by Ford, Lizzy
“I can’t remember some of these men,” I whispered.
“They are all respectable men.”
This is insane. Then again, I wasn’t getting married. A woman who no longer existed was. There was no need for me to choose carefully for the real-Josie, but I had the sneaking suspicion I needed to plan for my safety, in case I ended up here longer than I planned or John died before the twenty fourth. Whoever hurt the other Josies could always come for me.
“The sheriff isn’t on here,” I noted. “Is he not respectable?”
“He is, for a half-breed, but he is also very poor.”
I bit back my initial response, aware of how fragile John was. If I was going to be stuck with a stranger, I’d rather it be one I knew could probably protect me and accepted the reality that I was different. “He has a way of finding me when I am lost,” I said carefully.
John gave a wheezing chuckle. “Perhaps you are right, daughter. Perhaps I should wed you to a master tracker.” He laughed again before subsiding into a bout of coughing. Blood dabbed the corner of his lips, and he rested back on his pillows.
I shifted closer to rub his back and gave him a glass of water. “I should not make you laugh, Father,” I murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
“Nonsense. I have always loved to laugh at your jokes.”
I gave a tight smile and watched him sip water from the glass. His hand shook with the effort to hold it.
With a sinking feeling, I began to think he wasn’t going to last another four days, to the event I needed to stop. I didn’t want to feel … this. Whatever this was. Sorrow, guilt, yearning … emotions that I expected to feel if John was really my father and not someone who had already been dead for a very long time before I was born.
“You are serious about me wedding soon?” I asked uneasily.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“That’s very … soon. I mean … you may live for a month or two more, and I don’t know most of these men.”
“I have chosen men who will treat you well,” he said.
Except Philip. I said nothing, guessing the familial relationship was what made the cruel cousin a contender. I read through the names I could decipher once more. The image of the three skeletons in the well reminded me of how important this truly was.
If I chose wrong, I could be number four.
“Am I interrupting?” Taylor’s gravelly voice drew my attention. He stood in the doorway of John’s bedroom, freshly shaven and dressed as if he was prepared to leave.
“The man who finds my lost sheep.” John struggled to sit up. “Come, Sheriff.”
“I had hoped to speak to you in private, Mr. Jackson,” Taylor replied.
My stomach twisted. What was the sheriff going to tell John? About my dream? That I wasn’t his real daughter? The dying man didn’t need that kind of stress. I didn’t think Taylor would betray me like that, but I also didn’t know a lot about what motivated him.
“Father needs his rest right now,” I said before the weak man could respond. “I don’t think you should tax him, Taylor.”
“I don’t intend to, ma’am,” he replied coolly. “I need five minutes of his time and will be leaving.”
I started to object when John squeezed my hand. “Go on, dear. Have some breakfast, and we’ll talk about the list later.”
With some reluctance, I decided not to argue. I kissed him on the forehead and left the bed, pausing beside the sheriff.
“Don’t stress him out,” I whispered.
“Your secrets are safe with me, ma’am,” he replied without looking at me.
“Thanks.” I think. I left.
The doors closed behind me. After a moment, I retreated to my bedroom for the tea still waiting for me. Spreading the paper out on the table, I began to suspect I was in a great deal of trouble, if I had to pick out a husband to wed tomorrow morning. I pulled out my cell.
Why do some people have empathic memories and others don’t? I texted to Carter and put the phone away.
“Lucas Stephens, Philip Jackson, Julius … Terr … Trev …” I drifted off, unable to read John’s scribbles. The names contained no empathic memories that I was able to see, no indication of who the men were or how John viewed them.
“Julius Terrence,” Nell said, entering from the direction of the bathroom. “What’re you doing, child?”
“Picking a husband.” I waved the paper with a nervous laugh. “Do you know any of these men?”
Nell approached and peered over my shoulder. “Oh, goodness. Lucas Stephens is older than your father! Not Julius, or James …” Nell leaned over to squint. “I can’t read the next name. Travis Horton is seventeen, third son of a wealthy man two townships over.” She stood and shook her head. “I know little about most of them, except for Philip of course.”
“He’s off the list for sure,” I replied. “So only rich men are on this list, right?” I twisted to watch Nell make the bed.
“I expect so. You are the daughter of a wealthy man, the granddaughter of an English noble. You should marry your equal.”
“What if I didn’t? Do I get arrested?”
“Where do you get these notions?” Nell shot me a look. “Or are you jesting?”
“Jesting,” I murmured and returned to my tea. The warm liquid was pungent and tasted bitter. “This tastes terrible, Nell.” I added more sugar.
“It’s meant to treat that chill you caught gallivanting around the countryside like a savage in the middle of a storm. What got into your head, Miss Josie?”
“I don’t know. Father being ill is really upsetting me.”
“Ah. That I understand.” Concern was in Nell’s voice.
“You know it might be the last day he’s alive. You should tell him how you feel,” I suggested.
“Bite your tongue, Josie!”
I snorted and sipped my tea. I wanted to hunt down the sheriff before he left and demand to know what he was telling John.
“Well the sheriff is gone.” Nell was at the window, watching.
