The Fire (Northwest Passage Book 4)

by John A. Heldt

  "Tell me, Kevin, are you still planning to skip town tomorrow night?"

  "I am," Kevin said. "I want to see what Montana has to offer."

  "You'll be back, of course."

  "That's my intent."

  Andy looked at Kevin and wondered about that. The would-be teacher had visited only one school in his eight days in Wallace and had expressed no interest in investigating the prospects in neighboring towns like Burke, Mullan, and Kellogg. He had spent more time talking to patrons in the Shooting Star than to principals, superintendents, and school board members.

  Then there was the pretty young thing that Sir Galahad had rescued from the moral squalor of Maggie Ryan's Home for Wayward Women. Sadie Hawkins was an unexpected but pleasant addition to the ever-changing family of young adults who called Maude's mansion home.

  Kevin had brought Sadie to the west end Monday night and introduced her as Maude's new personal assistant, or at least someone he had hoped would become Maude's personal assistant. She could cook, he had said, and clean and probably even do her books. Kevin had crowed like a rooster about the girl's ability to work with numbers. Undoubtedly swayed by the best sales pitch Andy had seen in years, Maude had hired Sadie on the spot and given her a room.

  Andy watched Sadie dust a chandelier for the third time that day and then move on to a hutch, a grandfather clock, and a set of Venetian blinds. She was industrious, efficient, and undoubtedly as intelligent as Kevin had made her out to be.

  As the daughter of a local merchant and a recent graduate of the high school, Sadie was someone Andy had seen before. She was someone he had expected to see behind a cash register or walking down an aisle. She was not someone he had expected to see in a silk nightgown in the lobby of the most exclusive brothel in Wallace. That made her a mystery.

  Andy returned to Kevin and saw him read the latest issue of the Saturday Evening Post from the comfort of a chair Sadie had yet to dust. Though he still had much to learn from the educator, he was making progress.

  Andy now understood, for example, that Kevin's fortune, the one within easy reach, was the box full of double eagles he had accessed Monday afternoon. Unless Kevin had hidden a bag of coins and jewels under a rock on the outskirts of town, this was the cache he had talked about.

  Whether Sadie was the girl he had daydreamed about was not as clear. Andy could certainly understand why Kevin, or any man, might favor Miss Hawkins. She was as visually pleasing as a field of summer flowers or even winter snow. But was she the one? He didn't know.

  Andy laughed to himself as he tried to digest the story Maude had shared earlier that day. There had been a dust-up of sorts at the Intermountain Bank Monday afternoon, one involving Preston Pierce, Kevin, Sadie, and more than fifteen hundred dollars. Kevin, it seemed, had done more than reduce Maggie Ryan's inventory. He had freed Sadie from financial bondage and made a powerful new enemy.

  When Andy, the on-again, off-again reporter, had asked Kevin for confirmation, he had declined to comment. Andy didn't hold that against his companion. He admired discretion, something in short supply in a small town where everyone knew their neighbors and almost everyone talked about them.

  Kevin's interest in protecting Sadie, of course, didn't explain why he had paid a princely sum to help a would-be prostitute he had apparently met for the first time on Monday. That was something that had prompted tongues to wag throughout the Silver Valley and had piqued the curiosity of a curious man.

  Andy puffed on a cigar that had been manufactured in town and smiled at the man from Seattle. He liked this guy. He liked him a lot. Even as one of Kevin's biggest fans, however, Andy admitted that there was something about the teacher that troubled him. As an enterprising reporter who had far too much time on his hands, he vowed to find out.

  CHAPTER 21: KEVIN

  The time traveler stared up from his bed and watched his least favorite creature crawl slowly toward a crack in the ceiling. He didn't know if spiders were any bigger or scarier in 1910 than in 2013, but he did know that he hadn't learned to like them any more.

