Luke's Quest 01 - Prisoner Of Time (v5.0), page 30
I walked along the main street in town. A few months ago, I had walked this very street in the year 2004. It had been dead grass when I last stood in this spot. Now the place where I was standing today had planks for a sidewalk. In my time, it would be an open field. I walked into Francis Marion Richter's barbershop.
"I need a shave," I said.
Francis replied with a big smile, "Sure thing." His accent suggested he was from Germany. I asked him about it, but he corrected me. He was from Saxsonia, he said. His wife was from Switzerland. They had met on the boat. He took great pride when he pointed to the other barber, George, his son. "He is American," Francis told me, "born here in Arkansas – the first in our family."
I loved this place and time. As a genealogist and a historian, these were the stories I tried to recreate for people. I was hearing and experiencing them first hand. Francis seated me in a wooden swivel chair. He took a ladle of hot water from a pot on the pot-bellied stove. He poured a small amount into a soap mug. The rest he poured over a towel in a basin on the counter. He pressed the towel into the water. He carefully lifted the hot, wet towel from the water. He wrung the excess water from it before he wrapped my face in the towel. It felt great.
A sign on the wall listed the prices for the services, which included a bath with hot water. I could hear a man splashing as he was getting out of the tub in the back room. I hadn’t thought about coming here for a bath, but now that I did think about it, I realized it was commonplace in this time period. The man held a towel in front of his privates and stepped to the door. "George," he said speaking to the younger man, "I need some more towels."
George reached into a cabinet and handed him several. "Here you go, Jimmie," he told the man. "Take your time."
Francis lifted the towel from my face. He began to stir the soap mug with a flourish. He lathered my face. I waited for the straight edge razor, but instead of shaving my face, he reheated the towel and placed it on my face again. Then he rubbed my face with the soap and towel to soften my beard. He removed the towel and lathered my beard again. This time he pulled the leather strap attached to the chair. Using broad strokes, he sharpened his straight edge razor. I suddenly began to get just a little nervous. I had never had a straight edge razor against my face. I had never allowed another man to shave me. Francis took the top of my head in one hand to steady me. The other hand held the razor. With broad strokes, he shaved my face. It felt great. Not once did his steady hand slip. He shaved me faster than I had ever shaved myself. I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. He replaced the towel to give me a moment to rest. At last, the ritual was finished. I had enjoyed the experience more than I had ever imagined possible.
The mood was shattered, however, as a man walked into the barbershop.
"Bradley, you’re in the wrong place and this is most definitely the wrong time for you." Samuel stood there glaring hate at me. "I don't know how you got here, but I know you aren’t going back."
"I don't want no trouble here," Francis said.
"Samuel," I said calmly looking him squarely in the eyes as I stood and handed Francis his towel. "This isn’t the time nor the place for us to settle our disagreements, but the time is coming very soon. Be ready."
He laughed at me. He was fingering the gun in his holster. "You couldn’t beat me in a fair fight if your life depended on it." He laughed again. "Come to think of it, I guess your pathetic life does depend on it. The last time I fought you," he paused enjoying reminding me of that day in my living room, "you were crawling on the ground begging me to stop beating you. Are you going to beg me this time to spare your life?"
"You have a poor memory, Samuel," I replied. "I didn’t beg for my life. Jeff begged for my life. Since he begged for my life, you killed him and his wife in cold blood. Did you enjoy killing Betty? You seem to get your kicks from killing unarmed people. Both here and during the war. How many Union soldiers did you kill with your bare hands?"
He spat at me but didn’t reply. Looking at his Colt 45s, I envied him. I hadn’t thought about buying handguns from this time period. Now, for protection, I wished I had planned ahead. I had my Berretta carefully concealed, but if I used it, people would see a strange weapon I might not be able to explain.
"As I said, Samuel, today isn’t the time or the place, but soon. I want to make sure no more innocent people die at your hands."
I turned my back toward him; I doubted he would shoot me in the back. I noticed George had walked out the backroom of the barbershop. He now had a shotgun aimed at both of us.
