“You know me?” Chase’s expression shuttered from concern to guarded.
Beatrice placed her hand on her head, her legs violently shaking as she backed toward a door with a large window that revealed blue skies on the other side. Chase put his hands out like he was trying to calm a spooked horse. She figured with the way her brain was rattling and her breaths were short and quick, not doing her any good, his reaction was about right. Her back hit the door. She reached for the handle and threw the door open to escape.
“Hey, wait!”
Beatrice didn’t wait. She rushed through the threshold and down the porch stairs. She was halfway across the yard, heading who knew where, when she skidded to a halt. Before her sat the shiny red machine she had seen the first day she met Hunter. It had been in a picture with him and his brother, Chase. She turned in a slow circle, noticing a larger contraption with wheels and hay stacked in the back, a big green machine that was skinny and tall with some kind of bucket on the front, and a miniature machine with wheels but only had a long black seat, not the enclosure the other machines had. She heard a rumbling somewhere, almost like a locomotive noise but quieter. She looked up as the crunch of footsteps approached her. Her entire body shook like the leaves quivering on the trees in fall where one small breeze would set them tumbling to the earth. Her breath caught as a small white shape flew across the sky much too high to be a bird, a trail of white streaking behind it. No, she screamed in her head as the sky tunneled to black.
Chase had about one second to catch his breath before the crazed woman whispered, “Jet streams” and fainted dead away. He’d never heard of jet streams causing such an adverse reaction, but he had seen a lot of crazy things in his travels. Though if he was honest, a woman freaking out at the sight of him, or more specifically his phone, and running from the room was a first. He wasn’t one to brag, but usually they came flocking to him. There was no hiding the fact that she had been completely wigged out, from her frantic breathing and wide eyes that took in the front yard like the vehicles were about to come to life and attack her.
Chase carried her back inside and laid her on the couch. He pulled the coffee table closer and sat on it, determined to not let her run out on him again without some answers. He lightly pushed the hair back from her face, wincing at the sight of the large bump on her head. Maybe he should just take her into the clinic. What if she had a concussion or something and his keeping her here caused her brain damage? Her eyes fluttered, and Chase sighed in relief.
She sat up quickly, pushing into the back of the couch and pulling her legs up to her chest. “Who are you?”
“Chase Bennett,” Chase answered, confused since she’d just said his name before barreling out the door.
“No … you can’t be,” her voice whispered, catching on the end.
“Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I am.” Chase was determined to get this conversation rolling as soon as she had a second to orient herself.
“But … you’re … that means I’m …” She shook her head, lifting her hand to her forehead. She looked around the room in fright, her gaze darting from one item to the other.
“What’s your name?” Chase hoped to focus her attention and keep her from fainting.
“Beatrice. I’m Beatrice Thomas.”
The name slammed into Chase’s chest, sending a slithering down his spine like a bucket of ants had been dumped in his shirt. “Beatrice Thomas?”
She nodded, her green eyes so full of worry he wanted to pull her close and promise her he’d take care of her, which was utterly ridiculous since not an hour ago he wondered if she had killed his brother.
His voice spoke before his brain thought better of it. “I have a chest for you.”
Confusion wrinkled her brow. “You have a chest for me?”
“But before I go get it, tell me how you know me. Do you know my brother, Hunter? You said his name earlier.”
“I … I …” She broke down crying, burying her head in her knees.
A ball hardened in his throat, an unease that blared something bad had happened. He stilled his racing mind, focusing on getting the information from this woman, then scouring the woods again until he found where Hunter was.
“Where’s Hunter?” Chase’s voice was cold, a tone he’d never heard from his mouth before. “You said you killed him.”
“What?” Beatrice’s head shot up and shook, tears hanging precariously from her lashes. “No, Hunter’s fine. At least he was fine last I saw him. No … I think … I think I killed William Sweeney, at least I injured him. But really, a knife to the chest with his loco mind doesn’t bode well for him.”
