by Sable Hunter
I wished for you.
A thrill coursed through him with the memory. What had she meant when she said she wished for him?
As he neared the pair, he heard her speaking. “Sorry. I bet you wondered what was going on. I’m glad your grandfather didn’t let them take my Subaru when they towed the black truck away.”
An uneasy feeling filled Reno as he watched the man smile at Journey. He walked a bit quicker, determined to place himself between the couple who seemed to find a lot to laugh about.
Just before he joined them, Reno became aware of a strange rumbling. To his surprise, a red…something came rolling up on wide black wheels. Without being told, he knew this was one of those horseless carriages that Journey had told him about.
“There he is now.” Journey came to where Reno was standing. “Mr. Kota is delivering my car. Isn’t that nice?”
Speechless, he watched Journey greet an elderly man with a weathered face and a shock of white hair. When he opened the door of the…car, as she called it, there was no doubt in Reno’s mind that the man was an Indian. He recognized the distinctive features. After all, he shared those features.
“I appreciate you not calling the tow truck,” she said, meeting the man with a smile.
“No, I looked in your purse.” He slapped the air with his hand as if dismissing the idea. “I didn’t recognize the name on the driver’s license, but I saw a picture of your aunt in your wallet. I remembered Myra telling me you were coming to housesit for her.”
They went on to discuss the apprehension of the two criminals. Once Mr. Kota put the keys in her hand, she motioned for Reno to join them. “Mr. Blue, I’d like to introduce you to my friend, Reno Black. Reno this is Kota Blue.”
“Kota Blue,” Reno said the name slowly.
“Mr. Black.” Kota nodded and shook his head slowly.
Journey couldn’t help but notice how the two stared, looking one another up and down. She was about to question their intense mutual interest when the grandson called for his grandfather.
“Hey, Pop. We’ve got a busted water line!”
“Oh, no.” Journey voiced her concern. “Do I need to call a plumber?”
“No.” Mr. Blue shook his head. “I’m sure we can handle it. I can fix most anything. Cars. Tractors. Broken water lines. If not, I’ll call a plumber myself. Myra lets me worry about these things for her.”
With a wave of the hand and one last meaningful glance at Reno, Mr. Blue ambled off.
“What was that about?” she asked Reno, not missing the look of recognition shared between the two men. “Did you know him?”
“No.” Reno decided to say no more, not yet. “I guess just one Indian recognizing another one.”
She placed a hand on his back, giving him a little push toward her car. “We don’t use that word for Native Americans anymore. It’s considered crass. The only Indians are from India.”
Reno look at Journey like she was crazy. “Are you funning me?”
“Nope. Everything has to be politically correct these days.” She showed him how to lift the handle to open the door. “Now, sit down and I’ll fasten you in.” When he tried to wedge his six-foot three frame into the opening, she placed a gentle palm on his leg to stop his efforts. “Let me push the seat back.” After fiddling with some gadget, something moved and suddenly he had more room. “Now, get yourself all situated, and I’ll buckle the seat belt.”
Reno’s leg was still burning where she’d touched him. He didn’t argue with anything she set out to do, he just tried to focus on keeping his cock from showing too much enthusiasm.
From somewhere over his right shoulder, she pulled down a strip of fabric, then leaned over him to fit the metal end into another metal holder. Reno held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to moan when she laid her ample, soft breasts on his chest – and wiggled.
Lord Almighty. He felt beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “Uh…Journey?”
“Almost got it.” When he heard a click, she announced success. “There! You’re safely buckled in.”
As she backed out and shut the door, he laid his head back against some type of cushion and blew out a long, tortured breath. “Sassafras!” he whispered. Holy hell in a handbasket. While Journey was walking around the car and getting in, he removed his hat to place it over the burgeoning bulge of his manhood.
When she repeated the steps that she’d performed on him to buckle herself in, Reno enjoyed breathing in her scent. She smelled like honeysuckles on a warm day.
