Timekeepers: A Revolutionary Tale

by J. Y. Harris

CHAPTER FOUR

  Sunset! That meant the setting of the sun, Kristen thought. When it got dark. As in evening, which leads directly to night. We can’t be here then; not at night, and certainly not—sure as hayell not—overnight.

  It was Saturday, for god’s sake. She was supposed to be at the re-enactment until about one o’clock, go home for lunch, then she and Abby were scheduled to go to the library and after that maybe get some fro-yo, and she’d be home by six to eat dinner and be at the O’Neill’s by seven-thirty to babysit.

  It was supposed to be a normal Saturday: hanging out with friends, putting up with geek-boy brother, talking and texting, spending the evening watching cheesy sci-fi movies once little Daniel O’Neill was safely in his baby bed. Just typical stuff for teenaged girls.

  Instead, here she was, playing Time Travel Tammy. Wearing an uncomfortable long dress, carrying or wearing her backpack everywhere, walking mile after mile after friggin’ daggone mile.

  She didn’t even want to think about having to spend the night here. Not without a bunch more provisions. It was fall, and Pennsylvania tends to be chilly this time of year—to say the least!—especially at night; temperatures generally bottomed out in the forties, and it wasn’t inconceivable that the low could even dip into the thirties. The drama club’s colonial-era dress she was wearing was heavy compared to the sweat-shirt and jeans she’d normally have on, but it wasn’t so heavy that it would keep Kristen warm if it got much cooler. So far, the exertions of all this walking had done a lot to keep her warm, but once it got dark, she doubted they’d do much walking. And neither she nor Brad had a coat—oops, make that a cloak to stay in period with the vernacular—to wear over their costumes. In fact, other than a tee- or sweat-shirt or something stuffed in her backpack, Kristen didn’t have anything to wear to help her keep warm, and she doubted Brad did either. (Even if he was a boy scout, this was one eventuality she was pretty sure that even he hadn’t thought to prepare for.)

  So, staying overnight here in the woods was a no-go. They couldn’t do it—she wouldn’t do it. Come hell or high water, Kristin Everheart was not going to sleep in the great outdoors in an ill-fitting borrowed dress in the middle of the eighteenth century.

  In the chill air of autumn.

  During the Revolutionary War.

  Not. Going. To. Happen.

  As Brad had mentioned, they couldn’t go to Philadelphia with Rebecca, and they sure weren’t going to stay in the woods. Maybe they could go back to the tavern with Jacob and spend the night there if necessary. An actual room to sleep in was probably too much to hope for, but even the taproom had a fireplace; throw a few blankets on the floor and she and Brad could probably survive the night well enough. Although even that would require some clever persuasion, as Jacob was obviously no fool. He’d have to be convinced—and his father, too—that the Everhearts weren’t dangerous or untrustworthy.

  And there was darn little to make him believe that. There was no reason in the world for anyone—Jacob, his father, Major Clark—to trust Brad and Kristen. Except the fact that they’d accompanied Rebecca in her quest to deliver important information. That was the only thing the siblings had going for them in this timeline—and that was precious little. After all, to everyone else living in 1777, Brad and Kristen Everheart didn’t even exist.

  Not to mention the fact that they had run into Rebecca Darrow purely by accident. It’s not like they had deliberately set out to help her, not like it had been a purposeful act on their part to get involved in her little secret mission. It just happened that Rebecca had been the first person they’d run into after their, er, arrival. It had just… happened.

  Nobody else knew that, of course, and it didn’t really matter.

  As the four teens walked, Kristen dropped back and reached into her backpack for her cell-phone. The sun dappled through the trees as she checked the time: three-twenty. She sincerely hoped something would happen soon. All this walking and the intrigue of helping Rebecca deliver her message was one thing; at least it had kept her occupied, given her something to do, something on which to focus her energy

  . But she really, really, really wanted to go home. She wouldn’t let Brad see it, but she was worried about how that was going to happen. And scared that it wouldn’t. What if missing person reports weren’t all abductions or accidents? What if some of them were the result of people encountering these…anomalies, these funky time-shifting fogs, and being sucked into another point in time? Amelia Earhart? She could be living like a queen in medieval Italy. Jimmy Hoffa—transported to the Han dynasty in China. Even D.B. Cooper, the guy who jumped out of an airplane with two-hundred-thousand dollars in ransom money, and was never seen again... who knows, maybe he materialized on one of Columbus’ ships and became one of the ‘discoverers’ of America.

