Time Plains Drifter

by Cheryl Pierson

  “You’ve got to have hopes and dreams.” She didn’t look at him. “Everyone needs that.” There was a raw edge to her voice.

  “I don’t have that right any more, Jenni,” he said quietly. “I’m not even human.” He followed her glance downward to the cut from the fish. His lips turned upward briefly. “Don’t let that fool you. I’m still just as dead as ever. I can’t promise you anything. I could just—just disappear at any minute.” He let his breath go slowly. “I’ve already gotten as old as I’m ever going to.”

  “That’s not fair.” Jenni shook her head, unable to hold back the tears. The desolation in his voice was more than she could stand. “It wasn’t your fault Beck screwed up! You shouldn’t have to die for Beck’s mistake—”

  “No. It’s not fair. But it’s real, Jen. And—we have to be realistic about...what could happen.”

  “How can God be so cruel?”

  He gathered her into his arms and let her cry, then, under the afternoon shade of the sheltering oak tree. Silently, he cursed his own enforced inadequacy, his own inability to just promise her he would stay; that he’d settle down and give up the law just to be able to do the thing he swore in another life he never would—give her a husband and a family, raise corn and kids, be a provider—a farmer. Though he’d sworn he never would another lifetime ago, now, it was what he wished for above all else.

  He kissed the top of her head and turned her face up between his palms. “Jenni, if I could be the man you want, I’d do it. If it was within my power—” He pulled her to him, holding her close. “I want nothing more than to love you, Jenni. Forever. Promise me—you’ll remember—remember us...if something happens—”

  She nodded, unable to speak.

  “Promise me—you won’t ever forget—”

  “How could I, Rafe?” She pulled back and looked into his eyes once more. “I love you, too! I’ll never forget anything—” She bit her lower lip, then laid her head on his chest.

  His hand stroked her hair thoughtfully, as if he were trying to memorize the feel of it, the softness, the silky texture, and the patterns the filtering sunlight wove across the coppery flame.

  The world was still and quiet around them, the silence broken only by the gurgle of the brook at their backs, the call of a bird, and the gentle rustle of the leaves above them in the breeze.

  There was another noise that Jenni wasn’t aware of, at first. It was slow and steady...and comforting, beneath her ear. Familiar, somehow.

  Her eyes flew open, and Rafe’s fingers stopped mid-stroke at the sudden tension in her body.

  “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

  She pushed away from him slowly, searching his darkly handsome features for any sign of—knowing. It wasn’t there.

  “Rafe—” she blurted.

  He gripped her shoulders, concern in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he repeated. “Jenni, tell me—” He sat up and twisted, coming to his knees in front of her.

  She gasped, her hands going to her mouth, not sure whether to be relieved or worried; shock registering plainly in her eyes.

  “Oh, dear God,” she breathed. “Your—Your heart! It’s—”

  “I don’t have a heart,” he muttered, his eyes veiled. “Remember?”

  “You’re wrong, Rafe. You have a heart, and it’s beating!” She nodded at his chest and took a steadying breath. “You may have become a little more human than you bargained for.”

  CHAPTER 21

  It was just a matter of time, Beck knew, before the devil’s man would have the same knowledge he did. He hurried down the street to the mission. Something urged him on, and he knew better than to ignore that gut instinct.

  Something was wrong—something besides the obvious. He didn’t know exactly what it was—yet. But he felt quite certain it had to do with Lance and Cash.

  He burst through the mission door, the late afternoon sun unrelenting to everyone else on the street—everyone but he. He probably wouldn’t have felt it right now, even if he’d been human, he thought.

  He squinted his blue eyes, narrowing them in the shadowed recesses of the great room. Across the room, he made out Cash’s solitary figure, the boy’s head bent over a Bible, his lips forming the words silently. Beck watched him for a moment, before he approached. “Cash?”

  Cash lifted his head and smiled. “Hello, Mr. Jansen.” He moved the black ribbon bookmark carefully into place along the center of the Bible, closed it gently, then looked up at Beck.

