Chapter 8

 

Rainwater trickled through the cracks of the sidewalk as Talan and I made a dazed return to the museum.

"Psychotic-man-with-a-gun. Round two. Ding."

I rubbed my eyes beneath my glasses. "At least he didn't shoot it."

Talan kept going. "What on Earth were the Merrill’s doing to deserve all that anyway?"

"I'm not sure. But I'm nearly a hundred percent certain that Gil was at the cabin right before we showed up. That's who Lucas Holly was after. Gil must have gotten into trouble in town and headed to the cabin, where Clara and Edgar helped him get away." I paused then added, "Still don't know the significance of the mule."

"When is a mule not significant?" Talan joked. "But really, maybe if Gil stopped hanging around the cabin, so would gun-toting anger management cases."

I was ignoring Talan's sarcastic comments, as true as they might have been. "Those letters were important."

"Were they all for Clara?"

"Most of them. The one on the table was probably one for her to deliver to someone else though. It was signed Gil Ezra."

"Ohh yeah. All the letters I saw to her in the museum are signed your brother."

"Still. Why do they want Gil so badly?"

Talan was walking backward, facing me in the renewing sunlight. "Isn't it obvious? He doesn't like slavery, they do. They have guns. The end."

"There has to be more to it than that."

"I'm betting no, but…" He looked over his shoulder before turning and walking forward again. "Maybe we could… find out?"

"What?"

"Well, I was thinking… would it be possible to find the shelf, instead of the shelf attacking first?"

"I wasn't under the impression that you liked time travel."

"Not when I'm unprepared."

I planted my hands firmly on my hips. "So, what are we going to do, camp out in a rainstorm?"

"Now you're thinking…" He looked thoughtfully down at his feet. When I didn't respond, he carried on, "We can tell Greer that we're getting ready for the wonderful re-opening and wait 'til he leaves. Then we can stake out the grounds all night. Forecast calls for storms most of the weekend." He glanced up apprehensively. "Well?"

All along I had felt a spark of enthusiasm for the idea, but I had enough experience with over-anticipation and didn’t want to jinx anything. I proceeded cautiously. "Well... I have some connections, I guess. I could borrow a couple Civil War-era tents... But…"

"But what?"

"It sounds crazy."

"It's no more crazy than what's already happened. I mean, a few minutes ago you were arguing with a pro-slavery dude holding a gun."

We had arrived at the entrance to the main museum. We stood there in silence as Talan stared at me expectant of an answer. But I was saved when Fur Elise sounded as my cell phone went off within the pocket of my khakis beneath the reenacting dress. Talan and I both jumped at the sound, but I retrieved it just in time to answer. It happened to be my first call from Walter, as his name illuminated the screen when I flipped it open.

"Walter?”

"Hey Sophie, I tried calling Talan, but he didn't answer."

"Oh, yeah. His phone's probably in his pants. He's right here, want to talk to him?"

"Oh... kay… uh. Yeah, let me talk to him."

I handed the phone over, and Talan quickly put it to his ear. "Hey... Yeah. Oh. All right. Don't worry about it. What're you doing tomorrow night?... Oh, yeah, I forgot, that's cool. Still planning on Saturday?... Good. We'll be here early... I don't know... Like seven, early... I can too be awake by then! Don't ask questions, just be here. All right?... See you Saturday... Bye."

He hung up and handed me the phone. I sighed, "I guess we're camping out, then. What about Walter?"

Talan shook his head. "He can't. He works. Friday night, he'll be running Al’s Specialty Supremes all over town."

"I see. Well…" I was interrupted as Melvin Greer burst from the museum door.

He pulled a set of keys out of his suit pants’ pocket. "What are you two doing?"

Talan spoke up, "I found some clothes." He pointed to himself.

Greer looked him over. "I... see that."

"Mr. Greer," I said. "For the living history, I'm pitching some Civil War tents and setting up a little camp, up the hill. We'll stay after tomorrow night so we're ready to go Saturday morning."

Greer looked, for the first time mildly impressed as he walked to his shiny SUV. "Wow," he said back to us. "You guys really treat this stuff like it were real."

Talan and I exchanged looks as he backed out and drove away.