“Good.” I think. I didn’t know how to view the man who stirred my blood and somehow figured out I didn’t belong. “I want to see Father again.”
“I reckon you do.” By my hushed sorrow, Nell didn’t expect John to live long, either.
I took my tea with me and returned to John’s room. “Father?” I called, knocking lightly. I pushed the door open to see the doctor with him.
“Come, daughter,” John said with another of his bright smiles.
I almost sighed, reassured the sheriff hadn’t tried to warn John about me. Smiling, I started to the bed and glanced at the doctor. The grim expression on his face made me miss a step.
My smile slipped. I forced it back into place and focused on the dying man whose whole life was better because I was around.
“Miss Josie, I’d like a word after I take my tea,” the doctor told me.
“Of course,” I replied.
He rose and left us alone.
I took John’s hand again, uncertain why my heart was hurting worse than my head and my stomach in knots. John wasn’t really my father.
But his joyful smile …
God this is hard. The day I went for another drink with Carter, we were going to have a very long talk.
“If the sheriff disturbed you, I will hunt him down,” I said firmly.
“He did not.” John chuckled.
“Oh, I forgot my list,” I said. “I’m still deciding. I think I’m leaning towards Travis.” A seventeen-year-old kid will be easier to handle than a man like Philip. “I’ll let you know soon, Father.”
“No need.”
I perked up. “Because you changed your mind about marrying me off?” I asked hopefully.
“Because I chose for you, my Josephine.”
Shit, shit, shit. I curbed the curse words and instead drew a breath. It was hard to pretend to be upbeat about something that sounded downright horrible to me. “Who did you choose, Father?” Please do
n’t say Philip!
“A man not on the list.”
I waited anxiously.
“Sheriff Taylor.”
“Really? Why?” I replied. “I thought he was poor?” The dread in my stomach turned to fluttering butterflies, and my heart skipped a beat. The sheriff was definitely the sexiest man I had met here, one who was always around when I needed rescuing. But there was something going on with him, a reason why five women had traveled from the future to find him and three had disappeared shortly after succeeding. I didn’t think he hurt them, but I think he knew a lot more than he was telling me.
“We were discussing the tension between settlers and the savages,” his father said. “I have always been an advocate for us all living in harmony. Philip does not share my views, like many others of stature who have nothing to gain from peace. The sheriff maintains strong ties to both communities.”
I listened. Before, Taylor hadn’t been an option because of who he was. Now, he was John’s choice for the same reason. “Did he say something to you to make you change your mind?” I asked, puzzled as to what the sheriff might’ve said in so short a time. Of all my options, I liked the one of the sheriff best.
But something wasn’t right about John’s decision, unless it was a sign of his senility.
“Not at all. We did not discuss you.”
“Oh. So he doesn’t know?”
“Not yet. It was my concern for you keeping my lands after I die. The natives are growing restless. You’ll be safe, if he’s your husband.”
John was a smart man. “What if he doesn’t agree?”
“The wealthiest man this side of the River is leaving him everything by way of my daughter. Who would not agree?” John asked with a smile. “It’s a favor to a dying man.”
“He seems really difficult. Maybe he’ll still refuse,” I pressed. “I don’t want him to break your heart, Father.” And I don’t fully trust him.
“I will write him a letter beseeching him to humor a dying old man and his addled daughter.”
My mouth dropped open then snapped shut. He loved me and had just called my crazy in the same breath. He was far too kind and weak for me to chastise the way Nell did me. Thank god this wasn’t my time, that I was just a visitor. “Very well, Father,” I murmured. “I can take the letter to him and … beseech him as well.” Or shred it.
“Very good. Fetch me my quill and paper.”
Spotting them on a small desk against one wall, I obeyed and brought them back to the bed on a tray.
“Go, daughter. This requires some time.”
I left him alone and returned to my room.
I paced for close to an hour, drank tea, ate more treats brought by Nell, took a bath … anything to help me figure out my next step. Carter responded to my text around midmorning, and I tugged the phone free.
You should see empathic memories for everyone. If the chip is malfunctioning, there should be other signs. How often is it skipping? Any more nosebleeds or headaches?
I sent a response and tugged on my boots. Nell waited for me outside my room, armed with a letter and my cloak.
“I’ll take that,” I said and snatched the note intended for Taylor.
“No, you will not.” Nell grabbed it back and placed it into an inner pocket of her cloak.
I grumbled under my breath and eyed the hiding place. I had until we reached town to figure out how to grab it and rip it to pieces. Not in a talking mood, we rode to town in silence beneath grey skies left over from the storm the night before.
“We need to pick up a package,” Nell said as she pulled the carriage in front of the mercantile store.
“I can deliver the letter to the sheriff,” I offered.
“That letter went to town two hours ago, Miss Josie.”
“What?” I stared at her. “What’s in your pocket?”
“A letter to your father’s attorney instructing him to add the sheriff to his will.” Nell was frowning as she climbed out of the wagon.
I leapt out, not caring what the onlookers thought of my less than womanly behavior. I hurried around the carriage to Nell. Before I could speak, Nell did.
