by Sable Hunter
“Ace and his sister Amelia lived in the back side of the bunkhouse. We walled them off a separate area to give the girl some privacy. She had a hard time getting over the ordeal she suffered, being kidnapped by the Indians. I don’t think they were cruel to her, but she blamed them for her parents’ deaths.” His tone changed yet again, taking on a questioning quality. “Although…after my run-in with Kinsella, I’m wondering if the Indians killed her parents or not. Maybe…”
Pausing, he just stared around him as if expecting to see one of his friends come running around the side of the house at any moment. Journey said nothing to interrupt him.
“Domino and Boone helped a cow birth a calf.” He pointed to the right. “The barn sat over there beneath that big oak.” He smiled. “The old tree still stands. I carved my initials on that tree. I wonder if they’re still there.” Unbuckling his seat belt, he started to get out.
“Wait.” She placed a hand on his thigh. “Where are you going?”
“I want to look around. Up close.”
“We need to ask permission.”
“Do you think they’re home?”
Journey glanced toward the house again. “Their vehicles are here. And…there they are.” She pointed at a man and a woman exiting from their front door. “I think that’s Benjen and his wife, Apple.”
“Apple?” He repeated the strange sounding name. “What about my clothes? Do I look out of place?”
Journey scoffed. “You’re dressed like half the men in Texas. Cowboys have never gone out of style.”
Her observation made Reno chuckle. “That’s good to know.”
They both climbed from the Subaru to greet the owners. “So, he’s related to King and Fancy.” Reno studied the man’s face, trying to see a shred of resemblance. “He’s dressed like me.”
“Except for the pants. He has on jeans, which are made from denim. Yours are made of wool.” She looked down at his long, strong legs. “We’ll buy you some jeans later. They won’t be as scratchy or as hot.”
“Hey.” Apple raised a hand in welcome as Journey stepped forward in greeting.
“Apple. I don’t know if you remember me.” They’d only met once before at a community fund raising dinner. Benjen was a different story, even though he was older, they’d gone to the same school. “I’m Journey Stanton, Myra Weiss’s great-niece.”
“I do remember. It’s good to see you.”
“Journey, it’s been awhile.” Benjen took her hand, then offered a handshake to Reno. “I’m Benjen Blackhawk and this is my wife, Apple.”
“This is my friend, Reno Black.” Journey started to offer an explanation for their visit, then her mind just went blank. “He…uh…”
“I just wanted to see your place again. I used to swim at the Slab.” He named the well-known watering hole that sat partially on King’s Ransom’s land.
“Didn’t everybody?” Benjen laughed. “Come on. I just bought a new horse. Would you like to see?”
“Sure would.”
Journey watched Reno move away with Benjen. She felt a bit anxious letting him go off on his own.
“He’ll be okay,” Apple commented softly, reading Journey’s mood. “By the way, he’s a looker.”
Journey didn’t even pretend not to agree. “Oh, yea. Handsome as they come.”
“Would you like to come in? Can I offer you something to drink?”
“Oh, no. Thank you.” She motioned to the two men who were standing at a corral fence admiring a buckskin horse that was nuzzling Reno’s hand as he held it through the railings. “I’m sure he’ll be ready to leave soon.”
Apple smiled thoughtfully. “I’m trying to figure out if I’ve run into him somewhere before. He looks a little familiar.”
Journey didn’t know what to say to this. What if she recognized him?
No. The likelihood of there being another photograph of Reno in existence was slim to none.
Although…Benjen’s mother might’ve had some historical papers passed down through the Ramsay family. Just in case, she sought to change the topic to Apple’s flower garden. “What type of rose is that?” She pointed to a vivid neon red variety, a large bush covered in dozens and dozens of bright blooms.
“A Knock-out.” She went to pick one for Journey. “This is the only truly deer-resistant rose I’ve found.”
“Well, it’s beautiful.”
