Chapter 17

 

"Whoa!"

Talan's exclamation when we set foot on Main Street pretty much summed up my reaction to Ashford, when it was Ashgrove.

Two and even three story brick facades loomed in grandeur along the principle road. Another was in construction at the far end, scaffolding and brickwork indicating that the building would be at least a story taller and several yards wider than any of the other buildings. Squinting my eyes and gauging my position relative to time, the image of the fully constructed courthouse filled the incomplete places, as even in the future it would be the focal point of the streetscape.

Wagons were lined up at block corners, mostly humble examples, and some were being pulled down the street by horses – single or a team of two. Hitching posts were set up intermittently, and like the diagonal parking in Ashford, the holding spaces were also in high demand in Ashgrove. Men of various classes and professions, as well as women in long skirts and layers of knitted outerwear, went along their daily business.

"Whoa!" Talan said again, for a new reason. "They actually called them that?"

I was about to nudge Talan in a kind shut up fashion, but Walter beat me to it. Luckily, we were the only ones to hear Talan’s outburst.

"What?" I asked.

"Saloon!" He pointed. Sure enough, the first building we came to on the central street was the Friendly Rustler Saloon.

I had a feeling this was intentional. Being on the end of the street, it was also separated from the more reputable buildings. The façade of the saloon also stuck out against the box-like rows of buildings with two peaks on the second story filled with glass panes in the rough outline of gothic windows. It gave it both a romantic look and the feeling of being a home more than a business.

By the time I stopped beholding the town, our group had inched its way toward the saloon. Walter was following Jasper and Talan was being led by his curiosity. It was then I noticed the horses Cage and Benny rode in on were hitched in front of the building the men were now entering.

Hugh remained by me on the street, and we made a lonely sight on the bustling edge of town. Using a hand to shield his eyes, he cast a look down the main road. "Is that Edgar?"

A few buildings down, retying a horse to a hitching post was Gil’s nephew. Even if I couldn't make out the details of his face, his height instantly gave him away.

"Yeah, it is. I'm going to go say hello. Um… Aren't you going with them?" I gestured toward the saloon.

Hugh looked down at his dusty boots. "No." He cast a parting look to the saloon. "Gil is an abstainer, so the men like to make the most of their time when he's not around." We started walking toward Edgar. "Even so, I still hold such ideals in regard."

Edgar spotted us and waved. "Good morning!"

"Hi, Edgar," I said as we came into range. "Didn't know you were coming to town today. You must have got in just before us."

"After you left this morning Pa wanted to come drop off a package of brooms from the cellar. Ma wanted him to go and Pa wanted to leave. It's the first thing they've ever agreed on." Edgar gave a small eye roll. "I barely had time to stow that pistol."

I nodded. "You really help your mother out a lot."

"And my Uncle Gil," said Edgar proudly. "He's gettin' ready for something again, isn't he? Pa busted out so quick this morning I didn't even get a word with Ma or Uncle Gil."

"Yeah, he is," I said quietly. I knew this was probably top secret, but if anyone had the right to know, it was Edgar. "I think he's planning on bringing eleven people from a slave auction in Missouri."

"Last time he brought fourteen," Edgar said. "I had a time keeping Pa out of that."

Seeing as it was Edgar who brought up Benjamin, I decided to try to take a chance to extract more information. "Forgive me, but I've noticed that your father is being deliberately uninvolved in things concerning your uncle Gil. Why is that?"

"Well." Edgar straightened up, one hand on the horse's bridle, the other gently stroking the animal's forehead with thin fingers. "Pa doesn't think that thinking slavery is wrong is bad, but when he heard about Uncle Gil in Kansas and Missouri, helping them escape, he raised the roof on us. We may be free settling country, but folks here don't mind slavery at all. There’s even talk that the government might make all this territory open for slavery, right up to the border at Canada. Anyways, Pa's friends in town say they don't support owning slaves... but two of them rent slaves from an owner here in the county. In my book, that's the same thing. And we don't know what they'd do if they found out we were helping people escape. So, we don't tell him anything anymore."

I could see anger strain over not only Edgar's face, but also Hugh's, who had been standing beside me quietly, arms crossed.

Hugh spoke, "Gil's next plans after this are to help Mr. Stephens’ slaves across the Iowa border."

"That's right," Edgar said, the thought taking a slight edge off of his anger. "And I'm helping him when he does."