“All right. Here we go.”
He watched with great interest as she adjusted a mirror that hung about head level between them, then pushed a pedal with her foot, and pressed a button that clearly read START. He chuckled when he heard a familiar rumble. “This doesn’t run on steam, does it?”
She looked at him, surprised. “No. Gasoline.” At his confused look, she searched her brain for a way to explain it to him. “Gasoline is a derivative of petroleum, which is distilled from crude oil.” When he still looked confused, she let out a long breath. “I wish I’d studied harder. You know how you drill wells to find water?”
“A cable-tool drilling rig. Yes, I’m familiar.”
She smiled. “Okay. Well, there are pools of oil under the ground as well as there are pools of water.”
He leaned forward, very interested. “I’ve heard such tales told by a man from Pennsylvania. Sometimes the salt mines are polluted with oil. Is this oil the same as kerosene?”
She made a face and shrugged. “They are related. I know kerosene and gasoline have different boiling points, but…other than that – it’s over my head. Sorry.”
When she pooched her lips out in a cute show of remorse, Reno wanted to lean over and cover them with his own. “It’s all right.”
She brightened. “I can tell you we have 262 horsepower under the hood.” When he stared at her blankly, she giggled. “That’s a term of how they measure the power of an engine.” She reached over to cover his hand with hers. “We’ll have to find some guy to explain to you the intricacies of a gas-powered engine.”
Suddenly, Reno realized they were moving. Quickly. “Land O’ Goshen,” he mumbled, reaching out with both hands to grab the dash in front of him. “We’re splitting the wind.” They’d been talking so intently, and the ride was so smooth, he’d been oblivious to the ground they were covering in a hurry.
“Oh, we’re only going forty-five, this is a pretty winding road.”
“Forty-five.”
She pointed at the speedometer. “See? We can go lots faster.” When they came to a straight stretch, she pressed her foot down and the car went even faster. “Fifty-five. Sixty-five. Seventy-five.”
“Seventy-five is plenty fast,” Reno announced, his eyes wide, his jaw clenched.
“Okay.” She lifted her foot and the car slowed down.
Letting out a long breath, Reno began to notice what was around him. A ribbon of road stretched ahead of him and behind. For most of the way, there was a yellow line down the middle. “What’s the yellow line for?”
About that time, he found out. Over the hill came another car, heading straight for them. “Watch out!”
Journey noticed how he instinctively put on his brakes, pressing his feet into the floorboard. “Don’t worry, the approaching traffic stay in their own lane. Mostly. That’s what the yellow dividing line is for. When it’s solid, you’re not supposed to pass because there’s a hill or intersection ahead. When it’s a series of dashes, that means you can go around a slow-moving vehicle in your lane.”
“Oh.” He got some of that, not all. His mind had already moved on to other things, not just the other horseless carriages on the road, but also the structures they were passing. Homes. Stores. “What are those tall poles with wire strung between them?”
“Electric lines. They carry the power that makes the lights turn on, among many other things. And don’t ask me how they make electricity, all I can remem
ber is that it takes running water or some type of turbine.”
He didn’t ask for more information. Instead, he pointed to the sky. “What in tarnation is that?”
She glanced up and giggled. “Oh, an airplane. I told you that people flew nowadays. There’s probably a couple of hundred people riding in that long silver tube with wings.”
“How does it stay aloft?” he whispered in wonder.
“Aerodynamics,” she pulled that word out of the back of her brain. “And thrust.” Journey said the word with a bit of gusto. “Something like…when the engine of a plane moves it forward at a high rate of speed, air flows down over the wings toward the ground. This causes an upward thrust that is greater than the weight of the plane and keeps it up in the air. The plane’s engines push it forward, but it’s the wings that move it upward.” She smiled at her explanation. “I didn’t know I could say all that and it make sense.”
Reno didn’t have the heart to tell her that it didn’t really make sense to him. If he felt like contemplating about the idea, it might mean something – but he was too astonished at everything he was seeing to think straight.