She scrubbed her hands down her face and then ran them through her hair. She took two deep breaths as she wrapped her arms tight around her legs, setting her chin on her knees. She looked lost, like she had absolutely no one in the world.
Chase shook the thought away. “So, you know my brother? You know where Hunter is?”
She nodded her head. “Yeah, I know where your brother is, but you’re not going to believe me.”
“Try me,” he answered, hoping he mimicked the confidence his brother always exuded.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He braced himself for what was about to come from her lips. “Last I knew, he was on his way home from Denver … in the year 1879.”
Chase’s head snapped back like he’d been punched, and he laughed, the sound forced. “I’m sorry, but it sounded like you just said 1879, as in over a hundred years ago.”
“I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” She sighed.
“You’re joking, right? Because this isn’t funny.” He pushed the coffee table back and stood. He paced to the flat screen that quietly played some cop show and turned back to her. “I’ve spent over the last year searching for any clue as to where he could be and have found nothing, nothing. And then you come along and say he’s jumped in a Delorean and made like Michael J. Fox to the past? I don’t buy it. How hard did you hit your head?”
She exploded from the couch, weaved slightly before stomping over to him, and poked her finger so sharply in his chest he’d probably have a bruise. He resisted the urge to rub it, barely, and swatted her hand away instead.
“I don’t know what a fox has to do with any of this, but you have some nerve, mister, calling me touched in the head. Words like that might get you shot.”
“What, like William Sweeney?” His voice dripped in sarcasm.
Sorrow so deep he felt it in his core leached all the anger from her expression. She weaved, placing her face in her hands. He put his hand on her arm to catch her if she fell. With his touch she crumpled into his chest, great sobs wracking her shoulders. He pulled her close, his own sorrow and desperation of the last year reflected in the emotion ebbing from her. He tucked her in tight and prayed that God would calm both their minds, giving them peace to figure out the situation.
“Come on, Beatrice, let’s go sit down. I’ll listen to whatever you tell me with an open mind. I just want to get to the bottom of this, to understand,” Chase whispered into her hair, the smell of pine and wilderness enveloping him with comfort.
She pulled back and peered up at him with imploring eyes. “Promise?”
Her beautiful face pleaded with him to agree. He found himself nodding. He wondered vaguely if he’d just promised to listen or promised her the world. Whatever the case, from this standpoint, with her small form in his arms and her hands flat upon his chest, he figured he’d promise her the sun and stars and die trying to deliver them. He pulled away from her, shutting down his ridiculous line of thought and focusing on what was important. His mission, his purpose. Finding Hunter, not helping confused women, no matter how tempting they might be.
Chapter 3
Beatrice moved away from Chase as his gaze went from one of desire to one of caution. She guessed she respected that. It’s how she would react. She just didn’t understand why it pinched so much. She took a deep breath and turned to
the couch. Traveling through time sure made her a weakling. She needed to pull herself together and stop all this nonsense crying. She didn’t even fully understand why she was so upset, this is what she wanted, to escape the lonely prison her mountain had become.
She sat on the couch and pulled her knees to her chest. “I don’t completely understand why, but two years ago, my sister Viola and I found your brother back in our time, the year 1877.”
“That’s impossible.” Chase sat on the other end of the couch studying her like an insect under a magnifying glass.
“It’s not probable, but not impossible. He had all this strange gear, his eye phone with pictures of you on it, this pack of food, what did he call it—”
“MRE?”
“Yes, MRE. It was disgusting.” She smiled at the memory of Hunter showing her how it worked. He’d done that often, that first week he’d been healing. She’d bring an item in from his pack where she’d hid it in the cave. He’d explain its purpose to her, laughing at her delight in whatever convenience it provided. Her heart broke at never seeing him again. “The best way we can explain it is the story of Philip and the Ethiopian in the Bible.”
