Time Plains Drifter

by Cheryl Pierson

  The angel’s blue eyes twinkled, as a slow smile spread across his face. “I said, ‘you don’t have to.’” He stepped forward. Cris leaned his tall frame against a nearby willow tree, watching.

  “I...said before, I am sorry about the train fiasco. I never meant for things to happen like that, for sure. But, as your brother so aptly pointed out—” he shot a withering glance at Cris, who kept his expression poker straight, “I was responsible for your deaths, and for bringing the both of you back.”

  Beck studied the muddy ground a moment. “You say you—don’t want to be an angel. I believe you.” He looked up at Jenni. “I wouldn’t either, if I had to give up someone as sweet as Miss Jenni is. And I sure wouldn’t want to go off and leave a child behind.”

  Rafe was hard put to control his impatience. Jenni squeezed his fingers gently. He squeezed back in silent acknowledgement, and let Beck continue. In the next instant, he was sorry he did.

  “Once, you said you didn’t give a damn about what I thought—or said—” He held up his hands as Rafe started to speak. “I’m talking about one time in particular, in a conversation with Miss Jenni—” he broke off at Rafe’s black stare, then continued. “To quote, ‘I’m going to eat, and drink, and when we go to bed tonight, I’m going to—’”

  “Becket!”

  “Well, don’t get sore at me, Rafe. You were the one who said it—”

  “You were listening to everything I said to Jenni? Watching everything we did?”

  Beck smiled benignly. “You wondered about that, too, didn’t you? But, no. Not everything.” He chuckled as Rafe slapped a hand against his thigh in frustration.

  “Easy, Rafe. I didn’t take offense at those—angry thoughts of yours. Quite understandable, under the circumstances. May I finish my quote?”

  “Oh, sure, Beck. Be my guest. I might have forgotten part of that little heartfelt speech, and I’m sure you’ve got it locked away, ready to remind me.” Rafe waved a hand. “Get on with it,” he growled.

  “Well, at one point, you said, to paraphrase, well, that Miss Jenni, and the memories of the time you spent together, was your idea of Heaven. ‘No one can take that away,’ you said.” Beck’s neck and face were growing red under Rafe’s stony silence, and Rafe saw that his taut scrutiny was almost too much for Beck. He had the good grace to look away, falling silent, himself, for a long minute.

  “Rafe, I—well, what I want you to know is, that no one is going to try to take anything away.” His blue gaze swung up to Rafe’s stare. “If you two are agreeable, then Murdoch can marry you as soon as we get back to the cave. That baby’s going to need his daddy, and I reckon Miss Jenni could use some help after bein’ thrown back in time. Wouldn’t be fair to just leave them to their own.”

  Rafe flashed Jenni a white grin, his anger dissipating. The breeze gently flirted with his hair, blowing it rakishly across his forehead. “What do you say, Jen? Marry me?”

  “Before you answer, Jenni,” Beck interrupted, “you must understand that you, too, have a choice. I have been given the, uh, power to—to send you home. Back to your time in 2015.”

  ****

  The warm smile left Jenni’s face, and she put a hand to her throat as she felt the blood drain away. Home. She could go home to—to what? A tiny efficiency apartment in a world she found she had no desire to re-join? Her dream of going to graduate school seemed dim, and very far away. The only reason she had for returning was solitary, but very important. Her sister, Tori. She would be so worried, and like Cris and Rafe, she and Tori had come to depend on one another over the years.

  “My sister—” Jenni whispered.

  “Yep.” Beck let his breath go. “That’s pretty ticklish. But, there is a solution to that, too.” He looked at Cris.

  “Wait a minute.” Cris stood up straight, pushing away from the tree. “Just what do you have in mind?”

  “Well, Miss Victoria could be in a heap of trouble, Cris. And Rafe, he can’t go and leave Jenni—if she decides to stay, o’ course.” He threw Jenni a glance. She stood watching him, her mouth half open. Tori could be in danger, even at this moment.

  Cris gave him a knowing grin and shook his head. “I don’t think so, Becket. If I understand this correctly—” he stopped, his eyes boring into the angel’s, “you are asking me to go forward in time, to 2015, and be the other Miss Dalton’s personal bodyguard.”

  Beck didn’t answer for a long moment. “No. Just...forget I mentioned it.”

