Time Plains Drifter

by Cheryl Pierson

  “No.” He came toward her, wagging his finger. “Not something I can’t answer; I’ll choose when to answer. If I’ll answer.”

  “You know what I think?” Jenni walked forward to where he stood, meeting him with her hands on her hips, eyes flashing. “I think you are a cheat.”

  He stepped back, as if she’d struck him.

  “You must be a very minor demon indeed,” she went on. “Maybe you’re even like one of those—those flying monkeys on The Wizard of Oz,” she taunted. “What’s wrong? You have to bring me here instead of letting things work out topside?” She gave him a pitying smile. “Poor little...monkey. And you don’t even have any wings—”

  He roared with anger

  Jenni barely flinched at the scorching lightning bolt that flew past her. She shook her head. “Not really very impressive...Jocko.” She forced her expression to become a mask of mock pity. “That’s what some people name their pet monkeys—topside.”

  “All right, Miss Dalton,” he grated harshly. “Let’s go back up. By the time I’m done with you and the d’Angelico brothers, there won’t be enough of them left to dig a grave for, this time around.” His eyes glinted coldly. “Or you—and that brat of d’Angelico’s you’re carrying!”

  Jenni’s shoulders stiffened in shock. She couldn’t keep the surprise from her eyes at his revelation. Rafe’s baby? She remembered the sweetness of his proposal, the way she’d wondered at the “missing piece” of the puzzle, and Cris’s urgings for her to “ask him.” Dear God. We created a child between us in the sweetest moments I’ve ever known. Now, this—bastard—thinks he’ll kill it?

  The demon grinned hellishly, laughter spewing out of him and filling the space around them until there was no particle of sanity in the cool black that enveloped them.

  “Oh, this is rich!” he managed to gasp, tears leaking from his eyes. He wiped at them as he tried to get control. “Now, do I take this right? Tell me, Jenni? Did you not realize you were carrying Rafael’s child? Or did you just hope I didn’t know it yet?” He dissolved into raucous laughter once more.

  “Either way, Jenni...either way—” he shook his head as he spoke, “you will provide me with hours of fun just trying to figure out which one it was. Secrets. Was it my secret that shocked you so? Or was it my discovery of yours?”

  “You want my baby?” She managed to fight back her tears and gave him a cool look. “Over my dead body, you son of a bitch!”

  “That’s precisely what I’m counting on, my dear—before this night draws to its predictable close.” He glanced upward and lifted a well-manicured hand. “Let’s go topside, Jenni. I’m eager to see how this all plays out.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Almost before it had registered on Rafe that Jenni was missing, she reappeared—just scant inches from where she’d been standing before. Only this time, she wasn’t alone.

  Rafe took an instinctive step forward, brought up short by Cris’s firm grip on his arm.

  Don’t tip your hand, brother.

  Rafe gave no sign he’d heard Cris’s thoughts, but for the relaxed posture he forced himself to adopt, easing back beside his brother. He met Jenni’s eyes—and didn’t like what he read in her expression. She was relieved to see him, but there was reproach in the emerald depths, as well.

  She knew. The demon had to have told her what he wanted. Her, and the baby she carried. Rafe swallowed hard. My baby.

  The demon’s changeable eyes glinted with laughter. He held Jenni close to him with the power of his mind.

  “Let’s see...this would be about the time where you should tell me to let her go,” he said, looking at Rafe. He put a finger to his cheek as if he were thinking. “Ah, yes! It comes to me now—‘Let her go—I’m the one you want!’ That’s what they usually say, isn’t it?” He chuckled. “But, unfortunately, we know that isn’t true in this case. I have exactly what I want—right here.” He caressed her shoulder.

  Jenni, helpless to move away, couldn’t suppress the shudder that went through her.

  “You think Kemp’ll kill a woman?” Rafe asked harshly. “And does he know who she is?”

  The demon reached to touch Jenni’s cheek with a forefinger, moving a small strand of hair. “Oh, he’ll do it, all right. And it won’t matter to him who she is. By now—” he turned to look Cris in the eye, then Rafe, “you should both know that Josiah Kemp cares about one thing only—Josiah Kemp. He’ll do whatever I tell him to do in order to...exist.

