CHAPTER 91: CODY

Cody had to tip his hat to Frederick Bauer. In addition to being a fair builder of flocks, the Lutheran minister was a pretty fair builder of tree houses. His six-by-six creation in the large red oak featured shuttered windows on two sides, a shingled roof, and a wraparound deck that most people could actually walk on.

Cody stepped around the cedar deck, which rested on three massive branches, and then sat on the edge that faced the Bauer residence. From that lofty perch, he watched two of his favorite people act like girls and not prim-and-proper young ladies.

"Are you having fun?" Cody asked.

"Yes!" Emma said. She squealed as she swung into and out of two feet of water on a tree swing that Caitlin pushed. "Come join us."

Cody laughed.

"No, thanks. I'm just starting to dry off."

Caitlin looked up at the boy in the tree.

"You're just a big chicken."

"That's right. I'm a big chicken who's finally found his coop," Cody said. "You two should come up here . The view is great."

He wasn't exaggerating. From Emma's pink-and-white playhouse fifteen feet above the ground, he could see much of Kernville and even the tallest buildings in Johnstown. At four o'clock on the last day of May, Cody Carson was the master of his domain.

Caitlin smiled at the rooster in the red oak and then gave Emma a push. Soaked from head to toe, she seemed to be enjoying the moment as much as anyone.

"Emma?" Caitlin asked.

"Yes?"

"I think I've found the pink house for you and your four children," Caitlin said. "It's a fixer-upper, but my brother seems to like it. I think you should move in immediately."

Emma laughed.

"I'll give it some thought."

Cody smiled as he watched the drowned rats he called his sister and his girlfriend play in the water, which had risen eighteen inches in just three hours. He could not imagine having this kind of fun in Arizona. He looked down at the girl on the swing.

"Hey, Emma."

"What?"

"Will your parents let you back in the house?"

"Why wouldn't they?" Emma asked.

Cody grinned.

"Because you're as soaked as a sponge, that's why. I wouldn't let you in this house unless you changed into dry clothes."

Emma looked up and smiled.

"Oh, yes you would."

Cody laughed.

"OK. I would."

"Of course he would," Caitlin said to Emma. She smiled at Cody and then gave Emma another strong push. "He would because he's completely whipped."

"What does that mean?" Emma asked.

Caitlin grinned.

"You don't want to know."

"Oh."

Cody laughed to himself. He loved the way his sister messed with heads and walked away. She was worth the price of admission in thirty-eight states.

He started to say something, in case Emma pressed for a definition of "whipped," but he stopped when he saw Frederick and Matilda Bauer step onto their bone-dry porch and walk to the end that faced the tree. He saw smiles on both of their faces.

"Are you children working up an appetite?" Frederick asked.

Emma, still swinging, turned her head.

"Yes, Papa."

"That's good because we are just about to eat."

"Does that mean they have to go?"

"No," Frederick said. He looked at Caitlin and then at Cody. "You two are welcome to join us for supper. We have some dry clothes you can change into."

Emma dragged her feet in the water to halt her motion. When she finally slowed to a stop, she peered over her shoulder at Caitlin.

"Can you stay for supper?"

"I think so," Caitlin said.

Emma looked up.

"Cody?"

"I don't know. It depends on the time," Cody said. He looked at Emma's father. "Do you know what time is it, Pastor?"

Frederick pulled out a pocket watch.

"It's about five after four."

"Then we can stay," Cody said. "We told Adam we would be back by five. As long as we're back by then, we'll be all right."

Frederick smiled.

"Then plan on dining with us. We'll get you into dry clothes and take you back to your hotel before five. I'm sure your family would appreciate that."

"They would. I would too."

"I thought you might," Frederick said. He placed his arm around his wife's shoulders and looked at his daughter. "We'll see you inside, Emma."

"We'll be there in a minute, Papa."

Frederick nodded his approval. Then he stepped away from the porch railing and guided Matilda back into a house that still stood above the waterline on a brick foundation.

Caitlin looked at her twin.

"We won't be back by five."

"Sure we will," Cody said. "We'll eat fast."

Emma stared at her beau.

"Mama says that eating fast is a sign of bad breeding."

Cody grinned.

"Then there you have it!"

Emma and Caitlin giggled.

Cody laughed along with the girls and then stood up. He concluded it was time to end his Zacchaeus act and rejoin the living in Water World. He turned his back to the house and prepared to step down a sturdy ladder that extended to the base of the tree. As he did, he glanced across the Stony Creek and saw something that made his stomach sink.

A dark, churning, misty wave, perhaps thirty feet high, rolled through Johnstown and destroyed virtually everything in its path. Moving west with the speed and strength of a movie-studio tsunami, it toppled trees, crushed houses, and ripped off roofs.

Cody watched in awe as the wave, which spanned the width of the valley, pushed brick buildings off their foundations and swept away entire city blocks. Then he watched in horror as it struck the hills to the north, stopped, and changed direction.

Within seconds, the monstrous wall, still at least twenty feet high, began moving south. Propelled by the backwash and water diverted by Johnstown's sturdiest structures, it rushed toward Kernville, Morris Street, and the Bauer home with a vengeance.

"Get up!" Cody said.

Emma looked up.

"What?"

"Get up here now! The water's coming."

"What water?"

"Don't ask," Cody said. "Just climb. Do it now!"

Emma popped out of the swing and raced to the bottom of the ladder. She reached the fifth of the fifteen rungs as the water rose from two feet to three in a matter of seconds.

Seemingly oblivious to the drama in the tree, Caitlin stood her ground in the middle of the yard as the water rose from her knees to her waist to her chest. She stared at the wave, which rushed toward the house like a breaker, with wide eyes.

"Cody? It's coming."

"I know," Cody said. "Get moving, Caitlin. Get to the tree!"

Caitlin did not wait for another command. She dove into the drink and started swimming toward the tree as the rising water rose again. By the time she reached the ladder, the water had overrun the porch and reached the sill of Emma's bedroom window.

As Emma scurried up the ladder, Cody looked over his shoulder and saw the wave crumple houses like so many cardboard boxes. He could tell by the way it moved through the neighborhood that the girls had less than thirty seconds to climb the tree.

"Hurry, you two. Hurry!"

When Emma neared the top, Cody reached down, grabbed her hand, and pulled her onto the deck. Though he could see from her eyes that she was badly shaken by the turn of events, he did not take the time to comfort her. He instead pushed her into the tree house without saying a word and then turned to help his sister.

"Hurry, Caitlin! Hurry!"

"I am! I am!"

Cody tensed up as the wave roared through Kernville. Though he could not see it with his back turned, he could hear it and feel it. He could hear beams break and branches snap and glass shatter. He could feel the ground shake.

When trouble finally came, it came in stages.

First came the wind. Driven by the water, it blew through the streets like an autumn gale and rattled the red oak and the tree house with frightening force. One gust nearly pushed Cody off the deck as he waited for Caitlin to climb the ladder.

Next came the debris. Seconds after the wind made its presence known, boxes, boards, and furniture floated past the tree. Some of it hit Caitlin as she clung to the rungs. Bigger items, such as logs and beams, pounded the Bauer house like it was a punching bag.

Then came the wall of water, the most unwelcome visitor. Like a seismic sea wave approaching a shallow shore, it grew in height and size as it rolled toward its destination.

Cody looked over his shoulder one last time as he felt the beast draw near. When he saw it obliterate the house next door, he lunged for Caitlin, grabbed her arms, and lifted her with a burst of strength. He managed to pull her onto the deck when the water hit.

The wave struck the tree with impressive force. It bent the trunk like a blade of grass, broke several branches, and nearly lifted the little house off its hardwood platform.

Emma screamed as the wave hammered Cody and pushed Caitlin over the edge. She wrapped her arms around Cody's waist and held him as tightly as he held onto his twin. For the next minute, she and the others battled water and gravity in a fight for survival.

Cody had the hardest task. He held Caitlin by her wrists, not her waist, as a river a foot higher than the tree-house deck threatened to pull her to her death. He tightened his hold on her as metal shards and other sharp debris pounded his sides and tested his resolve.

"Hold on, Caitlin!" Cody pleaded. "Just hold on!"

Cody focused solely on saving his twin, who twisted in the torrent. As he did, he tuned out Emma and everything else, including another drama that unfolded a few feet away.

The same wave that had pounded the house in the tree had punished the house on the ground. It rocked it violently and lifted it off its presumably solid foundation.

"Mama!" Emma screamed. "Papa!"

Cody lifted his head when Emma cried and watched in horror as the house wobbled and fell on its side. He did not see Frederick open a window or Matilda open a door. He instead saw a once glorious home tumble and spin as it drifted toward oblivion.

Then bad luck struck again. A bright red barn door, eight feet square and four inches thick, crashed into the twins from the side and forced them apart.

Cody screamed when Caitlin sank below the surface of the churning water and sighed when she rose to the top. He urged her to swim for the barn door, which spun in circles a few yards away, and cheered when she reached it and pulled herself on top.

For several seconds, Cody was convinced that his sister — his tough, resourceful, indomitable twin — would make it. She would ride out this storm, just like she had ridden out storms for seventeen years, and emerge stronger and wiser.

Then fate flipped him the bird one last time.

Tough, resourceful, indomitable Caitlin Carson succumbed to simple fatigue. Unable to stay on a raft three times her size, she rolled off the edge and disappeared into the mist. For nearly a minute, she had fought bravely to live another day. In the end, it wasn't enough.

CHAPTER 92: CAITLIN

Caitlin decided it wasn't her day to die. Even after swallowing copious amounts of river water and sustaining numerous blows to her head and body, she decided to fight. Using all the strength she had left, she pulled herself out of the water and scrambled onto the door.

Then she held on. For the next ten minutes, she held on for dear life as the door carried her through the Stony Creek Valley to the hills south of Johnstown.

For most of that time, Caitlin struggled to stay on top. With no handles to grasp or knobs to hold, she could do little more than shift her weight and move around the board when violent swells, which hit her from all directions, threatened to capsize her craft.

She screamed when the floodwaters crashed against the hills and propelled her toward the tops of trees. On three occasions, she nearly fell off her raft. On two, she had to fend off debris that literally jumped out of the water and threatened to take off her head.

Then everything changed again. The waters receded, the swells diminished, and an impossible situation became manageable. Less than two minutes after riding the surfboard from hell on the leading edge of a rogue wave, Caitlin Carson, flood survivor, drifted gently toward Kernville, Johnstown's downtown, and points unknown.

With the threat of death behind her, Caitlin took a moment to rest. She moved to the middle of the raft, spread out her arms and legs, and lay flat on her stomach. For the next fifty minutes, she did nothing but recharge her limp, exhausted, waterlogged body.

When she finally regained most of her strength, she sat up, placed her hands to her side to maintain her balance, and inspected the world around her. She did not like what she saw.

No matter where she looked, she saw tragedy on display. Lifeless bodies swirled around her little red raft. So did dead horses, dead dogs, and countless personal items, like clothing, books, and toys, which once belonged to the living. A doll that drifted a few feet away reminded Caitlin of her sister. A baseball bat reminded her of her twin. A photo in a wooden frame reminded her of the family she would probably never see again.

Resisting the urge to turn away, curl up in a ball, and cry, Caitlin continued to scan her surroundings. If nothing else, she wanted to find a little pink house in a sturdy red oak. She wanted to find evidence, no matter how small, that her beloved brother and their dear friend had survived this awful and shocking calamity. She wanted to stay strong.

Caitlin also wanted to get her bearings. Though she was sure from the caskets floating nearby that she was close to the Sandy Vale Cemetery, she was not sure of anything else.

Johnstown, Pennsylvania, looked much different than the town she had called home for five months. It looked different than the town she had left in the morning.

Caitlin looked for landmarks and quickly found a few. First Methodist Episcopal Church, with its eighty-foot spire, soared above the city center. So did First Presbyterian Church, which stood nearby, and Alma Hall, the four-story mainstay of Main Street.

Caitlin did not find another four-story building in the neighborhood. Though she knew the Colbert House lay two blocks south of Alma Hall, she did not see it. Except for a few buildings on the lee side of the imposing Methodist church, she did not see anything at all.

She started to sob when she pondered the possibilities. Had Adam and Natalie returned to the hotel before the awful flood? Had Bridget and Frank remained? Were they among the hundreds of people floating in this wretched water? Were they safe and sound?

Caitlin did not know and probably would not know for days. She did not look forward to the week ahead, when survivors would begin the process of identifying the victims, burying the dead, treating the living, and cleaning up a mess that stretched for miles.

As she drifted closer to the buildings near what was once the public square, Caitlin turned her thoughts to her own needs. Though she no longer worried about drowning or being crushed by debris, she knew she could not ride a barn door all day.

Sooner or later, she would have to find food, shelter, and bandages for the cuts she had sustained on her forearms. Sooner or later, she would have to take charge of her life and do what she had to do to get through the next day. So she did.

When she reached the center of town and ran into a current that started to whisk her downstream toward a burning pile of debris, Caitlin took charge. She stripped down to her underwear, jumped into the water, and started swimming toward a target of opportunity.

She reached the target, an open second-floor window on the northeast side of Alma Hall, a few minutes later, raised her arms, and let two men pull her to safety. She did not care what they thought of her attire. She did not care what they thought.

At five thirty on the worst afternoon of her life, Caitlin Carson was happy to be out of the water and in a warm, dry place. She was happy to be alive.

CHAPTER 93: NATALIE

Natalie did not remain in the house on the hill. Despite having access to food, water, shelter, clothes, medicine, and a bed — the things she needed most — she did not stay. She hung around the mansion only long enough to dry off, eat two apples, and pack a bag with towels, bandages, iodine, scissors, needles, thread, and a fifth of whiskey.

She also included a box of hard candies for any children she might see. She thought the candies, like the whiskey for the men, might help some survivors get through the night.

Natalie did not think that Thad and Nancy Williams, the absent owners of the house, would mind her petty theft. She was stealing with the intent of helping others and making a horrific flood a little less horrific for those who had been lucky enough to survive it.

As she entered Johnstown at seven thirty, more than three hours after a forty-foot wave had taken the man she loved, Natalie did not think of petty theft. Nor did she think of the bodies and debris that littered both sides of Railroad Street. She thought only of finding her loved ones before darkness fell on the darkest day of her life.

She knew the odds of finding all of them alive were slim. Cody and Caitlin were in the path of destruction. So were Bridget and Frank. Adam had gone to the dam itself.

Even so, Natalie refused to believe the worst. She had learned as a reporter to trust only what she could see or hear or feel. She had no use for hearsay, gossip, or speculation. She had no use for doubt . For this reason, she refused to believe that even Sam was dead. She would not believe anything about anyone until she saw some proof.

Unfortunately for the optimistic reporter, a case against optimism was starting to build. As Natalie drew closer to the downtown core, she noticed damage that exceeded her worst fears. The flood that had wiped out Woodvale in minutes had not lost strength as it rolled through the broader part of the valley. It had gained it.

Natalie felt increasingly nauseous as she passed the remains of a grain mill and headed west on Adam Street. She felt outright sick when she turned north on Main. From this vantage point, she could see that the wave had not just taken out wood and metal. It had taken out brick and stone. The center of a great town, her town, lay in ruins.

So, apparently, did a great hotel. When Natalie scanned the blocks to the north, she did not see Colbert House. She did not see any house. She saw rows of rubble and piles of timber. Her home of five months, like most of the homes of Johnstown, was gone.

Overwhelmed by the sheer volume of destruction in the city, Natalie sat down on a beam in a nearby pile of rubble and cried. She had been foolish to leave the house. She had been foolish to think she could do anything of consequence.

So Natalie remained on her makeshift bench and wept. Surrounded by human corpses, dead horses, toppled telephone poles, and the scattered remains of homes and businesses, she succumbed to emotion and left the analytical reporter behind.

She became so caught up in the moment that she did not see a man and a woman, both about forty, approach from the east. She looked up when she heard footsteps in the mud.

The woman spoke first.

"Are you all right, dear?"

"No," Natalie said. She wiped away a tear. "I had no idea it was this bad. I had no idea."

The woman sat on the beam next to Natalie.