  “Okay, it’s forgotten. I mean, I’m not even an angel anymore, am I? What am I, Beck? How can I make a decision like that when I don’t even know what I am?” He slapped his hands angrily against his lean hips. “To go forward in time, to 2015, I wouldn’t know how to act—”

  “It’s all right, Cris. I shouldn’t ’ve even brought it up.”

  “You’re damn straight you shouldn’t have!” Cris blazed.

  “And you are an angel, by the way, so you’d have some powers. It wouldn’t be like you’d just be hurled a hundred years into the future with no—ah—protection.” He went on thoughtfully. “No, you’d need something special to give you the advantage—”

  “It doesn’t matter, because I’m not going to do it!”

  ~*~

  Silence settled over the little group. If he went, Cris thought, he and Rafe would be forever separated, as Jenni and Tori were at this very moment. Why does this have to be so complicated?

  “We need to be in the same time, Beck.” Rafe studied the older man’s expression, looking for some kind of agreement. It was the best solution. Either they all went forward, or Tori came back, to this time.

  Beck shook his head. “It’s not that easy, Rafe. Can’t just pop Miss Victoria out of her own time and bring her here. Not without her knowledge—or her consent.”

  “Hell,” Rafe ran his fingers through the tousled dark strands of his hair, then smoothed his moustache. “Can’t you just—I don’t know—‘appear’ to her, or something? You can go wherever you want, can’t you? Just explain everything and bring her back with you.”

  Beck’s lips lifted slightly in a secret smile. “I can’t do that, Rafe. My place is here.” He glanced at Cris. “You’re the only one who can go, Cris, if you choose to. If not...” He let his words trail away with a fatalistic shrug.

  ~*~

  “Dammit!” Cris turned and walked a few steps away from the group, his lips compressed. He tried to put them all out of his mind, to force the idea of what Beck was asking from his thoughts as well.

  “You won’t be stuck there, Cristian,” Beck murmured softly, and it made Cris angry all over again, knowing the angel was peering into his thoughts.

  He whirled around, his gaze on Beck. “I don’t want to do this!” As he said it, he realized how childishly the words echoed in his own ears, saw Rafe almost imperceptibly wince.

  Beck shook his head slightly. No. You’re no coward. I know you’d rather stay here with Rafe; but, this time your brother’s right. “If you can convince Miss Victoria to return with you, it will be far easier to protect her from whatever Milo has set in motion,” Beck said aloud. “And you might get more than you bargained for,” he added, under his breath.

  “What the hell—” Cris began. He stopped, making an effort to calm himself. “What does that mean?”

  “Sometimes the best gifts are the unexpected ones we receive.” Beck grinned knowingly. “Are you going, or not, Cristian?”

  Cris met Rafe’s eyes, then walked toward where his brother stood with his arm around Jenni. Jenni moved as if to slip away, to allow them a private moment, but Rafe pulled her closer, unwilling to release her, as if he were afraid she’d disappear.

  “Rafe—” Cris began, his voice choked.

  Rafe reached to clasp his arm. “You do what you need to do, Cris. If you go, I’m sure you’ll find a way to convince her to come back with you.” His eyes lost their teasing glint as he continued. “If you don’t try, you won’t be able to live with
yourself. I know you.”

  Cris slowly dropped his head and looked at the ground. “Jenni, it’s not that I don’t want to help you—bring your sister back—”

  “Then what?” Jenni breathed, stepping forward. She touched his hand and waited until he raised his gaze to meet hers.

  “I don’t want to fail you,” he answered huskily. “And there are no guarantees—”

  “I know. But if you do try—and she refuses to come back, then you’ll know you did all you could.”

  “But will you, Jenni? Or will you always wonder if maybe this thing or another had happened...maybe then she would have come? Maybe I didn’t say the right thing, or—”

  Jenni shook her head. “I’ll never second-guess you, Cris.” She glanced at Rafe, then back into Cris’s eyes. “I know what kind of man you are—how determined. And I know you’ll have done all you could do. You’d never come back—here—if you hadn’t.”

  She smiled at him, and Cris understood exactly why Rafe wanted to give everything up to be with her. He wondered if her sister had the same beautiful green eyes.