Two men emerged from the building in front of us – H & R Young's Fine Mercantile – prompting Hugh and Edgar to drop their conversation and become suddenly interested in the state of the saddle and bridle on the horse.

I lightly touched the horse's mane, its big brown eyes drooping closed. "This is a beautiful horse," I said.

"His name's Bradley. We raised him from a colt." Edgar pulled a feed sack from the saddle and reached into it, letting Bradley munch oats off his palm before attaching the bag.

"Well, I suppose we came here for a reason." I directed my line of vision at H & R Young's. "Perhaps I should make use of the mercantile while it is available to me."

Hugh cast an insipid look down the street toward the Friendly Rustler. "Don't rush."

* * *

The warmth enveloped my cold frame when I stepped inside, allowing me to loosen the blanket wrapped around my shoulders. I felt slightly overwhelmed as I looked around. Every corner and free space was filled with action – the clerk cutting bolts of cloth at the counter, a group of men standing around a newspaper pointing and rustling the pages, women chatting and small children whispering beside their mothers’ skirts. A young couple made timid conversation beside a display of brooms. There was every kind of person, from farm hands to a lady so finely dressed it brought to my mind the thought that she might have been the mayor’s wife.

After I had taken it all in and got a grasp of my bearings again, I went about my shopping. I was on a quest for a coat.

I stopped in front of a very exquisite lady’s millinery hat, fixed with all the trimmings that even the Mrs. Mayor could think of. I had to stare at the price for a long while before it even registered in my mind.

One dollar and thirty-two cents.

I quickly counted the money. In 1857 I didn’t just have ten dollars – I’d inherited a gold mine.

I walked along the first shelf slowly, trying to take everything in. I had my neck craned back to see the top of the shelf, amazed at the variety of merchandise. Some objects were very familiar, others appeared foreign to me.

Paying less than full attention on where I was going, I swiftly rounded the corner of the first row of shelves and nearly collided with another person.

"Oh! Excuse me!" I gasped, taking a step back to better view the man I nearly knocked over.

He was short, only slightly taller than me. He had a rounded face, long, dark blonde hair and blue eyes.

I had nearly had a heart attack several times on our little jaunt through history, but I was certain my heart had stopped for real.

"Miss Sophie?"

His voice started my heart thumping again.

"James!"

We stood there smiling at each other for a few seconds.

"I… Hello!" He said.

"Hi… it’s… you’re… here!" I wasn’t sure if any of the words that came out of my mouth were in understandable order, but at least they kept the conversation going somewhere.

"Yes, I didn’t expect to run into you again." He looked shyly to the floor, then to me. "Not that I was expecting to the first time. But I’m glad to have… to have helped you."

I tried to keep my voice from reaching glass-shattering pitch and was surprised when I managed calmly, "It’s wonderful to see you again."

James nodded. "Likewise."

"Are you," I gestured out the window, "staying in town?"

"Camped just outside of it. I’m in town today on some business, but I don’t have to tend to it until this afternoon. Yourself?"

"Camped, as well… On a farm, actually, just out of town. I’m with my brother and our… travel companion. We just got back from the Kansas territory. I’m here in town for the day, though."

James clasped his hands behind his back, swaying slightly, a nervous mannerism he had revealed when we had first met. "Perhaps we could… spend it together, if you are able. The day, that is."

I smiled. "I’d love that."

James let out a sigh of relief and a nervous smile. "Great!"

"But first, I am need of a coat." I held up the corner of the blanket. "Mine… got stolen. But I think a men’s coat would suit me better anyway."

James nodded, looking a little concerned. "I noticed your hair. It –"

"She set it on fire. So we had to cut it."

Talan had an amazing talent of complicating situations on a moment’s notice.

"She was making soup," he finished.

The men must have allowed him to sample the spirits in the saloon, and though I didn’t think he was completely drunk, I was sure a small amount of whiskey from the Rustler went a long way.

I cleared my throat. "James, this is my brother Talan. Talan, this is James."

Talan's eyebrows shot up and he mouthed more than subtly, James? That James?

James tried to make the most out of an awkward situation. "Talan, you say?"

"Oh. Er… Yeah," Talan held up his pirate hook, "Talan… kinda like on birds."

James put out a hand. "Pleasure to meet you. I’m James."

Talan had sense enough to put the talon away before he shook hands. "Sophie’s told me all about you."

"Oh, yes, well, I was of some assistance to her last week."

I did a double take and when I found my voice, it rang in unison with Talan’s.

"Last week?"