“I think if you were to ride as the crow flies, the distance to Packsaddle Mountain is about seventeen miles. Following the highway, it’s about thirty-seven miles. We’ll be there in about forty minutes.”
“My best time on Traveler is three and a half hours.” He marveled at this new world he was experiencing. “You know, I keep expecting to wake up.” Catching her eye, he smiled. “If I’m asleep, this is one heck of a dream.”
“Believe me.” She spoke softly, in all seriousness. “I feel the same way.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Speeding along in Journey’s car, Reno kept his eye on the horizon. From the first glimpse of Packsaddle Mountain in the far distance, his heartrate accelerated. Part of him knew that King’s Ransom, as he knew it so well – was no more. There was no way that King’s log house and Fancy’s flowers, the bunkhouse where he slept at night, the homes where his friends lived…there was no way those things existed in the same world where long, narrow ships sailed through the air on stationary wings, and horseless carriages raced down ribbons of road faster than a steam powered locomotive. Still and all, as Clay was fond of saying, he held out hope. He couldn’t take anybody’s word for it, Reno needed to see for himself.
“This is a gorgeous part of the state.” Journey admired the beauty of the rich pastureland, the rolling hills, and the rock formation that made Packsaddle Mountain so distinctive. As she neared the turn-off, her eye was drawn to something else that might interest Reno. “Look, there’s a historical marker.”
“A what?”
“The state puts up markers engraved with descriptions of historical events.”
“Stop. Please.”
She pulled off the road and into the circular drive next to the concrete monument. Reno replaced his hat, then fumbled for the handle until Journey released her seat belt and stretched over to open the door for him.
“Thanks.” He stepped out and strolled over to the marker. The year 1936 was inscribed as the date the monument was erected. Reno stared at that number and the few sentences etched in stone.
In a battle fought August 4, 1873, Captain J. R. Moss, Stephen B. Moss, William B. Moss, Eli Lloyd, Arch Martin, Pink Ayers, E. D. Harrington and Robert Brown routed a band of Indians thrice their number. The last Indian battle in this region.
Reno read the inscription three times. Finding something permanent like this and seeing how aged it appeared gave him chill bumps.
“Did you know any of those people?”
Journey’s soft question was almost his undoing. “You have such faith that my outlandish story is true.”
“That you’re from the past?”
“Yes.” A thought occurred to him. Reno didn’t know why he hadn’t thought to ask it before. “Does this happen often?”
The breeze picked up and she pushed her hair from her face so she could see him clearly. “Does what happen often?”
“A person showing up from another time.”
“Only in the movies.” When he appeared confused, she felt contrite. “Time travel is something people like to imagine, but as far as I know it’s just a myth…” Journey realized what she’d just said. “Until you. I mean, you’re here. As far as it ever happening to anyone before – I have no idea.”
He looked back at the marker, his shoulders bowing slightly. “Yet, you accepted my presence so easily.”
“I fainted.”
He chuckled at the remembrance. “Yes, you did. Yet, you did accept the fact a helluva lot easier than I would have. If the tables were turned and you sashayed into my life one day and told me you were from the future...” He cut his eyes to glance at her. “I wouldn’t have believed you.”
“Even in these clothes?” She nudged his arm with her shoulder.
Reno found himself chuckling. Stealing a peek at her mile-long shapely legs, he cleared his throat and coughed. “Well, I might have thought you were a scarlet lady from a saloon, but they usually wear frillier outfits. And show a lot less skin.”
She whacked him playfully on the shoulder and Reno found himself leaning into her. He enjoyed the familiar way she treated him.
“These are not short-shorts, I have you know. Compared to some, I’m dressed modestly!”
“Oh, yea. I believe you.” Reno laughed out loud. “How about the way I’m dressed? Did that tip you off?”