"Do you have someplace to go?"

Natalie shook her head.

"I don't anymore."

The woman put a hand on Natalie's knee.

"Do you have any family?"

Natalie broke into sobs.

"I don't anymore."

The woman looked at the man, saw him nod, and then extended her arm around Natalie's shoulders. She pulled her close and looked at her tearful face.

"You do now. Come with us."

Natalie turned her head.

"Where are you going?"

The woman took a deep breath.

"We're going into town. We're going where we are needed. My husband is a doctor, I am a nurse, and you, my dear, are a capable young woman with two strong hands. Come with us. Help us help others. There are many people in need."

Natalie looked at the woman and the man and then at the black bags they held in their hands. She could see that each had come prepared for a long night of service.

"What can I do?" Natalie asked.

The woman smiled.

"You can do a lot."

She stood up and extended a hand.

"Come with us and see."

CHAPTER 94: NATALIE

The three-person rescue team advanced as far as Walnut Street. When Dr. Philander Clark saw the scene between the street and the stone bridge, which had stopped the advance of the wreckage, he guided his wife and Natalie back toward the standing buildings near Franklin and Main, where hundreds of residents had sought refuge.

Neither Wilma Clark nor Natalie objected to the doctor's decision. Both recognized the hopelessness of the situation near the bridge as soon as they got a look at it.

In a cruel twist of fate, a fire had started in the expansive pile of debris sometime between five, when the waters had started to subside, and seven, when the first serious efforts to assist others had begun. The flames roared through the rubble with a vengeance and cremated many of those who had been lucky enough to survive the flood.

The fire had also dissuaded dozens of first responders from stepping in and providing active assistance. At eight o'clock, when Dr. Clark made the call to turn back, the flames had spread to the edges of the thirty-acre field of debris.

So Natalie followed the Clarks away from the fire to places where they could actually do some good. She accompanied them through mud, deep water, and rubble to churches, homes, and finally Alma Hall, where more than two hundred people had gathered.

When Natalie stepped into the dark building at ten after ten, she found an immediate need for her services and supplies. She distributed candy to every child she saw and gave her iodine and towels to a physician who had delivered two babies between nine and ten.

She also helped the Clarks attend to people with broken bones and broken spirits. In the first hour alone, she comforted more than fifty men, women, and children who had been displaced by a deadly deluge that still defied understanding.

Most people welcomed her assistance. They lapped up the attention almost as fast as they lapped up the fresh water, stored in canteens, that she helped to distribute.

A few refused her kindness. Stunned by the violence that had sent them fleeing to this unlikely refuge, they wanted nothing to do with people. They retreated to the edges and the corners of the rooms and kept to themselves. For them and thousands of others, the night of May 31, 1889, was a nightmare from which there was no escape.

Natalie did what she could to make their night more bearable. She cared for the young and old and struck up conversations whenever she could. She also asked questions.

Though she was driven primarily by a desire to ease the suffering of others, she did not neglect her own interests. From the moment she climbed into Alma Hall through a second-floor window, she asked almost everyone she saw if they had seen Adam, Bridget, Cody, or Caitlin. She asked until her voice, already weak from a night of trauma, grew hoarse.

No one had seen or heard from her loved ones. Most did not know who they were. Only a few even knew that Bridget had been the public face of a prestigious hotel or that Caitlin was the high school's first female valedictorian. Many knew Sam, of course, but no one had seen him. That not-so-surprising fact brought little comfort to the woman he loved.

When she was not asking strangers if they had seen her family, Natalie was searching the crowds with her eyes. Even in the darkness, she could make out faces and shapes. She could hear and sometimes recognize voices and hoped she would soon hear the right ones.

Then, just that quickly, she did. While visiting with a four-year-old girl and her parents in a corner of the third-floor meeting room, she heard and recognized the voice of a woman who had spoken at graduation. She turned around just as Millicent Fremont, Cody and Caitlin's primary teacher, said goodbye to another woman and walked away.

"Miss Freemont?" Natalie asked.

"Yes?"

"I don't know if you remember me from graduation, but I'm Natalie Carson, Cody and Caitlin's sister. Have you seen either of them tonight?"

Miss Fremont's eyes grew wide.

"You haven't seen your sister?"

"No," Natalie said. "I haven't seen anyone."

"Oh, my goodness. Caitlin is upstairs."

"She's what?"

"She's upstairs," Miss Fremont said. "She's been there all night."

Natalie did not ask for additional details. She did not need them. She needed only the means to scale one floor to get the reunion of her family under way.

She maneuvered her way out of the meeting room and into a hallway that served the entire floor. Then she ran down the corridor, opened a door, and raced up a narrow stairway in almost total darkness. She reached the fourth floor just as Reverend David Beale, a Presbyterian minister and one of the building's appointed floor managers, reminded his charges not to light matches or turn on lights because of a possible gas leak.

Natalie tuned out the pastor's speech as she worked her way through the crowded room. At a quarter to midnight, she did not care about matches or gaslights or leaks. She cared only about finding someone who was probably scared out of her wits.

When she failed to find Caitlin in the first few minutes, Natalie began to think that Miss Fremont had made a mistake or that Caitlin had moved. Then she saw her. She saw her shivering baby sister, dressed only in a slip, huddled by herself in a corner of the room.

"Caitlin?"

The girl lifted her head.

"Natalie?"

"It's me, sweetie. It's me."

Natalie stepped toward the corner as Caitlin popped to her feet and rushed forward. She met her sister about halfway and enveloped her in a tight embrace. In that brief, magic moment, Natalie Carson forgot about the flood. She forgot about the others. She just held onto the youngest and most vulnerable of her siblings and let the tears flow.

CHAPTER 95: CODY

Saturday, June 1, 1889

Cody awoke at sunrise. He awoke when the sun, which had disappeared for days, poked its nose above the Allegheny Mountains and shot a few rays into a little pink house.

The house, like the tree that supported it, had survived. It had withstood not only a monstrous wave that had swept Kernville off the map but also a series of fires that had broken out during the night, including one that continued to burn thirty yards away.

Because of the ongoing threat posed by fire, water, and even the wind, which had picked up at midnight, Cody and Emma had not left the house. They had crawled inside, like two kids on a sleepover, and spent the worst night of their lives in each other's arms.

Neither had said more than a few words. Neither had to. After watching a wall of water claim two adults and a teenager, they knew the score. They were alone in this neighborhood and maybe alone in the world. With the fates of Adam, Bridget, Natalie, and possibly even Greg up in the air, they were on their own, at least for now.

Cody did not want to think of such things. He wanted to believe that his siblings, including his twin, were still alive. He could not imagine making his way through this time or any time without them, but he knew he might have to.

Cody leaned against the windowless back wall of the tree house, wrapped his arms around Emma, and pulled her close. He wanted to keep her warm and comfortable, but he did not want to wake her — not just yet. He wanted Emma to sleep and dream as long as she could before she awoke to the likelihood she was an orphan.

He peered out the window to his right, the one that faced west, and saw that the waters had already receded. He saw mud and debris for as far as the eye could see, but he saw very little water and nothing resembling the lake that had engulfed Kernville the previous night.

Then Cody looked out the open door, which used to face the Bauer house and the tree swing, and saw another sight. He saw several men, maybe twenty in all, go through debris about a hundred yards to the south. He did not envy them. He did not envy anyone who had to go through ruined houses and look for property or people .

When Emma stirred, he pulled his arms back, adjusted his position slightly, and then returned his arms to the home position. He kissed her head when she sighed and then studied her closely when she burrowed deeper into his embrace.

She looked so much different than the times he had seen her at school, on stage, and especially at church, where she wore confirmation white as well as any runway model wore red. Yet Cody could not complain. Even with matted hair, smudged cheeks, and a wet, torn dress, Emma Bauer had never looked more beautiful.

Cody did not know what he would do with this precious human being in the coming weeks, but he did know one thing. He would not let her go. If he had to bribe or cajole his siblings or anyone else, he would find a way to make Emma a permanent part of his life.

He took one more look at the men in the distance and then turned his attention to the angel in his arms as she started to wake. He spoke when she opened her sleepy eyes.

"Good morning."

Emma looked around in a panicked way.

"Where are we?"

"We're still in the tree house," Cody said. "We spent the night here."

Emma looked out the door.

"Where's Mama? Where's Papa? Where's my house?"

"It's gone," Cody said. He swallowed hard. "They're gone."

"What do you mean they're gone?"

"The flood got them. Don't you remember the flood?"

Emma sat up and looked out each of the windows, as if for the first time, and then turned her attention to Cody. She wore the face of a girl who had lost everything in the blink of an eye, which, in all probability, she had.

"Oh, no!"

Emma threw her arms around Cody and started to sob. Stunned by the realization that the nightmare of the day before was not a nightmare at all, she cried for an hour. She cried until she worked out all the emotions and tears she had suppressed during the night.

Cody did his best to console her, but he steered clear of conversation. He had no more ability to soothe her grief than he had the ability to soothe his own. When he was convinced it was safe to speak and address more immediate matters, he did.

"We should probably go," Cody said. "We need to get out of this tree."

"OK."

"Emma?"

"Yes?"

"I think most of the buildings in town are gone, including my hotel," Cody said. "Do you know anyone who lives nearby? We should probably check in with someone."

"Penny lives nearby."

"Do you mean your friend from church?"

Emma nodded.

"She lives on the hill."

"Then let's go see her," Cody said.

"All right."

Cody released Emma from his grasp, slid around her side, and exited the tree house feet first with his belly down. He stepped down four rungs, stopped when the door was at eye level, and inspected the landscape around him. What he saw made his stomach turn.

In addition to the piles of rubble he had seen before, he saw bodies — bodies of people, bodies of horses, and bodies of dogs. He saw and smelled enough corpses to make him want to crawl back into the tree house. This day, he thought, was going to be a long one.

"Emma?"

"Yes?"

"How's your stomach?"

"I'm hungry, if that's what you mean."

Cody sighed.

"That's not what I mean."

Emma crawled to the door.

"Is everything all right?"

"No," Cody said, "but it will be. Just hold my hand and keep your eyes on me. If you do that — and only that — we'll both be fine."

CHAPTER 96: NATALIE

The sisters left Alma Hall at ten. After spending the night with more than two hundred others in a dark, crowded, four-story building, they were more than eager to step into the cool June air. They were not so eager to step into a city in ruins. Nor were they eager to begin searching for two brothers, a sister-in-law, and a few special friends.

The previous night had been eventful enough. Thanks to the sounds, smells, and cramped conditions, Natalie and Caitlin had been unable to sleep more than three hours.

The sounds spoke for themselves. Every hour on the hour, the town clock, embedded in the steeple of the Lutheran church, rang its bell and reminded flood survivors that time marched on. On two occasions, it prompted Natalie to put her hands over her ears.

The smells were even worse. The odors of the dead and dying outside the building combined with those inside to create a nearly unbearable stench. They forced the sisters to retreat to an open window in the meeting room just to breathe freely.

The conditions also were less than ideal. With no place to lay down, even on the cold, hard floor, the two had to sleep with their backs to a wall and their legs pulled up to their chests. As a result, both gave up on sleep altogether at five o'clock.

Despite these inconveniences, Natalie and Caitlin, flood survivors, never lost sight of the big picture. Unlike hundreds, maybe thousands, of Johnstown residents, they were alive, well, and in the company of family. They were profoundly grateful for that.

Before letting survivors leave Alma Hall, the men who had held the place together from dusk to dawn offered information and advice. They informed their charges that a registration station had been set up on Adam Street. Then they advised them to use it.

Most acted on the advice as soon as they left the hall. Like Natalie, Caitlin, and countless others around the city, they knew they could not even think about getting on with their lives until they reunited with the living or identified the dead.

Natalie prayed for more reunions than funerals. She hoped she would be spared at least some of the misery that surrounded her now. She did not know if she could bring herself to bury even one loved one, much less several, but she knew she might have to. Survivors of disasters did not create conditions and circumstances. They reacted to them.

Natalie thought about conditions and circumstances as she walked with Caitlin down what used to be Main Street. She wondered if either could possibly get worse.

The conditions were bad enough. On the morning of June 1, 1889, Johnstown was a sea of squalor, devastation, and hopelessness. In every direction, once sturdy buildings, some fifty feet high, lay in ruins. Fires burned on water. Broken bodies mingled with broken boards. Hungry rats ruled the streets. The stench of death was everywhere.

Natalie tried hard to shut it all out, but she struggled to succeed. One could only ignore so much when walking past the bloated remains of people, horses, and dogs.

The human corpses, of course, were the most difficult to ignore. When Natalie saw a headless woman in a fine red dress, she imagined a belle dancing with her beau at a holiday ball. When she saw a naked man with no arms, she imagined a fellow working in a mill or fishing with his son. She saw people as they were days ago and not as they were now.

Then there were the children. No matter where she looked, Natalie saw the young and the vulnerable in tragic states of repose. A girl, no more than three, clutched a doll as she lay on her back. A boy of nine or ten held the hand of his younger sister. A toddler knocking on the door of his second birthday sat in his crib like a little stone statue. All had died in the blink of an eye, their lives and futures cut short by a heartless watery wall.

Natalie wondered how many more would die in the days to come. She wondered how many survivors of the floods and fires would succumb to disease, infection, or starvation.

In the twenty-first century, she would be able to scan the horizon for relief workers and National Guard helicopters bringing food, water, and supplies. In the nineteenth, she could only hope that the outside world even knew of this disaster. She knew it would be days, even weeks, before some people would receive the attention they desperately needed.

As she stepped closer to Adam Street, Natalie thought less about the conditions in the flood zone and more about her own circumstances. She found them no less depressing.

Five months into her journey to the past, Natalie Carson was a woman in a spot. She was a refugee, a homeless individual, a woman separated from three siblings, two parents, and the modern age. If she did not find people and answers soon, she would be forced to consider the unthinkable. She would be forced to make her own way in this less-than-ideal world with a sister, perhaps a brother, and her wits. She did not look forward to that.

Natalie pondered hypothetical situations until she and Caitlin stepped onto the grounds of the Adam Street Public School, one of the few buildings in the central part of town to survive the flood intact. She surveyed her surroundings for a moment and then stepped toward a table near the front door, where two men and two women scribbled on notepads.

"Good morning," Natalie said to one of the men. "My sister and I have just come from Alma Hall, where we spent the night. We are looking for our brothers, our sister-in-law, and a few others who might be looking for us. What do we need to do to find them?"

The man smiled sadly.

"You can start by giving me your names."

"I'm Natalie Carson. My sister is Caitlin Carson."

The man recorded the names and then looked up.

"Who are you looking for?"

Natalie stared at the clerk.

"How many people can we list?"

"You can list as many as you wish."

"All right," Natalie said. "Let's start with my brothers. Their names are Adam Carson, Greg Carson, and Cody Carson. I am also looking for Samuel Prentiss, Frank O'Malley, and a woman named Bridget O'Malley Carson. She is Frank's niece and my brother Adam's wife."

The man asked her to repeat and spell all of the names, including her own, and provide ages, addresses, and other potentially important details. When he was done recording the information, he looked at the sisters and continued the interview.

"Where will you be staying in the coming week?"

"We don't know," Natalie said. "We used to live in the Colbert House. Now that it's gone, we don't know where we'll be staying. Do you have any suggestions?"

The clerk studied Natalie with appraising eyes, as if evaluating her fitness for a wide array of unsuitable living options. Then he looked to his right and pointed to a lot across the street, where several men had started to clear away debris and pitch canvas tents.

"Do you mind living in a tent?"

"No," Natalie said. "Of course not."

"Then I would ask the folks across the street to set you up. It won't be long before even tents are hard to find."

"I understand."

The man stared at Natalie.

"Shall I put you down for the camp?"

"Please do," Natalie said.

The clerk made a notation, paused for a second, and looked again at Natalie. He started to speak when a dour man walked out of the school, approached him from behind, and put a hand on his shoulder. He asked Natalie for a moment and then turned to face the man.

"What is it, Fred?"

The man hesitated before responding.

"Ted's wife identified the body."

The clerk took a deep breath.

"Is she sure?"

