Seated at his desk, Taylor listened to the storm beating doors, windows and loose planks of wood against the building. He gazed at the ceiling, thoughts burdened by the news he’d learned recently. Fighting Badger had come to him and Running Bear about Josie’s visit, but this was not his greatest concern.
His greatest concern sat in front of his desk, newly arrived during the daytime storms and rescued from his steaming crater, the same way Taylor had plucked Josie out of hers.
“I’m retired not dead, Lance,” he said at last. “Why did they think you needed to be here?”
“Ripple effect. They’re seeing changes that shouldn’t be taking place and tracked it to here and now. Lots of activity for such a sleepy little place,” Lance replied. With a sharp blue gaze and inability to sit still that reminded Taylor of an undisciplined recruit, the man before him was athletic and wary.
“I got it handled,” Taylor said.
“They don’t think you do. Besides, you are retired. This isn’t for you to handle.”
Taylor was quiet, aware that whatever he said had to be voiced diplomatically. Pissing off an aggressive man like Lance would only make it harder for him to assess what needed to be done. Lance would shoot first and leave without asking questions. It was the opposite of Taylor’s style in handling time travelers like Josie. “I know the place and people. Why not work with me?”
It was Lance’s turn to grow pensive.
“I have to live here when you’re done. I chose this place for my retirement,” Taylor pointed out. “I’d rather not make a mess like you’re known for.”
Lance flashed a smile. “I’m effective.”
“You’re sloppy.”
“I get the job done. I protect history.” Lance shrugged. “Does it matter if it’s messy or pretty, if I’m taking care of my business?”
“It matters to me,” Taylor said firmly.
“All right, Sheriff.” Lance snorted. “We’ll work together, unless you get soft and can’t pull the trigger.”
“Violence isn’t the only answer.”
“Whatever. What are we dealing with?” Lance shifted forward and rested his elbows on the desktop.
I really hate new agents. Every crop of new time agents was a little more arrogant, a little less respectful of the worlds, times and people they were charged with protecting. “Carter.”
Lance’s smile faded.
“As usual, there’s no way to tell what he wants. He sent back someone too clueless to interrogate.”
“The traveler has to know something.”
“Carter’s smart, Lance. There’s a reason he’s our number one most wanted.” Taylor tapped one of the posters on his wall in emphasis. “The traveler knows only what he told her, like every other traveler he’s sent back to different eras. I’ve interviewed hundreds of them, all with the same story about Carter.”
Lance tapped his fingers on the desk. “Her. You’ve got a soft spot for women, if what I heard is true.”
“Old-fashioned respect. I came from an era like this one. My mama beat it into me.”
“Well then, I’ll pull the trigger for you, old man.” Lance smiled.
Taylor gave him a warning look. “Not how I do business, and you won’t either, since you’re on my territory.”
“I’ll be good, Sheriff.” Lance nudged back the brim of his hat and sat back. “You know, I thought Carter was a myth.”
“He’s very real. Very active.” And getting more dangerous with the technology that lets Josie speak to spirits the way Fighting Badger does. Taylor hadn’t yet decided how to handle that issue, because it meant Carter had embedded sophisticated technology in her head that his people knew nothing about.
What was stranger: Carter obsessed over advanced technology for the brain but hadn’t yet learned how to return his travelers to the future or the times they came from. It had taken Taylor little more than two seconds to assess Josie didn’t know she was permanently stuck here, unless his people decided to return her to her time.
“All right. You call the shots. What’re we doing?” Lance asked.
“Right now, nothing. Watching.”
Lance grimaced. “I’m a man of action not waiting.”
“Then this will be a lesson for you. Patience.”
The shutters slammed against the side of his office loud enough for Lance to jump. Taylor sat still, unconcerned, while the newer agent shifted in his seat.
“We can wait for a few days,” Lance allowed. “But if I don’t have progress or something to tell them soon, they’re threatening to send The Mongol.”
Taylor’s hands clenched into fists. An agent taken from the Genghis Khan era, The Mongol was wild, unpredictable and strong, a man of unparalleled violence and strength. Their paths had crossed only once, for The Mongol was normally reserved for situations where absolute brute force – and usually a massacre of some size – was all that would save history from the actions of men like Carter.
Josie didn’t stand a chance against Lance. She wasn’t even a speed bump for The Mongol.
But worse than this was the sense that The Mongol wasn’t coming for one life. He never did. He was coming to reset history, to core the source of the ripples they were seeing in the future, and Taylor had an idea of what that meant.
“Then we’ll have something to tell them,” he said softly.