Before James could look too bewildered, I tried to cover. "No, no, it just seemed…" My brain felt like it would explode with incongruity. “…longer than that." I turned to Talan. "At any rate, you’re here to buy supplies, right?"

"No." Talan shook his head. "I’m here to tell you I’m going to leave the saloon."

I stared at him. "I think you already left it."

"And it’s a good thing too!" Talan’s eyes lit up. "Do you know how much whiskey you can buy here for one cent? That stuff is like, wicked-vicious!"

"Talan."

"Oh." He looked around as if remembering where he was. "Yeah. Sorry."

"So, what are you doing?" I tried my best to look intimidating.

"Uh. Benjamin. Wants to talk to me. By the old courthouse. The one that’s a built building, not the building being built. I’m going there," Talan said.

"Don’t be gone too long."

Talan shrugged his shoulders. "We have all day."

I was certainly curious as to what Benjamin was up to, but I wasn’t sure Talan was in a condition to find out. Still, I trusted him. "Just… be careful, please."

"Right." The wicked-vicious whiskey was still helping Talan along. "Because Benjamin scares me s’much. Sir!" He shook hands with James once more, turned and walked out of the mercantile.

"My brother," I said, turning back to James. "I don’t let him out of my sight very often." I peered out the window where Talan stopped to have a quick word with Edgar and Hugh before continuing on his way. "But, I think he’s fine for now."

James and I began walking down the second row and he started up gentle conversation once more. "I have no siblings myself. It’s a relationship I sometimes wish I had experienced."

"Well, we look out for each other. He’s good company. Quite interesting to talk to, if you keep him away from saloons," I ended flatly.

"I can understand the value of that," James spoke slowly, evenly. "I’ve been alone for several months now. I’ve barely spoken to anyone. I don’t know if I like being alone or if I’m just used to it."

My mind replayed the solitary nights at my research table with piles of books around the dining room shadows. "I know exactly what you mean."

"Ah, is this what you’re looking for?" James’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. "It’s not the most fashionable, but it’s warm." He held up a men’s gray wool, almost military style coat. "But, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m sure you’ll make this coat the most fashionable thing this side of the Missouri."

I couldn’t stop my lips from forming an unexpected smile. I took up the coat in my hands. The fabric was rough but simultaneously warm and comforting.

"It’s perfect."

* * *

The only other thing I bought at the mercantile was a tin cup for five cents. If I was going to suffer through the camp’s – to borrow Talan’s phrase – wicked-vicious coffee, it was going to be in my own cup. The coat turned out to be a whole two dollars and fifty cents, and although it was a little big on me, I cherished it more than I ever could have any possession in the 21st Century.

The cup fit into the coat pocket and, having no more need for the blanket, James folded it and carried it under his arm. We walked all around town, taking in the sights and sounds, some simple and slow, others vibrant and energetic. We decided to journey to the depot, which was all the way on the other side of town, then up into some easy sloping hills behind it. Once we got there we sat on the blanket, soaking in some warmth from the afternoon sun, to watch steam engines pull in and out of the station and observing travelers before making our way back to town.

We talked about everything – music, family, marriage, sunsets, cooking, and the chance of our meeting. The true, supernatural circumstance of our first encounter was hidden away, lost before a time when the only way I knew James was under the shade of a cottonwood tree in Glenwood Park Cemetery. For a moment, I couldn’t recall that life at all. But I simply had to replay the phrase "Hi, my name’s Sophie, I’ll be your tour guide today," and the rest followed – reproduction furniture in the cabin, timeline under construction in the museum, safety pins.

We had returned to town from the train station when we parted ways. James’s business in the afternoon was meeting a fellow journeyman and friend, though he promised to find me in front of the mercantile to say goodbye.

Standing in front of Young’s, I watched James leave down the street. I glanced down at Edgar, sitting on the edge of the road by the hitching post, writing in a leather-bound journal with the stub of a pencil. He noticed my gaze when he looked up for a moment.

"Memorandum book," he said, still engrossed in writing. "Uncle Gil gave it to me for Christmas. I've got it almost filled."

"What are you writing?" I asked.

"Nothing important."

I looked back toward the way James had headed and saw that Talan had made another magical appearance and the two were talking. They shook hands and James continued on his way while Talan approached the mercantile.

Talan pointed at me from a distance, and I just glared back at him until he arrived. When he did, he pulled me aside, giggling.

"What?" I asked once we were safely away from anyone, around the corner, in the shadow of the brick mercantile building.