  Beck reached for the chair next to Cash and pulled it out seating his lanky frame on the hard wood. He leaned forward to look into Cash’s face. “Everything okay, son?”

  Cash nodded, his face turning crimson in the dim light. “Yes, sir. Everything’s just fine.” He pushed his chair back and licked his lips. “Look, Mr. Jansen, about what happened in the bar—you know, with that—that gambler—” He blew his breath out on a long sigh.

  “It made me afraid, Mr. Jansen. The way he looked at me and his voice...I felt like I couldn’t—like I couldn’t stop myself from getting up and—going to him. ” He turned back to look into Beck’s somber gaze. “Do you understand? It made me afraid of you, too. Even though I know it was you who pulled me back—saved me. I don’t know what it was you saved me from. I’m not sure I want to know.”

  Beck’s lips quirked and he glanced down at the table. “You know, Cash,” he murmured. He still didn’t look up at him. “You know exactly what—who—I saved you from. Else you wouldn’t be reading that.” He nodded at the Bible on the table.

  “In here, it says that we have angels of the Lord protecting us.” He raised his hazel eyes to Beck’s steady blue stare. “I know that’s true. You did that for me, and you weren’t even afraid.”

  Beck shook his head. “No. That kind of courage comes with time, Cash. I haven’t always been so…steadfast.”

  Cash gave a short laugh. “I was terrified.” His voice was low. “But I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t have the strength inside me to quit putting one foot in front of the other, walking toward that table—that man.”

  “I’m just glad I was there.” Beck glanced around the hall. “Where’s Lance?”

  “He went with a couple of men to the Bar J to see about a job. Wanted me to come, but—”

  “A couple of men...” Beck leaned forward, that nagging fear burgeoning and blossoming just under where his heart should have been. “What men? Did you know them?”

  “No, one of ’em was an old guy who ate lunch in here. His friend waited outside for him. But they left together, with Lance.”

  “Outside? Why didn’t he come in for the meal?”

  Cash shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess he wasn’t hungry.”

  Beck smacked his hand down on the table. “He couldn’t come in! But the other one—”

  Cash looked confused. “Anyone can come in, Mr. Jansen. This is a House of God.”

  Beck nodded grimly. “I know, boy. Anybody can enter, except those who—who worship Satan. Some evil is so strong it can go anywhere, though. Even—even here. In a House of God.”

  Beck stood up.

  “Wait! Where are you going?”

  “Reckon I’ll try the Bar J, first—”

  “I’m going with you,” Cash said. He reached to pick up the worn Bible, dogging Beck’s footsteps. “I shouldn’t have let him go.”

  “Couldn’t have stopped that, son. Don’t blame yourself. Let’s find Bolton, and tell him where we’re headed.” Beck’s eyes arrested Cash’s and held. “Are you strong enough, boy?”

  Cash nodded, without hesitation. “I am now. Now that I know what we’re up against.”

  ~*~

  The Bar J lands stretched below the rise where three riders sat in the late afternoon sun. Lance was sure he could have found it without his two guides, and felt increasingly uneasy in their company.

  “Well, there it is, boy,” the old man said with a nod. As they sat astride their horses looking at the rich land bel
ow, Lance suddenly realized that he didn’t own the horse he rode. As if the old man read his mind, he pinned Lance with a sly sideways stare. “Gonna keep your caballo and gear?”

  “Huh?” Lance was startled at the timing of the question. “Oh, uh, no, I guess I better return it.”

  “Hmmm. Can’t get too far in this world without a horse to carry you, boy.” Milo chortled his old man’s laugh. “You ride that ol’ bucker they’ve got down at the Bar J, why, they’ll give you any horse you want to ask ’em for.”

  Lance swallowed hard. “Is he a pretty mean one?” His lips tightened at Milo’s insincere smile.

  “Oh, yes, young man.” The demon chuckled again. “I can promise you the ride of your life. In more ways than one.”

  Lance’s throat felt so dry he could hardly swallow. “Well, thank you for helping me out. I appreciate it.”

  “Don’t mention it, boy. At some point, I may need a favor from you. You just never can tell.”

  Lance nodded and rode away from them, a chill at his spine, his uncertain future ahead.