"George," I said, "I’m sorry for the excitement. We were just leaving."
I paid Francis and thanked him. Turning back, I noticed Samuel was gone. I walked out onto the street. A man held a sawed-off shotgun in his back, forcing him down the street. From what I knew about this Greener shotgun, the single blast at pointblank range would cut Samuel into two or more pieces.
"Who is that?" I asked.
George spoke up with a grin, "Jimmie West is our deputy sheriff. I told him what was happening. He had just finishing getting dressed after his bath, so he went out the back door and snuck up on him from behind. He saw you didn't have a gun, and you were acting so calm, he must have figured that guy was looking for a fight."
"Yeah," said Francis. "That man Samuel was in a fight last week and the week before. He just loves to fight, so Jimmie, he just arrested him to save the trouble of arresting him after the fight." Francis looked at me. "It's none of my business, but he will be out of jail after breakfast tomorrow. I would be gone if I were you."
"I’ll be gone tomorrow," I said. I felt my face. "This is the closest shave I’ve ever had; thanks, again."
It was then I saw Doug standing in front of the saloon. He watched Samuel as the deputy sheriff led him away. When he noticed me, his face drained of color. He walked toward me. As he passed within inches of me, I looked him over from head to toe. I saw no firearm. He walked past without a word. I suspected Doug was on his way to get the devices. If I were correct, he would get the devices and take them to the jail. Using them, he and Samuel would be back in 2005 in a few seconds. If I could get to the devices before he could use them, I could trap Samuel and Doug here.
I followed him into the Wood's House Hotel. He disappeared up the stairs. I decided to take my chances waiting for him in the lobby. I took a chair that allowed me to see the door and the stairs. I began to think about my options. If I allowed them to stay in the past, then Lisa would be free in the future. However, if they stayed in the past, they could make many major changes. Even if they didn’t know history very well, they should have a basic knowledge of where to be for major financial investments. If they worked just a little, one could become president or they could position themselves in the top branches of government. I couldn’t trap them here, I concluded, as letting them stay would only make matters worse. I had to kill them here and now or allow them to return to the future where I would have to take my chances with them, since they would know I was here to interfere with their plan.
Doug would be the easier one to kill right now with Samuel in jail. But how would Lisa react? Could I face her knowing I killed her husband? I saw Doug walking down the stairs. He had saddlebags with him. He didn’t see me as he walked out the door. Standing up, I reached into the back of my pants under my vest and I carefully withdrew my Berretta. I wrapped it in my bandanna to hide it from the view of others. Quietly, I walked up behind him. "Doug," I asked. "Do you have any idea what a 9mm Berretta will do to your heart at point blank range?"
He shook his head.
"Care to find out?" I asked.
"No, Luke," he said.
"Then keep walking. There’s a barn behind the saloon." I wanted him alone, and that was the only place I knew where we would have privacy. Once inside I had him step away from me. "You understand that with one shot I could trap you and Samuel here forever?"
"With one shot you can kill me," he said. "It makes no difference."
"It might make a difference in the future to Lisa's happiness," I told him.
"Why would it matter to her," he said. "It might matter to you, but after tonight nothing will matter to her."
"So you’re going to kill her tonight?" I asked.
He smiled, but said nothing at first. As I put the gun to his face, he changed his mind and began to speak. "I’m not going to kill her," he said. "Samuel will kill her later tonight. I thought I had killed her that night in Batesville, but I didn’t see the girl steal her car."
"Why do you want her dead?" I asked. "Is it because of me?"
"Don't flatter yourself," he said with a laugh. "I only used her for her knowledge. I needed her to establish the research teams. She was just a tool to be used. She has always been a heartless bitch, so tonight she'll become one for real. You were a big asset to us; your dating kept her out of our way."
His words chilled me to the bone. "Fate, Doug," I said, "played a strange trick on us. I’m in love with your wife, while you’re in love with money and power. I came to Mountain View not to steal your wife, but to rescue someone. I didn’t even know whom I would save until this very moment. Your words just saved Lisa's life."
