Missing in Lavender: A Time Travel Romance (Lavender, Texas series Book 6)

by Barbara Bartholomew

  Mac heard Sylvie’s yelp and saw Betsy, skinned tomatoes dripping from her hands, turn abruptly to look at her grandfather.

  He held up a smallish, very battered envelope. “Only trouble is its addressed to Eddie and Zan.

  Everybody froze into position. “We have no way of contacting them,” Betsy said, “and they won’t be back ‘til the first of the month. Carefully she placed the tomatoes in a bowl on the table and pulled off her apron, scrubbing her hands on the castoff garment. “I’ll go looking for them.”

  “We don’t have time,” Mac spoke up. “We’ve got to read that letter.”

  “That’s right,” Mrs. Myers agreed quietly.

  Forrest hesitated a few seconds, nodded and handed the envelope to Mac. Her mouth going dry, she stared at the torn and dirty missive with its ancient looking stamp. For the first time she realized she’d bought it all—she believed—and she’d heard the story of the communication from across time that had brought Evan and Cynthia together in Lavender.

  “I’ll run tell Papa and Mom,” Sylvie offered and took off in the direction of her parents’ office on the far side of the house.

  When all three came back, Mac torn open the envelope before anybody could protest and began to read the words written in faded and ancient ink.

  “Zan:

  Am trapped behind the lines with the enemy. Guy who says he’s Constantine Silver and an agent of an unidentified government. We’re in Korn, Texas somewhere in the late 1860s and neither of us knows the way out.

  He’s keeping me alive because he thinks I know how to escape and I’m trying to keep him from finding out I haven’t a clue.

  Be careful, Zan. They’re on to us and they’ve got Lavender set as a target. Whatever you do, don’t let them find it.

  Jerry

  She hesitated before reading proudly aloud the last line after the signature.

  Tell Mac I love her and didn’t mean to miss our date.

  These words were her validation for opening someone else’s mail.

  For a moment, everybody went silent. Then Cynthia, eyes moist with gathering tears, said in a voice choked with emotion, “Poor Jerry.”

  “We must get word to Zan and Eddie. They’ll know what to make of this,” Evan said. “I’ll go with you, Betsy, to find them.”

  “Better if I go.” Cynthia frowned at her husband. “I’ve lived there. I can find the way to the ranch and Moss and Lynne will know how to find Eddie and Zan. They might even be there in Oklahoma.”

  Nobody replied to this and the others began to scatter in preparation for this mission. Even Betsy went upstairs, leaving Mrs. Myers, Mac and Sylvie alone.

  Sylvie went over and with one finger tinkled a little tune on the piano.

  Mac’s mind whirled with frustrated, improbable plans for rescuing Jerry and Mrs. Myers moved slowly over to look out the window at the summer bright yard outside.

  Betsy came back. “I’m going now to escort my mother out. Once she’s across, I’ll be back. I have a plan, a new plan, for getting us to Korn.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Having written the letter, Jerry set out to fulfill Herman’s dying wish. He would try to keep his widow and daughters safe.

  Nobody wanted to talk to a stranger except in the most casual way, but he finally encountered the minister at one of the town’s three churches and by introducing himself as Mrs. Myers’ cousin come to Korn for a visit was told that she was expected back soon from her visit to Austin. “A bit feisty of temperament, our Esther,” he said, “as you will well know if you’re her cousin. But the best of good Christian women. She promised one of her good spice cakes for our brotherhood meeting and some apple pies as well. That’ll be Friday and we can count on her to be here.”

  “But I understand she had a serious disagreement with her husband,” Jerry made token protest in hope of gaining more information.

  ‘Oh, she and Herman are always having these little dustups. They mean very little in the marriage of a devoted couple. “You’ll see her with little Ruth and Laura stepping off the Thursday stage at the latest. She’ll need to have time to bake, you know.”

  This was Wednesday so if the reverend was right, he had only one more day to wait. By checking he was able to find that the stage was due at ten the next morning, so he proceeded to play for more time by seeing that he and Bud couldn’t be easily found in the meanwhile. They went by horseback, carrying only blankets and enough food for overnight, down to the rough breaks near the river where they set up a campsite.

