Time Plains Drifter

by Cheryl Pierson

  She skimmed her lips with her tongue, then gave him an uncertain smile. “Yes, I—I think so. I’m fine.” She looked around at the small group of students she was responsible for. “Are you all okay?”

  “Kip’s not,” Lance answered uneasily.

  “He will be,” Joel said, instantly on the defensive.

  “Sure,” Cash soothed, laying a hand on Joel’s arm. “He’ll be fine in no time. It just—messed with him some, that’s all, Joel.”

  “What ‘messed with him’?” Rafe’s tone was low and firm, calming them all.

  “That—that damned comet,” Joel muttered. “I wish we’d never come out here. It’s fucked everything up!”

  “Whoa!” Rafe came to his feet quickly, his eyes smoldering. “That’s language you don’t use in front of ladies, boy.”

  Joel seemed to shrink before Rafe’s towering wrath. He started to open his mouth, then closed it.

  “Ladies?” Cash looked up at Rafe in astonishment. “But they’re not—” he glanced at Jenni, then Elizabeth and Anna. “I mean, they’re—”

  Rafe sighed. “They’re ladies.” He nodded meaningfully at Cash. “Best you all remember that.” He squatted down beside Jenni once more and reached for her hands. They were icy to the warmth of his touch. He could feel that, despite what Beck had told him. “You need a wrap.”

  “I—I had a jacket—before—” she broke off.

  Rafe looked at her, puzzled. “Jenni?” He couldn’t stop himself from putting a hand out to touch her shoulder as she shivered, her name slipping out as he did so.

  “Huh?” She turned to face him quickly, her skin warming under his fingertips. The blood rushed to her cheeks as their eyes met.

  “Tell me about the comet. About what happened.”

  “It was terrible!” Elizabeth exclaimed before Jenni could answer.

  “Yeah, it was. It was awesome!” Cash added.

  Jenni stood up slowly, and Rafe rose to steady her. Whatever had happened, he thought, they’d all been through some kind of trauma. Something he could understand completely. It wasn’t every day a person woke up after being dead. A wistful feeling of loss washed over him, so unexpected, so strong that it nearly drew his breath from him for a moment. He didn’t want to be dead, to be a ghost, or whatever he was now. He wanted to be alive, back on that train sixteen years ago, coming out of that sleeping car door with his a gun in his hand. This time, he wanted to be behind Josiah Kemp—not in front of him. He wanted it to be different—like it should’ve been. Like it was supposed to be—if Beck hadn’t screwed it up somehow.

  Jenni swayed. He caught her to him just as her legs gave way. She tried to right herself, to push away from him. But he held her tightly, clasping her shoulders for just a split second before his arms encircled her. Her breath left her in a rush. She gasped, her head rubbing against the cotton fabric of his faded chambray shirt.

  He held her against him for an instant, but it was long enough. Long enough to feel how her body would mold to his, if they were lovers. Long enough to feel a familiar stirring in his groin. Pleasure. No denying that. He shifted her to the side, not wanting her to feel the accompanying evidence of another of his unpredictable “bodily urges.”

  As he lowered her to the ground he realized with a shock Beck had been wrong about a lot of things. The scent of honeysuckle wafted ever so faintly, yet recognizably, from the secret hollows and valleys of Miss Jenni Dalton’s sunkissed skin, and Rafe d’Angelico realized that was the second time in the past twenty-four hours he’d smelled it.

  You won’t know the difference between the smell of a cheap whore or the sweetness of the honeysuckle blossoms, Beck had said.

  But he did.

  CHAPTER 6

  Beck shivered. The presence of evil always sent a chill marching up his spine. Right now, it was doing double time. As a figure slowly became visible in the spotty moonlight, he knew why.

  “Josiah Kemp.”

  “Yeah,” Kemp muttered sourly. “In the—” he looked down at his own body, then back up at Beck, “flesh.” A slow, taunting grin passed over his features, his gray eyes as merciless in death as they had been in life. “Sort of.”

  “Where’d you come from?” Beck’s voice was casual. There was a question behind the question: Who sent you?