Missing pieces began to fall into place. This adventure that had started when I read the journal Paul wrote about being stuck in 1881 and wanting help returning to 2005 had initiated the steps that had led me here. Paul had said he wanted to know who had caused his suffering and had accused Lisa. I had doubted her because of the journal. Now I knew beyond any doubt he had lied. He was going to kill Lisa or trap her in the past. I had been ready to believe this was some vast conspiracy plan by a secret world government or church elders to steal gold and rule the world. Now I understood it was just a few corrupt men lusting after wealth and power. They disgusted me.
Doug's voice brought my attention back into the barn. "How did you find us?" he asked.
"Your paper trail," I told him. He looked puzzled.
"We have nothing in writing," he said looking perplexed. "The Time-Ops budget is so laundered in government red tape, no one can find us. Our files only exist on the computers in our office complex."
"Rather, it was other people's paper trail," I explained. I held the gun aimed at his heart. "Every time you caused a problem in the Civil War, someone wrote it down. All I had to do was find all the pieces." I told him about the diary, the reports and such. "History hides it, and I find it," I told him as I reminded him of the motto I used on my business cards.
"Remember," he said with a smile, "it all depends who gets back first. You should have accepted our job offer. Hell, there’s still time. I mean, you’re proving yourself worthy. I want to know how you got back here without a device. That still has us puzzled. Come to work for me and I’ll let Lisa live."
“Really?”
“Well, under certain conditions,” he said grinning.
“What conditions?”
“She has to stay here forever. You can visit her as often as you want, but she lives the rest of her life here,” he told me.
“And then you could travel back at any time in the future and kill her. No, I just don’t trust you or Samuel.”
Doug laughed at me. “I had to try. See, you’re the sharp one.”
"Open your bags," I told him. "Slowly pull the devices out."
He followed my orders. He was trying to be cocky, but he lacked the bravery to do it. He knew I could and would kill him. At least, he thought I’d kill him, although I wasn’t sure if I could. Once he had the machines out, I motioned him to move back. I read the return time. I had no idea when Lisa’s devices were set for return.
"You know, Doug," I said, "I’m so very glad you never loved Lisa. You helped me find true happiness. The difference in you and me is I’m willing to die for your wife today if it will save her life. Are you?"
He just glared at me with pure contempt.
"I’ll have these delivered to the hotel in the morning. If you leave your room before they are delivered to you, then you will die in 1881." I looked at him considering the best way to exit. "Now take off your pants."
"What?" he asked in surprise.
“Take off your pants,” I repeated.
Doug pulled them off.
"Now, I’d suggest you run back to the hotel to your room. These pants and your saddle bags will be there in the morning."
He believed me. He ran like a plucked chicken.
I walked back to Richter's barbershop. George was still at the shop. His father had gone home.
"George," I said, "I have a $5 gold coin for you if you will do me a very important favor."
He looked at me and grinned as he saw Doug's pants and saddlebag. He had seen Doug running from the barn.
"First thing in the morning," I explained, "take these saddlebags and pants to the Wood's House Hotel. Give them to Mr. Doug Collins. Do not open these bags," I warned him. "You saved my life this afternoon. Doing this will save my life again. I know I can trust you."
He nodded, agreeing to do just as I had asked.
I walked back to my camp. It was time for me to reconsider all of my options, as circumstances were forcing me to change my plans. Lisa was in far more danger than I had thought. Hunger was nagging at my brain again. I opened my bag and took out my last snack bar. When I had finished it, I made sure I placed the wrapper back in the bag that would travel with us to the future. As much as I was worried about what would soon take place, I still wanted no traces of the future to pollute the past. A nervous energy surged though me. Now I had to wait on Lisa and Paul. I had nothing to do. I took a gold coin from my pocket. It seemed so strange to be carrying a coin made from gold. I took a nail and carved the letters "L.B." into the head side. I began to flip it for no reason other than that it helped me focus my thoughts.