  ~*~

  “What’d you let him go for?” Kemp asked. His eyes bored into the back of Lance’s head.

  “Small fish, Marshal.” A self-satisfied smile played about the old man’s mouth before he finally gave in to a chuckle.

  “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

  “We all have our parts to play, Josiah. Haven’t you figured that out yet? He’ll never get off of that horse— alive.” He gave Kemp a hard smile. “The script unfolds hourly, and we must do what we can...to further the plot.” He shook his head in mock seriousness. “William Shakespeare said it best, I believe, when he wrote, ‘All the world’s a stage, and—’”

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Kemp cut in roughly, tired of the demon’s constant expostulating. He’d almost rather be dead again, oblivious to everything, rather than listen to Milo’s talk. Whether it was his false promises of things to come, or his prattle about long-dead English playwrights, Kemp found it increasingly tedious, and the certainty with which he spoke of Lance’s impending doom made his gut knot up. “What I want to know is—”

  “Silence!”

  Kemp’s horse shied at the thunderous voice, rearing on its hind legs as Kemp instinctively fought to control the beast. As the animal settled, he turned furiously to the demon’s bright gaze.

  “Dammit!” Kemp exploded, unable to control himself. His own eyes glared with harsh anger.

  “Make no mistake, Josiah, if I didn’t need you for this little task, I would certainly not put up with further impertinence on your part. I—” Milo broke off, stopping his lecture abruptly.

  Kemp stored the words and the look on the old man’s face away in his mind for safekeeping, knowing two things were undeniable. The demon needs me. And after he’s served the evil in his purpose, Josiah Kemp, once more, will become dispensable. This time, for good.

  ~*~

  They rode back to town in silence, the demon staring straight ahead, as if lost in his own hellish thoughts.

  Kemp felt a strange pull at his mind, as if someone was trying to open a door to peer into the dark recesses of his brain. He firmly tugged back and slammed it shut.

  Glancing at the old man, he was only mildly surprised to find himself looking into the cynical, green-eyed countenance of the Gambler once more.

  Again, he felt the wrenching of something in his mind, and held on to it. This time, when he looked at Milo, he instinctively knew that feeling had been due to his efforts; efforts to see into Kemp’s thoughts. But Kemp held on—kept them his own.

  Kemp turned a straight-faced, bland gaze back to the road. He wasn’t sure he could trust what he thought he’d seen. He couldn’t trust anyone, or anything—not in this reality. But if he could... if he could, he knew what he’d recognized on Milo’s cocksure features had, for just a flash, been crushing disappointment.

  He pulled the lid down tight on his thoughts, and his mind, under the cover of that darkness, began to work.

  ~*~

  Beck knew the instant Cash recognized the two riders coming toward them. His horse slowed, then came to a complete stop. Beck halted, too, waiting until Cash walked his horse forward to join him.

  Kemp and the Gambler stopped a few feet away.

  “Well, well, well. Becket Jansen and his little...friend.” The demon let the insinuation hang heavy in the air. Cash colored, but Beck ignored the taunt. His face blank.

  “Where’s Lance?” Beck asked stonily.

  Milo leaned forward and cupped his ear. “Who? I’m afraid I don’t know any ‘Lance.’”

  Beck’s gaze flicked to Josiah Kemp, who sat by, silent and watchful. He turned back to Milo. “If you’ve hurt him, I swear, I’ll—”

  “Oh, please, Becket, do stop with the posturing. Why, you know as well as I, that if we wanted to, you and I could lock each other up for centuries with this ‘good against evil’ bullshit. Right? All we want is one person. Just one—for now. I have no doubt we’ll meet again, under other circumstances, but for now, unfortunately, we’re both after the same child.”

  Beck started forward, but the demon moved his mount to block the way.

  “The boy’s fine, Becket. We both know he isn’t the one, don’t we?” His eyes held just the slightest bit of question, and Beck realized the demon was still uncertain.

  “Do we?” Beck put his heels to the horse and rode past, Cash close behind him.

