Time Plains Drifter

by Cheryl Pierson

  “Tell me what’s going on.” Rafe turned back toward the fire just in time to see Jenni disappearing into the woods for some privacy. And to give us some, too, he thought. He sat down again, as did Cris. “We’ve never kept secrets before. We’re not going to start that now, are we, brother?”

  Finally, Cris met his eyes. “Nothing is working out like it should, it seems.”

  “What does that mean? I can’t get a straight answer from Beck, Cris. Even he doesn’t know which one of these kids we’re after, or what’s going to happen once this all ends—” Rafe broke off. “You do, though, don’t you.”

  Cris nodded. “Part of it,” he admitted. “I know what was supposed to happen, but—” he shook his head. “You really messed it up good.”

  “Me? How? All I’ve done is get killed off too early.”

  Cris laughed at Rafe’s indignation. “Well, it’s more what you’ve done since you’ve been back, brother.” Cris’s smile faded, and he looked down at the ground, studying it intently, choosing his words. “You’re going to get yourself in trouble, Rafe; trouble that I can’t help you out of, no matter how much I wish it. If you persist in this—this plan of action, your eternity could be in jeopardy. Wandering alone, neither alive nor dead, neither side claiming you...beyond redemption. You can’t just decide you don’t want to be an angel, Rafe.”

  “The hell I can’t.”

  Cris sighed. “It could go...very badly for you, brother. I never expected you would be this—stubborn.” A faint smile played at his lips after a moment. “I suppose I should have, though. I just have to talk you into doing things my way this time. Everything depends on it, and now, even I don’t know what to do—” He raised his defeated gaze to Rafe’s questioning one. “You—really have been playing with a stacked deck.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how we’re going to set this one to rights. You’re holding five aces, Rafe, and I’m not at all sure you want them this time around.”

  “Why? Because I’ve turned part human again?” Rafe asked derisively. This brought a solemn look from his brother, his brows drawing together. Rafe knew in an instant that Cris understood something of significance about this whole thing that he didn’t.

  “Oh, no, Rafe. You’re not just part human again. You’ve definitely gone all the way. You’ve got a heart and everything, now. You’ve complicated matters—considerably.”

  Rafe waved a hand, tired of this talk that seemingly was getting him no closer to finding out the particulars of the situation than he was before. “Tell me something I didn’t already know,” he muttered. “You’re talking in circles. I’m just after one of those kids now, Cris. Seems Joel decided to run off and join the cavalry.”

  Cris nodded. “I know. But he’s safe enough. Besides, he’s—not the one you want.”

  “Yeah, how did I know that?” Rafe gave a caustic grin and shook his head. “Right now, I’m just trying to keep them all together in one place. Look, will you just tell me who it is I am after? Which of those kids am I supposed to be protecting, if not Joel?”

  “Not one of them, Rafe.” Cris gave him a level look. “It’s—Jenni.”

  Rafe started at his brother’s words, the air leaving him in a rush. After a moment, he relaxed a bit, his gaze going past Cris to the leaping flames. Of course. That had to be why they’d been so off track in trying to figure out who it was. They’d just assumed it was one of the teenagers.

  Jenni. Josiah Kemp.

  His thoughts whistled and roared, crashing in his mind, bombarding him from all sides. When he looked at Cris’s face, he knew that there was something to this mind-reading stuff, just like his brother had told him earlier.

  He could sure see what was on Cris’s mind, written plainly across his features. Another secret. What could be worse? he wondered. The woman he loved was the descendant of the man who had murdered him and his brother; now, he must protect her from Hell’s grasp. He must save her life, only to once more lose his own, and lose her as well—

  Steeling himself, he forced his gaze back to his brother’s. “There’s more?”

  Cris nodded reluctantly, drawing a deep breath. “Considerably more. You’re wondering, aren’t you, how you became human again? You’ve got a beating heart—”

  “Thank God,” Rafe interrupted, pacing away a few steps, thumbs in his belt. “It’s a start.” His voice was laden with sarcasm.

  “More than a start, Brother. Looks like you’re going to get exactly what you wished for. To be human—completely.” Cris’s tone was clipped, and Rafe turned to face him in the firelight, knowing he was angry.

