by Ford, Lizzy
His response was a smiley face, followed by a more detailed explanation.
It’s hard to explain, but you’ll know when it kicks in. Your logic chip will process the historical records and feed that to the chip that enhances your emotional quotient. It’ll help you interpret a course of action based on historically enhanced intuition.
“Sure. Why not.” So he planted three chips in my brain, not two. Not a fan of involuntary brain surgery. I know why I needed them but … yikes. Next time, tell me up front??? I responded. Rereading it, I typed him a second note about possible side effects of them doing brain surgery on me.
I’m sorry, Josie. I should’ve been more upfront, was his fast answer. There might be some side effects, but they’ve been tested enough that I don’t think any of them are negative. A couple of the chips’ functions are in the developmental stage – the empathic memory chip in particular was thought to be theoretically impossible, but I did it!
There was a part of me that wanted to ask how they had tested these brain chips enough to know there were no side effects. I hesitated to ask. Every once in a while, I sensed something … dark without understanding its source. As if knowing what I thought, Carter sent another note.
Trust me, Josie. I wouldn’t put them in your head if they were dangerous to you.
Somewhat appeased, I reread his explanation about the empathic memory chip. It made no sense to me, but I guessed I’d find out when it kicked in. I messaged him once more about the real Josie.
“Miss Josie?” Nell’s call was muffled by the closed door.
Shoving what she referred to as the devil’s box into my pocket, I straightened my dress hastily and smoothed it out. The door opened.
“Your father said you wanted air.” Nell held a parasol in one hand. She wore a dark hat and gloves. “Did you wish to go to town?”
I had completely forgotten about the town I saw last night. I bounced to my feet, ecstatic at the idea of seeing a real life Wild West town and hopeful of finding at least one of the men I sought. “Yes! What an awesome adventure!”
“You always did love town.” An odd expression crossed Nell’s face. It was no singular emotion but rather, a complete lack of anything. She went blank for a moment, glassy-eyed and frozen.
“You up for this?” I asked, concerned.
She shook her head. “Of course.” Nell released a sigh but didn’t give me one of her disapproval looks.
The odd spell passed, and I joined her at the door.
“Miss Josie, would you go to town without your bonnet?” she asked, askance.
“I guess not.” With a look around, I wasn’t able to determine where said bonnet was.
“I’ll fetch it.” She disappeared into the adjoining room. I trailed her to the doorway of a dressing room and saw a second fireplace, large basin for a bath, stands with different gowns displayed, and a wall of wardrobes.
I had an entire wall dedicated to bonnets. Impressed, I watched her carefully check several of them with a critical eye.
My phone vibrated. I turned away and glanced down, not bothering to unlock the screen for the short message.
No one knows. She never returns.
Any doubt I had about pretending to be John’s daughter to make his last days peaceful fled at the note. Sorrow for the man who missed his daughter as much as I did my father dampened my excitement about going to town. I replaced the phone in my pocket, pensive.
I didn’t belong here, but I felt like I owed it to the man housing me to make his life a little happier before his death. If no one knew what happened to real-Josie, then there was a good chance she died, like Nell had hinted at earlier. Wasn’t it better to give John and Nell hope? To do a little more good than I originally planned?
“Here we are.” Nell returned.
Blinking out of my thoughts, I forced a smile and faced her. Aware of what she and John were both missing, my heart forbade me from disappointing either of them while I was here. I’d be gone soon enough, John dead, and Nell forced to face the truth about the woman she’d cared for.
She placed the bonnet on my head and tied it beneath my chin.
“And now, adventure,” I proclaimed.
“These high spirits are not appropriate, Miss Josie,” Nell said, though a smile leaked through her grave expression.
“I want you to be happy, Nell,” I told her. “You and Father both.”
Tears filled her eyes. She turned away and strode into the hallway.
I followed – and paused. This time, it wasn’t just déjà vu that hit me with unexpected force but more like a dream I couldn’t quite remember. The image and sense of knowing were almost strong enough to be a whisper.
It came from further down my wing, specifically from the door at the end. A shallow feeling, faint whisper, dark image … Movement, firelight, two voices …
“Miss Josie, are you coming?”
Nell’s yell from the bottom of the stairs cut whatever it was short. My gaze lingered on the door. Something had happened there, and it defied any logical explanation that I could know such a thing.
Empathic memory chip. Was that it and how did it work?
“Yes!” I called. Without understanding why, I hurried to join her, running away from whatever it was I almost saw at the end of the hallway.
CHAPTER FIVE
I didn’t catch my breath until I left the house. The sun dispelled the lingering unease from upstairs, and I took a moment to admire the sleek black carriage waiting for me.
Nell had the reins, and I slid onto the bench seat beside her. She deftly drove the two-person buggy away from the house and into the prairielands. Waist high grasses bowed and rustled in an early fall breeze. They stretched as far as I could see, meeting the blue sky dotted with clouds in the distance. Hills rolled gently, sometimes hiding surprises I discovered when we crested them. Fluffy white sheep and cattle appeared over two peaks, one of which was tended by John’s ranch hands.