  “However,” he continued, “I’m in need of a bit of...entertainment—” the demon broke off, meeting Rafe’s sharp glance. “Oh, Rafael. Get your mind out of the gutter. There are plenty of women I can indulge myself with—if that’s what I want to do. I certainly don’t need Miss Dalton for that. She’s not to my taste, anyhow,” he sniffed, throwing Jenni a look. “No, my idea was, that perhaps you and Marshal Kemp could provide us some gunplay. I’ve heard you were very fast—evidently, speed isn’t everything since you did wind up dead anyway. But, perhaps a—rematch? On fairer ground?”

  “Don’t do it, Rafe,” Cris warned. “It doesn’t matter how fast you are. Not here.”

  “Oh, Cristian!” The Dark One made a face of disappointment. “Surely you don’t think I’d leave Kemp his powers against your brother! That would hardly be sporting, now, would it? No, no, no! They shall both be human again and we’ll just let it happen as it will...fall to chance, shall we say.” He flicked his hands and smirked, as if the matter were already settled.

  Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “What’s in it for me?”

  The demon pursed his lips. “There are all kinds of possibilities, Rafe.” He grinned and a dimple appeared in his right cheek. “All kinds.”

  “Name ’em.”

  Milo sighed. “Rafe, where is your idea of challenge?”

  Rafe didn’t respond, and the demon shook his head. “There are so many variables. We know the child we must—terminate—is of Kemp’s lineage, and Kemp is Jenni’s great-great grandfather—”

  “Where is Kemp?” Cris interrupted. “Call him out here. Or is he too chicken shit to show his face?”

  “Cristian,” Milo gave Cris a knowing look. “You know, as well as I, you can’t do anything to harm him.” He gave a bright smile. “You just aren’t strong enough yet, and he’s under my protection.”

  “Just think he needs to be hearing all this, don’t you? In the interest of...playing fair.”

  The demon winced. “That’s the second time in one evening I’ve been accused of being a cheat.” He turned to the dark thickness of trees behind him. “Josiah. Come here. Come, and meet your granddaughter.” He released Jenni, and her knees almost buckled, but she shook off the hand he extended to steady her.

  Jenni saw the coldness in Cris’s dark eyes, the steely resolve in Rafe’s. But when she met Josiah Kemp’s studious stare, she couldn’t look away. She felt mesmerized, helpless to move for a moment as she gazed into the face of the man who was to be her executioner, and that of her unborn child. The man who was responsible, in generations past, for her very existence.

  Kemp reached for her hand, and unthinkingly, she took it, as Rafe stepped forward with a muttered curse.

  The demon laughed. “Calm down, Rafe. It’s not time. Not yet.”

  ~*~

  Kemp let his thoughts go as quickly as he could, during that one fleeting touch. He didn’t know shit about this mind-speaking stuff, and he’d never tried it before. But all through the long ride into the night, he’d been thinking about what he would do, if he got this chance. There were things he wanted to tell Jenni, he discovered. He wanted her to know he wasn’t all bad...no matter how this turned out.

  He’d known he wouldn’t have much time, so he’d thought of three things he wanted to tell her—three paltry snippets of thought he could condense and give to her quickly. He knew he didn’t have to touch her, but was glad for the opportunity. It was the only chance he’d ever have—if his plan went accordingly.

 
Forgive me. Love him. My gift to you.

  ~*~

  Jenni let go of his hand almost as soon as they touched, appalled at herself for her instantaneous reaction. At the moment their hands met, she was aware of a brief flash of something that passed between them; not physically, but a sensation more indefinite, more transitory.

  “Hello, Jenni.” Kemp tipped his hat respectfully.

  Jenni peered at him, as if trying to see into him—still unable to believe this man had hated Rafe d’Angelico enough to kill him—the father of her child.

  “Hello.” Her voice was soft and filled with wonder, but she recovered herself somewhat before she went on. “You’ll—forgive me not calling you ‘Grandfather’ under the circumstances, I’m sure.”

  He gave her a faint smile. “Just remember, Jenni-girl, everything’s not always what it seems. Hell, I barely even remember who I screwed for you to get here...eventually.”