Sitting in camp, I overheard a couple of young lovers sneaking into the woods. Time has not changed nor improved on some things, I thought to myself; youth and lust will always be strong motivational driving forces. Accidentally eavesdropping on the discussion of the young lovers inspired me. I wanted to thank them, but thought better of interrupting them at their intimate moment in time. I could hold a conversation that would be overheard by Samuel. I could force him to listen to those statements I chose to make.
Returning to town, I walked straight to the sheriff's office. "Deputy West," I said to the tall rugged looking man at the desk.
"Yes," he answered as he carefully studied my face.
"I want to thank you for stopping the fight this afternoon at the barbershop. I know that Samuel and I’ll someday have to meet to resolve our differences once and for all." I was speaking loud enough that Samuel could overhear me. "When it happens, you have my word there will be no innocents around to get hurt."
Deputy West studied my face. "Understand, there’s no fighting in Jacksonport. That’s all I care about. Hell, I’ll take the both of you out into the woods right now and let you settle it with bare knuckles if you want." He pulled the coffee pot from a potbellied stove, poured himself a cup and offered me one.
I thought about his offer while sipping on my coffee. I recalled the time Samuel had attacked me with his fist and combat boots. I also thought about my heart; with the earlier damage, it would take just a single medium strength blow to finish me. The combat boots had almost killed me. The cowboy boots he wore now might just finish the job. I had never been a coward. I had boxed in high school and, in fact, had enjoyed it even though I still have a scar above my left eyebrow. I was experienced enough to know I couldn’t win a fistfight with Samuel. I needed to even the odds.
"If you don't mind, sir," I explained to the deputy, "I want to tell Samuel that I’m leaving town. I also have a message for him from a mutual acquaintance."
"Go ahead, but if you start anything, I’ll lock the two of you in the same cell until only one of you walks out."
I smiled. "I assure you, I have no plans on that happening. In fact, you can stand next to me and listen. It might be helpful to you in preventing trouble with him."
Deputy West rose from his desk. "Stranger, you’re starting to grow on me," he said with a smile. He opened a door that led into the back room where there were two small cells. Samuel lay on the cot with his feet against the bars as he glared at me. "I thought I left you dead the last time, you bastard," he spewed at me.
"You came closer than you thought. In fact, the doctor tells me that with every beat of my heart I should think of you."
He grinned at me. "Like a coward you rolled out of the way." Samuel turned to the deputy. "Just give each of us a gun with one shell in it. Let me face him on the street man to man. I want to watch his face as he dies. Come on, deputy, just me and him in the alley."
“A wise man once said, ‘Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all,'” I quoted Hamlet to Samuel. “Maybe it’s my conscience that makes me a coward since you don’t seem to have one.”
“Really?” Samuel sneered up at me from the bunk on which he lay. He rose quickly to his feet and added, “Maybe you’re afraid to ‘die to live’?”
Why had he just quoted Shakespeare back at me? That caught me by surprise.
"Look, I didn't come to reminisce about the good old days. You need to know a few things. I just saw your friend, Doug. He no longer has the items in his saddlebags, but I know where they are." My words had the desired effect. Samuel knew I was in control for this moment. "He'll get them back in morning, so by the time you’re out of this jail he should be able to take you home with no problem. I’m leaving town soon, and I’m taking Lisa with me. Her husband has told me everything and offered to help set things right in the future."
I paused and took a long hard look at Samuel. I tried to judge his thoughts by his facial expressions, I was lying to him about Doug, but I wanted to put him on the defensive. I started to walk away, but I never know when it’s best to shut my mouth. "Samuel, we could have been friends, but you made only one mistake." He looked puzzled. "When you ambushed me, you left me near death and not dead. Well, that is the difference between you and me; I’d have left you dead." I reached into my pocket and took out the gold coin which now bore my initials. "Here," I told Samuel tossing him the coin, "you came looking for gold. I don’t want you going home empty handed."