"James…" Talan was trying to hold back tears. “Asked my permission to escort you to the church social tomorrow night!"

My glare became more focused. "Why would he ask you?"

"I'm your brother now, remember?"

I stepped dangerously close to Talan. "And what, pray tell dear brother, did you tell him?"

"That you were engaged to a guy named Walter."

"Damnit Talan!" I went to shove him, pushing the blanket I had been holding into his arms, which softened most of the intended blow.

"All right! All right! Jeez! I said, probably, but he'd have to ask you! Relax!"

I backed off and actually thought about what he had just said. And before I could stop myself, I seized my pseudo brother into a lopsided hug, issuing a very high-pitched noise before releasing him again.

"Whoa." He wobbled, trying to fix his collar. "You sure can go from guns to roses awful quick. It's dangerous to shift gears that fast… Oh!" He slapped his hand over his mouth the second the sentence left his lips.

"What?" I looked around.

Talan leaned forward and whispered so loudly that he might as well not have whispered, "They don't shift gears here!"

I rolled my eyes and tried to go back to the street when he stopped me.

"Wait, there's something else." A more serious tone emerged and as I turned around I remembered where he had been. "Benjamin." He confirmed my thought. "He says he's had patrols around his house 'off and on' for a few months now. We must've picked an 'on' day to go waltzing through time. It was one of Benjamin's minions who tried to kill us with bullets."

"So?" I asked. This news wasn't anything particularly unexpected, from what I'd heard of Benjamin.

"So?" Talan looked like he was really trying to concentrate through a curtain that he couldn't quite see through, and sweat broke on his forehead despite the cold weather. "It means they're dangerous! They've already showed with our little run-in that they're not afraid to use ammunition!"

My mind flashed to Clara's table, crowded with biscuits and firearms. "Unfortunately, neither is our side. Funny how wars start that way."

"So, you mean…" He leaned on the brick wall. "If you're being shot at you're not going to shoot back?"

"No." My mind traveled back to my tent where the Navy pistol was wrapped in Edgar’s clothes. "I would."

Talan cast his look down, suddenly uneasy. "I hope we won't have to."

"You didn't let anything slip when you were with Benjamin, did you?" I blurted, slightly sorry that I had even doubted Talan.

"No. I just stood there," Talan answered simply. "I guess in his world, when you listen to him for five minutes you turn into his best friend."

"What did he tell you?"

Talan looked upwards as he recited the list. "He knows we're camped out, but he doesn't know Gil's with us. But he suspects Gil is close. And he pretty much hates Gil and he thinks Gil's hiding slaves and he doesn't want anything to do with it. I was going to leave but then his friends showed up, and they gave me another drink."

I crossed my arms. "Great reason to stay."

Talan crossed his arms in rebuttal to my gesture. "What was I supposed to say, no?"

I stared at him for several moments. "You know... Gil is a complete abstainer from alcohol."

"Good for him," Talan stated. "But Jasper… not so much. And he led this little mission. Look!" He pointed out toward the central street where Jasper rode by on Cage's horse. "He's just now leaving the saloon!" Talan frowned suddenly then asked, "Are we in the red light district?" He swayed. "Maybe I should go back and get Walter."

"Talan." I waved my hands to clear the conversation. "Just forget it. Did anything else happen at Benjamin's soiree?"

Talan frowned. "Just his one friend... Nathan... Stephens? He's mean. All he did was trash talk and say bad words. I'm glad I won't remember most of it. I'm just happy Lucas Holly didn't show up. That wouldnt’ve been good at all."

"And you still didn't say anything?"

"Nothing, Scouts Honor." He held up the hand symbol – with four fingers.

"And then some," I mused.

"So…" Talan pointed over his shoulder. "Where's James going?"

"To meet somebody," I said. "But I was thinking... I'm going to go find him. I'm going to ask him... Ooh... no..." I grabbed Talan by the shoulders. "You're going to ask him!"

"Ah! Ask him what?"

"James! To stay with us. To pitch his tent with ours. And Jasper's and Hugh's and Gil's and…"

Talan held up his hand. "I know their names, I'm not that drunk."

"Well?" I looked at him hopefully.

"Why do I have to ask?"

"You're my brother now, remember?" I began pulling him toward the main road. "Now, they're meeting by the Farrier's shop, on the other end of main street. Go over there and hang out and catch James before he gets too far, okay?"

"I don’t like the sound of Farrier," Talan stated stubbornly.

