Time Passage: A Time Travel Novel, page 23
I knew I’d love him no matter what profession he chose. I’d love him if he dug ditches or hauled coal or drove a horse wagon, although I was certain he’d rise to the top of any trade he chose.
Love had come into my life, and it absolutely astounded me. I loved Bryce with all my heart, and I loved Tara with a heart so full I could hardly contain it. So, is that why I had time traveled? Had the universe singled me out, saying, “Hey, you Lost Cause, we’re going to give you one more chance—an opportunity to make something of yourself instead of throwing your life away. We’re going to give you two people to love. Now, girl, what are you going to do with it?
A clopping horse rode by, a silhouetted rider in the saddle.
I thought about time travel, and the strangest thoughts about it went streaming through my head, concepts I’d never thought I was capable of having.
I imagine myself on a train that’s moving through a large pass between mountains. Standing in the caboose, I look backwards, and there it is, the past I’ve just lived, and it’s still there. Then I see myself up front, looking forward, and I can see the future, that is, where I’m going.
And then I’m walking back and forth on the train, which is moving in a single direction. If each time I change direction, am I moving for a time in the past, and then, for a time, in the future? Am I moving back and forth in time, a kind of forever time passenger?
I nodded off and finally slipped into the bed next to Tara. For the first time in a long time, I prayed I wouldn’t wake up and find myself living in 2022, finding that my entire experience in 1880 was only an elaborate dream.
CHAPTER 46
The next morning, I let Tara sleep in, and I left the hotel, arriving at the Denver jail just after nine o’clock in the morning. To my delight, Bryce was behind his desk, signing some papers, and Deputy Clay Fallon was standing by one of three jails, talking to an inmate while eating his breakfast.
Hanging on the wall, near some wanted posters, was a sign that read:
No person shall fire or discharge any cannon or gun, fowling piece, pistol, or firearm of any description, or fire, or explode any squib, cracker or other thing containing powder, or other combustible or explosive material… without permission of
Marshal Bryce Vance.
When he saw me, Bryce rose and smiled a greeting. “Good morning, Miss Downing. I was going to pay you a visit around ten o’clock. I supposed you were catching up on your sleep.”
I acknowledged Deputy Fallon with a smile and a “good morning,” and approached Bryce’s desk.
“Well, Marshal, I can see from your red-rimmed eyes that you didn’t get much sleep.”
“No, I arrived only an hour ago, but I slept some on the train.”
I lowered my voice. “I’d like to talk to you. Can you join me for breakfast at the hotel?”
“Yes, I can use some ham and eggs and fresh coffee.”
He turned to his deputy. “Clay, I’ll be back within the hour.”
We sat at the same table as before, ordering mostly the same breakfast items we’d ordered all those days ago. It seemed weeks ago. The diners around us stole curious glances, but Bryce didn’t seem to care and Dan, the waiter, was his usual, pleasant self.
When the coffee was poured and Dan withdrew, Bryce mixed in some cream and stirred. After he’d taken a generous drink, I leaned toward him, speaking in a near whisper.
“Is everything okay?”
He shrugged a shoulder and gave me his fetching, slanted grin. “Well, let me see now, Cindy. The newspapers say I’m a killer. The mayor wants to see me at one o’clock. He says the territorial governor wants answers about how John Gannon was killed. I’ve received several threatening anonymous letters, and many of the more respectable residents of Denver want me tossed out on my… shall I say, ear?”
I frowned. “I’m so sorry I got you into all this.”
He made an empty gesture with his hand. “Not your fault, Cindy. It’s just the way of things, and how events take form and play out. After being in those Civil War battles, where so many lives were lost and so much was at stake, these little fights don’t get to me much. Maybe they should, but they don’t.”
“And what is being said about me?” I asked.
“You haven’t read any of the morning papers?”
I lowered my gaze and reached for my coffee cup. “No. Not before breakfast.”
