by Ford, Lizzy
But John … I ached knowing he was dying. Confusion and fear sent my thoughts spiraling down scary paths, and I pushed them away. John was one man. I cared for him, but I needed to fix things. I wasn’t going to be the fourth body in the bottom of a well!
I reached the road to town and slowed the horse to a trot, once again orienting myself. It was next to impossible to tell cardinal directions during a storm, but I recalled my trip to Fighting Badger’s and kept an eye out for the tree.
I rode along until I found what I sought: the tree followed soon by the red flag atop a hill. It was slanted at an angle, pushed over by the wind.
Veering off the road into the grasslands, I gave the horse its head so it was able to find the best path. Lightning arced across the sky nearby, and I jumped in place, once again suspecting I was either screwed or screwed if I didn’t finish the mission Carter sent me back to complete.
The horse’s pace slowed. I tugged my phone out of my pocket to check for messages.
You can’t fix history in one night.
“But we can in a matter of days?” I asked aloud, perplexed. “No more secrets, Carter. Four other girls!” I wasn’t able to fathom what he was thinking sending me back after the other girls disappeared. Did he even know what happened before I showed him the picture from the well? And why didn’t he come back, if people kept disappearing?
Unless they can only send us one way. The errant thought made me feel sick to my stomach. It was a better explanation for why Carter himself hadn’t come back to change history or why he didn’t know what happened to the girls.
No. I can’t believe that about him. Though I really, really wished I’d had an empathic memory chip when we first met. Had the other girls had this skill? If so, how did they not figure out their danger until it was too late?
Carter had called some of what they did to me experimental. I shivered, horror sinking into me as I realized the enormity of what I’d learned this night.
I couldn’t trust Carter. Or the people around me, aside from John and Nell. Whoever had killed the other girls was probably coming after me next, and I had no idea who that was. I had managed to contain the unease about being sent back in time, gloss over what Carter had done because he was my only link to the future. But maybe, he knew about the others, and maybe he lied to me because he was waiting for the same thing to happen to me.
My chest seized so tightly, I hunched over the horse’s withers and neck, struggling to breathe.
Three bodies. I had found three bodies and learned that someone was hunting down and killing off misplaced time travelers like me. Carter knew.
I just have to change history, I told myself over and over. Carter won’t screw you over. I wanted to believe it so much. I felt connected to Carter from the moment we met, and it wasn’t a bad feeling.
I sat up and released a measured breath. “I can do this. I am Clara Oswald from Doctor Who. I can fix things and go home to my school loans, mochas and yoga class.”
My heart hurt when I thought of John, a man who only wanted his daughter back and had been duped so far by four women. I wished I were able to interpret my enhanced instincts better to determine what happened to the girls at the bottom of the well. Did someone else pity the old man and was killing off imposter daughters to protect him? Or did someone know the other girls and I were from a different time?
I began to calm. It seemed much more logical that someone like Philip – who wanted John’s money – was behind all this than some time-traveling-murderer Carter failed to mention when he sent me back. I had a strong weapon I would be able to use to protect myself in the form of the empathic memories. I was able to read Philip’s memories and would know when I was in danger. I would see him coming.
But the sheriff ... I couldn’t read him. How awful would it be to be sent back in time to die alone? Had he tortured the others to learn their secrets? And who put their cell phones in the armoire?
My imagination grew darker, and I suppressed it. I couldn’t believe everyone around me was bad. Some of this had to be explainable …
Maybe. Without real answers, I was going to drive myself crazy.
Thunder and lightning made the horse toss its head and whinny nervously. A spatter of rain hit me, and I realized we’d need to reach the Native Americans’ village soon if I didn’t want to end up drenched.
I pushed the horse into a smooth canter, squinting to see anything in the darkness that might indicate I was headed in the right direction. Thus far, no lanterns, fires or other light sources pierced the dark night.
Better to die out here than in a well. I swallowed back tears, beyond confused about what to think or do with what I had learned. The only thing that made sense was the reasoning behind my journey: to change history.
Lightning stabbed the ground too close for comfort. The horse reared, and I hung on for dear life. It dropped to the ground and bucked, unhappy about the storm.
I rubbed its neck to try to calm it then raised up as far as I was able to go to see our surroundings.
There was no sign I was headed anywhere but into the middle of the grasslands.
The horse nickered in greeting, and I sat, glancing in the direction of its head. I looked back, startled to see the forms of two men melting out of the grassy surroundings. One moved forward to hold the horse’s head.
“You are lost,” he said.
A flash of lightning revealed a native with a silver stripe in his hair. He was comforting my horse.
“I’m not lost,” I replied. “I’m here to see your Chief.”
One of his eyebrows went up, and he glanced at the man beside him.
“You come alone, in a storm, to trespass on lands that are not yours.” This voice I knew as well, the low growl of Running Bear. I cringed inside, wishing we had a better relationship, especially since I was going to rat him and his brother out.
“It’s important,” I said. “Can I talk to him?”