“What does a story about some dude getting baptized have to do with traveling through time?” His remembrance of the Bible story eased her heart a bit. She knew Hunter worried how Chase’s faith would hold in Hunter’s absence.
“It’s what happens immediately after the baptism that is the clue, when Philip is transported to a town miles away in the blink of an eye. But it’s not just with Philip. There’s also record in John chapter six where Jesus walked to the disciples over the water. When Jesus got in the boat, John says they were immediately at the shore. Best we can figure God is either saving the person transported, or the person needs to help in some way during the time or place they are transported to.” Beatrice rubbed her head, the ache spreading with each word.
“Here, let me go get you an ibuprofen.” He stood and left through the door he’d first come through earlier.
Now that she’d settled her nerves and wasn’t bucking like an unbroken mustang, she surveyed the room. The walls that weren’t covered with paintings and photos were lined with shelves of books and little figurines which seemed out of place for the strong man Chase appeared to be. His features reminded Beatrice so much of Hunter, yet his demeanor didn’t have the rugged edge Hunter’s had. She supposed that was because Chase hadn’t followed Hunter into the military but had—how had Hunter put that?—goofed off, traveling the world instead of finding a real career and family.
The box on the wall showing the moving pictures looked similar to the eye phone, just larger. It changed to a woman dressed in nothing but coverings over her intimate parts. Beatrice gasped and covered her eyes, her face heating in embarrassment at such lewdness.
“Oh, let me turn that off.” Chase came in carrying a plate and glass. “Alexa, turn the tv off.”
Beatrice looked around the room, watching the doors for someone to walk through. The large eye phone went black and silent. She gaped in amazement and peered up at him, her mouth and eyes wide.
“How … How …,” she stuttered.
He chuckled. “Voice activated technology.”
She shook her head in confusion. There was so much to this time, so much she would need to learn. She wasn’t sure why God would send her into a place so foreign to her.
“Here, I made you a PB&J. You should eat a little something and take the pain killer. Your forehead looks like a goose laid an egg on it.” He extended the plate with what appeared to be a sandwich on it.
She took the plate and lifted the sandwich to her nose and sniffed. It smelled sweet, like the preserves they would make each summer out of the wild berries that grew. She took a small bite, sweetness exploding into her mouth as the gooey middle pushed around her tongue. The texture of the bread was odd, soft and airy, not dense like the bread they made at home. The entire bite, while delicious, stuck to her teeth, and she reached for the glass to wash it down.
Chase opened a white cylinder he pulled from his pocket and motioned toward her. “Here’s the medicine.”
She reached out her hand and watched as two small, round discs fell into her hand. They were flat, red, and had writing on them, and she groaned. The few times she’d had medicine this way, she’d never been able to swallow the darn things. Taking a deep breath, she popped the painkillers into her mouth and tried to swallow them, only to have them stay in her mouth. Shrugging, she chopped into them. Intense bitterness filled her mouth, and she gulped the water in the glass.
Chase laughed. “You’re supposed to swallow them, not chew them. Here, eat some sandwich. That will help cover the taste.”
She glared at him as she grabbed the sandwich he extended to her. “I know. I just can’t swallow them. My medicine consists of teas and sometimes chewing bark or leaves if I’m desperate. We don’t have much use for pills back home.”
“Sorry.” His mouth smirked in a way that didn’t reflect the apology.
She rolled her eyes and took a large bite out of the sandwich. Her eyes widened as the sticky concoction filled her mouth. She took a drink of water, hoping to loosen the glob from where it stuck.
“So you were saying that God beamed Hunter back in time, and that you just travelled to here from that time.” His voice dripped with skepticism. “Are you sure you and your sister aren’t just part of some community that’s tricked its children to believe they live in a time they don’t?”