“Suffice it to say that the opinion of the paper is that you are a loose female who has brought nothing but the foulest trouble to our fair city. To be bare-back honest, they are blaming you for John Gannon’s death, and blaming me for falling head-first into your, and I quote, ‘love-web trap.’”
“‘Love-web trap?’” I almost burst out laughing. “Wow… that bad, huh?”
“Yup.”
I looked directly at him and just let the words fly. “Come with me, Bryce. Come with me and Tara on the next train out of here to New York.”
A little breath of laughter left his lips. He studied me. “Do you mean run away from all this, like a whipped dog?”
“No, not run. Leave.”
“Same thing.”
I leaned toward him. “No, it isn’t. You choose to leave. You choose something better, and that something better is us, and it’s Tara, and a life together.”
He ran a finger around the rim of his coffee cup. When he raised his eyes to me, I saw a weary fatigue, and I saw questions. “Who are you, Cindy Downing? You have never answered that one simple question, and I cannot find an answer.”
For a few seconds, I considered telling him everything: how I killed Cliff Prince and about time travel. He waited, and I struggled to answer his question once and for all. But again, how could I? I would lose him for sure.
I sat back in my chair, releasing a little sigh. “I’m a girl who loves you, and who wants you; a girl who will explain everything to you once we’re on that train heading to New York. Promise.”
Our breakfast arrived, and we ate in silence for a while. After Bryce had eaten most of the eggs and ham, he slid his plate aside, blotted his mouth with his napkin, and folded his hands on the table.
“Cindy… I will travel to New York.”
I wanted to jump up like a cheerleader and scream “YES!”
Then what he said next brought me back down to earth.
“But not now. I will not run from this fight, Cindy. I cannot. If I did, I couldn’t live with myself.”
My body slumped in defeat. “I think what you’re really saying is that you’ll never come.”
“No, it does not mean that. It means I will travel to New York and meet you and Tara when all this business is cleared up. That is a promise.”
“And what if they toss you out on your ass? Excuse my modern mouth.”
“Then I will get on that train and meet you in New York all the sooner. I will ask you to marry me and, I suppose, as the stories often say, we’ll live devotedly, and in love, and happily ever after.”
I saw the truth of it in his eyes. “And what if they don’t toss you out on your… very nice ass?”
Bryce’s lips were curved into a smile as he spoke. “Oh, my, Cindy, but aren’t you always a surprise, and a touch wicked, I believe.”
I reached and placed my hand on his, batting my eyes flirtatiously. “I’m trying to be better.”
“Don’t be better. Don’t change. You bring a morning gladness to this lawman, and it stays with him the day long, and it warms up his night, especially if you’re with him.”
I gazed adoringly at him, melting into his gorgeous eyes, taking in his ruggedly handsome face.
When Dan appeared to remove our empty plates, I removed my hand from Bryce’s hand, and he averted his gaze. When Dan was gone, Bryce looked at me earnestly.
“I will not run off like a scared rabbit. I will stay and fight. But as soon as it’s over, one way or the other, I’ll catch the next train to New York.”
I nodded decisively. “Okay. Fine. Then, I’ll stay, too.”
“No… You should go. Things will get ugly, and I don’t want you or Tara here when it does.”
“But how can I leave without you? What if something happens to you? How will I know?”
“Nothing will happen except a ‘Yes’ or a ‘No’ vote. Whichever it is, then I will leave, and I’ll be in New York as soon as I can.”
The next train for Chicago, and then to New York, left at 4:10 p.m. that afternoon. Bryce said he wanted me and Tara on it.
I didn’t want to add to his problems, and I was certain most of the town would turn on him even more if I stayed, so I agreed to leave. But it didn’t feel right, and it didn’t feel good, and for the first time in my life, I knew what an aching heart felt like. I was leaving the man I loved, and I had no idea when, or even if, I’d ever see him again.