Fred nodded.

"She recognized his ring, Bill."

Bill, the clerk, grimaced.

"Thank you, Fred. I'll come in as soon as I can."

Fred nodded and took his leave.

"What happened?" Natalie asked.

Bill frowned.

"Someone just identified my neighbor."

Natalie stared at the clerk.

"You mean he's inside the school?"

Bill nodded.

"So are fifty to sixty others. The school's a morgue now."

Natalie closed her eyes as a thousand thoughts swirled through her mind. When she finally latched onto one, she stepped forward, put her hands on the table, and eyed Bill.

"Can I go in there?"

"You can if you have a strong stomach," Bill said. "We haven't done anything to make the bodies presentable. Some of them are in pretty rough shape."

"They can't be worse than the ones I've seen. I'll be all right."

"Then the place is yours."

Natalie turned to face Caitlin.

"Let's go."

Caitlin shook her head and stepped back.

"I can't. I'm not ready."

 Natalie pleaded with her sister.

"We have to do this. I know it's unpleasant, but we have to do it. If we don't do it now, we may not be able to do it later."

"I don't care," Caitlin said. Wearing an ill-fitting dress she had found in Alma Hall, she stared at her older sibling with defiant eyes. "I'm not going in."

Natalie knew then and there that the battle was lost. She could no more force her sister to look at dead bodies than she could force her to hurt someone.

"All right then, I'll do it," Natalie said. "Go claim a tent while I'm gone. Then come back here. If I find someone inside, I don't want to have to look for you."

Caitlin sighed.

"You won't."

CHAPTER 97: NATALIE

For the most part, the school looked like a school. Blackboards still stood in each of the classrooms. So did tables, desks, and trappings like flags. Though the flood had broken windows and left mud on the floors, it had not changed the essential character of the facility. The Adam Street Public School would no doubt open again in the fall.

Natalie kept that cheerful thought in mind as she went from classroom to classroom looking for faces she did not want to see. She decided she would much rather think about the school's future as a center of learning rather than its present as a place for the dead.

After visiting four of the six repurposed rooms, she wandered into the fifth expecting it to be much like the others. She was not surprised to see more bruised and battered bodies stretched out on tables and desks. She was surprised to see Frank O'Malley.

Natalie covered her mouth as she approached his body and clutched her stomach when she saw his face. She could see from the cuts on his forehead and chin that he had suffered serious trauma before succumbing to the flood.

She could not help but wonder about Frank's final moments. Had he been at the hotel, checking in guests, when the wave had hit? Had he even seen it coming?

Natalie became tearful when she saw the gold band on his swollen ring finger, a band he never took off. She knew from her one long conversation with the hotel manager that the ring was his most treasured possession, a link to his past, a vivid reminder that he had been happily married to the same woman for more than twenty years.

Natalie noted the number on Frank's toe tag, said a silent prayer, and moved onto the next bloated body as two other women walked into the chamber. She winced when she reached the last table in the room and saw the corpse of a pretty blonde.

Fair, petite, and no more than twenty-five years of age, the woman looked like Bridget, particularly in her office attire, but she was not Adam's wife. She was a body double who bore a long scar on her left arm and a large, distinctive mole on her right cheek.

Natalie sighed a guilty sigh as she stepped away from the beautiful blonde, exited the fifth classroom, and walked to the door of the sixth. She battled mixed emotions as she entered the last room. She was happy she had not found any loved ones at this school, but she was sad because she knew that meant little. She knew she might find Adam, Cody, Bridget, or Sam in any of a thousand places, if she even found them at all.

A moment later, Natalie stepped through the open door, walked to the back of the room, and repeated the inspection process one last time. She knew the second she stepped into the room that none of these people were her people, but she looked at them anyway. She wanted to pay her respects to victims who would likely be buried by the end of the day.

On the first table, Natalie found a young man who looked a lot like Greg. He had brown hair, a boyish face, and an athletic build. Natalie could picture him as a ladies' man, a fellow who had a belle for every ball. She wondered who missed him today and who might come for him. She did not like to think that such a man might not be missed at all.

Natalie found a woman on the second table. Short, heavyset, and modestly dressed, she looked like a church lady, a woman who baked bread for her congregation every Sunday and probably sang in the choir. The time-traveling reporter had no doubt that this gentle soul, who wore an eerily peaceful smile, was in a better place.

On the third table, she found a thin elderly man. Wearing a simple gray suit that looked almost new, he projected dignity, honor, and class. Natalie could see him as a former businessman who had retired to a life of reading papers and smoking cigars. She could picture him telling tall tales to a gaggle of adoring grandchildren.

Natalie felt no nostalgia for the fourth and last victim. It was hard to feel anything but sadness when staring at a dead child. The girl, no more than five, was still as beautiful as a glistening rose. Natalie wiped away a tear when she thought of this life cut short. There was no upside to dying this young, she thought. There was no upside at all.

She said a prayer for the girl, the last dead person she wanted to see today, and exited the room quickly. She wanted no more death on this gloomy gray day. She wanted only life.

As Natalie walked down a long hallway and headed for the front door, she thought again about the week ahead. She would probably have to do this tomorrow and the next day and the next before she found the answers she needed, but that was all right. She was prepared to do what she needed to do find her family and get on with her life.

Seconds later, Natalie reached the entrance, paused to collect her thoughts, and started to open the door. She pushed it open about halfway when she heard a noise that prompted her to stop. When she turned around, she saw two men carry a body on a stretcher through a side entrance, proceed down the corridor, and enter the sixth classroom.

Natalie hesitated as she considered whether to stay or go. She did not want to return to the room. She wanted to rejoin her sister outside and find something positive to do. Then she thought about her lecture to Caitlin and decided to turn around. She owed it to herself and her skittish sister to be as thorough as possible while doing this gruesome task.

She waited for the men to leave the classroom and then started down the hallway. A moment later, she entered the chamber, glanced at the fifth table, and stepped forward.

Natalie felt her stomach sink as she inched toward the table. She gasped and stopped when she reached the middle of the room. She knew even before she saw the man's tall, slender frame and wavy brown hair that her day had taken a turn for the worse.

For a second or two, she considered turning around and walking out of the school and maybe even the city. Despite what she had told her sister and Bill the clerk, she was not ready to do this. She probably never would be ready. She started to step back.

Then she stopped. At that moment, Natalie decided she did not have a choice. She had an obligation to herself, if not others, to be strong and responsible. So she advanced.

When she finally reached the table, she collected herself, gazed at the dead, and did what she had done only minutes earlier. She looked at the deceased and assessed the deceased. She did so mostly to reassure herself that she was doing something important.

Natalie looked at the man on the table, studied his face, and saw that he was no different than the others. She could see that this guy, like his death mates in the room, had been a person with potential, a happy individual, someone who lived life to the fullest.

She did not doubt he would have succeeded in any trade. Nor did she doubt he would have made a wonderful husband and father. She could tell just by looking at the determined expression on his face that he was a man who got things done.

Natalie took the man's right hand, kissed it, and rubbed it against her cheek. She wanted to remember his touch and the way he had once made her feel. She wanted to remember so many things while they were fresh in her mind and her mind was still clear.

She returned the man's hand to his side, straightened his shirt, and buttoned a fine jacket he had worn every day. She did so not because the living would notice or care but because Sam Prentiss, a stickler for order, would have wanted her to do it.

When she finally said goodbye, she did so in the usual way with the usual gestures. She gave Sam a smile, a hug, and a few kind words. She did not say the words out loud because she knew she did not have to. She knew the man on the table could hear her.

A moment later, Natalie Carson, keeper of memories, gently removed a friendship ring she had worn since her junior year of high school and slipped it on Sam's left pinky. Though the plain silver band was no more than a trinket, it was oddly fitting. It was an ideal gift for a millionaire who treasured friendship above riches and character above glitz.

Natalie pondered the beauty of the moment and then moved on to the final act. She put her hand to Sam's face, leaned down, and kissed him softly on the lips.

When she was satisfied that she had done all she could do to mend her heart and soothe her soul, she stepped back, took a deep breath, and looked at the man one last time. Then she fell to her knees, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed.

CHAPTER 98: ADAM

Sunday, June 2, 1889

The final mile required some effort. Like the several that preceded it, it required Adam to ignore persistent pain and walk through three inches of mud with a sprained ankle.

Even so, Adam managed. He managed because he knew — or at least suspected — that his difficulties were trivial compared to those of the people of Johnstown.

Adam did not need to speculate much. As he walked on crutches from Woodvale, or what used to be Woodvale, to the borough once known as Conemaugh, he could see the damage in the distance. He could see acres of rubble where buildings once stood.

He could also see — and smell — bodies. From the moment he reached Mineral Point, the first populated place on his journey from the viaduct to Johnstown, Adam saw and smelled rotting corpses. He saw them buried in mud and hanging from trees. He saw them littered throughout the Conemaugh Valley like so many leaves after an autumn storm.

Adam's own ordeal had begun Friday afternoon, shortly after he had narrowly dodged the wave from hell and continued his trek down the tracks. He sprained his left ankle while stepping into a deep mud puddle, rendering himself useless for the rest of the day.

Tired, hungry, and sore, Adam trudged through the mud to Mineral Point and knocked on the first door he saw. As it turned out, he knocked on the right one.

Randolph Mayes, a retired engineer who lived alone in a cabin on a hill above the devastated town, opened the door and let Adam in. Lame, partially blind, and unable to leave his home without the assistance of a daughter who lived in Johnstown, he welcomed his visitor and fellow tradesmen with open arms and let him stay the next two nights.

Mayes also let Adam borrow two crutches he had used while recovering from injuries sustained in the Battle of Gettysburg. He asked for nothing in return except a favor. He asked Adam to look for his daughter and inform others of his difficult situation.

Adam gladly agreed. Grateful for the food, shelter, and company the former colonel had provided, he vowed not only to look for Priscilla Baines, the man's thirty-year-old married daughter, but also to send help his way. He feared that many people like Mayes would be lost and forgotten in the aftermath of this tragedy.

So Adam left Mineral Point at dawn, armed with Civil War crutches, fresh biscuits, and a little more knowledge, and continued his journey toward East Conemaugh, Woodvale, and Johnstown. He did so not knowing what he would find or how he would react if confronted with the worst possible news in the community he called home.

Adam did not want to think about negative outcomes as he slogged through the mud of Railroad Street. He wanted to think only of happy reunions with his beloved wife and siblings and a future that did not include the kind of misery he saw all around him.

He knew, deep down, that it was highly unlikely that all had survived. He had left Bridget and Frank at the hotel and sent the twins to Kernville, venues that were in the direct path of the flood. He also had every reason to believe that Natalie and Sam had returned to town before the wave hit and inadvertently wandered into harm's way.

Adam feared that the wall of water that had taken him by surprise had taken them by surprise as well. He knew that only a few of the telegrams that had been sent from South Fork to Mineral Point had been relayed to the towns downstream. He cringed at the thought of a forty-foot wave striking an unsuspecting community of fifteen thousand.

Despite these fears and countless concerns, he maintained a positive attitude. He knew that his wife, brothers, and sisters were strong, resourceful human beings. He knew if anyone could survive a calamity such as this, it would be the people he loved the most.

Adam's spirits soared as he turned off Railroad Street and headed west on Adam. No matter where he looked, he saw something uplifting. He saw rows of tents, first aid stations, food distribution tables, and other signs that a city in ruins was on the mend.

Ignoring his ankle, which continued to throb, Adam picked up his pace. He moved as quickly as he could toward what looked like an information station in front of the Adam Street Public School. He did not know if the station dispensed knowledge or wisdom, but he figured it was as good a place as any to begin his search for his loved ones.

As Adam drew within a hundred yards of the school, he noticed that the two-story facility appeared to serve more than one purpose. While volunteers manning tables in front addressed the concerns of more than fifty flood survivors, teams of men moved bodies into and out of the building through a side door. Adam had no doubt that the school, which only weeks before had been a center of learning, was now a makeshift morgue.

He stopped for a moment to gather his strength and then began his final push to the information center, which was buzzing with activity. He got as far as the muddy, crowded intersection of Adam and Main when he heard a voice. Soft, sweet, and familiar, the voice prompted him to stop and look to the south, where a small tent camp had been set up.

Adam smiled when he saw his sister, the one who often called him a "grumpy, old ogre," race through the street with open arms. She ran just a step ahead of his other sister, the one who merely considered him an occasional annoyance. Both showered him with hugs and kisses before he even had a chance to say hello.

"You're alive," Caitlin said. "I was so afraid you didn't make it."

"I'm fine," Adam replied. He pulled his sisters close as they clung to his sides. "I sprained my ankle on the walk from the dam, but I'm fine."

Natalie lifted her head.

"You walked from the dam?"

"I walked from the dam," Adam said. "I didn't have a choice. The trains stopped running Friday morning. It was either walk or crawl."

"It doesn't matter. You're here."

For almost a minute, Adam basked in the love of his sisters. He held them tightly, closed his eyes, and let the worries of the past two days drift away.

It wasn't long, though, before he noticed the frowns on their faces and the tears in their eyes. He suspected that each had news to offer, news he did not want to hear.

"Where's Cody?" Adam asked. "Where's Bridget?"

He felt his stomach sink when his sisters slowly released themselves from his embrace and turned to face him. He could see from their eyes alone that trouble was brewing.

"We don't know," Natalie said.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Adam asked. "Weren't they with you? Weren't you all at the hotel when the flood hit?"

Natalie shook her head.

"We were all in different places. Cody was with Caitlin at Emma's. I was with Sam at his house. Only Bridget and Frank stayed at the hotel."

Adam stared at his sister.

"Then where is Sam?"

"He's dead, Adam. So is Frank. I saw them with my own eyes," Natalie said. "I don't know where Cody is. I don't know where Bridget is. We've been looking for them for two days. We haven't found them. We haven't found anything."

Adam turned to jelly as Natalie's words, her clear, crisp, unmistakable words, began to sink in. He did not need to know more to know that this episode — this stressful, violent chapter in the history of the Carson family — would not have a joyous ending.

He pulled his sisters close again as tears welled in his eyes. He tried to imagine a future without his brother and his wife, but he could not. No matter how hard he tried, he could never do that. The world as he knew it had changed. It would never again be a happy place.

CHAPTER 99: CAITLIN

The quest to find Cody and Bridget began at two thirty. After Adam registered his name, age, and address at the school and the tent camp, the three reunited siblings left their temporary home at Adam and Main and fanned out across the destruction zone.

Caitlin searched the west end of town. From Kernville, where she found Emma's tree house upright and intact, she worked her way north to the tiny borough of Millville, home of the infamous stone bridge, where the fires of Friday continued to burn.

As Caitlin walked from block to block, she stopped at every tent camp, relief center, and official station she saw. Though she suspected that Cody and Emma had sought shelter in a house on a hill, she did not want to leave any stone unturned. If the two had left their names on a registry or stopped to talk to others, she wanted to know about it.

Caitlin no longer doubted that both were still alive. When she climbed into the little pink house on Morris Street, she found a pocketknife and a handkerchief that Cody and Emma had almost certainly left behind. She found reasons to continue.

So she searched. She searched for her brother and her friend not as if they were buried under boards but rather as if they were alive and well and walking the streets.

For that reason, she avoided the morgues. Unlike Natalie, who had found an answer she sought inside the Adam Street Public School, Caitlin had nothing to gain by visiting the houses of the dead. Though she wanted to find Bridget, Pastor Bauer, and Mrs. Bauer as much as anyone else, she did not want to look for their bodies. She had seen enough rotting corpses for a weekend. She had seen enough for a lifetime.

At six o'clock, just as the sun slipped behind a nasty gray cloud, Caitlin left her name at a registration station in Millville and headed back toward Adam and Main. Along the way, she saw sights that saddened, repulsed, and intrigued.

The sad sights were easy to find. All across the city, men, women, and children tried to comfort grieving loved ones and make sense of a senseless tragedy. One mother, no more than thirty, tried to explain to her toddler why her older brothers were not coming home.

The repulsive sights were even more numerous. In every neighborhood Caitlin visited, she saw rats feasting on the dead. Some scurried when she tried to chase them away. Most did not. They held their ground like grizzly bears protecting their kill.