  “Figure that dude can’t find us down here,” Bud said with satisfaction as he put on the coffee pot and made biscuits. Supper was good with bacon and beans added to the menu and for the first time in a while Jerry found himself with leisure to dream of McKinley.

  He thought of her sweetly pretty face, her soft voice and gentle ways. He was so glad she was safely out of this and that, hopefully, he would find his way out of this and back to her. If necessary he would beg her to go with him to Lavender to live and they could leave all the risk and chaos of the modern world behind.

  “What’ll we do when they get here?” Bud’s question burst rudely into his plans, bringing him back to the reality that even 19th century Korn, Texas wasn’t a safe place.

  Jerry shook his head. “Just try to keep Silver from getting them. Seems to me I need to try to take that buzz gun away from him.”

  Bud nodded with satisfaction. “We need to have the best gun,” he said, “and you say it’s the one that Silver man has. You know he’s bound to be there waiting. I’ll jump him from behind and you rush in and grab his gun.”

  “Right in front of everybody?” Jerry asked, bemused. “People will think we’re criminals.”

  Bud grunted. “People know me. They don’t know him. They’ll back us up.”

  Jerry hoped that was true. Certainly being one of their neighbors was important to the residents of Korn. They had been distinctly distant with Jerry Caldecott who was not one of their own. Maybe it would work. Certainly he had no better plan.

  Jerry slept little that night and awakened early to drink several mugs of the coffee made over the campfire, but only ate half a biscuit while he watched Bud consume a hearty breakfast, giving no sigh of nervousness.

  Cleaning up in river water as best he could, he became aware that an inch or so of beard now adorned the lower part of his face and thought with some chagrin that Mac wouldn’t know him. He was swept with a fierce longing for her and pushed that emotion down, telling himself he must focus on the events that lay ahead for this day.

  Betsy sent Dottie on an errand that left the kitchen clear, Mac supposed, for a planning session for the three of them. To her surprise, they’d barely seated themselves around the table when Caleb came in, moving fast in spite of his limp. “This is just crazy, Betsy,” he scolded as he approached his wife to drop a kiss on the top of her head.

  “It’s the way to find him,” she countered seriously. “But I won’t try it without your approval. It was all so uncertain before and we were separated for such a long time.”

  Mrs. Myers’ soft face molded itself into a frown. “I wouldn’t have you do anything dangerous, Betsy.”

  Caleb pulled up a chair and seated himself next to his wife. She took his hand and they sat like that while the others talked.

  “What’s so dangerous?” Sylvie scoffed.

  “We would go without her if we could,” Mac protested. “Jerry’s life is at risk.”

  Caleb sighed. “Tell them what you have in mind, girl,” he told his wife.

  She shrugged slightly. “It’s how we met and it was during the war and shortly thereafter. Lavender was open then.”

  “Doc hadn’t set it aside yet” Caleb agreed, his voice worried. “But the old summer kitchen burned and Betsy, you sure couldn’t just walk in and out at will the way you do at the border past the creek.”

  Betsy nodded, but disagreed. “I have a theory,” she said, “that it has more
to do with attachments and paths than we’ve suspected so far. Mom and I came here, frightened and looking for a safe place. We found Papa Evan, Eddie, and all of you.” She smiled at Mrs. Myers. “We had people we loved on both sides, my aunt and uncle and Jerry drew us back there, so the path was opened. And I went where you were Caleb because you were there.” She squeezed his hand. “We made a pathway between us.”

  She turned to look at Mrs. Myers. “It’s like when you drive through mud and leave ruts. It’s easier for someone else to follow in those ruts.”

  “But Betsy, we were stranded on opposite sides for a long terrible while. You with Emilee and me with Ben.”

  Mac decided it was time to intervene. “We don’t want Betsy to take a risk of being separated from you Caleb, but if she could just cross over with me, then I could go look for Jerry. In the meantime, she can come back here and go find Zan and Eddie and send them to help.” She leaned toward them. “Somehow I have the feeling that we’ve run out of time, that if I don’t get to Jerry right away, something awful will happen.”

