A Break in Time

by Michelle Miles

  “My youngest,” the stranger explained. “I’m afraid I haven’t had the honor?”

  “Oh, right.” Skye realized then she had failed to introduce herself and Dane. “I’m Skye Ransom. And this is Dane Fortune.”

  Before he could reply, a tall, young man lumbered out the house. He looked much like his father, with the same weathered skin and steely gray eyes. He stopped short at the sight of Skye and stared.

  “John, help me with the man,” Ben said.

  But John was still staring at Skye and she just stared right back, unruffled.

  “John!”

  His father’s stern shout snapped him out of his trance. Skye turned, nudging Dane who groaned.

  “Dane, we’ve arrived. Can you move at all?”

  She slipped her hands under his armpits and shoved him to a sitting position. He grunted as John and Ben stood on the back end of the wagon, waiting. After pushing and prodding, she got Dane to the edge.

  “Swing your legs over, Dane,” she ordered.

  He did, but lost his balance. John and Ben managed to catch him before he smacked the ground. Weary from the ordeal, she climbed out and followed them into the house.

  They entered a large room that combined the living, dining and kitchen areas. An old wood stove stood in the corner of the kitchen, a fireplace in the living room. The furniture was less than comfortable looking, made out of knotted wood. A large animal skin sprawled across the creaky wood floor near the fireplace. Yellow lantern light glowed throughout the tiny home.

  “Clarabelle,” Ben said. “Fetch some water.”

  Clarabelle was the older girl she had spied through the window. She disappeared out the backdoor as the men took Dane into a bedroom. They placed him on the bed; Dane grunted as he sank into the feather mattress. Moments later, Clarabelle arrived with a pail of water. It occurred to Skye she must have gone out to the well to retrieve it. There would be no running water here.

  “I need some towels. Can you get them for me?” She took the pail from Clarabelle.

  The girl glanced at her father, as if for approval. He nodded and she disappeared again. Meanwhile, John resumed staring. Skye ignored him and turned her attention to Dane.

  His skin was so hot, she worried he had heat exhaustion, or worse, heat stroke. Clarabelle arrived with the towels and Skye dipped a corner of one in the pail then gently bathed his burned skin.

  “I’ll leave you two to rest, then. Come along, Clarabelle.” Ben turned to leave, his booted feet shuffling on the wood planks.

  “Sheriff,” Skye called and he turned back. “Thank you.”

  He gave a nod before leaving her alone with Dane. Skye trickled water on his skin, trying to keep him cool.

  “The sheriff, huh?” Dane croaked.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “I guess we better mind ourselves.”

  “So, he’s the sheriff. So what?” Skye wasn’t sure where he was going with that, but thought the heat had really gotten to him.

  “Skye, aren’t you wondering why we’re here?”

  “Roll over, please.”

  She cringed, unprepared to think about that yet. She didn’t want to admit her father’s invention seemed to be a failure once again. Or that they had ended up once again in a weird situation. When she didn’t answer, he continued.

  “I think it’s pretty clear your father can’t make a time bender right.”

  “Yes, he can,” she snapped, feeling defensive. “He was there, wasn’t he?”

  “Yeah, but what went wrong with the one he gave us? And the one you had before that? Did you ever think that he never intended for them to work? That he really wasn’t selling out to the Chinese? Maybe someone was forcing him to do it.”

  Her hand stopped as she stared at him, wide-eyed. It had never occurred to her that perhaps her father was being coerced, though she supposed that made sense, especially since she couldn’t and wouldn’t believe he would sell out his country to the enemy.

  But she wondered about Dane and his motivation for killing him and she needed answers. “Maybe,” she said slowly.

  “I think the CIA is the one who was pressuring your father to sell out,” he said. “That’s why they wanted me to kill your parents. The CIA wanted the time bender.”

  “You’re telling me you weren’t hired by Conner then?”

  “I was. Just indirectly. The CIA had been watching Conner for a while and knew he was sniffing around to hire someone to kill them.”

  “What…are you saying? Exactly?” While she thought she knew, she needed to hear it from him. Her head throbbed as she waited for the response.

  “I was a pawn in the game to get the time bender.” He looked at her then, his green eyes sharp.

  “Are you telling me the CIA kills people?”

  “The division I work for does.”

  She let that sink in. Perhaps she always knew there were such organizations that would kill people who got in the way of things. She never thought someone like that—someone like Dane—would cross paths with her or her family.

  “I’m sorry, Skye.”

  She thought of everything that had happened to them, from meeting William Wallace to nearly dying at the hands of a madman in the Ice Age to killing Conner Dade on that pirate ship. Dane must have felt just as numb as she did when she killed Conner. And looking at him then, she knew what she had to do.

  “I…forgive you.”

  He reached up, his hand fluttering through her hair before cupping her face and pulling her down to him. The kiss he brushed across her lips was a soft one, as if to say he accepted her forgiveness.

  Releasing her, he turned his face to the side and closed his eyes. “Damn, this sunburn hurts.”

  “I know. Maybe I’ll see if I can find an aloe vera plant. That will help with the pain and discomfort some.”