The intriguing sights neither saddened nor repulsed. They merely brought the events of the past two days into focus. The most memorable was an overturned house that had been skewered by a large uprooted tree. Owned by a family named Schultz, the house had settled in a spot near the junction of the rivers and become something of a tourist attraction.

Caitlin set these sights aside when she finally reached Adam and Main, walked toward the tent she shared with her sister, and saw her siblings sitting in camp chairs. She could tell by the looks on their faces that they had not accomplished a thing.

"Did you find anything?" Catlin asked.

"No," Adam said.

"Well, I did."

Natalie perked up.

"What did you find? Do you have something?"

Caitlin nodded. Then she reached into the pocket of her borrowed, oversized dress and retrieved the knife and the handkerchief. She handed both items to her sister.

"I found them in Emma's tree house — her undamaged tree house. I am all but certain that Cody and Emma left them there on purpose."

"That means they survived," Natalie said.

"It means they are probably walking around Johnstown, right now, looking for us. My guess is that they spent the night in the tree house, when the water was still high, and then found refuge in the home of one of Emma's friends. She has a million in this town, including some that live on the hill above Kernville."

"Do you know any of them?"

Caitlin nodded.

"I know a few, but I don't know exactly where they live."

"Then let's find out. Let's find out tomorrow," Natalie said. "Let's visit every house on that hill until we find them. I don't want to waste another day."

Adam looked at Natalie.

"I think that's a great idea."

"I do too," Caitlin said.

Natalie handed the knife and hanky back to Caitlin. Then she took a deep breath, got comfortable in her chair, and gazed at her sister with appreciative eyes.

"You did good today, kiddo. You did real good."

Caitlin studied Natalie's face as she spoke and noticed that she seemed sadder and calmer than the last time she had seen her. She could not imagine what it was like to function after saying goodbye to a man like Sam Prentiss.

"Are you all right?" Caitlin asked.

Natalie smiled sadly.

"No."

"I'm so sorry, Natalie. I know how much you loved Sam."

"I know."

Caitlin frowned.

"Have you notified his parents?"

Natalie nodded.

"I wrote a letter to them about an hour ago and gave it to a relief worker. He was headed to Pittsburgh and offered to deliver it in person."

"That's good," Caitlin said. "I think they will appreciate getting the news from you and not from a newspaper. I think they will appreciate it a lot."

"I do too."

Caitlin offered Natalie a supportive smile. Then she sat down in a camp chair and turned to Adam, who stared blankly at the morgue across the street.

"How are you doing?" Caitlin asked.

Adam sighed.

"I'm holding up. As long as I have hope, I'll be all right."

"We'll find her, Adam. I know Bridget's alive, just as I know Cody and Emma are alive. I can't explain how I know. I just know. We'll find her. We'll find her soon."

Adam replied with a weak smile.

"I hope so."

Caitlin gazed at her brother with sympathetic eyes. Then she shifted her attention to the pedestrians on Main Street and zeroed in on a fortyish man and a teenage girl. The mismatched pair, most likely a father and his daughter, approached every man, woman, and child they saw as they walked down the street.

"That's strange," Caitlin said.

"What's strange?" Natalie asked.

Caitlin pointed to the talkers on Main Street.

"That man and that girl are talking to everyone they see."

"Maybe they're looking for someone."

"That's my guess."

"We should do that," Natalie said. "It couldn't hurt."

Caitlin did not respond. She instead focused on the man and the girl as they drew closer to the tent camp. She spoke when she saw the girl's face.

"That's Penny!"

Natalie turned her head.

"Who?"

"That's Penny Irwin. I know that girl," Caitlin said. She looked at Penny and then at two others who came into view. Her eyes grew wide. "I know that girl too. I know that boy !"

Caitlin flew out of her chair and ran into the street before Natalie could say another word. Then she opened her arms and raced into the embrace of her twin.

"I knew it! I knew you made it."

Cody hugged her hard.

"That makes two of us."

For more than a minute, Caitlin Carson sobbed and hugged her favorite person in the entire world. Then she turned to Emma and gave her the treatment.

Caitlin could tell from Emma's tears that she had not found her parents or at least found them alive, but she did not raise the subject. She just hugged and cried and hugged and cried until all her emotions from an emotional day finally ran their course.

CHAPTER 100: GREG

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania – Monday, June 3, 1889

Even before his train rolled to a stop, Greg could see that change was in the air. Union Station was not the place he had left Wednesday morning. It was busier, for one thing, and far more crowded. It looked exactly like a transportation hub dealing with a crisis.

No matter where he looked from his window seat in the second-to-last coach, he saw signs of urgency and dismay. He saw couriers racing down the covered platform, frantic porters pushing carts filled with blankets and food, and relief crews assembling equipment.

He also saw scores of regular citizens. Women and children gathered in groups. Men with stern faces read newspapers with sensational headlines. Lovers greeted each other with tearful embraces. One boy, maybe four years of age, cried and looked for his mother.

Greg had learned about the flood late Saturday night after returning from a boat trip on Lake Erie. He picked up a paper, read a detailed account of the disaster, and immediately tried to book a trip to Pittsburgh. He failed. Because he was not a doctor, a reporter, or a member of the Pennsylvania State Militia, he was unable to catch a train until Monday.

Plagued by worry, fear, and guilt, Greg raced south toward Pittsburgh, where he hoped to catch another train not entirely reserved for relief crews and complete his journey to Johnstown. He did not know what he would find when he arrived. He just knew he had to get to the flood zone as soon as possible and try to find his family.

When his train, the Allegheny Express , arrived at Union Station at one fifteen, Greg grabbed his carpetbag, exited his passenger car, and stepped onto the crowded platform. He took a moment to get his bearings and finally stepped toward a newsboy.

The skinny teenager, attired in knickers, suspenders, and a gray beret, had attracted a crowd the second he started yelling, "Extra! Extra! Read all about it." Unlike many others on the platform, who milled around aimlessly, he apparently had something to say.

Greg bought a paper from the boy, folded it in half, and then turned toward the station, a wooden pavilion that was as large as a football field. After nudging his way through fifty or so people, he entered the building, found a bench, and caught up on the news of the day.

The news was not good. The Johnstown flood had killed two to three thousand people, including more than a thousand who had not been found or identified. It had also destroyed hundreds of homes and businesses, including the Colbert House, the news bureau, the Pickwick restaurant, and other venues frequented by members of the Carson family.

Greg had suspected the worst since Sunday night, when he walked to a telegraph office in Erie and tried to send a telegram. He learned that service to Johnstown and vicinity had been cut and would not likely be restored before Tuesday.

A few minutes later, he threw his paper in a garbage can, walked to the main ticket counter, and inquired about trains to Johnstown. He discovered, much to his surprise, that non-essential personnel would not be allowed into the city before Wednesday.

Greg walked to the middle of the station, gave the room a 360-degree inspection, and pondered his options. With time on his hands and nothing to do except wait for a train he could board, he turned his attention to lunch. If nothing else, he thought, he would take care of his own needs and try to get his mind off a horrific tragedy.

He started toward the exit but stopped when something caught his eye. Turning his attention toward the windowless west wall of the station, he watched with fascination as a clerk, a uniformed man in his twenties, walked to the wall and pinned three broadsides on a large bulletin board. He watched with concern as a crowd gathered near the board.

Greg stepped toward the wall. When he reached the board and saw the headers DEAD, ALIVE, and MISSING on the public announcements, he knew his day was about to change.

He bided his time until the crowd in front of him thinned. Then he took a deep breath, said a silent prayer, and stepped toward the board. It was time to face the music.

Greg read the first list, which had been alphabetized by last name, and went straight to the C's. His spirits soared when he didn't see "Carson" on the roster of the dead. They sank when he perused the rest of the list and saw two names he did not want to see.

O'Malley, Francis Henry, 55, male, Johnstown

Prentiss, Samuel Paul, 27, male, Woodvale

Greg closed his eyes as he considered several troubling facts and questions. Adam and Bridget, like Frank O'Malley, rarely left the hotel. Had they been at the Colbert House when Frank had died? Had Cody and Caitlin? Natalie, for her part, spent a lot of time with Sam Prentiss. Where had she been when he had died? Where was she now?

Greg took a few seconds to gather his thoughts and his courage and then jumped into the second list. He hoped for better news and got it in spades. He started to weep when he saw four names — four big beautiful names — leap off the poster and into his heart.

Carson, Adam Eduardo, 27, male, Johnstown

Carson, Caitlin Lucia, 17, female, Johnstown

Carson, Cody Antonio, 17, male, Johnstown

Carson, Natalie Martina, 24, female, Johnstown

They were alive, he thought. Every one of his brothers and sisters had beaten the odds. Greg stepped back from the wall to collect himself and allow others to read the rolls. He wanted to savor this moment, a moment he had not expected, for as long as he could.

Greg pumped his fist as he thought again of his astonishingly good luck. Then he sighed when the truth — the cold, unpleasant, unsparing truth — began to take hold.

In his haste to find four Carsons on the list of the living, Greg had forgotten to look for the fifth. He had forgotten that a kind and caring woman from the 1880s had recently changed her name and joined a family that would soon head back to the future.

Greg stepped forward and looked again at the rolls. He did not see Bridget O'Malley Carson listed among the dead or the living. She was missing. Along with hundreds and maybe thousands of others, his smart, beautiful sister-in-law could not be found.

When others reading the rolls began to scream and wail, Greg retreated to a quiet corner of the cavernous room, where he could be alone with his thoughts. He did not want to share his joy or his sorrow with anyone, even those going through the same emotions.

Once again he pondered his options and decided to leave the building. If nothing else, he needed fresh air and the chance to think. He needed to celebrate his siblings' survival, come to grips with Bridget's status, and consider what, if anything, he could do for the living.

Greg walked away from the bulletin board and headed for the door. He took ten steps before he saw yet another distraction in the form of an information table. Set up and staffed by three Pittsburgh hospitals, it shined like a beacon for a time traveler in need of answers.

Greg approached the youngest of three uniformed nurses staffing the table. He reached the woman, a pretty redhead, shortly after she finished speaking to an elderly couple.

"Hello," Greg said.

"Good afternoon. How can I help you?"

"I'm not sure, Miss—"

"I'm Nurse Beck. How can I help you?"

"I guess that depends. What do you do here?"

The caregiver smiled.

"We provide information."

"I can see that," Greg said. He sighed. "Can you provide information on the situation in Johnstown? I just got here from Erie and know only what I've read in the papers."

"Then you know what we know."

"Surely you have people there."

"We do," Nurse Beck said. "We have doctors and nurses there now. They are treating most of the wounded and will continue to do so until the Red Cross arrives."

"I see."

"Do you have family in Johnstown?"

Greg nodded.

"I have two brothers and two sisters."

The nurse looked at Greg with sympathetic eyes.

"Have you checked their status?"

"I have," Greg said. "I'm happy to say they survived."

"That is wonderful news, Mister—"

"I'm Greg Carson."

Nurse Beck sighed.

"That is wonderful news, Mr. Carson."

"I think so too. I worried about them all weekend. I still worry. I don't know if they are injured or sick and want to find out. Can you help me?"

"I'm afraid I can't. I can only answer general questions. If you have a question about our services here or in our field hospitals, I would be happy to answer it."

Greg frowned. He could see that the pleasant conversation was not going to yield the answers he wanted. Then he saw the other nurses leave, presumably to take a break, and decided to take the conversation in a different direction.

"Do the hospitals rotate their staff?"

"What do you mean?" Nurse Beck asked.

Greg took a deep breath.

"Let me rephrase. Do you send new doctors and nurses to Johnstown to replace the ones who are already there?"

"We do," Nurse Beck said. "I'm going there myself tomorrow."

"You're going to Johnstown?"

The nurse nodded.

"I leave with a group at eight."

Greg scanned the area for the other nurses. When he didn't see them, he turned again to Nurse Beck and carefully explored an unexpected opportunity.

"Can you get a message to my family?"

"I can't, Mr. Carson. It's against the rules."

"Please," Greg said. "I just need a little help. If you could hand a message to someone who could take it from there, I would really appreciate it."

Nurse Beck fidgeted in her chair like a woman who was torn between honoring her professional responsibilities and pleasing a persuasive young man. She hesitated a moment and then handed Greg a plain piece of paper and a pencil.

"Write your message on that slip. Do it quickly."

Greg did as requested. Then he returned the paper and pencil.

"Thank you. I won't forget this."

Nurse Beck frowned.

"Please don't say anything."

"I won't," Greg said. "I do have one more question though."

"What's that?" Nurse Beck asked.

Greg asked the question. When the nurse provided him with an answer, he thanked her again and headed toward the exit. This time he did not stop.

CHAPTER 101: ADAM

Johnstown, Pennsylvania – Wednesday, June 5, 1889

For Adam, Emma, and the others in the tent camp at Adam and Main, the waiting was the worst. It was one thing to wait patiently for news from the outside world. It was another to wait for word on whether your loved ones were dead or alive.

For five days Adam had hoped for the best and planned for the worst. He knew, as the others did, that the odds of finding Bridget, Frederick Bauer, or Matilda Bauer alive after nearly a week were slim. The Carsons and Emma had checked every tent camp, hospital, and morgue several times since Monday and come up empty. If any of the missing were still in the area, they were almost certainly buried under debris and unrecognizable.

As Adam sat in his camp chair and gazed at the street that shared his name, he slowly confronted reality. Though he still clung to hope that his wife was alive, he had begun to imagine life without her. Like Alison Givens, Bridget Carson was a mirage, a symbol of a life that was never meant to be, a person who would occupy his heart but never his home.

Despite his sorrow, which was pushing ever closer to grief, Adam took comfort in other things. He had three of his siblings and soon would have four. He knew that Greg was safe and sound and on his way because Greg had told him as much in a letter.

Adam reached into a pocket of his worn gray slacks, retrieved a slip of paper, and reread the letter, which had been given to a visiting nurse and then handed to a courier in one of Johnstown's makeshift hospitals. Its message was as comforting as it was clear.

Dearest family, it was with great joy that I found your names on a list of the living in Pittsburgh. I arrived here Monday worried sick that I would never see you again. Now that I know I will, I will do everything I can to hasten our reunion. I will tend to some matters here, including our finances, and catch the first train to Johnstown on Wednesday. Please know that I love you all and look forward to seeing you again. With deepest affection, Greg

Adam had to hand it to his brother. Despite serious travel restrictions and limited communications options, he had found a way to tell his family he was coming. He had handled his challenges as well as Natalie had handled hers.

Adam continued to admire how his oldest sister had responded to the sudden and tragic passing of Samuel Prentiss. Despite grief that was no doubt ripping her apart, she had maintained her composure and poise. In the process, she had served as an admirable role model for three teenagers and an older brother who was battling his own demons.

If Adam felt sorry for anyone, it was the delightful girl his twin siblings adored. He had lost his wife of eighteen days. Emma Bauer had lost her parents of eighteen years. She was almost certainly alone in this world, except for an aunt and an uncle in Ohio, a boy who loved her to tears, and a time-traveling family that had all but adopted her.

That is not to say Adam did not feel sorry for Cody. He ached for his brother every time Emma cried over her parents. He knew Cody was torn over wanting what was best for her and wanting what was best for him . Adam himself did not know what he would do if Cody and Emma refused to separate when it came time to go to Arizona.

Sixteen days before he planned to lead his family into the future, Adam Carson did not know a lot of things. All he had were questions he did not want to answer.

He gazed down Adam Street at five after five and noticed that the biggest little lady in town was still giving orders to her many charges. Adam admired how quickly she had set up a nearby hospital tent, a homeless shelter, and other comforts for the afflicted.

Clara Barton had arrived on a train at ten and taken over Johnstown by two. Along with fifty doctors and nurses from the nation's capital and thirty or so local providers, the sixty-seven-year-old director of the American Red Cross had established a medical and humanitarian presence that was as impressive as it was effective.

Many who did not accompany the five-foot-tall director to the flood zone volunteered to work for her. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to help and please the dedicated medical pioneer, who had risen to fame a generation earlier as a nurse in the Civil War.