  Caleb’s fierce look softened and she guessed he was identifying with her, thinking about the times when he and Betsy had been apart. With a hopeless shrug, he turned back to his wife “It’s up to you, my love,” he said.

  The strength of that soft endearment made Mac shiver. Would she and Jerry ever have anything like that between them, a love to test time and last for a lifetime?

  “I will go with her,” Mrs. Myers said firmly. “I’ll know my way around over there.”

  Betsy nodded. She gave her husband a lingeringly intimate kiss in spite of the onlookers. “Go tend to our children,” she said gently, “I’ll soon be back.”

  His limp more pronounced than usual Caleb moved briskly toward the door that led to the front of the house, not turning even once to look back at them. Mac watched as the door shut behind his back, then turned to look questioningly at Betsy.

  “Sylvie will help Caleb,” she announced briskly.

  “No, Bets! I want to go this time.”

  Her half-sister stood firmly. “I promised Mom and Papa. You reassure them all if we are delayed.”

  The younger girl’s rosebud mouth formed into a pout and she rose, standing with arms defiantly akimbo. “But, Betsy . . .”

  “Do as I ask or I can’t help them at all.”

  Sylvie’s shoulders shrugged in defeat. “All right,” she gave in, “but all I can say is this isn’t fair at all and when I’m older I’m going on all sorts of adventures without asking anyone for permission.” She stomped out, the door slamming behind her.

  Betsy looked regretfully in the direction where her young sister had departed, then shrugged, turning back to the others. “Mrs. Myers knows the story, but you probably haven’t heard it, Mac. A few years back, I walked through into a different kitchen, a summer kitchen that once existed back of this one. Separated by a breezeway, it was meant to keep from heating the rest of the house when cooking. And when I stepped out there I crossed into another time where Grandpapa wasn’t old yet and his father was still alive. There, during the time of the civil war, Caleb and I met and fell in love. I went in and out for various reasons and by the time I left for good, the old kitchen had burned to the ground and the war was over.”

  It was a succinct, almost emotionless recital of a breathtaking time. Mac nodded, having heard parts of the story before. “You think we might go that way to get back to 1967 Korn?”

  Mrs. Myers got to her feet. “Why not? Old doc hadn’t cut Lavender out of the herd yet. We should be able to travel right out of town and cross country to Korn.”

  Betsy nodded, standing and motioning McKinley to her feet. “No harm in trying,” she said. She led them out of the kitchen back into the dining room that connected to the huge front room. The other two stood in silence while she seemed to collect herself and Mac saw Mrs. Myers’ lips move in a brief silent prayer.

  She told herself there was little hope this would work, but felt her heart stepping up its beat nonetheless. “We’re coming, Jerry,” she whispered and then, as Betsy turned and moved toward the kitchen door, fell into step behind her.

  But Betsy halted, holding out her hands in either direction until the other two women grasped them. Mrs. Myers pushed the door open with her free hand and, the three pushed together in order to go through the door as one and even so, Mac lagged slightly behind.

  Betsy seemed deep in concentration, her eyes narrowed nearly closed, and Mac, watching her, was at first barely aware of the room into which they’d stepped.

  The scent of baking bread lay pleasantly in the air and a huge old stove stood on one side of the room. The floor was bricked and none of the ‘modern’ kitchen appliances from 1913 were in view. A door was opened to a large pantry stocked with jars of fruit and vegetables. A row of freshly baked pies rested on the long table and a white-haired man of advanced age looked up sneakily from where he was cutting a taste of hot apple pie, preparing to place it on a plate. “Oops!” he said. “Caught in the act of theft, but Eliza’s pies are beyond resisting.” Then his smile faded as he took in their appearance. “Welcome back, Betsy. How are Caleb and the children?”

  “Fine,” Betsy said, her voice thin. She let their hands drop to go over and gently hug the old man who placed a kiss on her forehead. “We’re only passing through, Doc, on a mission.”