  When they were a mile down the road, Cash drew up, regarding Beck with a serious gaze. “Mr. Jansen? Back there—he said ‘We’re both after the same child.’ I don’t understand. A child—well, I mean, none of us are really children anymore. We’re sixteen.”

  Beck nodded. He’d been wondering just exactly when the demon’s own wording would occur to him—make him think the same way Cash was thinking right now. There was no time to lose, for it surely would come to him, at some point. Beck sighed.

  “Sixteen’s old enough to—to make a choice. Right or wrong. Good or evil,” Cash reasoned. “What if there’s some mistake? What if it isn’t one of us, after all? Why would there be such a war fought over one ‘child’?”

  Beck smiled. “It’s because of the children yet to come from that line, Cash. Not just a particular soul, but all that will come from it in the future. Even past the time you came from.”

  “Why now? Why not wait another hundred years?”

  Beck shook his head. “I know this is hard, just doin’ what we need to do without knowin’ everything about it.”

  Cash took a deep breath. “Mr. Jansen—can the devil take children? I mean, bad things do happen to kids and even babies sometimes go missing and are never found—”

  “It...can happen,” Beck allowed.

  “That’s what I thought,” Cash nodded. “If it can happen, then, who’s to say it couldn’t be—that—instead?”

  Beck’s palms felt sweaty. This reasoning terrified him. If Cash could figure it out, so could the demon. “You bring a baby along I don’t know about?” Beck tried to keep his tone light, but it fell flat.

  “Could be,” Cash replied slowly. He didn’t look at him. The ranch house came into view as they turned the bend in the road. “Maybe that’s why Anna and Kody got married so quick.”

  CHAPTER 22

  “You ever swim in a creek, Jenni?” Rafe stood at the creek bank watering the horses in the late afternoon sun, his shirt long since discarded.

  Jenni looked up at him from where she sat on the ground, her camp plate piled high with early wild strawberries she gathered. She was still marveling at the first fruit she’d ever actually picked, admiring the fresh burst of flavor each time she bit into one.

  “Hm? Oh, no. No, we never did things like that. My grandmother raised my sister and me from the time I was eight. My sister was five. Grandma was—well, old.” She smiled at Rafe’s deep chuckle.

  The April day unseasonably warm. Sweat glistened on Rafe’s chest and shoulders.

&nbs
p; “You do know how to swim, don’t you?” Rafe raised an eyebrow teasingly. “It might make you feel better to get cooled off some.”

  “I was captain of my high school swim team for two years, Marshal. So, yes, I do know how to swim.”

  “They teach that in the upper grades in your time, huh?” He grinned. “All right. We’ll save the swim for tonight. Full moon.” He motioned her to him. “Walk with me, Jenni. I want to show you something.”

  This branch of the Canadian River, Clear Boggy Creek, was an area that Rafe knew like the back of his hand—or had, sixteen years ago, before— As Jenni had picked berries earlier, Rafe had walked a quarter mile downstream to the place he wanted to show her now: a small natural pool fed by a clear, fast-running waterfall.

  He’d only hoped it would still be there after the intervening years. As they neared it now, he took her hand to help her over some tricky steps along the creek bank. The moment she saw it, he knew. He felt her hand tighten on his, her steps slowing even further as she gave her attention to the wonder of the beauty before her.

  “Oh, Rafe! How did you know this was here? But of course you would, as well as you know this land.”

  He chuckled at her excited babbling; it was as if he’d given her another gift, even more precious than the first sight of the stream earlier this afternoon.

  “You wanna move camp? There’s a nice flat place right down there.” He pointed it out to Jenni, who was already nodding her head in excitement. He decided to go ahead and show her the rest. He put his arm around her shoulder and pointed about halfway up the side of the hill behind the flow of the waterfall.

  “Look, Jenni. Do you see it?”

  Her eyes narrowed as she tried to make out what he was talking about. “A—A cave?” she asked softly.

  “That’s right. In case it rains.”

  She looked doubtful. “Have you ever slept in that cave before, Rafe? I mean, don’t bears live in caves?”

  Rafe hid a grin. “Not that one. Only bats live in that kind of cave.”