She rolled her eyes. “Hunter asked the exact same thing, claimed our parents kept us isolated for some reason. He understood that wasn’t the truth as soon as we explained that we’d travelled the United States on visits with our grandfather. Then he saw that the sky didn’t have any jet streams and his sat phone didn’t work. Look, I know this isn’t going to seem real, but it is. We all thought it was just a one-time thing, well two if you count my pa—”
“Your pa travelled through time too?” His eyes narrowed and his forehead crinkled.
“No, he was moved from the Colorado Mountains to Pittsburgh. But then, I just met Samara, my new sister-in-law, who showed up late this summer.”
“Do you mean Samara McKenna? We’ve been searching for her for weeks. Her and the guy she was with, Harry Smith. They never showed up. All we found was some blood and no other signs of either of them.” Chase’s face was full of concern. “You’re saying you know where she is?”
“You really haven’t been listening, have you?” She took a drink of her water. “She’s back in 1879 with Hunter. Well, not with Hunter, she’s actually married to my brother now. Harry was trying to kill her. That blood was hers from where he’d cut her. She told me he’s killed before, that he said he hadn’t had a redhead before.”
Chase stood and paced the room. His forehead crinkled in concentration. She understood his disbelief. Shoot, she could barely believe she was here.
Had she really been in that much danger that God would bring her here? She figured with the wound in his chest, William probably didn’t last much longer, but maybe he had. Beatrice shuddered. She always believed she’d do whatever it took to keep her family safe, even kill. But now she had this layer of guilt covering her, like she’d fallen in a slimy, muddy pit and she couldn’t wash it off. She wondered if her family ever found him, if Robert, William’s brother would retaliate. She shivered again. Had she left a mess and wasn’t there to help the family deal with it?
“Here, you keep shivering.” Chase grabbed a blanket from the chair and brought it to her. He leaned over her and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, adjusting it so it laid snug. He gently pushed the hair out of her face and behind her ear, a look of concern marring his face. His obvious worry over her and the fluffy blanket that was softer than any fabric she’d ever felt before soothed her ragged edges.
He sat on the table right in front of her. “I really should take you in to the clinic and get you checked out.”
�
�I’m fine. I’ll be alright,” she whispered, more for herself than for Chase. He gave her a look of doubt. “Your nasty medicine is already working. It’s just a bump. Well, two.” She reached back to feel the bump from the root when William landed on her. She winced and shivered.
His eyebrows pulled together over eyes that were the color of the sky. He really was a handsome man, much more than the photographs on Hunter’s phone showed. His dark brown hair was streaked light from too much time in the sun and made his eyes appear bluer than possible. He had stubble on his face, like he hadn’t shaved in a few days. That, or he was unable to grow a beard. She remembered some men who, try as they might, couldn’t grow a proper beard. He had on pants that were dark blue and looked sturdier than cotton. His shirt, with the sleeves cut just past his shoulders, hugged his body tight and revealed the strong muscles beneath that had earlier wrapped around her in comfort. He reminded her of some Greek hero, Perseus or Odysseus, larger than life, full of an energy that begged for adventure or action. One who would save the damsel and slay the dragon.
Beatrice huffed. She didn’t need a hero. She’d slay her own dragons. Thank you very much.
He opened his mouth and ruined the image. “So, you killed a man?”
She closed her eyes on the shame that slithered down her throat, coating it so she could hardly talk. “Yeah.”
“What happened?”
The images of William, filthy and feral, blood pumping from his chest where the knife had been, assaulted her brain. She threw her eyes open. “I was out hunting, wandering through the woods, when William jumped me from behind. It was stupid really, I should’ve heard him coming, but I was woolgathering about plans for the future and got caught up in them, I guess.”
She sighed. There went those dreams. No more Wild West show. No more traveling the world. Just when she’d figured out her life and goals, God decided something different. She wasn’t even sure how to be in this time. Chase placed his hand upon her ankle and nodded his head in encouragement. The contact startled her, and though she knew she should pull away, it was a comfort to know she wasn’t alone.
Vestige of Courage Page 2