Bryce had paid our hotel bill, and he was waiting for Tara and me outside the hotel on a buckboard at three o’clock. Because I knew there would be a curious crowd gathered to watch me leave town, I’d dug deep into Rosamond’s trunk and put on a stunning, purple silk and crushed velvet bustle dress, and a lavish matching hat with feathers. Tara wore a lovely blue and tan dress, with a stylish felt hat that I’d bought for her at the only basic ladies’ shop in town. She’d stared at herself in the mirror for a good five minutes, turning this way and that.
“I don’t look like myself, Cynthia.” She insisted on calling me that, saying she liked the sound of it better than Cindy.
“You look beautiful,” I’d said. “And you are beautiful.”
I wanted to make a lasting impression on these people, one they’d never forget. As I exited the hotel in that fine dress, I took Tara’s hand and lifted my proud head. From Bryce’s wide eyes and the crowd’s gossipy whispers, I knew I’d achieved my goal, and I was delighted.
The teenage hotel steward loaded my trunk and Tara’s canvas case into the rear flatbed, wished us “Godspeed,” and then he winked and smiled at Tara. Bryce climbed down and helped me and Tara aboard, while the crowds thickened, and someone shouted an insult. The marshal ignored it as he climbed up next to me. He shook the reins, and we lurched ahead.
As we trotted along the streets, a few cowboys waved at Bryce, but many other townsfolk ignored him, including the ladies, who didn’t glance my way.
Bryce’s eyes shifted left and right, watchful and wary. I thought, how easy it would be for someone to take a shot at us from one of those shop windows, from a roof, or from inside an alley. If I was thinking about it, then Bryce was thinking about it, too.
CHAPTER 47
At the train station, we waited under the protection of the platform roof, as snow flurries fell, and a snappy wind gathered, then died away. I reached into my coat pocket, removed the statements Tara and I had written down two hours before, and handed them to Bryce.
“I hope these help.”
He took them, slipping them into his inside coat pocket. “Thank you. The sheriff was asking for them. They may not help, but they certainly won’t hurt.”
“Something that I keep wondering about is, how did you find me at Bart’s City?” I asked.
“The rancher I was with told me John Gannon was on his way to Bart’s City. I flagged down the west-bound train at a whistle stop, two miles from Denver, and ordered it to take me to Bart’s City. That’s one advantage of being a federal marshal and not just a sheriff.”
Bryce, dressed in his black woolen frock coat and cowboy hat, checked his pocket watch, then glanced toward the tracks. “If it’s on time, we have about four minutes.”
I gave him a tender, longing look. “By the way, thanks for giving me your revolver. It saved my life.”
He smiled. “With your shooting skill, I could hire you as a deputy, if you stayed.”
I turned my eyes away. “It doesn’t feel so good killing a man with a gun, does it, even when they want to kill you?”
“No, killing anything never feels good, but if you hadn’t shot the man, you and Tara wouldn’t be here. You saved your own life and Tara’s. Now, that’s something to think about whenever bad memories come in the night.”
Tara stepped over, wrapped in her long woolen coat. “Marshal Vance, what will happen to the servants who work at the Gannon Mansion?”
“John Gannon’s younger brother is coming from Kansas City. He will inherit the estate and, from what I have heard, he is a kindlier man than his older brother was, and from all accounts, he is married to a fine woman, and they have two children.”
Tara was thoughtful. “I hope he keeps the house, for the servants’ sakes. They need their jobs.”
Tara moved away toward the tracks, leaning out to see if the train was approaching.
Bryce looked at me, and his eyes said something hopeful and warm. “You take care of yourself and Tara, and don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right. Once you get settled, send me a telegram with your address, and I’ll send some money. And, of course, I’ll wire you just as soon as this bad business has been concluded, one way or the other.”
I didn’t care if people were watching. I faced him, reached a gloved hand, and touched his face and his lips. “I love you, Bryce Vance. I know it was fast and I know it’s crazy, but that’s just the way it is. I love you. Come to me as soon as you can.”
The haunting blast of the train whistle startled me, and Tara spun around. “It’s coming! It’s coming, Cynthia.”