  Jenni’s chin came up a notch. “Evidently, there were many details you forgot along the way—such as honor and trust.” She glanced at Cris and Rafe. “What does rape matter to someone who murders his friends?”

  Kemp shook his head. “I remember two things about your grandmother. You have both: her eyes...and her temper. Her name was Ada. Ada Murtry.” He lowered his head and peered at her from under his hat brim. “And I didn’t rape her—if you know what I mean. She was a dancehall girl, up in Dodge City. Crazy woman followed me down here to Indian Territory after I left.”

  As much as Jenni wanted to ask more about her long-dead great-great grandmother, she needed to know something about Kemp himself even more. She felt tears rising unchecked in her eyes, and was powerless to squelch them. “Why did you do it? Why did you double-cross Rafe and Cris?” Above all, her overriding sense of keen disappointment in this man standing before her was more painful than anything else, and it took her by surprise. She suddenly felt like the only kid with no quarter when the ice cream truck came around. At the same time, she wanted to laugh at herself. Of all the things she could’ve asked him, this one question seemed suddenly the most important. That struck her as slightly ridiculous. But she had to know.

  “How can you be the kind of man who would kill his friends for a train car of gold? You’re my great-great grandfather!” She swiped her eyes, but was beyond disappointed. Now, she was mad.

  He reached to touch her cheek, then stopped himself. “Yeah,” he responded brusquely. “That was a big part of it. Gold—well, it makes a man do things he wouldn’t do otherwise.” At last he turned to look at Cris and Rafe, and though his words seemed in answer to Jenni’s question, she knew he was talking to them as well. “Makes a man forget things might’ve mattered once—like all the fixes his friends helped him out of—barroom brawls, debts owed,” he shrugged, “hell, even—” he turned back to Jenni abruptly, “even gettin’ a bullet dug out of him when there wasn’t no one else around to do it. Gold makes him forget to say ‘thanks.’ Makes him turn...” His voice was low at the end, his eyes holding Jenni’s.

  ~*~

  Kemp seemed to come to himself and throw off the melancholy air with a careless shrug. “Then, you wake up one day and find you don’t have any more chances left—” His gaze moved to Rafe, then Cris, and now, he could only hope they’d remember how he always finished this saying when they’d ridden together. You don’t have any more chances left—

  Except this one. He saw it in both of their faces for an instant. He realized they didn’t know whether to believe what they heard from his lips...whether to read it as he meant it. They certainly had no reason to trust him. No reason except this young woman standing with them.

  “Open up that pretty head of yours, Jenni. You can find all kinds of things there, if you know where to look. You seem smart enough; able to figure things out...if you just think about ’em.” Kemp spoke quietly, an undercurrent to his words.

  He could tell she was remembering that earlier moment, when he’d pushed his thoughts into her mind. Satisfied, he kept a straight face, trying to ignore the triumphant surge that passed through him. She would remember it all, eventually. Before she could say anything, he stood back a step.

  “Nice meetin’ ya. You’re awful pretty. Remind me of Ada, some.” He reached into his pocket, withdrawing the gold cigarette case. It was the only tangible thing he owned that he could give her. Hell, she might not give a tinker’s damn about it—or him—but he’d make the gesture, all the same. She could sell it to buy something for the kid. “Here. Ada—uh—your great-great grandmother—gave this to me.”

  Jenni took it from him and he shrugged. “Thought you might like to see it—if you’re interested.” Before she could reply, he motioned her away. “G’won now.” He nodded toward the edge of the clearing. “Go sit down or—or somethin’.”

  “Come, Josiah—” the demon interrupted. He took a step away from the group and peered into the woods. “You’re becoming frightfully maudlin. I have a proposition for you—if you’re up to it. I...mentioned it earlier.”

  Kemp waited, not saying anything.

  “A gunfight between you—and Rafael d’Angelico. If he’s agreeable—”

  Kemp met Rafe’s eyes swiftly. This is your chance, Rafe. I’m giving it to you. Kemp thought it quickly and gave it a shove into Rafe’s mind. By the questioning light in Rafe’s eyes, Kemp knew he’d gotten the message, it was just taking some time for it to settle into his consciousness. He looked away from Rafe as the Dark One started toward where they stood.