Adam met a few volunteers as they made their rounds to the tent camps, including a woman named Priscilla Baines. He was delighted to meet Randolph Mayes' daughter and learn that she had survived the flood, along with her husband and two children. He gave the woman her father's crutches, some useful information, and his sincerest thanks.

Though some in town resented the outsiders who now called the shots, Adam did not. He welcomed their leadership and help. Like thousands of other beleaguered residents, he was all too eager to trade trauma, hardship, and chaos for comfort, stability, and order.

He gazed at Miss Barton and her volunteers for a minute and then turned his attention to Main Street, where a familiar green stagecoach approached from the north. One of several vehicles that had been pressed into service since Monday, it had ferried people and supplies from the train stations to Adam and Main several times that day.

Adam watched with interest as the driver pulled up in front of the school, climbed down from his seat, and opened the door of the carriage. He stood up when Greg Carson stepped out of the coach, shielded his eyes with his hand, and looked around the intersection.

Adam took a moment to assess the situation and then spoke. In a calm, firm, measured voice, he summoned his oldest sister, who visited with the others in a tent behind him.

"Natalie?"

"Yes?"

"Come out here," Adam said.

"Why?" Natalie asked. "What is it?"

"Just come. Bring Cody and Caitlin."

Greg saw Adam a second later. He acknowledged his brother with a subtle wave, but he did not leave the coach. He instead turned around and helped two people — a middle-aged minister and his middle-aged wife — climb out of the vehicle.

Adam spoke again as soon as Natalie, Cody, and Caitlin emerged from the closed tent and joined him out front. Once again, he did so with conviction.

"Emma?"

"Yes?"

"You come too."

"How come?" Emma asked.

"You have a birthday present."

Adam said no more. He did not have to. He had said more than enough to set up a reunion that would surely make at least one person's day.

As soon as Emma saw her mother and father, she raced into the street and hugged them with reckless abandon. She went easier on her father, who supported himself on two crutches, but only a little bit. She showered both parents with love and affection.

Natalie, Cody, and Caitlin did not follow. Though they no doubt wanted to rush across the intersection and greet Greg like Emma greeted her parents, they did not. They displayed class and restraint. They let the girl have her moment.

Adam wiped away a tear as he watched the joyous meeting. Though he was happy that Emma had finally found her mom and dad, he was sad that such reunions were all too few. Once again, he was reminded of his own untimely, painful, and permanent loss.

When Emma finished hugging and kissing her parents, she turned around and guided them toward the tent camp. She beamed as she approached her second family.

Adam returned her smile and then looked again at Greg, who had remained with the coach. He noticed that his brother seemed sad and lost in his thoughts.

Adam motioned to Greg and to join the family and was surprised, even irritated, when he refused to budge. What was more important, Adam asked himself, than reuniting with four siblings who had survived a flood? Nothing, he thought. Absolutely nothing.

A moment later, he learned he was wrong.

CHAPTER 102: ADAM

Adam ignored Emma and her parents as they trudged toward the camp. Like Natalie, Caitlin, and even Cody, who had all but shut down when Emma raced into the street, he focused solely on Greg and the carriage with the open door.

He did not dare to hope for the best. After mentally burying Bridget O'Malley Carson, he did not want to set himself up for more heartbreak. As Natalie had learned firsthand, it was painful to lose loved ones once. It was excruciating to lose them twice.

So Adam set hope aside. He suspended his emotions and simply watched as Greg turned to face the coach, spoke to a person in the passenger chamber, and extended a hand.

From that point on, the warm June evening was a celebration of the possible. It was a reminder that miracles sometimes do happen and happen in unexpected ways.

Adam winced when Greg carefully helped a woman out of the carriage and onto the street. He started to weep when he saw the cast on her left arm, the black bruises on her face, and her dispirited demeanor. He could see that the flood had taken a huge toll on the body and soul of the woman he loved.

Adam did not run to his bride. He walked to her. He walked to her slowly and tentatively, like he was approaching her for the very first time. He did so because he wanted to give the woman and the moment the respect and dignity they deserved.

Natalie, Caitlin, and Cody did the same. After briefly and quietly greeting Frederick and Matilda Bauer and leaving them with Emma at the camp, they followed Adam into the street and stepped toward the sister-in-law who had returned from the dead.

Greg escorted Bridget to the middle of the intersection, which was blissfully free of traffic, and waited for Adam to reach them. When he did a few seconds later, he let go of Bridget's arm, her unbroken right arm, and released her into the embrace of her husband.

For nearly a minute, Adam did nothing more than gently hug his wife, absorb her pain, and let his tears flow. He did not say a word. He did not even give her a kiss. He just held her closely and let a tender, poignant, wholly unexpected moment run its course.

When it did, Adam stepped back, kissed Bridget on her battered face, and gave her up to two sisters and a brother who were all too eager to smother her in love. Then he turned to Greg, his thoughtful, imaginative, resourceful brother, and began a quiet conversation that would have been unimaginable just minutes earlier.

"What happened?" Adam asked.

"I found her in a Pittsburgh hospital," Greg said. He sighed. "I found them all there. Two men pulled Bridget from the water after the hotel collapsed. Two others rescued Frederick and Matilda after their home collapsed. Then they put them on a train. I didn't even think to look in Pittsburgh until I spoke to a nurse at the station."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I've never been better."

Adam stepped forward and hugged Greg fiercely. He had never been close to his oldest sibling. He had clashed with him frequently growing up.

But none of that mattered now. All that mattered on June 5, 1889, was that Greg had delivered the goods. On a day when so many others were burying their loved ones and saying goodbye, he had defeated the odds and restored a family of six to its original state. For that and so many other things, Adam Carson would always be grateful.

CHAPTER 103: NATALIE

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania – Wednesday, June 12, 1889

The funeral of Samuel Paul Prentiss drew a Who's Who of Eastern society. Two United States senators came to Pittsburgh. So did three congressmen, four mayors, twenty Johnstown businessmen, and thirty journalists from Georgia to Maine. Along with Andrew Mellon, Andrew Carnegie, and more than half the members of the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club, they crammed into Central Presbyterian Church to pay their respects to a man who had touched more lives in twenty-seven years than most did in a lifetime.

Natalie did not even try to keep her emotions in check. She cried the moment she entered the church with her family at nine forty-five and did not let up.

Sitting directly behind Sam's immediate family and a smattering of aunts, uncles, and cousins, she wept as speaker after speaker shared stories and vignettes about a remarkable human being. Some were funny. Some were sad. All were moving.

Josephine Prentiss Abbott recalled the time her ten-year-old brother helped her catch a fish. Mason White, a Johnstown florist, remembered the man who gave him a loan. Two college classmates offered humorous anecdotes from their days at the University of Pennsylvania. Reverend David Beale, pastor of the First Presbyterian Church in Johnstown and one of the heroes of Alma Hall, called Sam the finest man he had ever known.

For more than an hour, relatives, friends, and colleagues spoke fondly of a journalist who was now little more than a memory. They told stories Natalie had heard before and some she had not. They provided a colorful oral record of a life well lived.

As James Reese, managing editor of the Pittsburgh Pilot , offered his remarks, Natalie checked in on her family, who sat with her in the second pew. Each, she noticed, stared blankly at the front of the church. Each seemed to be in a different place.

Adam held Bridget tightly as Reese gave his eulogy. He had done little else since she had returned to him broken but unbowed. He had vowed to prioritize her interests in the coming year and accelerate her dreams. He told Natalie it was the least he could do for a wife who had sacrificed so much and gotten so little in return.

Despite her injuries and the trauma of losing her uncle, whom she buried on June 6, Bridget had started to come around. She had begun to laugh and smile and engage with those around her. She had spent a lot of time with Cody and Caitlin, whom she had adopted as her own, and Natalie, who had become a kindred spirit and confidante.

If Bridget had crawled out of a shell, Greg had crawled into one. He had distanced himself from the others and said very little in the past week. When he did speak, he talked mostly about Arizona, time portals, and logistics. He was understandably nervous about returning to a territory where he had a five-hundred-dollar bounty on his head.

Caitlin was the most cheerful of the lot. Despite her own harrowing experiences on the day of the flood, she had been upbeat, chatty, and active. She looked forward to spending three days in West Virginia, where the family planned to make a final decision on their destination, and visiting Emma in her new hometown of Columbus, Ohio.

Cody had not been cheerful and upbeat. He had kept to himself since the Bauer family left Johnstown on June 7 and had not slept or eaten well in days. He often disappeared for hours and resisted the encouragement of others. He did not look forward to visiting Ohio because he knew that was where he would have to say goodbye to the girl he loved.

Natalie gave her baby brother a supportive smile and then returned her attention to the last speaker. She listened attentively as Mr. Reese, a plump, balding man of fifty, praised Sam for his journalistic integrity, his commitment to the Johnstown community, and his interest in helping others get a start in the field, including "a woman who is with us today."

When the funeral ended ten minutes later with the singing of "Amazing Grace," Natalie remained in her seat and asked her family to do the same. She did not plan on attending the gravesite service at the Allegheny Cemetery or the dinner at the Prentiss mansion and wanted to say some things to the family without holding up others.

She got that chance at noon, two hours after the funeral started, when she followed Adam, Bridget, Greg, Cody, and Caitlin through a receiving line in the narthex. She spoke first to Jo Abbott, who stood between her husband and her father near the end of the line.

"I'm so sorry," Natalie said.

Jo smiled through her tears.

"I should say the same to you. I know how much Sam meant to you. I know how much you meant to him ."

Natalie sighed.

"I loved him."

"I know. He knew that too. It gave him great comfort," Jo said. She wiped away a tear. "Are you coming to the house?"

Natalie shook her head.

"We're catching a train at two. So this is goodbye."

"Then take care of yourself," Jo said. She took a deep breath, leaned forward, and hugged the woman who would not be her sister-in-law. "Have a safe trip to Arizona."

Natalie nodded and then moved down the line to George Prentiss. She gave him a hug before he could even say hello. She did not know if that was acceptable etiquette in 1889, but she did not care. She wanted to ease the pain of a man who was drowning in guilt.

"I'm going to miss you," Natalie said. "I'm going to miss coming to Pittsburgh and being treated like a princess. If I remember anything about my time here, I will remember the kindness you showed me. I feel like I was part of your family."

"You were," George said in a cracking voice. "You are."

Natalie touched his hand.

"I know you feel guilty about what happened at South Fork, but don't let that guilt consume you. What's done is done."

"But—"

"I mean it," Natalie said. "Let go of the guilt. Remember the positive things instead. Remember how Sam lived and not how he died. Remember the lives that he touched."

George nodded.

"I'll try."

Natalie offered the banker a comforting smile and then moved down the receiving line to the last person in that line. She embraced Louise Prentiss, gazed at her for a long, meaningful moment, and took her shaking hands.

"I meant what I told George. I feel like I was part of your family. I only wish there was something I could do now to repay your kindness."

Louise mustered a smile.

"Perhaps there is."

"What is it?" Natalie asked. "Just name it."

Louise pulled her hands out of Natalie's and retrieved a velvet box from the pocket of her dress. She hesitated for a moment and then gave the box to Natalie.

"You can take that."

Natalie opened the box and found a diamond ring.

"I can't accept this. It doesn't belong to me."

"It does though," Louise said. "That is the ring Sam intended to give you the night before the flood. He loved you and wanted to marry you, but thanks to my interruption before dinner that night, he never had the chance to ask for your hand."

"Don't blame yourself for that," Natalie said. "You couldn't have known he was going to propose. I didn't know he was going to propose. It just happened."

Louise smiled sadly.

"Nothing just happens, dear. My son wanted to marry you the moment he saw you. He spoke of you often, even before he brought you to Pittsburgh. You were his flower, his one true love. That's why I insist that you accept that ring."

Natalie frowned.

"I don't know."

Louise put her hand on Natalie's shoulder.

"Please take it. Take it and wear it. Remember my son. Just knowing that he lives in your heart will make me happy. It will give me peace."

Natalie hesitated for a moment as she considered her options. Though she did not want to take a ring that would never serve its original purpose, she did not want to disappoint a grieving mother. In the end, she did what her heart commanded her to do. She took the band out of the box, slipped it on her ring finger, and then tucked the box in her pocket.

"I'll wear this ring, Mrs. Prentiss. I'll remember your son," Natalie said. She gave Louise a warm, meaningful hug. "It will be the easiest thing I've ever done."

CHAPTER 104: ADAM

Wheeling, West Virginia – Friday, June 14, 1889

As meeting venues go, the hexagonal gazebo behind the Leighton Inn was everything the meeting room of the Colbert House was not. Situated in the middle of a lush, landscaped lawn that overlooked the Ohio River, the open structure was cool, airy, and inviting.

Adam had brought his family to the hotel, a former country estate on the outskirts of West Virginia's largest city, because he knew it would be an ideal place to think and reflect. He wanted Bridget and his siblings to be free of the distractions of Johnstown, Pittsburgh, and even Columbus when they made the biggest decision of their lives.

Adam reached for a pitcher of lemonade, poured himself a glass, and then gazed at the five people around his white oak table in the center of the gazebo. He could see from the expressions on their faces that they were still struggling with the decision.

"I hope everyone slept well last night," Adam said. He took a sip, put his glass on the table, and leaned back in his chair. "We're going to need clear heads this morning."

Natalie frowned.

"Do we have to decide today?"

"We do," Adam said. "I'll need at least a day or two to run through the numbers and tailor our trip to a specific destination. I would rather not do it on the train."

"Does the vote have to be unanimous?"

"I think it should be. Don't you? We all have to live with this decision, Natalie. I think we all should fully support it."

"Then let's get to it," Natalie said.

Adam nodded and took a deep breath. Though he was no more eager than Natalie to hammer out a decision, he knew it had to be done. Time was running out.

"Let me start by bringing you up to speed on our finances," Adam said. "As all of you surely know, we will need a lot more money to go to 1918 than to 2017, where we have a home and maybe even jobs to return to. Fortunately for all of us, we have that money."

"How much do we have?" Caitlin asked.

"We have a lot. Greg, Natalie, and I were able to pull thirty-five grand from the account in Pittsburgh. We have banknotes we will be able to use for the big stuff, like housing and travel, and double eagles and silver pieces for the smaller things."

"How far will that go in 1918?"

"I don't know," Adam said. "A lot depends on what we do. If we live frugally and stay in the same place, particularly in a small town, the money will go a long way. If we move around a lot, it won't. It's just one of the many things we have to consider today."

"Where is the money now?" Cody asked.

"It's in a safe in the hotel."

"Are we going to split it up?"

Adam nodded.

"We will eventually."

Cody sighed.

"What about the rest? What about timepieces and maps? What about guns? Greg said Arizona is crawling with lawmen and bandits. What are we going to do about them ?"

"We're going to try to avoid them," Adam said. "Greg and I have already worked out some of the particulars. He's going to change his appearance next week. All of us are going to keep a low profile. If that doesn't work, we may have to use the three revolvers I bought last night, including one I bought for you."

Adam watched with sadness as a frown formed on Cody's face. While he did not want to force anything on his youngest brother, the most peaceful of the five siblings, he knew that he had to. He knew a third shooter in the family might mean the difference between making it to the time portal in one piece and not making it at all.

"I've only shot BB guns," Cody said. "You know that."

Adam nodded.

"I know. That's why you and I are going shooting today. I want you to know these guns inside and out before we leave Wheeling. Our lives may depend on it."

"OK."

"What about the other things Cody mentioned?" Natalie asked. "Do you have all the time-travel particulars worked out? We kind of messed up the last time."

"We did," Adam said. "That's why we're going to approach things differently this time. We're going to play it safe and stick to what we know."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll let Greg explain."

Natalie looked at the middle brother.

"Well?"

"It's simple," Greg said. "We're going to go with one of the three times that were worked out on computers. We know when Mom and Dad planned to enter the Sedona portal on their trip to 1918. We know when they planned to return to 2017 from their trip to the 1880s. We know when we planned to return from our trip to the 1880s. We know the times down to the second. That part of the equation is solid."