Feeling comfortable with him, she hooked her arm through his, ignoring his sharp intake of breath. If he pulled away from her, she’d just die – but he didn’t. “You forget something, Reno.”
“What’s that?”
“I knew you from the first moment I laid eyes on you.” She probably shouldn’t tell him this, but she found she couldn’t stop speaking. “I’ve slept with your picture under my pillow since I was thirteen years old. Like I told you last night, I’ve been imagining scenarios where I miraculously waltz into your life…or you walk into mine for over ten years. So, when you did… it just felt right.”
Reno couldn’t look away from her beautiful face. Her gaze melted into his. He leaned closer; his lips hungry for hers.
Honk! Honk!
“Hot damn!” he growled, backing away, the moment gone. When he looked at Journey once more, her cheeks were pink – but she was smiling.
Her radiant serenity put him at ease. “Ready to go?”
“Almost.” His attention returned to the monument. “You asked me if I knew any of those people? I did. I knew the Moss family. We weren’t exactly friends, but we were acquainted. They couldn’t see past the color of my skin.”
Journey mumbled a curse beneath her breath. “Unfortunately, there are still people around like that.”
“I want to know more about this battle. Do you think you can find some information?”
“We’ll certainly look into it,” she promised. They returned to the car and this time Reno was able to fasten his own seat belt.
Journey started the car and pulled onto the highway. “I’m going to drive down the entrance road to the Blackhawk Ranch. You can tell me if you think we’re in the same spot where King’s Ransom is located.” All of a sudden, Journey felt badly about what she was doing. Even though she was thrilled this unbelievable miracle had brought him to her, she knew he was faced with the possibility that everyone he knew and loved were long dead. The world he knew was gone. Changed irrevocably.
“All right.” He folded his hands in his lap, his fingers digging into his own flesh. “How come its cooler in here than outside?”
“Air conditioning.”
She tapped the hard surface in front of them and he noticed all manner of numbers and letters in various colors. The lights were dimmer than the ones he’d seen on that box in his bedroom, but he could see them well enough. “What is all that?”
Journey giggled. “Oh, my. I feel very inadequate as your teacher. Let me think, air condi
tioning in a car takes the air available and removes the heat and moisture out of it, using something called a condenser…” She shook her head in consternation. “I think. I’m sorry. I don’t know that I’ve ever spent much time thinking about how anything works. I just take it for granted that it will.”
“It’s fine.” He ran his finger over the fancy display. “There sure has been a great deal of headway made since my time.”
Journey put on the blinker to turn. “There definitely has been many amazing inventions. If you stay…” Those words shook Journey to the core. If you stay. If you stay. “If you stay, we’ll have a good time discovering them together.”
Reno felt so torn. He was drawn to this woman. What he was learning excited him. Yet, he felt pulled back to his time. There were people there who needed him. Cole. Ela. Saul and the little ones. He swallowed, making no reply, trying to tamp down the emotions rushing through him.
“Look. Here’s the entrance gate and there’s the main house.”
He sat tall in the seat, pushing his hat back on his head, striving to get a closer look. The gate proudly proclaimed BLACKHAWK and was decorated with what looked to be a totem on one side. “Are they Indian?”
“Yes. Their father was Native American, but I’m not sure what tribe. Their mother was a descendant of Kingston and Fancy Ramsay. My aunt Myra knew them pretty well. They used to get together and talk about the old days. I remember her saying that the original stone house is almost a hundred years old.”
Reno was quiet while she spoke. He felt as if he’d been hit in the gut with a battering ram. A sinking, sad sensation made him feel a little nauseous as his eyes strained to see any trace of what once was – what used to be. “I was just here yesterday,” he whispered. “The cabin is gone, but this house sits in the footprint. The bunkhouse sat to the left, right where that rock fence is now. Boone and Jericho snored so loudly night before last that I had to sleep with a pillow over my head.”
Journey didn’t interrupt him, she just let Reno reminisce. She noticed his voice took on a sad, wistful tone.
