Jean Rabe & Martin Harry Greenberg

by Timeshares (v5)

  “I’m after a new horse with all its tack,” Jason said. “I’m told you give fair prices. I want to buy the best you have.”

  “Well, we can take care of that right away. Jason! You come on a running with Thunder.”

  Jason saw his younger self pop out of a stall with a pitchfork of dirty straw. He dropped the fork and ran for the back of the barn. In minutes, he brought out a large stallion.

  “This horse is the best I’ve got,” Hal said. “It’s a stallion, but calm as you please.”

  “What are you asking for it, new tack, and a rented stall for seven days?”

  “I like the way you deal, mister,” Hal said. “I’m asking one hundred and ten for the lot.”

  “I’ll give you six twenty-dollar gold pieces if young Jason here can get some free time to show me around the town in the next couple of days.”

  The younger version of Jason looked up, surprised.

  The greedy Hal jumped at the chance. “It’s a deal!”

  The older Jason reached into his bag and took out the very authentic gold pieces.

  “Jason, my lad,” he told the boy, “I’m your cousin, Jason Walch, of the Virginia Walches. So you and me share the same name. I was a good friend to your grandfather, Big Mark Nips. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for his burial last month. Saddle up my new horse and take me to the best hotel Red Gulch has to offer.”

  “You knew Grandpa Mark?” young Jason asked, wide-eyed with surprise. “That’s great. Sure I’ll get right to the saddling. The good hotel is a mile down the road, next to Getchil’s Dry Goods Store.”

  They talked as they slowly rode to the hotel. The younger Jason was unusually ignorant, and that didn’t please the older version. They talked about Grandpa Mark.

  The younger Jason was all smiles.

  When they got to the hotel, people were sniffing at the younger Jason’s clothes.

  “What’s there to do in this little town?” the older version asked.

  “There is the ice cream social this evening at sunset. I didn’t plan on going this year, but I sure do like the taste of ice cream.”

  “Of course you do, and of course you and I are going. Get into Getchil’s Store and get yourself some new clothes for the social. I’m going to get a room in this here hotel. When you walk out of that place, I want to see you looking like a New York dandy.” He passed two twenty-dollar gold pieces to his younger self and was careful not to touch the boy’s flesh.

  “I don’t rightly feel good about taking your money, Cousin,” young Jason said.

  “Not a bit of it, my boy,” the older version said. “Part of the reason I’m here is to give you an inheritance your grandpa had me hold for you. Get some new clothes and join me for a long meal in the hotel. We’ll talk over old times and go to the social together. Now get along.”

  Jason didn’t even look back as he entered the hotel, feeling very pleased with himself.

  Getting a room, he unpacked his few things and took out a pouch of three hundred dollars in twenty-dollar gold pieces. It was a small fortune in gold coins in his time, and it would be a great start for the young Jason in this time.

  The old version couldn’t help laughing at the younger version as he walked into the dining hall a short time later. The boy had on a white shirt with a string tie. The new brown vest matched the brown pants. He had on new boots, and to top it all off he was wearing a bowler hat. A fashion plate he was not.

  They ate a great steak with beans and talked the afternoon away. The old version gave the young version the three hundred in gold, and the young version was lost for words.

  “You should invest that money, son. But we’ll talk about that tomorrow. Right now, we’ve a social to go to.”

  Young Jason put the money in the hotel safe and they took their time walking to the town’s band shell.

  The older version carried two blankets as they strolled into the park. A small band was playing a light tune, and many couples bounced to the music. There was a huge batch of wrapped boxes on several tables.

  The older Jason couldn’t wait for the bidding.

  A man got up from the crowd and walked in front of the band. “You all know me. I’m Mayor Parker. We are going to start the bidding on these here packed lunches. The money we get goes to the widows and orphans fund, so be generous. Mary, start bringing up those boxes. Let’s begin with that nice big basket with the red bow.”

  “That’s Annetta’s basket,” the older Jason said. “You bid on that basket, you know you want to.”