  Well, okay, maybe not. A little too fanciful of a theory, the kind of geeky sci-fi stuff Brad would believe in. I’m just getting a little punchy, she thought.

  Kris became aware that the others were talking, and, looking ahead through the trees, she could see yet another dirt road. Catching back up to the others, she heard Jacob point out that Frankford Mill was just up the road to the north, and once Rebecca had gotten her flour, taking the road back the opposite way—south—would lead directly to Philadelphia.

  “Yes, I know this road,” Rebecca said. “Germantown Road. Once I get my flour from the mill, I know how to get back to the city.”

  “I’ll walk with you--all of you--until you near the city,” Jacob said.

  “That would be nice,” she replied, her cheeks pinking a bit. “But it’s not really necessary. I do know the way, and you need to get back to the tavern.”

  Jacob smiled at her, a crooked grin which showed surprisingly nice teeth. For someone who didn’t have access to a Waterpik or baking-soda toothpaste or whitening strips, he sure had a nice smile.

  “Well, my job was to see that you, er, that is, the three of you, get back to Philadelphia, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Uh yeah, about that… see, we’re not going to Philadelphia,” Brad broke in. Good thing he did, too, since neither of these two seemed to remember that he and Kristen were even there.

  Jacob blinked and turned to look at Brad. “You’re what? Not going to Philadelphia? Why not?”

  Rebecca too seemed to snap out of her entrancement. “That’s right,” she said, consciousness and memory seeming to come back to her. “You said you were going to get flour, too. Then you have to go back to-- to….”

  “Er, Falls Village,” Brad said. To Kristen, he muttered, “That is what I said earlier, isn’t it? Falls Village?”

  “How should I know? I thought we were from Germany.”

  “Prussia.”

  “Whatever.” Kristen spoke up, addressing Jacob and Rebecca. “Brad’s right, we can’t go to Philadelphia. We have to stay here in the woods, preferably back where we first ran into you,” indicating Rebecca.

  “Why would you have to stay in the woods?” Rebecca asked.

  “Uhh, I don’t know... we were raised by wolves?”

  Brad smacked his sister’s arm and rolled her eyes. “Of course we weren’t raised by wolves,” he told the others. “But we do have to go back to where we found you. We’re—er, we’re meeting someone there. Later.”

  Jacob looked at them, confused. “Why would you meet someone in the forest?”

  “Because…” Brad wracked his brain—and came up empty.

  “See?” Kristen hissed at him. “Being raised by wolves is sounding better and better.”

  Brad shook his head and ignored her, saying to Jacob, “Just because, that’s why. We can’t tell you anything more because it’s all confidential.”

  “Yeah, very hush-hush,” Kristen added.

  “So,” Jacob said, “you can’t go to Philadelphia because you have to go back into the forest to meet someone, in the dark, and it’s a big s
ecret.”

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “On the nose.”

  “Well, this secret mission of yours… meeting someone deep in the woods… sounds like the work of a spy.”

  Brad laughed. “When you say it like—wait. What?”

  “No, no, no,” Kristen said. “We are so not spies. We’re as American as you are. Born and raised here—just miles away, in fact. Not to mention a few centuries. But believe me, we’re big fans of George Washington.”

  “And we really, really, really want him to kick General Howe’s ass at White Marsh the day after tomorrow,” Brad added. “It’s very important that he win that battle and lead the American troops to defeat the British.”

  Kris nodded. “After all, how else is he gonna become president and get on the dollar bill?”

  Whereas a moment ago Jacob was looking at them suspiciously, now he looked just plain confused. “What? Washington is going to become what, and get on where? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Brad gave Kristen another of his WB looks. “Welcome to my world. Look, I know it sounds crazy—and it is, I admit. But the reality is, we do have to go back to where we first met Rebecca. It’s the only way we can get home.”

  “Get home? If you’re lost, I’m sure I can—”

  “We are lost,” Kristen said, sighing. “No two ways about that. And, unfortunately for us, even the best hunter and tracker in the world—your world—can’t get us home.”

  Jacob opened his mouth to reply, but Rebecca grabbed his arm. “Shhh! Listen,” she said.