  He laughed to himself when he remembered how a sudden encounter with an arachnid had led to the discovery of Asa Johnson's journal and how that journal had led to the chamber of stones and a mind-boggling trip more than a hundred years into the past. If there was one thing he should have learned from all of this, it was that he should leave spiders alone.

  Kevin adjusted the regulator of the brass oil lamp on a nearby nightstand and walked across his bedroom to a window that overlooked King Street. He pulled back the drapes and saw a nearly full moon rise above the pyramid-shaped mountains to the east. In less than twenty-four hours, one lunar cycle would end, another would begin, and a door would open.

  There was never any doubt he would revisit that door. Sometime on Wednesday, probably just before supper, he would pack his small suitcase and tell Andy, Sadie, and Maude that he was leaving to catch his eastbound train. He would tell them that he would travel to western Montana, return in a week, and announce his long-term plans. He would insist on going alone.

  He would walk east on Bank Street toward a bridge and a depot, but instead of maintaining that heading he would turn south on Fourth Street, proceed to Garnet, and circle around to the Johnson property and the chamber. He would then hopefully pass through a portal one more time and resume his potentially rewarding, if not entirely satisfactory, life in 2013.

  Kevin knew he didn't have a choice in the matter. Though he wanted to remain in 1910 a few more days, he knew an extended stay wasn't worth the risk. He was not at all certain that the time portal was completely reliable.

  He also knew he was beginning to alter the past. He had certainly changed the life of one Sadie Hawkins, and though he didn't regret that intervention one bit, he didn't believe it was his place to rewrite history as he went along. His science fiction adventure had run its course.

  That didn't make leaving any easier. He hadn't merely wandered through Wallace like a tourist visiting an unbelievably realistic exhibit at the Smithsonian. He had actually met people and made friends. He had formed attachments – not unbreakable attachments, but attachments nonetheless. He would miss these people.

  Kevin walked from the window to the bedroom door, opened the door slightly, and looked and listened for signs of life on the second floor. He saw that Sadie's room was dark and guessed that she was already fast asleep.

  He hoped that Maude would give Sadie the time she needed to get back on her feet and eventually find the life she deserved. He would put in another good word for her in the morning.

  Kevin glanced at the next room down and saw that it too appeared dark. No light streamed from the bottom of the door. No noise filled the hallway. He figured that Andy was probably asleep as well. He had looked unusually tired at supper.

  There was always a chance, of course, that he was not asleep at all. He might be enjoying Maude's company in the widow's large first-floor bedroom – or, worse yet, enjoying Sadie's company in the bedroom next door.

  Kevin winced at the image of that. He didn't want to consider the possibility. He didn't think Sadie could do such a thing, not so soon after her rescue from a brothel. Then again, what did he really know about her? What did he know about any of them?

  In the end, he concluded, it didn't really matter. Their affairs were their business, not his. He had his own issues to consider, including some that needed immediate attention.

  Kevin returned to his bed, extinguished the flame in the lamp, and hoped that the spider on the ceiling had found a new place to haunt. He pulled the covers and drifted off. His last night in 1910 was in the books.

  CHAPTER 22: KEVIN

  Wednesday, February 23, 1910

  Kevin brought his second Excellent Adventure to a close around 8 p.m., just as a full moon began its pleasing drift across a cloudless sky and Asa Johnson's house finally went dark. He had delayed his final approach to the chamber of stones by more than thirty minutes to ensure that he would not
have another unpleasant encounter with his great-great-granddad's shotgun.

  He had no difficulty spelling "MMXIII" in nineteenth-century gold in near-total darkness. Using the penlight he had packed, he was able to complete the task quickly without drawing the attention of the Johnsons or their neighbors. He waited a full minute, picked up the coins from snow-dusted ground and walked into the shed.

  Kevin felt the temperature rise the moment he closed the door and moved to the back of the chamber. Daylight streamed through the vents in the walls. He greeted both changes with a sigh. He didn't know for sure that June 21, 2013, awaited, but he suspected it did. He was headed to a warmer time, if not a better time.