  “Twenty-five cents,” the younger Jason shouted. “Cousin, how do you know it’s hers?”

  The bidding was brisk, and soon it was up to two dollars.

  “Go on now, outbid everyone.”

  “Cousin, that’s a lot of money for dinner.”

  There was nothing that was going to stand in the way of the two young’uns getting together.

  “I’ve got a twenty-dollar gold piece that says my young cousin here, is going to eat from that basket tonight,” the older Jason shouted.

  The crowd gasped at the thought of that.

  “Well heck-fire, I don’t imagine any gent here is going to beat that price. The red box is sold. Will the lady who made this one please come up.”

  Annetta Falkensturm, turning several shades of red, walked up to the stage. The older Jason tossed the younger one a blanket and a twenty-dollar gold piece to pay for the box.

  “You take that girl up on the hill, under the old oak tree and have yourself a time, ya hear me boy?”

  “Thanks, Cousin. I will try and do that.”

  The two went up the hill, arm in arm.

  Jason leaned back on the bench and smiled as the beginnings of his plan began to unfold just the way he wanted. Halfway through the auction, a yellow- ribboned basket came up for sale. He remembered it to be the Widow Jenkins’. The girl was just twenty, blond and blue-eyed. She made the best meat pies in the county. In that long-ago time he had strolled out with her a few times, but found her way to bold to suit him. That wouldn’t be a problem now. He waited until the basket was bid up to three dollars, before buying it with another twenty-dollar gold piece.

  “Dear lady, I hope you don’t mind that an old man bought your wonderful basket.”

  The girl in front of him was a vision in her light blue dress. “Why no, good sir. I saw what you did for your cousin and I’m proud to sup with such a gentleman.”

  He walked her up the hill and spread his blanket by another oak tree. He heard the strangest snorting from time to time, but soon that was lost in the eyes and gentle smiles of the Widow Jenkins. It seems she liked older men and wasn’t shy about it.

  The next day young Jason was to meet his cousin in the hotel. As he rushed up the stairs, he saw the Widow Jenkins leave his cousin’s room. Her hair was all messed up and there was a huge grin on her face. She didn’t look him in the eyes as they passed by in the hall.

  The door was open.

  “Cousin, that was the Widow Jenkins leaving your room, wasn’t it? She’s the best cook in town.”

  “She has some other skills as well. I will be seeing her tonight when you and I have finished with our business. How did your picnic with Annetta Falkensturm go?”

  “It was amazing. We watched the moonrise, held hands, and she even kissed me good night. She’s the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen. Her laugh’s hard to take though. She sounds a lot like a rooting pig when she laughs.”

  So that explained the odd noise.

  “I’m sure you can get over that little flaw. Now I want you and me to ride out to Devil’s Canyon to look over that land.”

  “Why would we do that? It’s nothing but bare earth and rocks. Lots of people have owned it, but no one has been able to do anything with it.”

  “Humor me, son.”

  They rode out, and the canyon was just as promised. A couple miles wide and seven miles long, it didn’t support any growth.

  The cracked earth was d
epressing. Outside the valley, there were a number of clumps of forest.

  “Cousin Jason, I told you this land is dead. Why would anyone want to have a chunk of this?”

  “There’s oil there, my boy, and lots of it. That’s why there isn’t a lot of plant growth. We get into that oil, and you will be a very rich man. I know it doesn’t look like much now, but I can see wells and processing plants filling this canyon in the years to come. Trust me.”

  “All right, if you think so.” The young Jason didn’t sound convinced.

  “Mark my words. This is just what you want to own. You’ll be rich in no time and giving your Annetta Falkensturm all the things a lovely young lady wants to have.”

  “Well, Cousin, that’s more than enough reason to do a little, investing, I guess. Let’s get back to the bank.”

  They rode their horses hard back into the city.

  Grim-faced bank managers became all smiles when the two Jasons said they wanted to buy the Devil’s Canyon. They asked for five hundred dollars and were talked down to two hundred and fifty. The ink was fresh on the land contract when the bankers started laughing at the deal. They admitted that they never thought they would sell the property.