  Kemp reached into his front jacket pocket and removed a gold cigarette case. He took out a smoke and put it between his lips, waiting for it to light itself. When it did, he drew a long deliberate drag, then looked at it appreciatively before returning his gaze to Beck.

  “You know where I came from. Don’t you, Beck?” He gave a low chuckle. “I know what you’re really wondering. Yeah, your mind is just full of questions. An’ how you’re gonna handle things depends on—well, on me.” He threw a rakish glance at Beck. “Who sent me? Why am I here? And most of all, what will I do?”

  “You leave him alone, Kemp.” Beck told him coldly. He couldn’t keep from thinking about how Rafe asked after Cris, first thing. He couldn’t help remembering that Rafe and Cris were both dead because of him.

  Kemp gave a sly wink. “Oh, I intend to.” He puffed on his cigarette. “Long as he stays out of my way.”

  “You mean Rafe d’Angelico’s not the reason you’re here?”

  “Hell no!” Another self-satisfied puff. “I’ve done kilt him once, Jansen. That oughta be enough.” He leaned close to Beck conspiratorially. “Course, I hear I had a little help in that. From you.”

  Beck sucked in his breath, knuckles tightening around his reins. His horse shifted under him restively and snorted.

  A smug smile crossed Kemp’s blunt features, his eyes canny with secret knowledge. He puffed again and blew a perfect smoke ring before continuing. “Naw, I just happened to get wind of the reason d’Angelico’s here. That’s why I’m here. You might say we got a common purpose.”

  Beck’s throat felt tight. Apprehension rushed through him. “What would that be?”

  Kemp tossed the cigarette away with a look of disdain. “Aw, c’mon. Don’t pretend with me. It’s what we’re all here for, ain’t it? The big party? The reason you’re here, d’Angelico’s here—and the reason I’ve been...summoned.” He slowly turned to look through the stand of trees into the clearing where the others were gathered. “We’re all after the same thing. Sixteen years later.” His eyes rested on the small group, a sneer smeared across his thin lips.

  “What’s that?” Beck’s voice sounded edgy.

  “Why, souls, Jansen.” Kemp swiveled quickly and glared into Beck’s clear blue eyes. He looked especially pleased with himself. “One soul, in particular, this time around.”

  “Whose?”

  “You take all the fun out of things. That’s why we had to wait to be ‘brought back’ as the saying goes. The comet set it all into play.” He cocked his head to the side. “Maybe it’ll be a different one than the one you’re after. Maybe not.” He looked away, reached into his pocket for another pre-rolled smoke. “Don’t know why I bother with these damn things,” he muttered. “Can’t hardly taste ’em anymore.”

  “Whose?” Beck asked insistently.

  The silence was deep and long, stretching out until Beck was sure the space between them couldn’t contain it; that it would break, and the air around them would shatter and fall like glass.

  “One of them kids.” Kemp spoke the words quietly in that fragile stillness, the sound of his voice making Becket Jansen’s skin crawl. Kemp’s flat gray eyes went back to the small group in the clearing. “I’ll let you figure out which one of ’em it is.” He gave Beck a scathing once-over before he turned his horse westward. A smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “Good luck, Angel-boy.”

  ~*~

  Some things didn’t change, dead or alive, Rafe thought. The unmistakable tingle at the back of his neck that spelled danger was in perfect working order. He glanced over his shoulder, silently cursing Beck Jansen one more time. His dark eyes swept the clearing and the rim of trees
, but there was no sign of Beck, or of the danger his own body was so aware of—even in this so-called “life.”

  When he turned back to the young woman before him, he was struck by the intensity in her green eyes. Almost like she knows who I am. What I am.

  He couldn’t allow that. He wasn’t comfortable with the idea he was only a ghost. Or, half an angel. Or, half a man. That was complicated enough. He thought back to his frustrated outburst earlier that afternoon. Hell, I don’t even know which side wants me!

  Both, Beck had said.

  The angel’s explanation had been anything but satisfactory. Rafe shook his head, clearing the cobwebs. He needed a cool head to handle this situation, and was finding it difficult.