  “I’ll give you a little insurance before you go—reminders you can mention to Tori that might help with the convincing a bit.” The expectation in her expression was more than he could bear.

  He sighed. “You’ve got a lot of faith in me.” He looked around at them, then back at Jenni. “All of you do. I hope I can live up to it.”

  “You’re going, then?” Rafe said, more of a statement than a question.

  Cris gave him a wry grin. “You knew I would, didn’t you, brother?”

  Rafe held his gaze. “I wondered, there for a minute.”

  Cris looked at Beck, resigned. “When do I leave?”

  Beck’s blue eyes glimmered. “I think we’ve got time for a wedding, before you go.”

  CHAPTER 39

  Murdoch Bolton knelt near the center of the cave. He ran his fingertips over the leather medical bag. Judging from the items strewn beside the fire ring, it had been a much-needed help for the marshal and Miss Dalton.

  The preacher knelt beside the remains of the bandaging, the basin, and the rest of the medical supplies that lay on the floor. His eyes were drawn to a dark stain on the stones. Blood. And lots of it. He closed his eyes briefly, still having trouble accepting what had happened—what was continuing to happen. Belief was so fragile—and so naïve.

  His gaze wandered to where Cash lay sleeping just inside the cave. Obviously, the emotional work they had been part of had taken its toll on him, and now he slept, exhausted by it all. Lance stood guard scant inches outside the entrance. One was already dead; one still among the living.

  The possibilities were limitless, he knew now, and that thought alone amazed him.

  “Reverend?” Cash sat up, rubbing his eyes.

  Bolton crossed to him and squatted beside him, reaching to touch his arm. “I’m here, son.”

  “Lance—” Cash looked around the cave, his eyes meeting Lance’s where he stood outside. His gaze turned stony with remembrance. “Where’s Mr. Jansen?”

  Becket Jansen. Angel. Murdoch was instantly reminded of when Beck had come to them last night as they stood in the beautiful protection that Lance had put around them. As the rose and orange mist evaporated into quiet grayness of early morning, Beck had guided them through the woods and up the trail to this cave. Just as they had reached the bottom of the trail, Cris d’Angelico had taken a fall, tumbling down the long glide of the waterfall, landing hard in the river below. Murdoch, Beck, and the two boys had stood watching, horrified.

  Frozen, they watched as Jenni Dalton frantically began to unlace her shoes and kick them away.

  “Jenni,” Beck breathed, and Murdoch felt the angel’s overpowering desire to leave the three of them on that trail and go to her; had felt his terrible indecision, then the resolution, as finally, Beck determined he couldn’t leave the three of them so close to the cave without knowing where the demon was.

  But the demon…Murdoch wasn’t fool enough to think he’d been destroyed, and he knew Beck realized it as well.

  By the time they reached the cave, Jenni had disappeared into the churning, unknown depths below, and Beck’s face had gone white; grim with worry. It didn’t take him long, Murdoch remembered, to disappear into nothingness himself, once he’d seen them all to the safety of the cave.

  “How’re you feeling?” Bolton broke the somber silence.

  “I’m fine. Just tired, still.” Cash raised a hand at Lance who stood just outside the cave entrance. “Do you think Miss Dalton’s all right, Reverend? I mean, that’s a long jump—and she didn’t know what was down there—”

  Bolton nodded. “I have a feeling she’s fine. I know…we’re all worried. But when she gets back—” He broke off.

  Outside, Lance turned quickly to cast a look behind him down the trail. When he glanced back toward Cash and Murdoch, his face was lit with a grin.

  “They are back!”

  ~*~

  Rafe walked directly to the preacher and said something to him, as Jenni hugged Cash.

  Beck looked at Cris. “Well, looks like your brother’s not planning to waste a second longer to get hitched.”

  Cris nodded, knowing what Beck was driving at. “I said I’d do it, and I will. I don’t have to like it, though.”

  “No, no, you don’t have to like it, Cristian. That much is true.” The angel appeared thoughtful. “I figure three, maybe four weeks oughtta give you plenty of time to do all the convincing you need to with Miss Victoria, don’t you?”

  Cris gave a disdainful chuckle. “Am I on a schedule now, Becket?”

  Beck’s expression became even more serious. “Yes, as a matter of fact, you are.”

  “Now—wait one minute. You never said anything about that earlier—”

  “You never asked earlier.”