Earlier that morning, I had ordered a room-service breakfast for us, and while we ate, I told her the entire story about Rosamond, Thomas, and me. I didn’t tell her about time traveling, because I didn’t want to freak her out.
She took it well, standing, wrapping her arms about my waist, hugging me tightly. “I’m so glad you’re with me. I prayed so hard that you would find me, and you did. You came for me.”
The train had almost reached the station when Bryce said, “We’ll be together again before you know it.”
We embraced and kissed, something that was scandalous in 1880, but since we were already considered outcasts, it didn’t matter, did it?
Tara turned away from us, embarrassed, as Bryce kissed me one last time, long and warm. And there it was again, the glory and the magic of love.
The train rumbled into the station, hissing steam, brakes squealing. A porter toted my trunk and Tara’s bag up the stairs and into the coach, and Tara climbed aboard and found our seats, giving me another minute alone with Bryce.
He touched my nose with a finger and said, “She was a phantom of delight, when first she gleam’d upon my sight. Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; like twilight’s, too, her dusky hair.”
I drew back in surprise. “A poem? From you? Big and tough Marshal Bryce Vance reciting a poem? I don’t believe it.”
He slanted an apologetic grin. “My old schoolmarm, Miss Jenkins, made us memorize that William Wordsworth poem all those years ago. I thought I’d forgotten it.”
I kissed him again, broke away, lifted my skirts, and darted up the stairs. Not looking back, I entered the coach and sat down next to Tara.
The clanking bell seemed loud as we lurched ahead, and clouds of steam obscured my view of Bryce for a few seconds. He waved, and he smiled, and as he faded from view, he already seemed light years away.
The train rattled along the tracks, and Tara was soon asleep, her head resting against my shoulder. I ached for Bryce, and I felt an unspeakable love and gratitude for Tara. The depth and the range of my emotions were new to me, and they hurt, and they were mysterious.
It was after we’d changed trains in Chicago and were thundering across the tracks somewhere in Pennsylvania when it happened.
We shot through a tunnel. I heard and felt the whoosh of wind and I sat up, fully alert.
“What’s the matter?” Tara asked, glancing about nervously. “What’s going on?”
But I couldn’t speak. I seized Tara’s hand and pulled her close.
Just as before, a smoky, yellow fog rolled into the coach, and I coughed, frantically struggling to wave it away. It thickened, and the surrounding passengers were ghostlike, and then they vanished. Tara cried out, panicked.
All around us, glittering light sizzled and flashed; bright blue tentacles were frenzied, crawling along the seats, the windows and the ceiling, a hot electric current stinging my skin.
Tara screamed as the train bucked and groaned like something wounded, and I wrapped her tightly in my arms, clutching her, expecting the train to jump the tracks and go barreling off into oblivion.
A sharp blast of frigid wind battered us, and I held fast to Tara with all my strength, as the train went hurtling off into a stormy cloud of flashing blue lights.
CHAPTER 48
The impact of the return was jarring, like being yanked from a deep-sleep dream and flung into a pool of icy water. I was gasping for air, shivering and fighting panic.
The conductor seemed to tower over me, like an alien giant in a sci-fi movie. He spoke in a deep, slow-motion voice. “Miss… Are… you… all right…? Can… you… speak?”
I couldn’t speak, and my brain was a scrambled mess of tangled words, thoughts, and faces. My heart slammed in my chest and my head was pounding.
A doctor was called. There was one in the next car.
He asked me questions, but I don’t remember anything. He lifted my wrist and checked my pulse. It was racing, of course. And then everything went black.
The next thing I remember, I was strapped in a gurney inside a speeding ambulance, the siren screaming. I passed out again.
My eyes popped open, and a doctor wearing blue scrubs, complete with a cap, a blue face mask, and a stethoscope, was hovering over me, shining a pin light into my left eye.
I squinted and swallowed. “What?”
He switched off the light. “How are you feeling?”
I swallowed again. “I don’t know.”
“Any pain?”
“I… I don’t think so,” I said, blurring the words.
“Are you sure? No pain, anywhere?”