  Jenni Dalton was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met, and he was having trouble taking his eyes off of her. Her hair caught the silver of the moon, and when she looked at him, he swore he could see moonbeams there, too, from within. Like a radiance inside her had to shine through somewhere. Her tawny skin was flawless, and she had the greenest eyes Rafe had ever seen. Beautiful—like a forest. Her spirit was what he admired most. He knew the appearance of the comet she mentioned upset her more than she wanted to admit. She was trying to be strong for her students, but Rafe could see how shaken she truly was, physically and emotionally. She was trying to keep a tight grip on herself for the kids, her responsibilities. Rafe sensed if he showed her the least bit of kindness, she would dissolve into undignified tears.

  “What happened here tonight, Miss Dalton?” He was all business. Not a hint of kindness showed. He was surprised at how hard it was to force the curt tone into his voice.

  She looked as if he’d slapped her. He hated himself for bringing the swift pain to her expression. It didn’t last long, he noted. She was evidently used to being hurt by the world. She masked it quickly, glanced away from him. When she looked at him again, the brief vulnerability fled, leaving a piercing, haunted look in her green eyes. She wanted to trust him before, but now...Damn! He’d just been trying to keep her from falling apart, but he’d done a poor job of letting her know she could lean on him.

  Rafe reached out and brushed her copper hair back from her face. Her chin came up a notch, eyes shimmering with tears.

  “Hey, I’m sorry, Jenni. I didn’t mean to sound so...abrupt. Something happened here. I’m trying to help you figure out what it was. You’re all obviously shaken up.” His gaze slowly traveled to Kip.

  She nodded and pressed her lips together. Finally, she shook her head. “I don’t know what happened. I—really, I just don’t know. The comet was there, then…” she took a deep breath and let it go on a shaky sigh, “you were.” She caught her lip between her teeth. “Marshal, what year is this?”

  He suspected as much. These people were unlike any he’d ever known, with their mannerisms, their speech, even the awkward way they wore their clothing—as if it were unfamiliar to them. And what the hell were they doing out here in the first place? Two o’clock in the morning in the middle of a field—

  “What year were you looking for, Jenni?”

  ~*~

  There was no mistaking his true question. She clasped her shaking hands together. “Ah...2015.”

  He almost seemed to expect such an answer, she thought.

  His hand went to his moustache, thoughtfully smoothing it, pausing before he responded. “You’re a few years off.”

  Jenni nodded stiffly. She swallowed the hard lump in her throat, but looked straight into his eyes without flinching. “How many?” Her voice was hoarse.

  “This is 1895.”

  Jenni closed her eyes, squeezing them shut for a long minute. Finally, she looked down at her hands. Her teeth sank into the fullness of her lower lip, and she shook her head. Rafe took her cold fingers in his. His big hands engulfed hers, his warmth flowing into her, comforting her without words.

  After a minute or so, Rafe said, teasingly, “So, is that all? No tears or screams of denial—”

  Jenni looked to where the boys and girls were talking quietly. “No. It makes perfect sense. In a strange sort of way.” She glanced up at him, her lips curving slightly. “Kody’s information was accurate—as usual.”

  “His information? You talking about the comet?”

  “Yes. Brinkley’s Comet. It’s visible every one hundred-twenty years.”

  “So you all came out here to see it and—whatever it was happened, and now—”

  “We’re one hundred-twenty years younger.” She forced a smile. “And I don’t know where we are or even...” she gave him a wary look, “who we’re with. Really. You could be anybody.”

  “But I’m not. I’m me. Rafe d’Angelico.”

  She regarded him with open curiosity. “And, who is Rafe d’Angelico? Be honest.”

  He gave her a reassuring grin. “I really am a federal marshal. You’re safe with me, Jenni.”

  She glanced away as an awkward silence fell between them. Finally, she said, “I know this all sounds crazy. Do you think I’m—that I’ve lost my mind, Rafe?”

  He shook his head. “No. I—don’t think that.” Rafe reluctantly released her hands as she looked up at him, exhausted.

  “Let’s get some sleep. Things may look a whole lot different by daylight.”