  “That’s not fair!”

  “Nevertheless, that’s how it is.” Placid blue eyes dared him to argue further. Finally, Beck smiled. “I have confidence in you.”

  Cris started toward him, teeth gritted. “I’m not doing it!” he hissed. “Not with you changing things!”

  Beck grinned and held his ground. “Tell them that.” He nodded toward Rafe and Jenni. “I didn’t change anything. It’s just how things are.”

  Cris followed his gaze to the couple, taking their places before Murdoch Bolton. Jenni’s expression was radiant with her love for his brother as she looked up into Rafe’s face—and Cris knew he couldn’t disappoint her—or Rafe. He sighed, letting go a muttered curse. He was going, because he’d agreed to do it; because not only were Jenni and Rafe counting on him—so was Victoria Dalton. She just didn’t know it yet.

  ~*~

  Jenni gazed into Rafe’s face, a flush creeping up her neck. Her feelings were plastered all over her features, and she made no effort to hide them. She was terribly, wonderfully, terrifically in love.

  Reassured by the mischievous adoration in her eyes, Rafe’s lips quirked. She squeezed his hand. “Still love me?” she murmured, for his ears only.

  The smile faded as he turned serious. “More than anything, Jenni. You gotta know that.”

  “Dearly Beloved,” Murdoch Bolton began, his resonant voice ringing out across the balmy April morning, commanding the attention of all those present, unafraid of drawing the wrath of any remaining unseen visitors of the Dark.

  Rafe closed his eyes, briefly, and let his thoughts go out to Jenni. He was an angel, of sorts, right now. It wouldn’t last long, he thought, and he was glad of it. He wanted to be a flesh-and-blood man: A husband to Jenni, a father to his children, with all the faults and goodness inherent in being human.

  Rafe barely heard Bolton, only recognized that he and Jenni were making the proper questions and responses to the ceremonial questions and litanies.

  In his mind, he could see his dream. The little cabin where he and Jenni waited out the storm, where they made love and created a child. The profusion
of morning glories growing up the trellis at the front of the cabin, and Jenni on the porch, a baby in her arms. He could even see himself, coming across the yard and up the front steps, sweeping up the toddler who ran to meet him from just inside the front door.

  Rafe held the child close to him, felt the warm breath on his cheek—the breath of his own angel—the giggling laughter ringing in his ears like the bells of Heaven should sound. Then, he reached to hug Jenni and the baby. It was so real.

  He glanced at Jenni, saw the wonderment in her eyes, the smile on her lips—and knew instantly what he had done. Read her thoughts. Her dreams and his own had mingled, becoming one, allowing both of them a glimpse of the same merging vision.

  He searched her face for any trace of anger—at the way he’d unthinkingly dipped into her thoughts—read her mind. But there was no ire, only joy. Only love. I’m sorry, Jen...

  She shook her head slightly, turning her attention to the Reverend as he dug out two of the brass nail rings he carried in his inside jacket pocket, handing one to each of them.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife,” Bolton intoned, a spark of amusement in his dark eyes. Then he added, “You may kiss your bride, Marshal.”

  Rafe took Jenni in his arms, cupping her chin, then her cheek, with his right hand. His lips came across hers hungrily as she opened her mouth to him.

  Don’t be sorry, Rafe. Not for that dream we shared—

  Not for that. For seeing into your thoughts—reading your mind.

  A wicked smile curved her lips under his. Read this...

  CHAPTER 40

  Beck had been convincing enough, Rafe thought, but he couldn’t help but be concerned. He lay in the bed where he and Jenni had first made love, staring up at the ceiling—waiting. And while he waited, his thoughts ran in all directions.

  Cris had not wanted to accept the challenge Beck had thrown at him. But being Cristian d’Angelico, he’d had no other alternative. Rafe sighed. His brother was stubborn, and, he supposed, he was too. Cris had seemed uneasy as they’d said goodbye, and Rafe knew that it was because they were to be separated once more. He knew Cris wasn’t afraid, really, of what he needed to do to bring Tori Dalton back—to keep her safe; it was just the infernal uncertainty of whether he’d ever see his brother again or not that brought the sudden shadows to his eyes. Rafe understood it. He had probably worn a mirror expression as they spoke their farewells.