  They all heard it: twigs breaking, leaves rustling. Someone was not too far off, and not being very quiet about it.

  Kristen was shocked to see Jacob pull a knife out from beneath his cloak while with his other hand he put his fingers to his lips. He cocked his head in an attitude of listening, and then slipped silently among the trees.

  “We may have to hide,” Brad said quietly.

  “Hide!” Kristen repeated in a whisper. “Where? How? We’re not hobbits; we don’t have cloaks that conveniently camouflage us.”

  “I know, but—” Brad’s reply was cut off by Jacob’s reappearance. They all looked at him questioningly.

  “Not soldiers,” he said curtly. “At least not at the moment. They may be deserters.”

  “Deserters! What should we do?” Rebecca asked, clearly looking to Jacob for guidance.

  “There are some evergreen trees over yonder. Judging from the direction those men were taking, they may pass nearby, and the trees I mentioned offer the best cover.”

  It was late autumn, and most leaves had fallen from the trees, which to this point made for some pretty noisy walking as dry leaves weren’t exactly quiet when rustled underfoot. However, Kristen didn’t recall seeing any Christmas trees in this forest. That’s what she thought of when Jacob said ‘evergreens,’ and a nice eight-foot tree certainly would be wide enough for them to hide behind. Add a little tinsel and some ornaments—not to mention a star on top—and yeah, they’d be practically invisible.

  They crept as quietly as possible as they followed Jacob, carefully picking their feet up rather than shuffling leaves in their wake. Sure enough, there were a couple of evergreen trees up ahead, and Kristen mentally kicked herself for forgetting where she was.

  These were Eastern hemlocks, which species she had known since the third grade was the state tree of Pennsylvania. Duh!

  The conifers were pretty young, probably no more than twenty feet tall. Even with the fully-needled branches, which started about three or four feet off the ground, the trees couldn’t completely hide the four teenagers from sight of the passersby, but they would do well enough.

  Kristen forced herself next to one tree with Jacob at her side. He maneuvered her as near to the trunk as the thick limbs would allow, and crowded close to her, trying to make them both seem part of the tree. A quick glance told her that Brad and Rebecca were similarly situated next to the other tree.

  Any other time, she’d probably enjoy this: a good-looking guy pressing himself against her, smelling as he did of woodsmoke and the outdoors. Kristen’s eyes were about level with his chin, and she could see the stubble on his cheek, as well as a small cut along his jawline, probably from the last time he’d shaved. He was close enough that she could feel his chest move as he breathed, and if she’d had room to put her hand up, she could probably feel his heart thumping beneath the brown woolen cloak.

  She found herself taking shallow breaths, not because she was literally ‘breathless,’ or that Jacob’s proximity ‘took her breath away,’ but because she was almost afraid that if she breathed normally, with full, deep breaths, she would practically push him away. He was that closely pressed against her.

  One of Jacob’s hands was braced against the trunk of the tree, and the other rested lightly on the hilt of the knife in its sheath. Under other circumstances, Kristen would say he had her pinned against the tree, and it would be true, but there was nothing romantic about it. Or menacing, for that matter. ‘Shielding’ would be the more accurate term. His dark brown coat and breeches were as much camouflaging as she could hope for as she stood with her back against the scratchy bark.

  Brad and Rebecca were in a similar case. He had his arm on the Quaker girl’s shoulder, pressing her as close to the tree trunk as possible. And yet he wasn’t standing as near to her as Jacob stood to Kristen. The thought flew fleetingly through Kris’ mind that Brad, even while stuck in a time-warp, hiding from renegade deserters in the darkening forest, was ever the gentleman, being careful not to crowd Rebecca.

  Jacob apparently had no such qualms with her. Not that he was being disrespectful… apparently it didn’t occur to him that it could be construed that way. That’ll teach me, she thought, to try to apply twenty-first century sensibilities to an eighteenth century situation.

  No, Jacob was all about the mission, which was protecting those who had been put in his charge: in this case, the “womenfolk.” Kris smiled to herself at that thought. Little did Jacob Tyson know that she’d taken two years of karate at the “Y” when she was younger, and that she’d successfully beat the snot out of Tony Krocker when he’d deliberately tripped her friend on the playground in the third grade.