A memory floated past me followed by another encyclopedic account of the natives. The images in my mind were a mini-history lesson about the Choctaw, a matrilineal culture. When his uncle died, the next man to marry his aunt, who bore the noble blood, would become chief. He was with one of the men who was next in line and debating how to handle my request.
Interesting. On one side of the road, I can’t own land because I’m a woman. On the other, only women can own land.
There was a silence, and I suspected I had caught the warriors off guard.
“Or I can stay here and get hit by lightning,” I added. “My father might not be happy about that, though.”
“Are you a fool or crazy?” Running Bear asked finally.
“Right now, both. It’s been an awful day.”
The man with the silver stripe chuckled. “Take her, Running Bear. From what you have said, this girl is a lost sheep like those her father lets graze on our lands. I am almost curious what she will ask of us.”
“She cannot be trusted, no matter how much you pity this lost sheep,” Running Bear warned. He approached and gripped the reins of my horse, yanking them from my hands.
“Tell me what happens,” the man with the silver stripe said, amused.
I focused on the empathic memories to distract myself from the lightning striking too close for comfort.
Running Bear, too, was curious but wary where his companion had been relatively unconcerned about the foolish white girl with the blue eyes. His thoughts went to his cousin, the sheriff, and I leaned forward, interested to get a glimpse into the life of the man I suspected was hiding a great deal without any idea of what that could be.
Running Bear was thinking of how the two of them grew up, one outside the family and one inside, but with similar interests. As I watched, I saw the other three women. All blondes with strikingly similar features to mine, intelligence in their gazes and …
Fear. They’d all been afraid of something in this time period. In each of the scenes, the sheriff was with them, in t
own, and they were scared. The images were too hazy and unclear for me to tell for certain what was going on.
Could he have killed them? I shifted uncomfortably on the horse, beginning to think it was a bad idea to accompany the sheriff’s brother anywhere, let alone on a stormy night when no one knew to look for me. There was too much I didn’t know about the sheriff to want to trust him and yet, the same sense I had about Carter upon meeting him, that we were friends in another life or linked somehow, I experienced with the sheriff as well.
“I met your brother,” I said.
“He told me he renamed you.” Running Bear’s voice was tight.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked.
“Can you tell me?”
“Not really.”
“He said you could see his mind.”
“Yeah.” I frowned, disturbed when I considered what I had seen. “He’s done horrible things. I can’t stop thinking about him.”
“He talks to spirits, too.”
I glanced towards him. It wasn’t possible to see his expression from this angle. Did he think I was crazy, too? “You and the sheriff are kind to take care of him.”
“He is my brother.”
Lightning shattered the sky above, and I jerked.
“It’s like the lightning from the night I came, isn’t it?” I asked uneasily.
“Yes. It will strike the trees before us,” Running Bear told me over his shoulder. “The wind is what you should fear.”
I saw his memories. He’d witnessed the meteor blaze across the sky, a different sort of brilliant fire than the lightning that night and followed it with the other members of his hunting party. He didn’t see what happened when it hit, but when they reached the crater, he saw me, curled up in the middle, shaking.
“Oh,” I whispered, distressed by the image. “That night … you found me in the crater.”
“You were fortunate to survive the lightning.”
I said nothing, aware the explanation that I had traveled from the future would only make him warier.
“Why do you wish to see my uncle?” he asked with a note that told me I better answer carefully.
“My father is ill. The doctor doesn’t believe he’ll survive the week,” I replied. “Father asked that your uncle comes to visit him before he’s gone. I thought I should invite him personally instead of sending Philip.”
“Philip is not like your father.”
“No,” I agreed.
“This could not wait for tomorrow? Or the skies to clear?”
I shifted on the horseback.
“You came for a different reason,” he assessed.
“Something bad is going to happen,” I said vaguely. “I want to warn your chief.”
“What?” The edge in his voice grew sharper.
Shit. I happened to be with a man who believed me to be dangerous rather than foolish. I sorted through his memories, realizing he still thought I was threatening his chief.
“I mean no harm,” I said quickly. “The threat doesn’t come from me, and it’s not directed at your family.”
Lightning cracked once more overhead. This time, it was accompanied by a gust of wind and a sudden sheet of cold rain. I closed my eyes to the onslaught, irked by how fast the raindrops soaked my thick dress.
“What danger comes?” he asked.
Even with the wind wailing in my ears, I was able to determine just how serious he was about me answering the question. His thoughts weren’t on taking me to his village but holding me hostage until I broke down and told him. And there was something else. Someone else …
A cave in a canyon, too dark to see into, one he was trying hard not to think about.
“No!” I cried. “You are not taking me to your brother!”
“Give me a reason not to, Talks to Spirits.”
My heart was pounding louder than the grumbling thunder. “Okay. I’ll tell you. You’re going to think I’m crazy, though.”
“We have passed that point.”