As she inhaled the fragrant scent, the men rejoined them. With one hand on his hip, Reno looked at ease as he conversed with Benjen. “Journey is taking me around so I can reacquaint myself with some of the local scenery. We stopped at that historical marker just down the road a few minutes ago.”
Benjen narrowed his eyes. “That marker is pretty personal to me. I’m Apache. What are you?”
“Cherokee. My mother was full blood.”
Nodding, Benjen looked toward Packsaddle Mountain. “One of my ancestors died in the battle. The story my family passed down about the fight doesn’t exactly jive with the official account. A lot of innocent people died, blamed for things they didn’t do. That battle might’ve been the last, but it wasn’t the worst one. Just a few years before, there was a massacre that wiped out almost all the local tribes.”
Journey felt Reno stiffen at her side. Obviously, the information Benjen revealed meant something to him.
“Do you know more details? Who attacked whom? Where did it take place? How many died?”
Benjen and Apple appeared to be a little taken aback by the rapid firing of questions.
“I’ve forgotten a lot of the details…” Benjen began.
Seeing their confusion, Journey chimed in. “We’re planning on doing some research of our own on the area. We’ll make a point of looking into that incident. Won’t we, Reno?”
He blinked, as if he he’d been lost in his thoughts. “Yes. Of course.”
“We will too,” Apple stated. “Benjen’s mom kept everything.”
“That would be good.” Journey took Reno’s arm, then moved one step toward the car. He resisted. She realized he was reluctant to leave. “I’m getting hungry. How about you, Reno?”
“I could fix some lunch,” Apple offered.
“Thanks for the kind invitation, but I want to take Reno to one of my favorite places.” What she really wanted to do was get him away from the Blackhawks before he said something that would make them suspicious. She was relieved when he perked up and offered his hand once more to Benjen.
“I appreciate you letting me look around. You’ve got a really nice place here. That horse was a good buy.”
“You’re welcome and come back.” Benjen pointed toward Packsaddle. “When you do, we’ll take a ride; you can tell me how much the place has changed since you saw it last. Maybe we could do some fishing in the river.”
“I’d like that,” Reno said sincerely as he followed Journey to the car. “You two take care.”
After waving a final farewell to Apple, Journey put the Subaru in reverse and retraced their path back to the highway. “What do you think now?”
Reno let out a long breath, pulling off his hat to place it on his knee. “Well, I have to admit I’m here in the future. This is real. Everything I knew is gone. All my friends are long dead.” He chewed on his lower lip and shook his head in disbelief. “I just don’t know how it happened. Or why? What did I do to set this into motion?” He turned to lock eyes with Journey. “And how do I get back? Can I get back?”
Journey felt guilty. She could see how this was affecting him. She couldn’t imagine how it felt for his whole existence to be upended this way. Well…maybe she could. She’d fantasized about living in his time often enough. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any answers for you, but if we can figure out a way to change things for the better, I’ll do everything I can to help you.”
“I know you will.”
After that they fell silent for a time, both deep in thought. As she headed south from Kingsland to Marble Falls, a troubling possibility occu
rred to her.
What if she’d done this? Wished for Reno for so long and so hard that she’d somehow brought him forward in time.
As wild as it would be to have such power, Journey hoped she was giving herself too much credit. She didn’t want to be responsible for the pain Reno was going through.
Finally, he spoke. “Are we going to eat? I am hungry.”
“We are.” She pointed at the city limits sign. “I’m going to take you to one of my favorite places. It’s just up ahead a few miles.”
The closer they drew to town, the thicker the traffic became. And there were more businesses. Gas stations. Convenience stores. Grocery stores. Drive-in restaurants. Dollar stores. Reno tried to see everything, looking from the left to the right. “There are so many different kinds of cars. Different shapes. Different colors. And I can’t believe how much is going on. The whole town is working with people, like a big ant colony.”
“Just wait. When we get through eating, we’ll drive on down to Austin. You won’t believe what you’ll see there.”