"What about our timepieces?" Natalie asked. "Our modern watches are worthless here. How are we going to keep accurate time in the age of grandfather clocks?"

"We're going to put Professor Hill's pocket watches and instructions to use. He told me how to determine the time of day using sextants, compasses, and sundials. I'm confident that if the sun is shining next Friday, I'll be able to set our watches to the right time."

"You're putting your faith in sundials ?"

Greg stared at his sister.

"I'm putting my faith in a genius, a man who has studied time for decades. If Professor Hill can't help us, then no one can. Yes, I'm confident this will work."

"Don't get snippy," Natalie said. "I'm just asking."

Adam jumped in.

"I'm glad you're asking. I want all of you to ask questions. If you have any concerns about next week, then bring them up. Now is the time to deal with them."

"I have another question," Cody said.

"What is it?"

"Why don't we go to Mount Shasta? That's where Mom and Dad went. Wouldn't the best way to find them be to retrace their footsteps? Why are we going to Arizona at all?"

Adam looked at Greg.

"Greg?"

"The reason we're going to Sedona and not Shasta is because I need warm weather and sunshine to set those watches correctly. Cold weather affects analog watches. Cloudy skies affect sundials. If the conditions aren't right next Friday, we won't be able to travel."

"That makes sense," Cody said.

"Do you have any other concerns?" Adam asked.

"No."

"Then let's move on to the big question. We have to choose a destination. We have to decide whether to go to June 22, 1918, the first day of Mom and Dad's second trip; September 22, 2017, the day they planned to return from the 1880s; or December 21, 2017, the day we planned to return. If we make the right decision, we may find them in hours. If we make the wrong decision, we may never find them. It's a guessing game now."

"Which way are you leaning?" Natalie asked.

"I'm not leaning in any direction," Adam said. "I'm dead set on September 22. Mom and Dad wrote that date in their log. They told Professor Hill they were going home. They stated their intentions loudly and clearly. That's why I favor 2017 over 1918 and September 22 over December 21. It's by far the most logical choice."

"I agree."

Adam decided to turn the discussion into an informal vote. Starting with Natalie, who sat to his left, he went around the table and asked where everyone stood.

"So is that a vote for September 22?"

Natalie nodded.

"You and I are on the same page."

Adam turned to his oldest brother.

"How about you?"

"I'm on that page too," Greg said. "We need to play the percentages."

Adam moved on to Cody.

"How do you vote?"

"I'm with you," Cody said. "I know Caitlin favors 1918, but I think your logic is sound. It makes sense to do what Mom and Dad have probably already done."

"That's four votes in favor of September 22," Adam said. He turned to Bridget, who sat quietly between the twins. "How about you, honey? What do you think?"

"I think this is your decision," Bridget said.

"It's not though. It's your decision too. You're as much a part of this family as the rest of us. You also have a say. You also have a vote."

"Then I abstain."

Adam exchanged hot stares with his stubborn Irish wife. When he saw that she was not going to budge, in one direction or the other, he moved on to the really tough sell.

"I take it you haven't changed your mind."

"I have not," Caitlin said.

"Why?" Adam asked.

"You know why. I've told you. I think our best chance to reunite with Mom and Dad — the people we know as Mom and Dad — is to travel to the same year at the same time. We can't do that with 2017 because they have already traveled there. That leaves 1918."

"Even if you're right about synchronized travel, there's a problem. Mom and Dad won't even think about looking for us in 1918 unless they see the letter I wrote them."

"I know."

"That's not a minor detail, Caitlin. That's everything. If Mom and Dad, as we all believe, returned to September 22, 2017, they won't see the letter I uploaded on December 18."

"You're right," Caitlin said. "They won't."

"Then why should we consider your idea? Why should we even think about 1918 when we know Mom and Dad tried to go to 2017? We know what we will find there."

"Do we?"

"Do we what?" Adam asked.

"Do we know what we will find in 2017?"

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm getting at something you are all missing. Time isn't linear. It deviates. It moves in streams, including streams we have already altered."

"I don't follow."

"Then let me explain," Caitlin said. "Let me ask you a question."

"All right."

"Where is the first Bridget?"

"What do you mean?" Adam asked.

"I mean where is the first Bridget? Where is the Bridget O'Malley who lived and died before we were born? Where is the one we never met? Where is she?"

Adam closed his eyes. He had missed something, all right. He had missed something big. In his haste to prepare a trip back to 2017, he had not considered the obvious. He had not considered all the complexities of time travel, including the butterfly effect.

"I see your point," Adam said. "What I don't see now is a reason to travel to any year. If the future is different than the one we know, then why should we leave at all?"

"We should leave because there is still a chance we can find our parents. It's not a great chance, but it's a chance. It's a chance worth taking."

"I'm afraid you've lost me."

"You've lost me too," Greg said.

Natalie looked at her sister.

"Make that three."

"Then let me try again," Caitlin said. "It's simple when you think about it. There really are only two possibilities. Mom and Dad either traveled to a date before December 18, 2017, or they traveled to a date after that. If they did the former, we're hosed. They will either find no children and search endlessly for answers or find five children — earlier versions of us — and think everything is OK. They will never look for us, the people at this table, because they will have no reason to. They will assume that their kids are the ones in front of them. As a result, we will never see them again.

"On the other hand, if they traveled to a date after December 18, they will see the letter. They will know we planned to look for them in 1918 if we did not find them in 1889. Then they will do what I want us to do. They will enter a portal at the next opportunity and attempt to travel to 1918. They will jump when we jump. They will do so because they will know it will be the only chance they will ever have to see us again."

"I think the benefits of going home still outweigh the risks," Adam said. "If we travel to 2017, we might find Mom and Dad very quickly."

"You're right," Caitlin said. "We might find them in hours. We might find the people who raised us and live happily ever after. Or we might find a couple we don't know at all. We might find two people who never met and married and had five children. We might find any of a number of situations, including some we don't like, and then be stuck without options."

"That's a lot to consider."

"That's why I want to go to 1918. If we all travel to the same year at the same time, we will at least have a chance to reunite. If we don't, we probably won't."

Adam gazed at his sister, his brilliant, unpredictable, thoughtful sister, and considered all that she had said. He could not disagree with a word.

"Are you sure they would act on my letter if they saw it?"

Tears welled in Caitlin's eyes.

"I would bet my life on it."

There it was, Adam thought. There it was. In less than a minute, wisdom and courage, dressed in a blouse and a skirt, had knocked on his door.

Adam should have known she would knock. He had asked her to knock. On March 22, the day he learned his parents had left 1889, he had asked Caitlin to research their next time-travel trip. He had asked her to weigh the pros and cons of traveling to 1918 and 2017 and report to the family in June. Now that she had done that, he had no place to turn.

He gave the matter another moment of thought, but he did not dwell on it. He saw no point. Thanks to Caitlin, he had answers to questions he had not even considered.

"What are you thinking?" Natalie asked.

Adam smiled.

"I'm thinking that there is a time in every man's life when he should sit up, shut up, and listen to his baby sister. This, I'm happy to say, is one of those times."

CHAPTER 105: CODY

Columbus, Ohio – Sunday, June 16, 1889

The long goodbye began with several short ones. Cody thanked Mary Bauer for a fine roast beef dinner and Otto Bauer for a tour of his Civil War room. He told Pastor Bauer he would study hard in college and Matilda Bauer he would find a new church home. He did what he could and said what he could to get out of the green and white house on Neil and Vine and spend a few extra minutes with the only person that mattered.

Emma did not allow two other relatives, who lived in Cincinnati, to corner Cody and kill him off with mindless chatter. She took his hand and nonchalantly led him out of the house, down several porch steps, and onto a spacious front lawn. She let go of his hand when they reached a crab apple tree near the side of the yard.

"I had to save you from Aunt Olga and Uncle Fritz," Emma said. "When they learned you could identify desert plants, they started to cook up some questions. They wanted to ask you about cactuses and sagebrush. I couldn't let them do that."

Cody chuckled.

"You're the best."

Emma beamed.

"I'm glad you still think that."

Cody tilted his head.

"Why would you think otherwise?"

"It's just a feeling I've had. You didn't say much to me in Johnstown after my parents came back from the hospital. I felt like I didn't matter anymore."

"Are you kidding? You're the only one that matters."

Emma frowned.

"Then why didn't you talk to me?"

Cody sighed.

"I didn't know what to say. I didn't see the point of talking. As soon as your folks climbed out of that coach, I knew we were through."

Emma took his hands.

"Why can't you visit me? Why can't I visit you ? I don't understand why we can't see each other again. I'm not going anywhere."

"I know you're not," Cody said, "but I am. I'm going to a place that's a lot farther away than Arizona. It's a place you can never visit."

Cody felt sick as he watched tears well in her eyes. He hated telling her the truth. He hated saying goodbye. He hated it all with a passion. He started to say more but stopped when he saw his relatives leave the house. Each said goodbye to Frederick, Matilda, and the others on the porch. Then all crossed the lawn to say so long to Emma.

Cody dropped Emma's hands and stepped back to give his family some room. Though he did not want to yield even a minute of his time, he knew that he had to. He knew that his siblings adored Emma and would not think of leaving Ohio without giving her a hug.

Adam, Bridget, Greg, and Natalie said their farewells and then walked to a fancy carriage parked on Neil Street. Adam had asked the driver to return to the house at four and take the family to Union Station. As luck would have it, the driver showed up early.

Cody stepped toward Emma when his elders walked away but stepped back again when Caitlin finally broke free of Olga and Fritz and walked briskly across the lawn. He knew that his twin sister, one of Emma's best friends, would not be so quick to say goodbye.

"You were right about your aunt and uncle," Caitlin said as she reached the apple tree. "They like to talk. They wouldn't let me go. I think they want to adopt me."

Emma laughed through her tears.

"That makes sense. They don't have children."

Caitlin studied Emma's face and then slowly turned to Cody. She gritted her teeth when she realized she was holding up something important.

"Did I interrupt something?"

"No," Cody said. "We were just talking."

Caitlin looked at Emma.

"I won't be long. I just want to say goodbye and ask you something before I join the others. I didn't see much of you at dinner."

Emma wiped an eye.

"What do you want to ask?"

"Are you going to stay in Columbus?" Caitlin asked. "The reason I ask is because your parents say they are. Your dad says he's been asked to lead a church here."

"He has," Emma said.

"What about you? Are you staying?"

"It depends on whether I can afford college."

"Do you need more money? If you do, I can get more," Caitlin said with obvious enthusiasm. "Adam's loaded. He has enough money to send ten kids to college."

Emma smiled.

"I think I'm all right. My uncles are raising money for me. They want to send me to Pennsylvania College in Gettysburg. That's where they went to school."

"Do you want to go there?" Caitlin asked.

Emma nodded.

"There's nothing for me here."

Caitlin smiled.

"Then go. Go out and conquer the world."

"OK," Emma said.

Caitlin stepped forward and hugged her friend.

"Take care of yourself. I'm going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you too," Emma said.

Caitlin looked at Cody.

"I'll wait for you."

"All right."

Caitlin gave Cody the privacy he wanted. She walked to a spot about halfway between the apple tree and the carriage and waited for him to finish. Then Frederick and Matilda took their leave. They waved to Cody and followed the other Bauers into the Queen Anne home, leaving two teens from two different centuries to say their goodbyes.

Emma reclaimed Cody's hands.

"I'm surprised they didn't call me in."

"I'm not," Cody said.

"Why do you say that?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"No."

"Your folks want to encourage and not discourage ."

"What do you mean?" Emma asked.

"I mean we had a talk before dinner."

"What did they say?"

"They said 'thank you.' They thanked me for pulling you into the tree house and taking care of you after the flood. Then they invited me to visit at Christmas," Cody said. He gave Emma a wistful smile. "I think they want to keep me around."

"I want to keep you around."

"I know."

"Then stay. Stay with me. Stay here in Columbus. I don't have to go to college. I don't have to go anywhere. I'll go wherever you want me to go."

"It's too late."

"Why is it too late?" Emma asked. She became tearful and flustered. "Why won't you tell me why you can't stay? Why won't you tell me where you're going?"

"I won't because I can't," Cody said.

"Why can't you?"

"I just can't."

Emma's lips quivered.

"So this is it?"

Cody sighed and nodded.

"This is it."

Emma started to weep.

"That's not a good answer."

Cody struggled to hold back his tears.

"It's the only one I have."

Emma threw her arms around his waist, pulled him close, and sobbed.

"Please don't go."

Cody did not respond. He just held Emma tightly as his own tears, repressed for days, started to flow. For more than a minute, he clung to the girl he could never have. Though he did not feel pressure to let her go, he did. When he felt her grow slack, he pulled out of her embrace, put his hands to her face, and looked her in the eyes.

"I love you, Emma."

He kissed her softly.

"Now go make someone happy."

Emma put her hand to her mouth, shook her head, and stepped back. Then she turned toward the house, ran to the porch, and disappeared through the front door.

For a long, awkward moment, Cody Carson stood in place and wept. He wept until he became aware of his surroundings and cognizant that others were waiting for him. Then he turned around and walked toward his twin and the rest of his family.

Caitlin met him halfway. She threw her arm around his back, pulled him close, and walked with him to the carriage. She didn't say a thing. She didn't have to.

CHAPTER 106: GREG

Flagstaff, Arizona Territory – Friday, June 21, 1889

Brad Pitt looked different than Greg Carson. With wire-rimmed glasses, a mustache, a freshly shaven face, and hair his sisters had dyed blond with lemon juice, he looked nothing like the brown-haired, unshaven cowboy who had stopped in Flagstaff in February.

Greg hoped that was the case anyway. For five days he had battled nightmares of rogue sheriffs, unsympathetic juries, and hanging judges. For five days he had let his imagination get the best of him. He looked forward to traveling to a time when he could not find his name on a wanted poster in train stations and post offices.

Greg thought about happier times as he sat with Cody Pitt, Bridget Pitt, Caitlin Pitt, and Natalie Pitt in an open-sided stagecoach parked outside a feed-and-seed store. He thought about the things he was going to see and do and eat in 1918. He thought about it all.

He had been the last one to come around in Wheeling. Despite Caitlin's impeccable logic and her firm belief that Tim and Caroline Carson, like their children, were headed to 1918, he hesitated to endorse her theory. He knew the Carson kids would have only so many opportunities to find their parents and could not afford to squander any on a hunch.

Greg agreed to go only after the others had pleaded with him to do so. Bridget had been the most persuasive. She reminded Greg that no one was taking a bigger risk in traveling to another era than the one person in the family who had never done it before.

Greg gazed at his sister-in-law as they waited for Adam to fetch their driver. He admired how she had kept her spirits up despite losing her uncle, several close friends, and all of her personal belongings in less than fifteen minutes. Few people, he thought, could withstand all that and still want to get out of bed the next day.

The Pitts, a prim-and-proper family from Columbus, Ohio, had arrived in Flagstaff Thursday morning on a westbound Atlantic and Pacific train. Once settled in a second-class hotel, they laid low while Adam went out on the town and took care of family business.

Adam had jumped into the role of doer and arranger. After twiddling his thumbs for four days on slow-moving trains and wandering the streets of whistle-stops like Rolla, Vinita, and Gallup, he welcomed the opportunity to do something important.

He had avoided anyone and anything that was big or official. He had steered clear of the police station, the post office, the telegraph office, and especially Hank's Corral, where Greg had purchased a mustang and a saddle that would later be found at a crime scene.

Adam finally found what the family needed in the form of Wyatt March, a fifty-year-old proprietor of a feed-and-seed store who moonlighted as a stagecoach driver. When he learned that March could take six people from Flagstaff to their unusual destination, he handed the man a fifty-dollar bill and said he would return at six the next morning.

Greg pondered Adam's contributions to the family cause for a moment and then turned his attention to the people in the coach. He saw four people in different places.

Caitlin, who sat between Bridget and Natalie in the front-facing seat, seemed the most at ease. She had been the picture of happiness since convincing her siblings to trade a time-travel destination they knew for a year that was as strange and foreign as 1889.

Bridget, too, seemed happy. She smiled and laughed softly as she engaged in light conversation with the pint-sized genius she now called her sister-in-law.