  He nodded and gestured toward the outside door. “Don’t forget to take supplies. There’s food here in the kitchen, an army tent in the cellar, and plenty of blankets.” He held them up while he went to open what looked like a little safe, bringing out several gold coins which he handed to Betsy. “Bon fortune,” he told them, his voice warm.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Blinking back tears, she motioned to the other two and led the way outside. Mac closed the door behind them, than blinked as she looked around. They stood in a little sheltered breezeway of the house on Crockett Street, surrounded by a flourishing garden of sweetly scented flowers. But as she looked closer she saw that the house looked nearly new and the neighborhood that rested around the Victorian home was much more sparsely occupied and most of the houses were relatively modest.

  “This is the old summer kitchen,” Betsy said, dashing tears from her eyes, “before it burned.” She nodded toward the small building in front of them.

  Before she could lead them into that other kitchen, the door behind them opened again and the old doctor leaned out to say, “Best I not get involved in your business, Betsy, but I just wanted to say my team and buggy are down in the stable if you are in need of transportation.”

  He went back inside before they thought to thank him and, carrying the supplies they’d taken time to gather, they went through the sparsely furnished kitchen and headed for the stable.

  Constantine Silver didn’t even attempt to hide his presence as he waited with would-be passengers for the approach of the stage. When Jerry and Bud rode up, he watched them with cynical eyes as they hitched their horses and walked over to stand next to him. “Planning a trip?” he asked Jerry, ignoring Bud. “Or is it that you’re meeting someone?”

  So he knew about the expected arrival of Mrs. Myers and her daughters. Jerry wasn’t surprised. No doubt he hoped to use them as leverage in his attempt to secure the secrets he thought Jerry still kept.

  Resolution hardened inside him as he watched dust blow down the dirt street of the town. Herman Myers had begged him to see to the welfare of his little family. He’d do his best. His right hand touched the gun he wore openly at his side and glanced reassuringly at the shotgun his friend carried so casually.

  They were something of an oddity in the peaceful farming community, men who carried guns in town. This was no wild west Dodge City or west Texas Abilene, but still most men knew how to handle guns, for hunting, protecting livestock and keeping the home site secure. But this was a crowd of women and children, a place where families made their homes.

  Bud might be accepted, an old timer w
ho though somewhat eccentric, was considered harmless. As a stranger, however, Jerry was conscious of considering looks sent his way. No matter, only he knew that the most dangerous weapon in town was concealed beneath the folds of Constantine Silver’s well-tailored gray jacket.

  He wished he had some way of scaring the crowd off, but knew if he issued a warning, they would only stare and wonder if he had lost his mind. In his current unkempt condition, he looked a whole lot more threatening than the neatly groomed Silver.

  So he waited, every sense alert as a small boy’s shout announced the approach of the stage, its horses sending up new clouds of dust even as they slowed and drew to a stop in front of the waiting crowd.

  A plump elderly woman with white hair was the first to emerge to be greeting by a flock of enthusiastic grandchildren. Next came two men, each carrying a satchel, salesmen, Jerry guessed.

  Then his gaze focused on a trim, straight-backed young woman, a little girl hanging on to each of her hands as she helped them to the ground. Her eyes searched the crowd, looking for someone who no longer had the ability to come to meet her. Jerry’s heart dropped. The loss of Herman Myers was brought fully home to him. The man had been father to those two pretty little girls and husband to this woman he recognized in spite of the difference in age from the woman he knew back in Lavender.

  Out of the corner of one eye, he saw Silver move forward, smiling and affable, and glanced to where Bud had stepped back, his shotgun only slightly raised.

  If they started something here people would die. Jerry thought of the powerful buzz gun he knew Silver had at the ready. In this small crowd, he and Bud weren’t the only ones at risk.

  Since both of Silver’s hands were outstretched as though in welcome, he decided to bide his time. For now he seemed to have no intention of attacking the newcomers and so he watched quietly as Esther Myers greeted old friends and led her daughters up to the wooden sidewalk to wait for her luggage to be deposited.