  “Jenni’s pregnant, Rafe. She’s carrying your child.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Kemp watched as the Gambler’s eyes narrowed, a smile twisting at the corners of his lips. It was unusual to see any display of emotion while he sat at the gaming tables. That caught Kemp’s attention, and held it fast. He watched the delight blossom in the hard-as-glass depths of his green eyes, the winsome smile erupt across his wide mouth, and the laughter follow.

  He pushed his chair back and laid his hand down. Aces and eights. Dead man’s hand.

  Two of the players eyed him warily. A third man made for the door in a blur of arms and legs, as The Gambler came to his feet. He strode silently across the wood floor, forgetting in his haste to make his steps sound.

  As Milo approached, Kemp felt the air grow oppressive and sluggish around him. “Must’ve been a hell of a night,” he commented, looking back at his empty glass. He’d be damned if he’d ask for more, under the circumstances. “It ain’t like you to leave a game early.”

  The grin widened. “I just caught wind of something, Josiah. Something that should tidy up our little foray here, topside, and allow me to go back to my pursuits down under.”

  Raising a brow, Kemp cocked his head. “You find out which one of them kids it is?”

  The Gambler laughed.

  Kemp had to stop his instant cringing reaction to the sound.

  When the demon spoke, his voice was silky smooth. “Oh, yes, Josiah. You might say it’s a bargain. Two for the price of one.”

  Kemp’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean—‘two for one’?”

  “It’s a mommy...and her baby,” the demon cooed. “Isn’t that precious?”

  His chest tightened, but Kemp kept his face impassive. He held on tight to the thoughts roiling in his mind, determined not to give Milo even the slightest inkling of them. “Really?” he replied with feigned disinterest.

  “Yes, really.” Milo scowled. “At least one of them will never know what hit them.” He cocked his head, his good humor suddenly restored once more. “It’s the teacher...the lovely Miss Dalton. Whoever would have thought?” He gave Kemp a sly smile. “Hard to believe Jennifer Dalton came from your line, Josiah.”

  “Huh? Jennifer Dalton—” Kemp broke off quickly, wishing he had not given Milo the satisfaction of seeing his surprise. He schooled his features into the mask of disinterest he’d worn for so long, knowing it wasn’t likely to fool the Dark One now.

  “She’s all the things you’re not, and never were,” Milo purred silkily.

  Though he hated his weakness, Kemp couldn’t help being drawn in. “Such as?” He was unable to stop the question. Suddenly, the idea of the beautiful young woman being of his creation was like a balm to an open wound he’d never even known he’d suffered. To think of her brought him a kind of peace—almost happiness, he thought, but he couldn’t quite convince himself of that. For now, the healing peace was enough. More than he’d ever expected.

  The demon pursed his lips. “Well, she’s—she’s quite intriguing in a ‘good’ sort of way...if that’s what you like. And Marshal d’Angelico does. He likes everything about her... very, very much. She’s got those characteristics you certainly fall woefully short on, Josiah—honesty, integrity, kindness—just to name a few.”

  Kemp averted his eyes, afraid the demon would be able to look inside him, down deep to that pla
ce he’d never known existed, and realize what was happening to him. He was beginning to care. He was beginning to regret all the missed opportunities for good, as he remembered the terrible things he’d done in his former life.

  The Gambler warmed to his subject. “She practically raised her younger sister, and she wants nothing more than to marry someone, settle down and raise—” he broke off and gave a disdainful sniff, “children.” The demon cocked his head with smug assurance. “Aren’t you going to ask me who the father of her baby is, Josiah?”

  “Nope. Don’t really care.” Kemp forced a casual shrug. “It’s nobody I know, anyway.” For extra measure, he added a convincing shot of his own. “She must not be all lily-white, or she wouldn’t ’ve got herself knocked up. Right?”

  The bright smile dimmed a bit, as the anticipatory light faded from the demon’s eyes. He sighed. “Oh, Josiah, really. Don’t take the fun out of this!”

  Kemp’s lips quirked in satisfaction. Milo reminded him of a child who had a toy taken away, on the verge of a temper tantrum. But he wouldn’t be playing this guessing game without a reason, Kemp knew. “All right. I’ll bite. Whose is it?”