  Well, never mind. If Jacob’s sense of honor dictated that he press her against a tree trunk with his body, so that their very breaths mingled warmly and haltingly between them… who was she to argue the point?

  The sound of voices and rustling leaves grew steadily closer, until it almost sounded as if the rogues were on the other side of the tree.

  “I ain’t doin’ it, Bob,” said one angrily. “It ain’t right.”

  “You want right, or do you want money?” came the reply from ‘Bob.’ “All’s we have to do is snoop around the camp some. Don’t ye want t’ get paid? That’s why we hoofed it out of there to begin with—the army ain’t paid us.”

  “So why’re we still crawling around the countryside? I say we just go home to our families.”

  To Kristen’s horror, the strangers seemed to have stopped to argue. Her gaze flew to Jacob; his thickly-lashed eyes were glued past her, looking instead through the branches to some point beyond the tree. His face was a study in concentration.

  “Go home to our families! With what?” asked Bob. “We ain’t got no money, our families ain’t got no money, since we weren’t there to work the harvest. Nobody’s got no money. Except them Brits. When that redcoat officer caught us stealing them eggs, he could’ve kilt us, or clapped us in irons. But he wants to pay us, Walt. Pay us good money, just for a little snoopin’.”

  “Yeah, and never mind what happens if we gets caught. First desertin’ and then spyin’. That’ll work out great for us, Bob. Listen, I saw a clearing over there; I’m going to sit down and maybe get off my feet for a bit. These dogs are barkin’.”

  “Wait, you don’t want to be lolly-gaggin’
in these woods—‘specially not now when it’s comin’ dark. Who knows what-all lives in the forest. By which I’m talking about wild animals.”

  “If something’s out there, it ain’t gonna come near no fire. Now look for some kindlin’.”

  There was some leaf rustling as the two men moved away from the hemlock trees. Kristen felt a rush of air as Jacob let out a deeply-held breath. He peered cautiously around the tree, eyes darting this way and that as he ensured the men were indeed gone.

  As Jacob stepped away, Brad and Rebecca trod quietly over to where he and Kristen stood.

  “Well, that was close,” Brad whispered.

  “Yeah, the last thing we need is to be caught by some cowardly deserters,” Kristen agreed. “These woods are dangerous.”

  “I doubt they would have physically harmed us,” Jacob put in.

  “How do you know? I’m sure they were armed, weren’t they?”

  “One of them did have a musket.”

  “See?”

  “Which posed no threat to any of us.”

  “How can you know that?” Brad asked curiously.

  Jacob shook his head. “No ammunition. Do you really think they would bother stealing eggs from some farm if they had the means to take down a deer or even a rabbit?”

  “Good point.”

  “They probably still have knives,” Kristen said, eying Jacob meaningfully. “Apparently everyone around here carries a knife.”

  “You’re right,” he replied. “Most men who walk in the woods carry knives. It’s a reasonable thing to do. But I don’t think those men pose a big threat—not physically, anyway. Not to us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Didn’t you hear them?” Rebecca put in. “They were talking about spying. On General Washington.”

  “Yeah, but old buddy Walt over there wasn’t on board with the plan. He didn’t want to do it,” replied Kristen.

  “Maybe not,” said Jacob. “But think about it. Which of those two do you think would win out in the end?”

  “Bob was pretty persuasive,” Brad said thoughtfully. “For them the choice is between going home empty-handed to face a cold, hungry winter, or taking a risk in helping spy for the British and getting paid a tidy sum for a couple days’ work.”

  “So you think eventually Bob would win out.”

  Jacob tipped his head. “I don’t think he would do it alone, without his friend, but of the two, he has a better chance of convincing the other one. He had more persuasive arguments on his side.”

  “Okay,” Kristen said, “now we know that good ol’ Bob gets to be captain of the debate team. So what does that mean for us?”

  Jacob and Brad looked at each other as if seeking affirmation that the other would agree with him. They were each about to speak when—

  “We have to stop them.”

  The boys looked at Rebecca in surprise.

  Kristen laughed. “She totally stole your thunder. You go, girl!” Kris stuck out her closed hand for a fist bump, then dropped it when Rebecca just looked at her as if she were crazy. Kristen cleared her throat. “Yeah, okay. Anyway. So, what do we do to stop them?”