  When he finally opened the door, he saw what he had expected to see: an updated home with an overgrown lawn, a greenhouse, and a hot tub that sat atop a large redwood deck. He entered Roger Johnson's house through the front door and proceeded to the kitchen table, where he planted himself in a wooden chair, let his arms fall to the side, and exhaled.

  Kevin didn't need to look at the clock for confirmation, but he did anyway. The hands pointed to one fifteen. Nothing had changed in his absence. Not the house, not the coffee cup in the sink, not the newspaper spread across the table. He had returned to the same day, the same time, and the same place. He had returned to the place where he belonged.

  The time traveler stared blankly out a window and tried to make sense of it all. He had done it. He had really done it. He had in the blink of an eye traveled through time to 1910, lived in that year for ten remarkable days, and had an impact on others.

  Kevin wasn't entirely sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he suspected it was a good thing. He felt good about befriending Andy. He felt good about saving Sadie. He wondered whether she had taken his advice and made the most of her second chance. He considered rushing to the library to find her obituary and see if she had.

  He glanced again at the clock and realized that he still had a whole afternoon to himself. Perhaps it was time to check out one of those silver mines. Maybe he might see some mysterious blue lights, maybe not. Either way, it probably beat watching TV.

  Kevin began to get up from his chair when he heard his cell phone play "Back in Black" by AC/DC. He picked up the device, pressed a button, said hello, and heard the soothing voice of his mother.

  "Hi, honey. I just wanted to let you know we'll be coming back to Wallace later than we'd planned. Your father wants to attend some sort of electronics fair tomorrow. We finally found something he likes. Anyway, we should be back by two or three."

  "It's no problem, Mom. Take your time."

  "Are you still at the house?"

  "I am."

  "Kevin! Didn't I tell you to have an adventure?"

  Kevin smiled and brought his free hand to his forehead. He wondered what his mother would think of his impromptu field trips to 1910 and his bonus visits to the Shooting Star and Maggie Ryan's House of Sin.

  "You did."

  "Well, do something then. Or, if you're bored, come out and join us for the play. We bought an extra ticket in case you changed your mind. I know your dad, in particular, would enjoy your company. He's getting restless."

  "I'll think about it. If I can't find anything better to do around here by four or five, I'll drive over. I promise. Just give me a few hours."

  Kevin heard a sigh on the other end.

  "All right, it's your decision. Give me a call by five if you want to meet us. We're eating at the steakhouse at six thirty. You're welcome to join us there too."

  "I know. Like I said, I'll think about it. I just need a little time now."

  "OK. I'll call or text if our plans change."

  "Thanks, Mom. Love you."

  "Love you, too. Bye."

  Kevin put down the phone, retrieved the suitcase at his side, and placed it on the kitchen table. When he popped it open, he saw fewer items than he had originally packed. He had left behind a number of things, including a tube of toothpaste in the bathroom, a pair of socks in a dresser, and more than seventeen hundred dollars in the local economy.

  Kevin didn't question his moral or legal right to spend Asa's illicit treasure. He had found the money, after all, and had used it to better the life of a penniless orphan. If his aunts, uncles, and cousins had a problem with that, then they could take him to court!

  He also pondered his own great-great-grandfather paradox. If he had taken custody of Asa's gold in 2013 and spent a good chunk of it paying off a slimy turn-of-the-century banker, then what, pray tell, would he have found in Asa's guest bedroom in 1910? He wisely decided to set that brain-buster aside for the time being.

  Kevin grabbed his digital camera from the suitcase, turned it on, and flipped through twenty pictures. He laughed at one of Andy taking a nap in Maude's parlor and sighed at one of Sadie staring out a living room window. He had managed to take the picture discreetly by standing just inside the open door of a darkened room.

  He studied the photo for a moment and then closed his eyes, allowing his mind to soak up every precious detail. He wanted to remember Sadie just as he had captured her in that fleeting second: brave, fragile, defiant, and breathtakingly beautiful.