  “It is someone you know; someone you know very well, Josiah!” Laughter bubbled up from the demon’s throat. “Someone who once trusted you, considered you a friend.” His eyes rested on Kemp in speculative amusement. “Someone you betrayed for the love of money.” He paused again for effect. It could only mean one person. “Rafael d’Angelico! It’s his baby. Now, that should be fun for you...doing away with his brat. I find it quite ironic, don’t you?” His expression was sly.

  Kemp gritted his teeth, memories of Cris and Rafe d’Angelico flooding over him—Rafe holding him down while Cris cut a bullet out of his leg. Rafe spotting him enough money to buy his way out of a gambling debt. Rafe hauling him out of a barroom jam as he and Cris held an angry crowd at gunpoint. And the way he’d repaid all that—by taking their lives for gold.

  He’d allowed the hate to seize him and take firm hold, convincing himself that he reviled the d’Angelico brothers above all else. He realized, now, the jealousy gripped him just as relentlessly as the hate. He’d damned Rafe for the same qualities this great-great-granddaughter of his obviously loved in him.

  Somehow, he dredged up the ability to appear unaffected by this unexpected news, as well as the demon’s unspoken grisly expectations.

  “D’Angelico, huh? Well, how ’bout that?” Kemp chuckled and shook his head, suddenly feeling the prying sensation in his thoughts. He met the demon’s questioning stare head on, his own eyes hot with suppressed hostility. “You know,” he said in a measured, quiet voice, “I don’t like that.” The Gambler started to reply, but Kemp continued, ignoring him. “If you want my help...you need to stop doing it.”

  Milo closed his mouth, the ever-ready smile stretching his lips, but never reaching his green eyes. “Oh, I will have your help, Josiah. One way—or the other.”

  Their eyes locked for long seconds, and finally, Milo chuckled affably. “No more threats, Josiah. I’ll stop, if that’s important to you. We need each other, after all.” He threw an arm about Kemp’s shoulder as Kemp stood up.

  Kemp didn’t answer for a space of time, as if he were mulling over what the Gambler said. After a bit, he asked, “What now?”

  The demon clapped him on the shoulder, and they headed for the door.

  “A moonlight ride, Josiah. Southward. To the banks of the Clear Boggy Creek.”

  ~*~

  The sickening sound of bone breaking could be heard above everything else across the corral. Lance hit the ground hard, head-first, neck crunching and snapping just as effectively as a good hangman’s noose. He was dead instantly. He’d managed to stay on the horse three seconds. Snorting and bucking, the beast reared above his still form.

  Clint Jarvis, the owner of the Bar J, vaulted the rail fence and ran to the boy laying a meaty palm around the boy’s thin arm. He was joined quickly by two other vaqueros who helped him yank the boy away from the trumpeting stallion. They half-lifted, half-dragged him to the fence and hoisted him over to waiting hands, then climbed over the rails themselves.

  Jarvis knelt swiftly in the red dirt beside him.

  “He’s gone, Boss.” Bill Triplett, the ranch foreman, nodded toward the prancing stallion. “Looks like this outlaw’s a man-killer.”

  “No man, Bill,” Jarvis muttered. “Hell, he was just a kid. Dammit!” He came to his feet, slamming his hand down on the rough wooden railing, heedless of the splinters.

  “We’ll carry him on up to the house,” Triplett offered quietly, motioning a couple of the men over.

  Jarvis nodded absently, watching the odd way the men were handling the horse they were calling ‘the outlaw.’ As if they were afraid of him.

  “What the hell’re they doing?” Jarvis muttered, as two of the Mexican vaqueros crossed themselves before making a grab for the reins and the stirrup.

  Triplett didn’t answer right away. Finally, he said, “Looks like we’ve really got some trouble, Clint. They believe that horse is evil...hell-spawned.”

  Jarvis’s eyes narrowed. The vaqueros dodged and feinted, trying to avoid crushing hooves. “Got your gun on you, Bill?”

  “My rifle’s in my saddle scabbard. I was gonna ride out to the line shack by the river tonight and leave some supplies there. I forgot to do it earlier—”

  “Go get it.”