“I don’t know what you said to convince your father of this, but marrying beneath you is a mistake, Miss Josie.”
“I didn’t do this!” I exclaimed. “I told him I’d take Trevor!”
“The boy? He’s little better.”
I can’t win with this woman. I gave a sigh of frustration and crowded Nell as we walked up the stairs towards the store. “How do we stop this?”
“You do not. You do as your father says.”
“But I don’t want to marry him.”
Nell gave me a disapproving look.
Sensing I wasn’t going to win any argument with my nanny, I glanced in the direction of the sheriff’s office. The door was open. “Nell, I’m going to have a word with him,” I said firmly.
“What would you say to your betrothed?”
“I’m going to tell him not to marry me or at least to wait a little longer, so I can prepare myself mentally. How can Father just toss me off on some man like he’s selling a cow or something?”
“Watch your tone, Miss Josie.” Nell glanced at passersby who were looking at me curiously.
“I don’t want to watch my tone.”
“Then go take it out on your soon to be husband.”
I all but ran to the sheriff’s office and entered without knocking. For once, the woman didn’t follow, and I assumed it was because my babysitter was fed up with me.
He was seated at his desk, long legs stretched out and his boots crossed on the corner of the desk. Loud snoring came from one of the three jail cells. I glimpsed a man passed out on the floor. Facing Taylor, I hesitated, not quite sure how to say what I wanted to without sounding mean after he took me in last night.
“If you agree, I want to wait,” I told him firmly. “I don’t care what my father said or how much you may want his money. We need to … court first.” At least until my mission is done and I leave.
Taylor’s bright green gaze settled on me, his expression one of guarded curiosity. “What’re you talking about, ma’am?”
“Ma’am? Really?” I asked. “We spent the night together, Taylor.”
Red crept up his neck.
“I’m talking about my father’s letter. He sent it to town two hours ago.”
There was genuine puzzlement on his features. He leaned back in his desk. “I’ve been out of my office for a few hours.”
“So you didn’t get a letter?”
He stood and went to the door and the small box outside. Unlocking it, he pulled out several letters, and I recognized the paper John had used among them. I reached for it.
Taylor shifted his back to me in a swift block.
“Don’t read it yet! We have to talk about this!” I pushed at him. I grabbed at the letter once more.
A thick cuff went around my wrist.
The sheriff tossed his mail then took my arm and tugged me towards the cells. I pulled at him, but he resolutely bullied me to the cell before sliding the handcuffs through the bars and cuffing my free wrist.
“Stay put, ma’am,” he ordered and moved away.
“I’ll give you a million dollars not to read that letter,” I said with a groan and pulled at my hands.
“Even if such an amount existed, I’d rather read this, more so because you don’t want me to.” He sat down at his desk and propped up his boots on his desk before picking up the note from John.
I waited, hopeful that he found this as weird as I did. If we could work out a deal where he delayed the wedding for a few more days …
He read the letter, and I almost laughed. He went from relaxed to tense. His legs dropped and he hunched over his desk, eyes pinned to the words. Suspicion was replaced by surprise and then consternation. The silence grew tense and thick, and I waited apprehensively for his reaction. The irrational part of me feared rejection while the logical side of
me prayed for it.
“My father is not in the right mind,” I said finally.
“This cannot be real.”
“You’re right. It’s not. It’s a horrible joke.”
He glanced at me and rose, the letter in his hand. Clearly not buying my attempt to brush it off, he froze in place for another long minute.
“You can say no. Or you can say yes to my father and delay it for a while.” I added.
“Considering someone burnt my house down, a place to sleep sounds mighty nice right now.”
I rolled my eyes. “You have a barn.”
“That burnt down after.”
“You can stay in ours.”
“Much obliged, ma’am.” By the look he leveled on me, he blamed me for the fire. “I take it you’re opposed.” He lifted the letter.
“Not opposed,” I said, recalling his naked torso from last night, along with the fact I was leaving soon. Then again, assuming he wasn’t here to stop me, he could be the right person to help me influence Running Bear and Fighting Badger, and if John passed soon … “I don’t know. Maybe it is a good idea. You’re not an asshole like Philip. Just not … now. The timing is bad.”
“Your father says within the day.” He waved the letter. He didn’t appear to know how to take the request.
“True, but that doesn’t work for me.”
“Because of your dream.” He gave me the knowing look Nell did whenever I said something my nanny found ridiculous. “You do need someone to look out for you.”
Other than Fighting Badger? “I think I’m doing fine on my own.”
He studied me, pensive.
“Are you really considering it?” I asked curiously.
“My job is to keep the peace between the settlers and savages. This would give me more influence with both than I have now, not to mention a home, a little bit of respect from the townsfolk.” He shrugged. “What’s not to consider?”
“Oh.” So it had nothing to do with me. I didn’t know why I was disappointed. “You’d have to deal with me all day, every day, and I tend to run away from home often.”
He appeared amused. “I think I can handle you, ma’am.” He lifted his chin towards the handcuffs. “Besides, you may be returning to wherever you came from soon, or disappearing like the others.”