  Lifting his head, he cracked an eye, one black brow raised in question. “Are you sure about that?”

  “I’ll be fine. And stop looking at me like that, Dane.”

  “Like what?” He closed his eyes, resting his head into the pillow.

  “Like you’re worried about me or something.”

  “I always worry about you, Skye.”

  She couldn’t help but smile and she couldn’t stop the sarcastic reply that came out. “I worry about you, too, Dane.”

  He snorted his response as she reached into her pocket and pulled out the time bender, holding it out to him. “I’m leaving this in your care.”

  “Right. Be careful.”

  Skye slipped out of the room, softly closing the door behind her. Three faces stared at her, making her feel awkward. Ben, John and Clarabelle sat at the wooden dining table, metal cups in front of them. She thought she could smell coffee but she’d get to that in a minute. First, she’d take care of Dane.

  “I was wondering if you had an aloe plant around here.”

  “I can take you, if you want,” John offered and rose. “There’s a plant near the house.”

  “Thanks, that’d be great.”

  “Here.” Clarabelle handed her a shawl. “You might want this. The night air gets kinda chilly.”

  “Thank you,” she said with a genuine smile.

  Skye followed the boy out the backdoor. She paused to take in the sights and the sounds, but there wasn’t much to see. It was pitch black except for the yellow light beaming from the windows. And even that didn’t illuminate the area much. A coyote howled in the distance and crickets sang nearby. The air was crisp and clean and devoid of smog. Thousands of stars twinkled against an inky black sky and the moon was surprisingly bright.

  John lit a lantern before stepping off the porch and waved her on. She followed him, or rather the lantern since John’s form had all but disappeared into the darkness.

  * * *

  Dane held the time bender in his hand, turning it end over end. He leaned heavily into the pillows and, for the first time, examined the thing up close. This one was no different than the on
e they’d had before, the one Ridgewood took.

  He noticed three small ridges on the back of it and pressed with his thumb. The back slid open, revealing tiny red, white, yellow and blue wires connecting to a small microchip. It had to be the smallest chip he’d ever seen.

  “Son of a bitch,” he muttered.

  Jacob Ransom was a genius. No wonder the government wanted to get its hands on his device.

  What if they didn’t run anymore? What if they just stayed there and made a life together? Skye wasn’t exactly a ranch-hand type, but she could adapt. She was strong and stubborn.

  Using his thumbnail, he flicked the chip out of the back of the bender and slipped it into his pocket. Then he put the cover back on.

  The bedroom door opened then and Clarabelle, the oldest of the three, stepped across the threshold. Dane shoved the time bender under the pillow. She held a cup between her hands and paused to stare.

  “Well, don’t just stand there, come in.”

  He struggled to sit up, but she continued to remain in place. She had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen and her blonde hair was swept into an untidy bun, sprigs of hair poking out around her face. She had flour smudged on her cheek.

  She took a tentative step into the room.

  “I brought you some water,” she said at last, her voice small and breathy.

  “Great, thanks.” And here he was hoping it was coffee or, even better, whiskey. He gave her a wide grin as she came toward him and handed him the cup. He guzzled it down, returning the empty mug.

  “What happened to you?”

  Her gaze drifted over his red splotchy torso. Even he could feel the heat radiating from his skin. How could he explain? There was no way she would believe the story. So taking a cue from Skye’s previous lie, he continued with the tale.

  “We were stranded in the desert when we had to shoot our horse. Lucky for us your father came along.”

  “And lucky he’s the sheriff, too. It’s a dangerous road out there these days, especially with all the Indians.” She fidgeted with the mug. “Pa said you’re traveling with your cousin.”

  “That’s right.”

  The girl perched on the foot of the bed, keeping her distance. She placed the empty mug on the floor at her feet.

  “You aren’t married, either?” Clarabelle peeked at him through her lashes.

  “No.” He wondered where she was going with this.

  And that’s when the conversation started to get weird.

  Chapter Fifteen: Family Affairs

  Clarabelle leaned toward him, grasped his hands and held them to her chest. He could feel the patter of her heart through her thin cotton dress. She gripped his hands in her delicate ones, as though she didn’t want to let go. Tears danced in her eyes and her lip quivered.

  “Oh, please, sir,” she whispered. “Please take me with you when you go.”

  “Whoa. Now wait just a minute.” He tried to pull his hands free.

  “Pa said if he doesn’t have me married off by my next birthday, he’s going to make me marry Mr. Fields. My next birthday is in two weeks. I just can’t do that. I just can’t!” she rushed on.

  “Wait a second.” This time he managed to wrench his hands free and grasp her by the shoulders. “Clarabelle, I can’t take you with me.”

  “Please,” she begged. “You gotta take me with you. I’ll be a good wife, I promise. I can cook, make sure your shirts are clean—”

  “Wait, wait, wait.” Dane shook his head. “You want me to marry you?”

  “It’s the only way I can get out of this house.” She dropped her eyes, staring down at her hands and twisting her apron in her fingers. “I know you don’t…l-love me or anything and that’s okay.” Glancing back up, she looked at him through her damp eyelashes. “Please take me with you. I can’t marry that man.”