  “I know what you’re thinkin’. Not one of those men’ll put that animal down—”

  “I’m not asking them to.” He finally tore his gaze away from the wild horse and his men to look at Triplett.

  “All right.” The ramrod turned to go after the rifle. “You men get outta there!” he called on his way past. He didn’t have to repeat the command.

  Clint Jarvis stood watching the animal. The horse was beautiful, but deadly. Triplett returned, handing him the Winchester.

  He raised the rifle and sighted down the barrel with familiar competence. At the moment Jarvis squeezed the trigger, there was an almost human look in the roan’s brown eyes, a gleam that seemed to taunt and threaten at the same time.

  The Winchester reverberated again and again, the horse pitching to the earth with no sound. Finally, Bill Triplett’s firm grip on Jarvis’s arm, his concerned voice in his ear, made Jarvis lower the rifle very slowly, with a sense of not being finished yet. Triplett took over. “You men drag that carcass out to the field yonder.”

  “Burn it,” Jarvis ordered softly.

  “It’s gettin’ pretty dark, Boss,” Bill murmured. “We could wait 'til mornin’—”

  “No,” Jarvis grated, his eyes awash with pain as he stood staring at the broken body of the young man.

  “What about the saddle?” Triplett asked.

  “Burn it, too.”

  “Boss—that’s a Gallatin!”

  “I don’t give a shit if it’s made of pure gold, Bill. Put it all to the match.”

  ~*~

  Rafe could only stare at his brother in stunned disbelief. Then, he chuckled, shaking his head in denial. “Cris, you’ve—gotta be joking.”

  “No. I’m afraid not, Rafael.” Cris’s dark steady gaze compelled Rafe to meet his eyes once more, and his brother’s smile faded.

  “This is no laughing matter, Rafe.” Cris took a hesitant step toward him as he spoke. “You and Jenni making a baby—well, let’s just say it upped the ante considerably. If the Dark can wipe out Jenni and the baby, so much the better for their side.” He leaned closer to Rafe. “See, brother, the important thing is not Jenni or the baby you made between you...it’s what comes later. What comes in the future, even after 2015. One of Jenni’s descendants will be the doctor or scientist or whatever they’re called in that time who will make the discovery leading to the end of all types of influenza.”

  Rafe’s expression was thoughtful. “I know that’s a helluva discovery, but it hardly seems likely it would make so much of a difference that the
Dark would go to these extremes—I mean, if Jenni’s descendants don’t discover it, won’t someone else?”

  Cris smiled at his brother’s logic. “Yes. Someone else would discover it—close to forty years later.”

  “Well, then—” Rafe shrugged. “Why this battle now?”

  “Because, Rafe, by that time, two other people who would have been born will not be, because their mothers would already have succumbed to complications from influenza during pregnancy.”

  Rafe cocked a sardonic brow. “Only two?”

  Cris shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant. Every life is precious, but these two will do other things—significant things—to bring peace to the world. If Jenni’s child isn’t born and her line ends, her descendant who discovers the vaccine will not exist. Yeah, approximately forty years after he would’ve discovered it, someone else will...but by then, the mothers of the other two people I mentioned will have already died...childless. So you see, everything connects to everything else.”

  Rafe looked at the ground. A child. Not just any child. Mine. In trouble already. He smiled, in spite of himself. That just figured.

  He’d told Jenni he didn’t think he’d have been a good family man. Now, he knew differently. He’d be the best...if he just had a chance to prove it.

  There was something else he’d told Jenni, too, he thought uneasily. He looked at the ground, his thoughts swirling, coming to rest on one statement he could never forget. I wouldn’t make a baby with a woman without marrying her.

  “Cris, I want you to do something for me.”

  “I’m not a preacher.”

  Rafe’s head shot up. “Stop doin’ that!”

  Cris snorted. “As if I’d have to read your mind to know what you were going to ask me!” He reached to lay a hand on his brother’s arm. “Look, I don’t blame you. It’s plain to see you’re crazy about each other. But don’t you think you ought to wait until this ends? You don’t know what’ll happen when it does, Rafe!”