Natalie appeared more reflective. Though she was at peace with the family's decision to go to 1918, she was not at peace with herself. She often cried when she thought others were not around and had spent an unusual amount of time alone. Like so many others who had lost loved ones in the flood, she was battling her own demons.

Cody was just a mess. Deeply troubled even before the family had set foot in Columbus, he was now an emotional wreck. He had spoken only when necessary and only to Caitlin, who for the past five days had served as his human Band-Aid. Sitting next to Greg in the rear-facing seat, he stared blankly at the floor of the coach and kept to himself.

Greg gazed at Natalie and smiled when she smiled at him. He started to ask her about the diamond ring on her left hand but stopped when he sensed movement in the street. He turned his head just as a young man in his late teens walked past the coach.

Greg stared at the boy as he stared at him and everyone else in the carriage. He noticed that the youth, who resembled the clerk he had met at Hank's in February, demonstrated an unusual amount of interest in not only Greg but also Cody.

It was then that Brad Pitt, aka Greg Carson, realized his mistake. He had been so focused on changing his own appearance that he forgot to consider his brothers, who looked like older and younger versions of a man wanted for murder.

Greg tried to hide his face as the boy, who was almost certainly Hank Morris' son, walked away from the coach and continued down the street. He could only hope that the youth had a spotty memory or a distinct lack of interest in law enforcement matters.

A moment later, Adam Pitt, doer and arranger, emerged from the feed-and-seed store with the man who would drive them to Red Rock country. The two took about ten steps toward the horse-drawn carriage and then split up. Wyatt March veered in the direction of the horses. Adam continued toward the carriage. He spoke when he arrived.

"Mr. March is ready to go. Is everyone else?"

"I was ready yesterday," Greg said.

"What's the matter?" Adam asked.

"I saw a familiar face."

"So?"

Greg frowned.

"The familiar face saw me."

"Then I guess we better get started," Adam said. "Is everyone else ready to go? I suspect we won't find many rest stops between here and the butte."

"I'm ready," Bridget said.

"Natalie?"

"Count me in."

"Cody? Caitlin?"

The twins nodded.

"Then let's get rolling," Adam said.

Adam stepped to the front of the coach and spoke to the driver for about a minute. Then he returned to the side of the carriage, climbed inside, and claimed a seat next to Cody.

Greg poked his head out of the coach and peered down the dirty street as the driver pulled away from the store. He did not see the nosy boy. He did not see a cop. At six thirty in the morning on his last day in 1889, he considered that cause for celebration.

CHAPTER 107: TIM

Siskiyou County, California – Thursday, June 21, 2018

Tim and Caroline never hesitated to come back. Even though Mount Shasta had blasted them to the wrong year and created a significant disruption in their lives, they did not hold the volcano personally responsible. It was a laboratory, after all — not a tool — and as a laboratory, it was far more appealing in June than the scorching deserts of Arizona.

Tim thought about laboratories and tools as he sat on a large rock in Upper Panther Meadow and checked his quartz wristwatch, the most important tool in his time-travel toolbox. Though he knew that no timepiece was perfect, he had faith in this one and was reasonably sure it would not freeze up or slow down on the first day of summer.

"It's two fifteen," Tim said in a matter-of-fact voice. He looked at his wife, who sat on a larger rock a few feet away. "We have ten more minutes."

Caroline returned his gaze.

"Are you sure the Sedona time will work here?"

Tim sighed.

"I'm sure."

"I hope you're right," Caroline said. She finished a granola bar and tucked the wrapper in her backpack. "I don't want to have to wait six months to try this again."

Tim laughed to himself. He didn't want to have to wait three months. The last three had been challenging enough for the time-traveling professors.

The challenges had begun the moment Caroline had dropped to the floor of the Redding City Library on March 21. Overcome by the possibility that all five of her children had died in the Johnstown flood, she had fainted and could not be revived for several minutes.

Tim, too, had feared the worst, but he had refused to draw firm conclusions from one microfilmed newspaper article. He returned to the library later that day, read more items, including a list of flood survivors, and saw that four of his children had made it. Only Greg, who presumably lived as a fugitive, could not be accounted for.

The good news had lifted the couple's spirits, but it did not solve their problems. On March 21, 2018, Tim and Caroline Carson were two people who had been presumed dead for six months and the parents of five children who had been presumed dead for three.

They could not return to Flagstaff without inviting a circus. They could not use their credit cards or bank accounts. They could not contact friends or family. So they made the most of a bad situation. They found a shoddy apartment in Redding, paid the rent in ancient currency, and lived off the grid for twelve weeks. They did what they could to survive.

They also did what they could to find their kids. Each day they went to the library. Each day they learned something new. By May 31, the 129th anniversary of the flood, they had compiled a dossier on their children and daughter-in-law that was as thick as a book.

Unfortunately for the researchers, the trail grew cold on June 7, 1889, the day an obituary for Samuel Prentiss appeared in the Pittsburgh Pilot . Natalie Carson, a special friend of the deceased and a former Pilot reporter, was listed among the survivors.

Tim and Caroline had been unable to find even a single reference to one of their children after that date. This led them to believe that the history of their family — their expanding time-traveling family — was still a work in progress. So they put aside the newspapers, magazines, and books and started to plan their next journey to the past.

The two committed to 1918 in early April and never second-guessed their decision. Both had read Adam's online letter. Both knew that their oldest son was a man of his word. If he said he was going to lead his siblings to 1918, he would do it. He would do it even if he required some nudging from one or both of his sisters.

Tim checked his watch again, noted the time, and then turned his attention to his canvas backpack, which had been his constant companion on the hike and would be his go-to bag in the twentieth century. He rearranged a few items in the pack, zipped it shut, and slung it over his back. Then he got up from the rock and looked at his wife.

"Are you ready?" Tim asked.

Caroline smiled.

"I'm as ready as ever."

Tim walked a few feet to Caroline's rock, a flat-topped boulder the size of a bathtub, and waited for her to slip on her pack. When she finished, he took her hand and guided her away from the rock to a trail that ran the length of the upper meadow.

Tim scanned the area for campers and hikers. Though he did not know what he would do if he saw one, he felt better knowing he had checked. The last thing he wanted to do was lead a curious outdoorsman into another century.

Satisfied that no other humans roamed the popular recreational area, Tim checked his watch one last time. Then he took a deep breath, glanced at his wife, and turned to face the translucent membrane fifty yards ahead.

"Let's do this."

CHAPTER 108: ADAM

Yavapai County, Arizona Territory – Friday, June 21, 1889

The venue on the first day of summer was less than accommodating. Unlike Sedona or New Paris in December or Mount Shasta in March, Sedona in June was hot. It was hot enough to turn suits and dresses into saunas and prompt at least one member of the traveling Pitts to consider Alaska as a vacation destination.

Adam reminded himself that the inconvenience was only temporary. In fifteen minutes, he, his siblings, and his new bride would wander through a translucent membrane about thirty yards away and travel to a different, hopefully cooler, time.

Wyatt March, who looked nothing like Wyatt Earp, had dropped them off at eleven thirty. With a generous smile, a tip of his hat, and a glance that said, "You folks are plum loco," the driver unloaded his passengers near Courthouse Butte and headed home.

Adam did not care if the driver talked about them later. By the time Mr. March returned to Flagstaff and swapped stories at his favorite watering hole, the Pitts of Ohio would once again be the Carsons of Arizona and comfortably ensconced in a new century.

Adam noted the time of twelve eighteen on his watch and then slipped the device in his pocket. He did not doubt that the time was accurate because he did not doubt his brother's ability to use the information and instruments Professor Hill had provided him.

Greg had not wasted a second pulling a sextant, a compass, and a sundial from his carpetbag of tricks and putting them to use. In less than ten minutes, he had used all three tools to set two pocket watches that, even by 2017 standards, were pretty slick.

Adam watched with interest as Greg showed Cody how to load his 1873 Colt Single Action Army revolver. He did not think the brothers would have to use the guns he had purchased in Wheeling, but he was glad he had brought them along. If the family ran into any kind of trouble, he wanted the means to put that trouble down.

A moment later, Adam turned to his wife, who stood next to Natalie and Caitlin a few feet away, and returned her mischievous smile. He was happy to see her back to normal after a harrowing month that would have broken many men . He looked forward to starting his life with Bridget Carson and building that baseball team she wanted.

He also looked forward to spending more time with two sisters he had neglected for much of the winter and spring. Though he could see from their smiles and laughs that they were having a good day, he still worried about their welfare. He knew that people did not put an experience like Johnstown behind them in a matter of days.

Adam pondered the future and more until Caitlin sneezed and brought him back to the here and now, where unfinished business waited. He retrieved his watch, held it out, and looked again at his oldest brother.

"Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"What time do you have?" Adam asked.

Greg finished loading the revolver and handed it back to Cody. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out his watch, and gave it a close inspection.

"I have twelve twenty-four, Chief."

Adam glanced at his watch.

"Where's your second hand?"

Greg checked his timepiece again.

"It's coming up on fifty."

"Then it's time," Adam said. He put his watch away and looked at the others. "It's time to step to the plate, boys and girls. You all know the drill."

Bridget raised a brow.

"I don't know anything."

Adam blew her a kiss.

"Just cast your lot with me."

Bridget smiled.

"I believe I already have."

Adam laughed and then stepped toward his wife. When he reached Bridget, he took her hand and led her to the right side of a magic membrane that glistened in the sun.

The others quickly followed. Greg picked up his carpetbag and walked to the left side of the time portal. Caitlin, Cody, and Natalie assembled to his right. Then three brothers, two sisters, and a sister-in-law turned their eyes to the east and faced the shimmering sheet like a defensive line waiting for an opposing football team to break from its huddle.

When the others assumed their positions, Adam leaned to his right, lifted a carpetbag he had left in front of the portal, and released Bridget's hand. Then he retrieved his watch, checked the time, and addressed his family again.

"It's now twelve twenty-seven," Adam said. "On my command, at twelve thirty, we will all step forward, in one fluid motion, and walk through the portal. Don't go early. Don't go late. Go when I say. We don't want to end up in 1776 or 2085."

Caitlin looked to her right.

"Didn't we hold hands last time?"

"We did," Adam said, "but we can't do that today. Two of us are holding watches and bags. One of us has a broken arm. That's why I want you to listen to me and be aware of what the others are doing. This is no time to freelance."

"OK."

Adam checked his watch again, saw a time of twelve twenty-eight, and mentally prepared for the final stretch of a remarkable run through the Gilded Age. He could almost feel the breezes of 1918. He could taste the food. He could hear the music from a different time. Then, without warning, he heard something else. He heard the sound of horses.

Adam turned to his right and saw two men on horses approach from the south about a half-mile away. Each rode hard and fast. Both looked determined.

Natalie looked at the family head.

"Adam?"

"Yeah?"

"We have company."

"I know."

Adam glanced at his brothers and saw two males in two different states. Greg looked as calm as a mountain lake. Holding his bag with one hand and his watch with the other, he stood tall and still at the end of the line. Cody looked frightened and panicked. He reached inside his jacket and patted the gun in his chest holster. He clearly wanted no part of a fight.

Adam prayed for time to fly as a knot formed in his stomach. As much as he wanted to give the command now, he knew he could not. He had to wait.

Then the stakes went up again. Two more horsemen approached from the north at an even faster clip. They, too, wanted to party.

"Adam?"

"I see them, Natalie. Hang tight."

"Adam!"

"We'll make it."

For a moment, Adam believed it. He believed that a family that had overcome so much in the past month would overcome this. As the men drew closer, though, he started to doubt. He thought less about 1918 and more about simple survival. His mind began to drift.

Then a rider raised his gun high and fired a shot, snapping Adam out of a daze. The man left no doubt that the posse of four planned to hold court in the desert.

"I can't do this," Cody said in a shaky voice.

"Yes, you can," Adam said. "Yes, you can ."

The next moment passed in a blur as riders rode, seconds ticked, and six time travelers, battling fear, doubt, and indecision, braced themselves for the worst. At twelve twenty-nine and forty seconds, gunmen who were once just dust in the distance were now a clear and present danger. They closed in on their prey like hunting dogs.

Despite the temptation to reach for his gun, Adam took his own advice and stood his ground. He waited for time to pass until he could wait no more.

He appealed to Greg for a second opinion and got it in the form of a nod. Then he put away his watch, turned to face the portal, and made the call of a lifetime.

"Forward!"

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I am sure there are authors in this world, perhaps many, who can produce a novel without the help of others. I am not one of them. Like most writers of fiction, I require the help of talented individuals to produce my best work. Without these people, who freely offer their time, insights, and knowledge, I would be as lost as a hiker without a compass.

Once again, I am most indebted to my beta readers. They are the first responders of literature, the people who put out fires before they grow into something large. These fine folks include Morgan Coyner, Cathy Hundley, Leslie Teske Mills, and Christine Stinson, who read the early drafts, and Cheryl Heldt, Mary Heldt, Esther Johnson, and Jon Johnson, who read the later ones. All contributed something unique and essential to this work.

I am also grateful to Aaron Yost, who has edited all eleven of my novels, and illustrator Laura Wright LaRoche, who has created or modified all but one of my covers. Each played an important role in helping me bring this book to the reading public.

Many others offered vital research assistance. They include staff members from the Johnstown (Pennsylvania) Flood Museum, Library of Congress, Missouri History Museum (St. Louis), Mount Shasta Sisson Museum, National Park Service, Nevada State Library (Carson City), Shasta Historical Society (Redding), Sisson History Project, State Library of Pennsylvania, and the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.

When researching this novel, I consulted several nonfiction books and reference works. They include Clark's Johnstown Directory (1887 and 1889); History of the Great Flood in Johnstown, Pa., May 31, 1889 ; The Johnstown Flood by David McCullough; Mark Twain Day by Day: An Annotated Chronology of the Life of Samuel L. Clemens, Volume Two (1886-1896) ; Mount Shasta (Images of America: California) by Darla Greb Mazariegos; and Webb's Johnstown Directory (1884). I highly recommend McCullough's book, which remains the definitive work on the Johnstown flood nearly fifty years after it first appeared in print.

I also perused many periodicals while preparing this book. Some of the most important include the Altoona Times , American History , Arizona Republic , Cambria Freeman , Coconino Sun , Indiana Democrat , Hartford Courant , Huffington Post , Phoenix Weekly Republican , Pittsburgh Daily Post , Pittsburgh Dispatch , Punxsutawney Spirit , Sacramento Record-Union , San Francisco Chronicle , Science News , Somerset Herald , and USA TODAY .

I would recommend these sources and others to readers wishing to learn more about the Gilded Age, the Johnstown flood, and notable people and events of the 1880s.