Rather than be impatient by our relatively slow speed, I found myself immersed in admiring landscape unlike any I had ever seen.
“It’s so peaceful,” I murmured. “What is that?” I pointed to the six-foot stake with a red flag on its tip at the top of one hill.
“It marks the edge of the savages’ land. Your grandfather owned two thousand acres in this territory, before the government decided to resettle the Indians out here. Your father marked the edges with flags,” Nell replied. “The red men cross the border to reach the road, and they allow your father’s herds to graze on their land in exchange. They share several large ponds.”
“He gets along well with them,” I commented. “Is it like this everywhere?”
“No. The cavalry responds to skirmishes between the savages and gentlefolk regularly.”
“But didn’t we kind of just take their land? I mean, is it a surprise they’re unhappy about it?”
Nell glanced at me. “You best keep comments like that to yourself.”
I flinched, a sudden headache piercing my temple. It flared then died quickly, fading to a distant ache. An odd sense filled me, and I tried to determine what it was.
Memories that weren’t mine. They floated through my thoughts like fragments of a dream that persisted after I awoke. I watched them, mesmerized by the idea of seeing into someone else’s mind.
Historically enhanced intuition. It was the ultimate survival tool, one that gave me insight into the thoughts of everyone around me. Instead of the internet, this was maybe how I found the men I sought. Carter, you are a freakin’ genius.
As I watched Nell’s memories, I frowned.
“You’re dying from a tumor, aren’t you?” I asked her.
Nell’s sharp intake of breath was enough of a response.
“You had two children who died in their youth. Your brother has dementia but your tumor will take you before the dementia does.”
“You are starting to remember,” Nell said.
“No … I mean, maybe.”
The memories weren’t mine, but they were clear, like I had read them in a book. I tried to recall anything about John but wasn’t able to.
Empathic memory. Did it mean I only remembered or knew things about people near me? If so, it wasn’t going to be nearly as good as the internet. I’d have to find someone who knew Taylor Hansen and Running Bear.
“Who told you of the tumor?” Nell asked quietly. “I forbade the doctor from revealing it to your father. He has been through enough.”
“You love him, always have,” I observed. “Why didn’t you tell him?”
“Bite your tongue, lest someone hear you!”
I laughed, looking at the open prairie that ran on all sides.
“You came back changed indeed,” Nell said, disapproval still in her voice. “A woman of my station cannot love a man of your father’s station.”
Definitely a different time. I kept the thought to myself.
“What was I like?” I asked. “Before I … disappeared?”
“You have always been very sweet. Delicate. Your father sheltered you, and for good reason. He is the wealthiest man this side of the River, and there are many men who would prey on you or him.” Her memories supported what she said. She was recalling me as a happy child with fondness.
“His money comes from England, from his family,” I said, the images in my mind flowing fast.
“Yes. His father was a nobleman. His elder brother inherited the title, but Mr. John was left a great inheritance by his mother and his uncle.”
“So I have always been … comfortable,” I assessed.
“Very. Spoilt, if I do say so.” Nell smiled. “Your father gave you whatever you wished, except when it came to the man he wished you to marry. There are few men here worthy of the hand of the daughter of a noble line. But there was one, and you opposed the union. You have always been smart and stubborn, traits you inherited from your father.”
Maybe I have more in common with the real Josie than I thought.
“You ran away on the eve before your wedding. Completely disappeared after a huge dinner your father threw. The sheriff and all your father’s money were not able to find you.”
At her words, the memories stopped suddenly. Like there was a wall there. I had no reason to doubt Carter’s brilliant inventions, and yet, I wasn’t able to explain why Nell’s memories ended on the afternoon real-Josie disappeared while Nell spoke of the evening dinner. She had missing time or memories somehow.
“It sounds like I was taken,” I said, frowning.
“We thought so as well. Your father could not bear the idea that someone he knew had done something so foul, so he told everyone you left him because of the marriage.”
“I wish I could remember.”
“Maybe it’s better you don’t. The doctor says he has met many people who are unable to recall tragedy, and he feels it’s better for them that way.”
“Hmmm. Maybe.” I want to know what happened to her. An image popped into Nell’s head. “You blamed … my cousin Philip.”
The memories began to flow again, this time of the blond man with a beard and cold eyes. “Don’t you repeat that to no one, Miss Josie. He has been after your father’s money since before you were born,” Nell said. “Your father spoilt him, too, the son he never had, but he left all his money to you.” The gravity on her features faded. “But, you have returned. There is nothing Philip can do. You are better served finding a husband soon, my child, even so.”
“John … Father said the same,” I said, amused. “I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself.”
“It is not fashionable for a woman to speak her mind as you do, and a woman’s right to land is not always recognized in the uncivilized new world.”
I rolled my eyes and gazed at our surroundings. We were quiet the rest of the way to town. Uncertain what to expect, I was surprised by how busy the tiny town I had seen the other night was by daylight.
“Every landowner and his son is here,” Nell said, anger in her voice. “They heard you were back. Each of them greedier than the last! No daughter of John is going to sully her hands by wedding any of them.”