I rolled my eyes. “When your chief passes in four days, you or your brother will begin to commit violence and raids. This leads to the eventual deaths of almost a million people over the next hundred years.” My brow furrowed. The image was of him being there and then not. The technology in my head was once more unable to tell any difference between him and his brother.
He was silent and I sensed, shocked.
“Whatever happens that day, it is the beginning of a war, one that ends with all the Indian tribes being nearly destroyed.”
“It is not possible for anyone to know this.”
“But I do.” I told him firmly. “So, I want to talk to your uncle and tell him. He is like my father and believes in peace. Maybe he will be able to stop this before it starts.”
His memories were sorrowful and angry, on his murdered family once more. He had issues for sure, but I wasn’t able to tell if they were enough to motivate him to act or if the threat really came from his brother. The images in my head were inconsistent once again.
“Do you really think killing innocent people makes what you went through right?” I asked, testing him.
He was silent for a long moment, guiding the horse. I held my breath and worked on stopping my shivering.
“You were right. You are a fool and you are crazy. No one, even my uncle, will listen to your words,” he said finally. “Fighting Badger told me what you told him. I thought him speaking out of madness, but it is you who speaks out of madness.”
Ugh. I hate being compared to a psychopath. I didn’t have much of a defense. Speaking to spirits, coming from the future … I sounded worse than his brother.
“It is a shame.”
“What is?” I asked.
“My brother likes you. You made him feel less alone. When you were with him, he said he did not have to struggle against who he was. He did not want to hurt you the way he does everyone else. But you … you are too mad even for him, Talks to Spirits.”
I hated that I pitied Fighting Badger. Knowing what he’d done, I still didn’t want him to be in the pain he was in. The idea that I helped, even though he terrified me, soothed the part of me that was still ruffled from the visit.
“Are you taking me to him?” I asked, unable to tell what direction we went in the storm.
“No.”
“Then where are we going?”
“Somewhere safe for you and my people.”
I swallowed hard. His memories were in turmoil, as if he, too, was worried. His mind had flickered to the death of family but remained on his brother. No matter what Carter wanted me to believe, Running Bear wasn’t the man who caused the violence I saw.
“You think your brother capable of starting this war, don’t you?” I asked, holding onto the sliver of hope that the future was going to be easy to change, if not through their chief, then maybe with Running Bear’s help.
“I don’t know.”
He led me through the prairielands as the storm’s intensity built. His thoughts were too jumbled for me to determine his intentions; they flew too quickly for me to pay attention when I was worried about the encroaching lightning.
We walked for a solid hour in the rain. He showed no sign of cold or slowing, while I shivered and hunched next to the horse’s neck for warmth. Only when I was too soaked and cold to feel my nose and cheeks did I notice we were approaching a cabin at the base of a hill. The faint, yellow glow of fire and lanterns almost made me groan. As we neared, I made out the shape of a large barn and fence posts of a corral. The property was far smaller than John’s.
Running Bear led me to the cabin and draped the horse’s reins around the post of the porch. He stood back and motioned me to dismount.
Through the window, I saw a fire blazing in the hearth. Needing no additional encouragement, I slid off the horse and made my way on wobbly feet to the front door.
The door opened before I was able to knock, and I froze. Oh, god. Not you!
CHAPTER ELEVEN<
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Sheriff Hansen stood in the doorway, shotgun resting against one shoulder. He was shirtless and dressed in pants that hung low on his hips, as if he’d been sleeping when he heard us approach. I stared at his lean chest and his chiseled abs, his wiry form molded from physical labor.
Wow. He was even better looking without clothes.
And then it clicked whom I was staring at. “Sorry. Wrong number,” I said and backed away, not about to get stuck with the man who was a suspect in the deaths of the girls who came before me.
Running Bear blocked my path.
“Hold on,” the sheriff said and reached out, taking my arm. “What are you doing out in this storm?” His green eyes swept over my features and down my soaked clothing.
“Nothing. Lost. But I figured it out,” I stammered, eyes on the way his shoulder muscles moved.
“Let her tell you why she wanted to see our uncle,” Running Bear said with a trace of amusement.
I gave a noisy sigh.
“C’mon. You’re soaked.” The sheriff pulled me into the cabin. “You need shelter, brother?” he asked the native standing on the porch.
A clap of thunder rendered his response inaudible to me, though the sheriff seemed to hear it. He chuckled and closed the door behind me.
Not my best day ever. I moved away from him towards the fire. Too aware of his uncanny knowledge of me and the shotgun he held, I spoke before filtering my words. “You won’t kill me, right?” Not that it made a difference. I was too cold to run if he said yes. My teeth chattered, and I inched closer to the fire.
“Hadn’t planned on it,” he replied, setting the shotgun by the door. “Running Bear find you or you find him?”
“A little of both.”
“He’s always draggin’ stragglers here.” He studied me for a moment before shaking his head. “I guess this gives us a chance to have that talk we need to have.” He snatched a loose cotton shirt from the back of a chair and tugged it on, hiding the expanse of skin and lean muscle.