  “Well,” Kemp chuckled, “that would hardly be any sport at all. I’m able to do quite a few things that—humans—can’t do.”

  Milo turned to Kemp, a sneer on his lips. “No, Josiah. Not anymore. After all, as Cristian has reminded us, it wouldn’t be—fair—to give you such an advantage, would it?” He paused, then said quietly, “So, as of now, you are...equal.”

  Kemp turned away to hide his triumph from the demon. ‘Equal’ was just what he’d been counting on.

  ~*~

  Beck Jansen let go a long sigh. He sat astride his horse, peering over and through obstructing foothills and forests his three companions couldn’t see. The Dark One had not come unprepared. The pale greenish tint that surrounded each of the devil’s spawn let Beck know there were approximately twenty of these desperadoes.

  Odds of twenty to six, seven, if he counted Jenni. Her main concern needed to be getting into that cave Rafe had shown her. He wondered if she would make a run for it, as Cris had told her—and Rafe had planned for her to do.

  Doubtful. Very doubtful. At least, not without Rafe; she wouldn’t go.

  “Let’s go,” Beck muttered, taking off at the breakneck speed again, the others close behind him. It wouldn’t be much further now. He only hoped they’d be in time.

  ~*~

  They stood at the edge of the clearing farthest from the trail through the woods. “Now, Rafael, as for you.” Milo turned to face Rafe and Cris, smiling like a satisfied cat. “You want to know what’s in it for you, hmm?” He began to pace as he spoke, tilting his head back, posturing, his arms behind his back. “As I started to say, there are many variables. All we really know is that the child will be from Josiah’s line.” He flicked Rafe a glance and shook his head. “I don’t know why you let yourself become embroiled in this—”

  “Get on with it,” Rafe said stonily.

  The Dark One paused. Then, “Naturally, I’ll not be able to offer you the lives of your, um—paramour and the bastard she carries, but,” he wheeled around, staring into Rafe’s raging dark eyes, “I can offer you a chance to even the score, with Marshal Kemp. And,” he cocked his head, “insure the continued safety of your dear brother, while he is among us.” He threw a sidelong look at Cris. “You always looked after each other as best you could, didn’t you, Rafael? The piper must be paid at some point...you did kill—a priest.”

  Cris laughed, and stepped forward, nudging Rafe as he passed. “Father Ignatius? You’re throwing that up? Callin
g him a priest? He was no more a man of God than you are, Milo. And you have no power over me—”

  “Not alone. But then, Marshal, I’m not alone.” The demon turned to the woods behind them.

  One by one, the faces of the low men of his dark realm began to appear. Wordlessly, they stepped forward forming a half-circle behind Cris, Rafe, and Jenni. Some of them leered, anxious to be about this work, while some of them stood, uncaring, looking almost bored, as if they went about this every night.

  Jenni’s voice was a low whisper. “Dear God.”

  Rafe put a protective arm around her, and glanced at Cris. He recognized the defeated look in his brother’s face. Cris might have some power of his own, but not enough to take on all of them. And as for himself, Rafe thought bitterly—he was merely human again, with only himself to blame.

  Hope slid to the pit of his stomach. With everything in him, he felt as if he was stepping down off that train again, just as he’d done sixteen years earlier, preparing to meet his death. Once again there was no choice. His turbulent gaze met the Dark One’s laughter-filled smirk. “What do you want me to do?”

  CHAPTER 28

  In the bright moonlight, Rafe couldn’t mask his anxiety. There was nothing else he could do but give in to Milo’s demands—whatever they might be. Damn Becket Jansen!

  Rafe pulled Jenni close. “Get to the cave,” he whispered next to her ear. She turned her face up to his, and he brushed her lips in a quick, searing kiss. “Do you understand, Jen?” he asked, barely lifting his mouth from hers.

  She nodded slightly. “Rafe, I-I love you.”

  He looked down into her beautiful forest green eyes, the firelight shimmering in her hair, and for a moment, forgot everything else around him. She had never been more lovely, he thought, looking up at him like she was now—nothing but worry—and love—in her eyes. He’d remember this moment for an eternity—no matter where he spent it.

  He stood, just loving her; and even though the time had come when he might have to leave her, he still couldn’t wish it hadn’t happened—this magic between them.