“Whoa,” I said with a laugh. “You’re cute, like an angry grandma. I can take care of myself.”
“That frightens me more.” Nell eyed the men in town as we entered.
“My god – a real, live stagecoach!” I stared at the lumbering mode of transportation that was popular in the West. It was pulled by a team of four horses with two men seated on the driver’s box. It appeared worn, the wooden carriage dusty and the spokes of large wheels flecked with mud.
“A woman of your station travels by train,” Nell said with some disdain.
Not far from an inn where two stagecoaches were parked was a raised platform with a noose dangling from a center beam. I had never seen a real live gallows before. “Do they hang people here?”
“Yes, Miss Josie, they do for infractions of violence. We are one of the only frontier towns that’s peaceful, for which we can thank the half-breed Sheriff.”
The same sheriff that wanted a word with me. The sight of the noose gave me the creeps, and the warning about who issued hangings didn’t help. “How often does he hang people?” I asked.
“Every Saturday at noon.”
My mouth dropped open. “So often?”
“The sheriff is serious about his duty. He hangs white men, black men and red men, even a woman who killed her husband.”
“Wow.”
Nell nodded seriously. “Your father no longer attends the hangings, but most of the town does. The saloons offer free beer that day.”
Never expected a hanging to be an excuse for a party. “So there’s a trial, right? It’s not just one man deciding to hang people?”
“There are always trials and appeals, unless the crime has enough witnesses or was too terrible to await a trial. The sheriff hangs every man involved in a scuffle with the Indians, red, white, slave or mixed. No trial.”
Any thought I had about wanting to see the sexy sheriff was gone. Instead, my mind turned to ensuring we never crossed paths again.
“We are to find you a new bauble or jewels or finery for a dinner this evening. Your father insists,” Nell said cheerfully.
From gallows to jewelry. It was all in a normal day here. I shook my head. “I didn’t bring any money,” I said.
“He gave me your purse. Find what you like, and we will get it. There is nothing here you cannot buy.”
“How much did he send?”
“One hundred dollars.” Nell whispered the amount then looked around to make sure no one else overheard.
“Is that a lot?” I asked in the same tone.
“Child, please! It is more than most of these men will make in a year!”
“Wow,” I murmured. “Can my father afford this?”
“Of course. It’s pocket change to him.”
I should definitely thank Carter for sending me to John. If John considered a year of a man’s wages pocket change, I understood why every landowner was in town to court me.
In suits, bowties and some with top hats. I studied those we drove by, curious about their dress and mannerisms. A couple of them bowed while nearly everyone stopped what they were doing to stare.
“None of them are particularly handsome,” I mused. I was never much a fan of beards, and most of the men here had them.
“They are not,” Nell agreed. “You can find a much wealthier man when we head to the city.”
I snorted, the defensive nanny endearing. With this many people, though, how was I supposed to find the person I sought? Could my empathic memory process everyone?
“The sheriff isn’t here,” I murmured. “I guess he isn’t interested in my hand.”
Nell gave me a look of reproach. “He is not only poor, but is half savage and proudly claims them as kin.”
“Trust me – I want nothing to do with him. But he’s a lot easier on the eyes.”
“Quiet now,
Miss Josie. You must not entertain such thoughts about a man like that,” she warned. “He is lucky the soiled doves take him, but he will never have a wife, especially not one of your station.”
“Soiled doves?”
Nell raised her chin towards one side of the street. I looked and gasped. Women stood in front of a two story wooden bordello, their manner of being half-dressed leaving me no question as to the kind of establishment it was.
“It’s a brothel!” I exclaimed. “A real live, Old West brothel! Outstanding! We’ve got to talk to them, Nell.”
“Enough of your jests, Miss Josephine.” The note of mild alarm was enough to tell me that my nanny was at her wit’s end.
Disappointed yet fascinated by the women of the night, I didn’t take my eyes off them until Nell pulled to a halt.
It was then I noticed the sheriff, leaning against the wall of his office, watching us with hard green eyes. He appeared relaxed, his wiry body robed in worn clothing with patches on his pants and shirt. He was too hard for me to pity, but I wondered if there was a part of him that was bothered by the fact he was isolated from pretty much everyone. I didn’t imagine he had many friends since he was half-Indian and sent men to the gallows every week. His eyes stood out in a face rendered tanned from his time in the sun. He wore a wide-brimmed cowboy hat.
That is one sexy cowboy, I thought, unable to look away. Had I ever seen anyone else pull off the standoffish sexiness and quiet strength? I knew a conversation with him was not going to go well, but there was something compelling about his combination of outdoor ruggedness and intensity.
If he didn’t go around hanging people ... In the sea of men with black suits, he alone stood out. The movement of someone dressed in browns caught my attention, and my gaze went to a small group of natives gathered at the edge of town.
The Native American who was with the sheriff this morning was present, and I resisted the urge to interrogate him about where exactly he found me.
I concentrated on him but was too far to read anything about him the way I had Nell.
“Are we going there?” I asked, indicating a small market at the edge of town.