  The older Jason had to make a comment. “We’re going to take millions of barrels of oil out of that canyon. What do you think of that?”

  The bank manager was blunt. “I know there is oil down there but it is all shale oil. The oil is embedded in the rock. Good day, Mr. Nips. Thank you for your business.”

  Both Jasons had sour looks on their faces as they left the bank.

  “Well, that didn’t work out like we planned, did it, Cousin?”

  “I didn’t know about the shale oil, son. But I’ll give you a hundred dollars in gold. You can bring in oil-drilling experts and see what they say. It’s getting late, and I bet you have a meeting with Annetta Falkensturm.”

  “You are correct, Cousin,” young Jason said. “I bet you are going to have a meat pie for dinner tonight.”

  “You could be right. Meet me tomorrow at Tuttle’s at noon. Be dressed in your good clothes. I’ll need some help carrying some things I’m going to buy. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

  “Not at all, Cousin. I’m a landowner now, even if it’s dead property. I am squiring the best-looking gal in the state, and it’s all because of you. I’ll be there. Enjoy your night.”

  “Oh, I will.”

  The young Jason tried to pat the older one on the back, but the adult avoided the touch.

  The older Jason’s thoughts turned toward the Widow Jenkins. Minutes later, he knocked on her door and was warmly welcomed inside.

  Morning came too fast, and the ever ready widow was as fast at cooking as she was with other things. Jason left her with a smile, a tickle, and a promise to return after lunch.

  He rode Thunder to Tuttles. He remembered just what he wanted to buy. The younger version of himself got there a few minutes later.

  “Look at that, Cousin.”

  The older Jason has set a large wooden box with six shotguns and a box and a half of shells on the counter.

  “What do you want all of those shotguns for, Cousin? You gonna fight a war?”

  “Never you mind, just take the other side of this box. We’re going to the stagecoach stop. Your brother Ben is going to be on that stage coming in at twelve thirty.”

  “Really, how do you know that? I wasn’t expecting to see him for another month.”

  “I know things.”

  They carried the heavy box to the stage office on the other side of the street from the bank. Jason noted the six horses tied to the rail in front of the bank. He hoped the sheriff and deputy were coming this way, as he had asked them to do so over a late lunch the day before.

  “Son, help me move some of these dry goods barrels to the edge of the sidewalk.”

  “I can do that, Cousin, but I don’t think Getchil’s is going to like that.”

  “Trust me.”

  They moved the barrels, and the older Jason set up the six shotguns against them. The younger Jason looked on in wonder.

  “The stage is coming! The stage is coming!” boys shouted from somewhere down the street.

  The next several minutes were a blur.

  Brother Ben got off the stage and was surprised to see a cleaned-up younger brother. He gave him a big hug.

  The stage driver started unloading suitcases from the top of the stage.

  Shots rang out from the other side of the street as the bank robbers came out onto the street, firing. The first bullet took the stagecoach driver in the head. He dropped the heavy suitcase on young Jason, and the boy went down like a sack of potatoes.

  It was just as the older Jason had remembered things. But it would turn out different this time around.

  The older Jason started cutting lose with doublebarreled blasts. He was only a passable shot, but he didn’t have to be an expert. The buckshot ripped the bank robbers’ arms and legs from their bodies.

  “Stay down, Ben,” shouted the older Jason. “Protect the boy. I’ve got them covered and the sheriff’s coming.”

  He continued to quickly pepper the other side of the street, going from gun to gun. Three bank robbers bled out on the street as the sheriff and his man ran up to add their gunfire to his. Jason quickly reloaded all the shotguns and began firing again.

  There was only one robber left now, and he shot back at the sheriff. The older Jason rushed into the street to get a better angle, and his shotgun stitched the side of the robber. The robber turned and fired as he went down. One of the bullets took Jason in the knee.

  In terrible pain, Jason fell on the Timeshares device in his back pocket, hitting the panic button and vanishing from the street and back into time where he belonged.