He nodded his agreement, then thoughtfully repeated the name of the town. “Marble Falls. I remember an actual waterfall being on the river somewhere close. Is it still here?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s a shame. When they built the dam on the river, the falls were submerged beneath the lake. I’m not sure what year that was, sometime in the 1950’s or 60’s. I do know the town was founded by a man named Adam Rankin Johnson.”
Reno’s head jerked to face her. “Old Stovepipe Johnson?” He was surprised. “He was a Confederate General.”
“Why did they call him ‘Stovepipe’? That’s an odd nickname.”
Reno smiled at the memory. “He duped the Union Army with fake cannons that his men built with wagon wheels and stovepipes.”
“Huh. Resourceful.”
“True, considering he was blind. He was accidentally shot in the head by one of his own men.”
“Friendly fire,” Journey mused. “I’ve heard of things like that.”
“I’m not so sure Stovepipe thought it was friendly.”
“True. Anyway, he did well. Built a town, a fine home, brought in a railroad, and founded a college. In fact, Marble Falls elected the first woman mayor in 1917. Birdie Harwood.”
“A woman mayor?”
Journey laughed at Reno’s shocked expression. “We even won the right to vote in 1920.”
“Good.”
His response surprised Journey. “Why do you say that?”
He shrugged. “I’ve known some good men in my life. King, Clay, Boone, Jericho, Domino, Gentry. But the people who have influenced me the most have been women. Wise women. My mother and Ela Blue.”
Out of nowhere, Journey snapped her fingers. “That’s it. Now, I know where I’ve heard that name. She’s mentioned in Saul’s journal.”
“Well, I’m not surprised. He thought a lot of Ela. What does it say about her?” His tone was excited and demanding.
Journey shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember. We’ll look tonight. Okay?” She put on her blinker. “I need to make one quick stop before we eat. I need a new phone.”
“I’ll wait out here,” Reno volunteered.
“Okay, you people watch. I’ll hurry.”
As he waited, Reno was hypnotized by the flow of people. All ages. All sizes. All nationalities. Milling about. They were all dressed in far less clothes than he was used to seeing. Women traveled by themselves and in pairs. He even saw two women kissing. “Good gravy,” he whispered, absolutely fascinated.
When Journey returned, he was ready with a comment. “I saw two women kissing. On the mouth.”
“Oh, really? That’s nice. Gay people are the best. In this day and age, they’re all pretty open about their relationships.”
“Huh.” He mulled over that revelation. “Men too?”
“Yea, men too.”
“Why did you call them ‘gay’? Because they’re happy?”
She laughed. “That’s just the word they chose to distinguish themselves. I think it originally meant carefree or bright.” She broke out in song, singing a line from the Christmas carol, Deck the Halls. “Don we now our gay apparel. Fa-la-la La-la-la La-la-la.”
Reno looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “In my time, it went a little further, gay meant addicted to pleasure.”
“Really.” Journey was surprised. “So, another word for hedonist. Learn something new every day.”
She didn’t drive but a few more blocks before she turned into the parking lot of The Real New Orleans Style Restaurant. “Oh, I was about to tell you something else when I thought about getting a phone. This might interest you. Aunt Myra told me that Mr. Kota is descended from Ela.”
“What?” Reno was understandably surprised.
She nodded. “That’s right. I don’t know if I mentioned it, but his last name is Blue. I’ll bet he can tell you some tales.”
“I bet he can.”
Once they parked and left the car, Reno stepped ahead of Journey to open the door for her. “Why, thank you.” His gallantry warmed her heart. “Men don’t do that very often anymore.”
“They should,” he said matter-of-factly.
When they entered the modest, simple dining area, a hostess directed them to an empty table beneath a television on the wall which was set on CNN. Journey paid the noise little notice, but Reno quickly became mesmerized. “What in the devil is that thing?” he asked, pointing to the TV, his eyes wide, his mouth open.
“That’s a television, it broadcasts programming like news, sitcoms, movies, commercials – an abundance of commercials.”
“I don’t know what any of that means.”
