Trish smiled at the morning sun. It would be dangerous to set the talisman in motion so close to the saloon but the bridge where she'd bid Quinn farewell seemed the perfect place to do the same to 1887. She turned to the saloon, raising her hand and the talisman toward it. Slowly, turning clockwise, she silently bid each tree, wild creature and memory goodbye until she'd completed her circle. The saloon still slept in silence. With her free hand, she flicked the inner scrolls.
Lightening cracked and her mind raced. In that split second before the rain descended upon her and the thunder rolled did she grasp the detail. The bridge no longer spanned the river here in her own time. Trish gulped at the air, hoping it would be enough should the rushing current carry her under.
The Talisman - Crisscross Page 65