 

CARSON CHRONICLES CONTENTS

Carson Chronicles Home Page

River Rising (Carson Chronicles Book 1)

The Memory Tree (Carson Chronicles Book 2)

Indian Paintbrush (Carson Chronicles Book 3)

THE MEMORY TREE

A novel by

John A. Heldt

Copyright © 2018 by John A. Heldt

Edited by Aaron Yost

CONTENTS

Chapter 1: Greg

Chapter 2: Greg

Chapter 3: Tim

Chapter 4: Adam

Chapter 5: Greg

Chapter 6: Natalie

Chapter 7: Adam

Chapter 8: Caroline

Chapter 9: Adam

Chapter 10: Greg

Chapter 11: Caitlin

Chapter 12: Natalie

Chapter 13: Adam

Chapter 14: Cody

Chapter 15: Bridget

Chapter 16: Tim

Chapter 17: Greg

Chapter 18: Natalie

Chapter 19: Greg

Chapter 20: Adam

Chapter 21: Greg

Chapter 22: Caitlin

Chapter 23: Greg

Chapter 24: Cody

Chapter 25: Greg

Chapter 26: Caroline

Chapter 27: Tim

Chapter 28: Natalie

Chapter 29: Greg

Chapter 30: Adam

Chapter 31: Cody

Chapter 32: Caitlin

Chapter 33: Greg

Chapter 34: Greg

Chapter 35: Caroline

Chapter 36: Caroline

Chapter 37: Greg

Chapter 38: Greg

Chapter 39: Cody

Chapter 40: Bridget

Chapter 41: Greg

Chapter 42: Natalie

Chapter 43: Caitlin

Chapter 44: Greg

Chapter 45: Tim

Chapter 46: Caitlin

Chapter 47: Adam

Chapter 48: Greg

Chapter 49: Natalie

Chapter 50: Adam

Chapter 51: Cody

Chapter 52: Natalie

Chapter 53: Greg

Chapter 54: Tim

Chapter 55: Greg

Chapter 56: Greg

Chapter 57: Patricia

Chapter 58: Greg

Chapter 59: Natalie

Chapter 60: Greg

Chapter 61: Tim

Chapter 62: Natalie

Chapter 63: Greg

Chapter 64: Adam

Chapter 65: Natalie

Chapter 66: Caitlin

Chapter 67: Bridget

Chapter 68: Greg

Chapter 69: Caroline

Chapter 70: Patricia

Chapter 71: Natalie

Chapter 72: Adam

Chapter 73: Cody

Chapter 74: Bridget

Chapter 75: Bridget

Chapter 76: Adam

Chapter 77: Bridget

Chapter 78: Bridget

Chapter 79: Cody

Chapter 80: Tim

Chapter 81: Greg

Chapter 82: Natalie

Chapter 83: Adam

Chapter 84: Natalie

Chapter 85: Greg

Chapter 86: Tim

Chapter 87: Adam

Chapter 88: Tim

Chapter 89: Caitlin

Chapter 90: Natalie

Chapter 91: Patricia

Chapter 92: Tim

Chapter 93: Cody

Chapter 94: Caroline

Chapter 95: Natalie

Chapter 96: Adam

Chapter 97: Tim

Chapter 98: Emma

Chapter 99: Natalie

Chapter 100: Caroline

Chapter 101: Natalie

Chapter 102: Tim

Chapter 103: Greg

Chapter 104: Caroline

Chapter 105: Greg

Chapter 106: Greg

Chapter 107: Tim

Chapter 108: Greg

Acknowledgments

CHAPTER 1: GREG

Yavapai County, Arizona Territory – Friday, June 21, 1889

Greg Carson battled fear and doubt as four horsemen, armed to the teeth, closed in on his party of six in the middle of the desert. Though he did not know who they were, he did know what they wanted to do. They wanted to put a bullet in his brain or a rope around his neck before he could slip away once again to points unknown.

Greg, who stood at one end of a line that included four siblings and a new sister-in-law, had already eluded his pursuers once. He had managed to keep ahead of the law and others after killing two men on a nearby trail in self-defense, but he suspected that his luck, which had held up for more than four months, was about to run out.

Unlike in February, when he had been able to quietly slip out of Arizona and flee to California, he had few options and no time to consider them. At twelve twenty-nine on this blistering hot afternoon, he had just one avenue of escape — a mysterious, floating time portal that loomed a few feet in front of the group. Thin, translucent, and shimmering, the long, rectangular membrane hung in the arid air like a sheet on a clothesline.

Greg knew that the membrane was no mirage. He had already accessed it once with his brothers Adam and Cody and sisters Natalie and Caitlin in December 2017.

The five young adults had entered the portal after discovering that their beloved parents, missing for three months, were not dead but rather very much alive in the 1880s. They had acted after learning that the Northern Arizona University professors were secret time travelers who had traveled to — and become stuck in — the nineteenth century.

Now, six months later, the siblings, along with Bridget O'Malley Carson, Adam's wife of five weeks, stood ready to enter the portal again. Having failed to find Tim and Caroline Carson in the 1880s, they were bound and determined to find them in 1918 — the second stop on a detailed travel itinerary the professors had left on a hidden web site.

Greg wanted nothing more than to hasten his second journey through time. He wanted to rush through the membrane and leave his determined pursuers behind, but he knew he could not do so prematurely. By entering the portal before twelve thirty, he would risk traveling to a time or a place that presented even more complications.

He knew from notes his father had left behind that this portal and others, products of supernatural forces that appeared without notice on the solstices and equinoxes, were sensitive and unforgiving. They were unreliable even in the best of circumstances.

Greg had learned that firsthand in December 2017, when he and his siblings, despite ample research and preparation, had traveled not to 1888 Arizona but rather to 1888 Pennsylvania. As much as he wanted to avoid a bullet or a rope, he did not want to rush into an age when carnivorous dinosaurs or violent androids ruled the planet.

Greg's heart pounded and his mind raced as he counted down the seconds. Though he looked as calm as a mountain lake, he was nervous as hell. He could imagine several bad outcomes to this trial in the desert and only one good one.

He checked his pocket watch, saw a time of twelve twenty-nine and fifty seconds, and then glanced at Adam, who anchored the other end of the line. When he saw his oldest brother return his glance and nonverbally request a second opinion on the time, he replied with of a subtle nod. At twelve thirty, it was show time.

A few seconds later, Adam, as expected, issued a sharp command and led his frightened family through the portal and into the world beyond. He did so as the gunmen, once a distant threat, had become a clear and present danger.

Like the first time he had walked through the membrane, Greg felt fleeting pressure on his face and his body as he moved forward. Unlike the first time, when he traveled from Arizona to Pennsylvania, he emerged from the portal in the same geographic location.

Greg turned to his right and saw that the others had made it as well. Though some looked rattled by the sudden appearance of the gunmen, all seemed to be fine.

"Well, that was fun," Adam said. He pulled Bridget close, gave her a hug, and turned to face the others. "Is everyone all right?"

"I'm good," Greg replied.

"How about the rest of you?"

"I'm fine," Natalie said.

Caitlin looked at the head of the family.

"Me too."

"Cody?"

Cody nodded at Adam but did not speak. Pushed to the brink by men with guns and evil intentions, he seemed more interested in gathering his thoughts and collecting his breath than articulating his state of mind. He gave Caitlin, his twin and best friend, a knowing glance and then drifted north, by himself, toward a grove of juniper trees.

Greg stepped away from the group as well, albeit in the other direction. He walked toward a clearing to the south and gave his surroundings a thorough inspection.

As he did, he saw things he expected to see, like Courthouse Butte and Bell Rock, which loomed like sleeping giants, and a desert landscape that looked essentially unchanged. He also saw a few things he did not expect to see, like several puffy clouds in what was once a clear blue sky and telephone poles he had not noticed on the coach ride from Flagstaff.

Greg did not see four gunmen on horses or any signs of the nineteenth century. He considered that alone a cause for celebration. He looked at Adam and pointed to the barely visible telephone poles, which lined the stagecoach road about a mile to the west.

"Do you see what I see?"

Adam shielded his eyes from the bright midday sun and gazed at the western horizon. A few seconds later, he lowered his hand, smiled, and turned to Greg.

"I see something. It appears we got it right this time."

Greg nodded and then glanced again at the others. He smiled when he saw Natalie and Caitlin share a laugh and frowned when he saw Cody wander aimlessly in the distance. He did not need to be a mind reader to know what his younger brother was thinking. He knew that Cody was still mulling the family's brush with four potentially violent men.

Like Adam and Greg, Cody carried an 1873 Colt Single Action Army revolver. Unlike his older brothers, he did not want to carry anything . He had limited experience with guns and no desire to use them on animals, much less human beings. He was the family's gentle soul, a seventeen-year-old who packed a firearm only because his brothers, worried about running into trouble in an untamed and lawless territory, had asked him to.

Greg studied Cody as he stood in front of a short juniper tree and tugged on one of its branches. He called out to him a moment later.

"What are you doing, Cody?"

Cody looked at Greg.

"I'm just getting my head together.

"I hear you," Greg said. "I'm still trying to—"

Greg stopped speaking when four men on horses, his pursuers from 1889, crashed through the portal and rode into the scene. He knew even before he pulled his gun and took cover behind a rock that his pleasant day had taken a major turn for the worse.

Within seconds, chaos erupted all around him. Natalie and Caitlin, who stood together near the portal, screamed and ran in different directions. Natalie found safety next to Greg. Caitlin sprinted into the desert. Adam led Bridget to a ditch twenty yards away, forced her to the ground, and drew his gun. Cody hid behind a large juniper tree.

The gunmen assembled in an open space, spoke briefly, and split up. One went after Caitlin. Another pulled out his Springfield rifle and trained it on Adam and Bridget. The remaining two drew their rifles and pointed them at Greg and Natalie as they tried to hide behind the rock. For thirty tense, terrifying seconds, no one moved or said a word.

Then the lead gunman, a large, well-built man in his mid-twenties, rode a few yards toward the rock and stopped. He called out to Greg.

"The jig is up, Carson. Come out and show yourself."

"Who are you?" Greg asked.

"My name is Cecil."

"Well, go to hell, Cecil."

"Now that's not a neighborly way to talk."

"Oh, yeah? I think it's perfectly fitting for a killer."

"You seem to misunderstand our intentions," Cecil said. "We're not here to harm you or your kin. We're here to bring you to trial. If you come with us now, nicely and peacefully, you have my word that no one will get hurt."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

Greg shook his head as he replayed the last five minutes in his head. He and his family had waited in front of the time portal for nothing. The narrow opening to 1918 was not narrow at all. It was a wide and open gate that welcomed all comers.

Greg poked his head above his protective rock, which was the size and shape of a love seat, and took a closer look at his chief antagonist. Though he did not recognize Cecil, he did notice that he strongly resembled the men he had shot in February.

He had killed Bill Jones and his son Jim after they and another man, Zeke Dent, had ambushed Greg and his riding partner on a trail between Oak Creek and Prescott. Greg learned later that his partner, a ranch hand named Clay Kane, had stolen money from Bill Jones, his former employer. Kane was apprehended the next month, treated to a speedy trial, and hanged before Greg could read about his arrest in the papers. Greg pondered the fallout from his unfortunate friendship with Mr. Kane until Mr. Congeniality, the posse leader, reminded him that he had more pressing matters to consider.

"I'll give you to the count of five to come out from behind that rock. If you don't surrender yourself nice and easy, we're going to make things real unpleasant for you."

"Shove it, mister," Greg said.

Greg lifted his revolver, cocked it, and prepared to take out his exposed antagonist, but he pulled back when he considered the hopelessness of his situation. Unlike the situation he faced in February, when he battled the Joneses and Dent, he was not defending himself and a heavily armed partner in a ravine filled with defensible positions. He was defending two outgunned brothers and three unarmed sisters in the open desert.

Greg realized the depth of his dilemma when the first gunman, the one who had pursued Caitlin into the desert, forced her at gunpoint to return to the scene. He cringed when he saw the tears roll down his baby sister's face.

Cecil grinned.

"It seems the game has changed."

"What do you want? Do you want money?" Greg asked. He thought of the thirty-five thousand dollars he and Adam had packed in their carpetbags for living expenses and emergencies such as this. "If you want money, we can give you money."

"I don't want your money. I want you to hang for your crime."

Greg sighed as he considered the unthinkable for the first time. Though he did not want to surrender to these lawless lowlifes, he did not think he had a choice. If he shot even one of his testy adversaries, he might trigger a wholesale slaughter. If he gave up, he might later regain his freedom from a jury of his peers. Unlike Clay Kane, he had not stolen money from the Joneses. He had merely defended himself in an ambush others had imposed on him .

"How do I know I can trust you to bring me to trial?" Greg said. He poked his head above the rock and looked at Cecil. "I don't see any badges out there."

Cecil smirked.

"That's because we don't have any. You're just going to have to take my word on the matter, my fugitive friend. You're going to have to take my word or die."

Greg lowered his head and looked at Natalie.

"I have to do it. I have to surrender."

"No you don't!" Natalie hissed. "I have an idea."

"What?"

Natalie started to speak again but stopped when her brother, her youngest brother, issued a command to the man holding Caitlin at gunpoint. She held her breath when Cody emerged from the juniper tree and approached the outlaw from behind.

"I'm going to say it just one more time," Cody said. He held his pistol with two shaking hands and pointed it at Caitlin's keeper. "Drop your gun, or I'll shoot."

Greg lifted his head above the rock and saw that Cody had the man, mounted on his horse behind his partners, in a compromising position. He also saw that he would be cut to shreds by the others the second he fired on his prey.

He glanced at Adam and one of the other ranchers, who pointed their guns at each other, and then returned to Natalie, who huddled by his side. If she knew a way out of this Mexican standoff, he wanted to hear it. He wanted to hear it now.

"What do you want me to do?" Greg asked.

"Do the obvious. Create doubt in their minds," Natalie said. "Tell them that they entered a time portal and will never see their families again unless they go back through that portal right now. Fan their fears. Make them think of something worse than a bullet."

Greg nodded. Then he lifted his head, scanned the vicinity one more time, and saw that his brothers had not budged. Now, he thought, was the time to act and put an end to this before someone got hurt. He spoke again to the posse leader.

"I've given your offer some thought, mister, and decided to turn it down. I'm not going to give myself up. What I am going to do is advise you to leave."

The leader chuckled.

"Now why should we do something like that?"

Greg stared at the man.

"You should do it because you want to see your families again."

Cecil laughed harder.

"I'm going to see my family again whether I kill you or not."

"Are you?" Greg asked. He pointed to the portal. "Take another look at that sheet over there. Take a real close look. What do you see?"

Cecil sneered.

"I see a mirage."

"That's no mirage, mister. That's a time portal," Greg said. "You boys didn't ride through an optical illusion. You rode through time. We're in the twentieth century now, not the nineteenth. Your wife and kids, if you have any, are much older, if they are even still alive."

"You're lying."

"Am I? Take a look at those telephone poles behind me. Did you see those poles when you rode into the desert? Did you see all these clouds in the sky?"

Greg watched Cecil closely as he considered the questions. He smiled when he saw the ugly smirk vanish from his belligerent opponent's unshaven face.

Then a good situation got even better. An airplane, a brown-and-white biplane that looked an awful lot like a Curtiss JN-4, appeared in the eastern sky. Slowly and steadily, it flew toward the standoff in the desert like a big, buzzing dragonfly.

Greg smiled when the aircraft reached the scene thirty seconds later, dropped to an elevation of about a hundred feet, and began circling the people below. He grinned when he saw shock, fear, and despair on the faces of all of Cecil's peers.

The first man to crack, the one pointing a rifle at Adam, turned to Cecil when the plane circled the scene a second time. He addressed his leader in a shaky voice.

"I don't know about this."

"Shut up," Cecil said.

"Listen to your man," Greg said. "He's nervous and maybe even scared. Like you, I suspect, he's beginning to think he bit off more than he could chew by coming out here."

Cecil looked at the plane and then at Greg.

"What is that thing?"

"It's an aircraft, an Army training plane. It's a big badass flying machine that was invented in the early 1900s. If I'm not mistaken, it was used in the war."

"War? What war? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you? There's a war going on in Europe. I hear it's real nasty. If you and your boys don't ride back through that mirage over there, you may find yourselves fighting in France instead of spending some quality time with your ladies."

Another gunman spoke up.

"Maybe he's right, Cecil. I don't like the looks of this."

Cecil glanced again at the badass flying machine. He frowned when the pilot circled the scene again, pointed menacingly at each of the horsemen, and continued on his way.

Cecil paused for a moment and turned to face Cody, who still pointed a gun at the man in the rear. Then he looked at Adam, who kept another man in check, and finally returned to Greg. The posse leader, once brimming with confidence, wore the face of a defeated man.

"It looks like justice may be delayed," Cecil said.

His nearest partner turned his head.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it's time to leave."

"We can't ride away now."

Cecil sneered at his companion.

"We sure as hell can."

"What about your father? What about Jim?"

"Let me worry about them," Cecil said. He turned to Greg. "This is not over, Carson. I will bring you to justice if it's the last thing I do."

"You do that," Greg said. "I'll be waiting."

With that, Cecil Jones, rancher, posse leader, and angry son and brother, motioned to his men, pulled the reins on his horse, and rode slowly toward the magic membrane, which had lost none of its luster in ten minutes. A moment later, all four gunmen gathered in front of the portal, glared one last time at the man behind the rock, and rode through the translucent sheet to a year and a place unknown. Just that quickly, it was over.