She held up a finger. “I’ll tell you as much as you can handle, just as soon as we place our order.” The waitress presented them with a menu and Journey grinned as Reno licked his lips, reading the list of entrees.
“I can choose any of this?” he asked in wonder. “The eating establishment I’m used to only offers everyone the same meal.”
“You can order one of each, if you want.” The young waitress grinned broadly. “As cute as you are, I’ll make sure some of it’s on the house.”
Journey enjoyed watching him decide. While he did, she ordered red beans, rice, and sausage. “It’s not Monday, but your cook nails that dish every time.”
“She sure does,” the girl agreed. “Now, what can I get you, cowboy?”
Reno grinned at her. “Crawfish etouffee, blackened catfish, and bread pudding.”
“Oh, a man after my own heart!” She wrote his choices down. “I’ll turn this in and be back with your sweet tea.”
“Keep it coming!” Reno announced jubilantly.
Journey was so glad to see him happy. If he found himself ‘stuck’ in this time, she couldn’t stand the thought of him being miserable. “You won’t be disappointed in the food. These folks are the real deal. They left New Orleans after Katrina, never went back.”
“Katrina?”
“A storm. A big one. Hit New Orleans a glancing blow, but the rain was so intense that the levees broke. The city was flooded. It was a surreal, true disaster. People on roofs. The dead floating down the streets. The Superdome was full of people who couldn’t evacuate and had nowhere to go. And we watched it all unfold on the TV.” She pointed once more to the television.
“The storm had a name?”
“Yea, they name hurricanes now. Since 1950 or so.” She became very serious. “There have been some really bad ones in the past. In 1900 a huge hurricane destroyed Galveston, killing somewhere between eight to twelve thousand people, they couldn’t get an accurate count. So many were washed out to sea and their bodies never recovered.”
“I can’t imagine such destruction. Galveston is a major port. Many of the immigrants to Texas come through Galveston.”
“Houston is the main port now. Galveston is more for the tourists.”
He looked confused. “But
Houston isn’t on the coast. How can it be a port?”
She nodded, understanding his confusion. “After the Galveston Hurricane, about ten years later, the government dug the Houston ship channel. Now, ships from all sail in and out. It’s one of the great oil ports of the world.”
“Oil’s a big deal now?”
“Yea, if you go back in time. Invest in oil. You’ll be a billionaire. I think the first big strike in Texas was in Beaumont. It was called Spindletop.”
As soon as she said ‘go back in time’, his eyes glazed over. She regretted mentioning the possibility. He stared blankly at the table until the announcer’s voice on the TV drew his attention.
“Twenty-eight people are dead and two more are missing after a landslide in Rosas, Colombia.”
Journey took the opportunity to change the subject, explaining how television coverage had made the world smaller. “Nothing happens anywhere that isn’t worldwide news in a few hours or less.” She explained about serial television, reality shows, movies, and how everything was paid for with continuous, sometimes mindless commercials.
“I can see where such a thing could be addictive,” he mused, staring at the screen.
“Oh, yes. Certainly. People who watch too much TV are called couch potatoes.”
This made him laugh and she was glad. Their food came and Reno ate every bite, almost scraping the design off the bottom of the plate. “This is amazing. I thought Boone was a master at Louisiana cooking, but this is even better. Of course, he probably didn’t have access to all the ingredients these folks do.”
“You’re probably right. Boone’s from Louisiana?”
“Originally.” Reno dropped his voice to a near whisper. “He was raised in a brothel. His mother was a prostitute. She died when he was twelve and the owner tried to force him to…go to work in a sexual capacity.”
“How horrible. I’m sorry.”
“Yea, me too. Thankfully, he ran away. He had a hard time, of course. Nearly starved to death. He got a job on a riverboat as a cabin boy and that was how he eventually made his way north to Memphis. He had some wild adventures, I tell you. One time he befriended a slave at a plantation and ended up helping him escape. Later, he was on the ill-fated steamship, Philadelphia, when it exploded. He managed to survive, but he saw things that gave him nightmares, like a steel bar being driven right through a man.”