  Jenni turned unsteadily, and Rafe’s hands instantly were on her arms, steadying her. She felt him watching as she walked away, speaking in turn to each of her charges, urging them to lie down on the ground and sleep. When she got to Kip, two of the other boys helped her gently coax him to the ground and position him comfortably.

  Jenni turned away, suddenly so exhausted she didn’t think she could take another step. She walked back toward where the others were lying down, stopping by each of them to make sure they were all right. There was fear in their eyes. They seemed to be in good condition otherwise.

  Kody half-sat as Jenni approached. Anna lay near him, already fast asleep.

  “Kody,” she said. “How’re you feeling?”

  “I’m fine, Miss Dalton.” He looked at the sleeping girl. “Anna—she’s strong, but it was hard on her. She’s a...good friend.”

  Jenni smiled at him. “Looks like Anna might be interested in being a little more than friends. She seems to like you very much.”

  “Do you think that? Really?”

  “Anna’s a very nice girl,” Jenni murmured. “And very pretty.”

  “Beautiful. Too pretty for me. I know that. That’s what makes me wonder why. I mean, out of all the guys—I’m no jock. I love science and math. Chemistry, physics, calculus—”

  “Sometimes, love is taking what’s offered, no questions asked, and being grateful.”

  He nodded. “I guess that’s another thing I have trouble with—knowing how to recognize certain emotions—”

  She didn’t need daylight to know his face was reddening as he searched for words.

  “It’s no secret my parents and I don’t always see eye to eye.” His voice trailed away, and he looked down. “They adopted me because they couldn’t have children. I think they’ve been sorry ever since. This should solve their dilemma very nicely.” He nodded to himself. “That’s why I wanted to do it.”

  Jenni peered at him, her expression growing serious. She sank to her knees beside Kody. “Do what?”

  “Come here. To this place...this time,” he replied matter-of-factly.

  Jenni shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean, Kody. Are you saying that...that you knew this would happen?”

  He pushed his glasses up again over the light-skinned, freckled bridge of his nose. “Well, not for sure. But according to my research—”

  “Your research! Kody, you had to have some idea something would happen—”

  “Yeah, Miss Dalton, I did. But I wasn’t sure what.”

  Her voice turned steely. “You tell me what you know, Kody Everett.”

  “Not much, really,” he admitted. “Just, like I said earlier, weird things have happened in the pa
st when the comet passes by earth close enough for us to see it.”

  “What kinds of weird things?” Jenni’s voice cracked.

  “Well, sometimes, when the comet appears, people, uh-disappear. Like we did. Up until now, no one has been able to tell about what happened. I’ll be able to change all that.”

  Jenni was sick with anger. Her palms warmed, tingling with the urge to throttle Kody Everett.

  “You knew?” she whispered hoarsely. “You knew!”

  Finally, Kody nodded. “I hoped. See, Miss Dalton, this was my ticket out.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Rafe hunkered down beside the fallen tree, idly watching the conversation between Jenni Dalton and her student. Thoughts bombarded him from all directions. He could hear every word they uttered. It wasn’t natural. He was far enough away that he should have been able to hear bits and pieces, perhaps, but not everything.

  So the boy had known; had even planned for this eventual outcome to his little star-gazing foray. At least one person was happy. Rafe’s lips twisted grimly. Jenni was obviously mad as hell.

  For the first time, Rafe began to wonder what—and who—she might have left back there in her own time. Two-thousand-ten. A mother and father? What about siblings? Was she as close to someone as he and Cris had been? Was she...married? Did she leave children of her own?

  She was a school teacher, and he took comfort in that thought. In his own time, school teachers were usually women who were not yet married.

  The questions burned in his mind. Is she married? Does she have someone waiting for her? Hell, what difference does it make? He sighed. You’re dead, Rafe. Remember? Dead. All a mistake. Beck’s sure sorry, but—

  If he was dead, why did his leg ache? He felt the pinch of the cramped nerve endings in his left calf just as he had always suffered from when he held this position too long. Was it real? Or did he just anticipate the pain, where it had always been when he was alive? He hadn’t imagined the raging hard-on he’d gotten earlier, while holding Jenni Dalton in his arms. That was real enough.