  He woke up in a hospital bed. Drugs dripped into his arm, and he didn’t feel any pain. There was a loud beeping noise near his head.

  A pretty red-haired nurse rushed into his room and pressed a button to stop the beeping. “I’ve sent for the doctor. Don’t you worry about a thing. You’re going to be fine now that you are back where you belong. Your brother has paid for the very best care for you.”

  Jason was unable to say a thing. He felt so fuzzy.

  A tall man in surgery scrubs walked into the room with a datapad in his hand. He scanned Jason’s body and was all smiles.

  “I was a bit worried about the bio-replacement of the knee. I’m certain now that you will have one hundred percent freedom of movement. It’s a good thing we could get you in the regeneration lab so quickly. Your brother saw to that. You are going to be fine and up and moving in a few days. I’m going to let your wife and brother in to see you.”

  Jason smiled at the thought of his newfound wife and brother. He had succeeded in the past. Everything would be great now.

  A much older looking brother Ben and a fat woman came into the room.

  “Jason, brother, you promised me when I paid for that vacation ticket that you wouldn’t get into trouble. What happened back there?”

  Jason struggled to remember.

  No!

  The fat woman seemed to find something funny and laughed like a pig.

  Annetta. His younger self had married her, and he suddenly recalled a lifetime of that horrid laugh.

  He also remembered a life with Annetta. It hadn’t been a good life.

  Jason gasped as the replaced memories surged forward. His brother Ben had bought the land contract for a thousand dollars ten years after its first purchase as a kindness to Jason and Annetta.

  Ben got richer and richer, and Jason failed time after time in money making schemes. He had eventually invested a great deal in the Refresh Company, but once again Ben’s money bailed him out, and Ben was three-quarters owner of the corporation.

  Jason turned his head away from the pair. He knew he’d made the mistake of his life, and there wouldn’t be a second chance to set things back in order.

  Time Sharing

>   Jody Lynn Nye

  Jody Lynn Nye lists her main career activity as “spoiling cats.” She lives northwest of Chicago with two of the above and her husband, author and packager, Bill Fawcett. She has published more than thirty-five books, including six contemporary fantasies; four science fiction novels; four novels in collaboration with Anne McCaffrey, including The Ship Who Won; edited a humorous anthology about mothers, Don’t Forget Your Spacesuit, Dear!; and written more than a hundred short stories. Her latest books are A Forthcoming Wizard, and Myth-Fortunes, cowritten with Robert Asprin.

  Milan, 1494

  Lorraine couldn’t decide which was worse, the terrible vinegar taste or the stew of odors that assailed her nose as she struggled to get into the heavy robelike dress and velvet cloak. They had been too hot to wear in the departure lounge of the Timeshares Travel Agency,in between the giant crackling spheres that owed their heritage to Tesla coils, whatever the name the corporation called them to make them more palatable to the unschooled yet moneyed class they wanted to attract. Well, she was no ordinary customer!

  Mother was here, in Milan. It had taken some very specific information, threats, and bribes to get the correct information from Rolf Jacobsen, the president of Timeshares. She had based her hunch upon notes her mother had left on a pad of paper in the study of her empty apartment in San Francisco. It was not until she had insisted she would go to the police that Jacobsen allowed that perhaps, yes, he did know Genevieve Corvana and her whenabouts, as well as her whereabouts. Lorraine was proud to know that she was right. She could not, however, place the odd look on Jacobsen’s face when she told him the rest of what she wanted. But she was here now, Marguerite wasn’t, and nothing was more important!

  She straightened her ornate lace and jeweled veil. Her thick brown hair was scraped back into a silk net beneath. Somehow, the exposure of her face and neck made her feel vulnerable, all the more since preparation for the trip had involved removal of her eyebrows and eyelashes. Randa Cuddy, Jacobsen’s head of Esthetics, had assured her that the depilation was temporary but necessary in light of the fashions of the day. She straightened her back and marched toward the door. Suddenly a hand grabbed her by the hair and pulled backward.