  When he concluded his sentimental journey, he opened his eyes and saw the sterile dining area of a century-old kitchen. He didn't see Asa or Celia or a funky coffee pot but rather a mostly empty room in a mostly empty house that would soon belong to someone not named Johnson. He lamented that the memories of his trip were already starting to fade, but he knew it was just as well. He had a life to lead, a modern life, and it was time to get on with it.

  He got up from his chair, walked into the living room, picked up a pair of dirty socks, and continued toward the bathroom. As he walked across the room, he noticed his reflection in the glass doors of a hutch. He was still wearing the suit, the one that made him look more like Stan Laurel than Kevin Johnson but one that had served him well over the past ten days.

  Kevin stood straight, smoothed the sleeves of his jacket, and smiled. Maybe he should take a photo of this too. He decided that he liked that idea and started back for the table but didn't get five feet before he felt something sharp poke one of his ribs.

  He took off the jacket, turned it inside out, and noticed that the irritant was a lightly sealed envelope that someone had tucked in an inside pocket. He removed the envelope from the pocket and saw that it bore his name. A woman had written the name, a woman he knew.

  Kevin opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of scented stationery. The enclosure was a thank you note written on February 22, 1910. It was a letter from Sadie.

  CHAPTER 23: KEVIN

  Friday, June 21, 2013

  The second time Kevin read the handwritten note from the girl with the raven hair, he had to sit on a downtown bench. The first time he'd had to take a long, cold shower.

  Sadie hadn't written a steamy love letter full of naughty notions and sinful suggestions, but she had expressed herself in a way that took Kevin aback and left him wondering whether he had departed her world prematurely. She hadn't wasted a word.

  Dearest Kevin:

  I write tonight with a heavy heart. I know I shouldn't be sad. I should be happy and gay and full of good cheer, but I'm not. I'm not because I don't expect to see you again.

  I hope I'm wrong. I hope that instead of finding your place in Montana you come back to a town that needs you and a girl who admires you. I hope you give Wallace another look and Sadie Hawkins another chance.

  For two days, I've tried to think of an appropriate way to thank you. For two days, I've failed. I may never succeed. You did something even my father couldn't do. You freed me from those who would use me and did so without reservation or expectation of compensation. That says much about your character and your soul.

  I hope to have the chance to repay your kindness with kindness of my own. If I don't, please accept my gratitude and affection as payment for your deeds.

  Sadie

  Kevin
read the letter a third time as he sat in front of a Sixth Street bar in a T-shirt and shorts. He gazed across the street and did a double take when he saw two college-age women walk toward a bank. They looked eerily similar to two girls – the only two girls – he had dated as a college senior.

  Why hadn't Lisa Mancini written a letter like this? Or Megan Richards? Or every other girl he had liked since kindergarten? He had been kind and thoughtful to all of them. Why did the first female to show this kind of interest have to be one born in the 1800s?

  He brought the note to his nose, took in its scent, and laughed to himself. Nobody in 2013 wrote letters in longhand, much less sprayed them with perfume. Sadie had given him more than an eloquent declaration of her feelings. She had given him a treasure from another time, one that probably belonged in a museum or an archive.

  Kevin understood her gratitude. He had done a lot for her, even after he had set her up as Maude's live-in cook and maid. He had spent his last two days in 1910 making her life better.

  On Tuesday he had taken her to lunch and bought her three dresses – nice dresses, the kind women wore to dances and Sunday socials. He had wanted to make sure Sadie not only had something to wear but also something to show. He had wanted her to stand out in any crowd and perhaps attract the attention of a man worthy of her kindness and affection.

  On Wednesday he had taken her to Wallace's only public library, a sliver of a building on Fifth and Bank, where he had recommended several works, both literary and scientific. He had wanted her to be prepared for changes that he knew were coming soon and coming fast.