Hawley. Frannie is right outside, waiting to come and see you. If I had brought her in here with me, Frank Stanton wouldn’t have allowed
the two of us to visit with you unsupervised. After our last sheriff left town, Frank and I have become good friends, but he doesn’t like to bend the rules too much.”

  “Who’s going to look after Francine while I’m locked up?”

  “Some friends of mine, Noah and Elizabeth Langley agreed to take care of the animals for a few days. Frannie is staying with me at the boarding house. She’s refused to leave until you’re cleared of the charges Herbert Blake brought against you. She’s prepared to testify and do whatever is necessary to get you released from jail.”

  Chris expelled a relieved breath. At least Francine was safe for the moment. Now he could change the subject and get some answers.

  “Are you going to fill me in on why I’m here, and how this happened?” He leaned his head against the bars to stare more fully at the woman on the other side of the cell. His eyes fell on the blue ribbon tied around Cissie’s neck. It disappeared underneath the shawl she had draped around her shoulders. That timepiece with the fast-moving hands had been attached to a similar ribbon around Moira Lockhart’s neck, too. “And, can you get me home?”

  Cissie’s lips tightened in a firm line. “If you had stayed and not run off the day you arrived, I would have given you all the answers then.”

  “Well, give them to me now. I’m in a much better frame of mind to listen.”

  Cissie reached under her shawl and produced the timepiece. The hands whirred around in a fast circle like before.

  “That thing has something to do with it, doesn’t it?”

  It was an unnecessary question, but hopefully, he was about to get some clarity so he could finally wrap his head around the whole concept of how he’d gotten there.

  “Moira Lockhart and I are connected in time through these timepieces,” Cissie began. “She has one in her possession, and I have its counterpart. Neither of us is exactly sure how they work, only that the hands have to be moving in order for time travel to occur.”