  She shivered, as if warding off a terrible evil. Not knowing what else to do, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she instantly pressed against him. Her head landed on his shoulder.

  “What’s so terrible about Mr. Fields?” he asked gently. He would take the stance of a big brother, trying to soothe her and make her open up to him a little. He needed to find out what was going on.

  “I don’t like the way he looks at me,” she whispered.

  “How does he look at you?”

  “Like…like he knows what I look like without my dress…” Her voice quivered with her words and she shuddered again.

  Dane got it. This Mr. Fields sounded like a lecherous man and if she’s calling him mister, then he must be quite a bit older than she. It also sounded like her papa was trying to get rid of her. Why, Dane didn’t know, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

  He gripped her tighter in his arm, knowing there wasn’t really anything he could do to get her away from here. He had no intention of taking her with them.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll think of something.” He patted her, giving her the reassurance he knew she needed.

  “Thank you. Oh, thank you.”

  Meanwhile, Skye followed John across an open field. In the shadows of the night, she could barely make out images and forms. She heard the whinny of a horse and turned to squint in the darkness. As if that would help her see clearer in the night. Skye, you idiot.

  But she managed to make out the outline of a white horse against the backdrop of the inky blackness. Turning, she saw the small windows lit up in the house that now seemed a vast distance. She jogged to catch up to John.

  “Hey! John, hold up a sec.”

  The lantern swung at his side in a perfect cadence to his lumber. She caught glimpses of the rough terrain at his feet and hurried when he refused to respond.

  “John!” she called again.

  She was almost to him when he dropped the lantern and spun, whisking her into his arms. She gasped, her breath in her throat, and the fear boiling inside her. His inexperienced, open mouth landed on hers. She froze, caught off guard for only a moment before she regained her senses and shoved him away, stomping on his instep.

  “Ow!” He limped backward. “What’d you do that for?”

  “What the hell are you doing?” She wrenched an arm free and peered at him, the glow from the lantern on the ground flooding his face in yellow light. The boy didn’t even have stubble yet. “You can’t do that, you know.”

  John’s head dipped as he stared at his feet.

  “I just…you were…” He huffed out a breath. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and I wanted to kiss you, that’s all.”

  Skye nearly snorted. “Clearly, you’ve not seen many women. I’m nothing special.”

  “Yes, you are.” His looked at her, his eyes like big, round orbs in the half-light.

  “Listen…John.” She softened her tone when he dropped his head again. She didn’t want to hurt the poor kid’s feelings. “You can’t do what you want with a woman whenever you feel like it.”

  “I can’t?”

  “No! Where did you get such an idea?”

  “I’ve seen my pa with women.”

  Skye cleared her throat noisily. She shifted from one foot to the other. “Where’s your mother, John?”

  “Ma’s been dead for a couple of years. Pa…he brung a couple of ladies home a while back.”

  “Oh, good heavens,” she whispered. “John, you and I need to have a long talk. Let’s head back to the house while I think.”

  He scooped up the lantern and they were silent as they walked toward the house and Skye was relieved to see it near. She gave him a sideways glance. Hell, he could be young enough to be her son. She was nearing her mid-thirties.

  John plunked down on the wood porch and peered at her expectantly. She stood in front of him on the edge of the glow from the windows and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “You see, John…”

  Skye paused, unsure if she wanted to launch into a long speech about dating, relating and sex. She wasn’t his moth
er and she didn’t feel right about telling the poor kid how to mate with the opposite sex. She cleared her throat.

  “First of all, if you want to attract a young lady, you need to…ah…clean up a bit.” She gave him an up-and-down look to indicate his dirtiness. “When is the last time you bathed?”

  “Dunno,” he shrugged. “Three or four weeks.”

  She was appalled. “Weeks?” She’d expected days, not weeks. This made the situation all the more dire. “No wonder you’re so filthy.” She propped her hands on her hips. “First thing in the morning, I want you to get cleaned up.”

  “But I gotta help Pa in the field.”

  “Okay, fine then. As soon as you’re done, I want you bathed and wearing fresh clothes by lunchtime.”

  “Lunchtime?” he repeated, letting the word roll off his tongue.

  “Oh, er, dinnertime.” She hoped that was the right terminology. If she remembered right, dinner was the midafternoon meal and supper was the evening meal.

  “And then I can kiss you?” he asked hopefully.

  “Uh…about that.” She paced, trying to put it delicately so as not to hurt his feelings. “How old are you?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “Fifteen?” She stopped pacing. “Well, I’m afraid you’re a little too young for me.” When he gave her a wounded look, she sat on the edge of the porch next to him. “It’s not that you’re not a nice boy. But I’m much older and I…ah…well, it’s not right. What you need is a young girl about your age. I’m sure you know some?”

  He shuffled his toe in the dirt, drawing circles. “Not really.”

  “What about school? Or church?”

  “Pa don’t let us go to school and we stopped going to church after Ma died.”

  “I see.” Poor kid. He was a prisoner in his own home, forced to work the field with his father. Her first inclination was to have a talk with the man, but then she decided it wasn’t her place to meddle.