"It’s a guy who shoes horses. Now, please…"

"I don't know if I can..." Talan protested, but I shoved him in the direction in which James had gone.

"Just go."

I stepped out into the sun in front of the mercantile beside Edgar. I watched Talan leave, waving him on when he threw exasperated looks over his shoulder. Once he was far enough down the road, I looked around to find something to distract myself.

My gaze fell upon Edgar once again, who was writing in the margin of an already filled page in the book.

"I'll be back in two minutes," I said to him.

The boy didn't look up, just nodded and said, "I won't go nowhere."

I rushed back into H & R Young's and walked up to the clerk.

He was a cheerful man, with a shiny bald head and a moustache. "Gettin' good use outta it already!" He said, motioning to the coat I wore.

"Yes." I smiled. "It's splendid, thank you." I pulled out a coin. "How much in pencils and paper can I get for ten cents?"

The clerk looked toward a shelf behind him. "Three pencils... seventy five sheets of letter paper."

"I'll take it, please."

"My, my," the clerk said. "Never knew someone who wanted to write so much."

I bit my tongue. Something like that.

* * *

I passed Walter entering the store as I left it. "Don't buy paper, I've got us covered," I said.

"Oh… Kay. Thanks," he replied.

I rejoined Edgar and quickly pulled out two pencils and a little over half the stack of paper from the wrapped parcel in my hands and held them out to Edgar. "Here. To continue whatever it is you're writing."

He looked up at me in surprise.

"Go ahead,” I said. "It does good to write." He took the gift. "It's even better for the people you don't murder because you can write."

He smiled, and I did too, relieved that he got my joke.

"Thanks," he said, but our conversation was cut short as Edgar shoved the book, papers and pencils into his breast pocket as Benjamin approached down the street.

"Bye," he said under his breath. I nodded and moved toward the mercantile, trying to look as uninterested in Benjamin as possible. As if on cue, Talan once again miraculously appeared at my side, motioning toward the alley beside the mercantile again, so we retreated once more.

Talan now had the blanket wrapped oddly around himself. He seemed to somehow have sobered up, but become drunker at the same time in the few minutes he was gone, but I ignored the paradox. "Well?"

Talan sighed. "James said he was going to leave tomorrow night, but on account of us he's going to stay and camp with us."

"Stay?" I nearly screamed with joy. "Not leave? Not go away?"

Talan shrugged. "Isn't that what stay means?"

"Ah! You're the best brother on Earth!" I went to tackle him again, but he spoke first.

"Actually, I didn't do anything. That Mr. Leander that Jasper was talking about? Turns out James has a last name. Shocking, I know." He gestured with his arms. "I overheard all that stuff James said about staying and coming with us. James said it to Jasper and now I'm telling it to you and now, look, here we are! What?"

"That's fantastic!" I exclaimed, doing my best to contain my excitement.

"One more thing." Talan held up his hand and scowled at it. "They were talking behind the Farrier shop. The Farrier was there and even though I just saw the back of him, there was like this feeling, like I swear I've seen him before."

"The Farrier?" I asked.

"Yeah." Talan swayed and I grabbed him under the elbow until he caught his balance. "I just dunno why."

"Well, it doesn't matter." I pulled Talan back in front of the mercantile. "James is meeting me here anyway."

"What? Then why did I go…"

I ignored Talan and pointed at H & R's. "Go find Walter. He's in the mercantile."

"Don't leave without us," Talan said, meandering toward the door, which opened as Hugh came out. Hugh looked confused as Talan saluted him before disappearing inside.

Hugh joined me on the edge of the road, just as Jasper also appeared, riding up on horseback, James walking up the line of buildings to us.

"Where is everyone?" Jasper asked.

Hugh looked over his shoulder. "Talan and Walter are in Young's. Sophie and I haven't seen anyone else, so I assume they're still..."

"In the saloon," Jasper finished his sentence. "I'll return the horse to Cage, meet us at the end of the street when you're finished, we'll head out. James?"

"Go, ahead." James nodded. "I'll stay with them. Hello Hugh... Sophie."

Jasper nodded and, directing the horse, rode off toward the saloon once more.

James looked at me questioningly. "You know Mr. Bennett?" He was referring to Jasper.

"Yeah. They're who I'm camped with." I nodded toward Hugh.

"Well, I was quite surprised when Jasper said he had to find a…" James held up an unmistakable pirate talon hook. "Talan. I was wondering if it was your brother."

I nodded. "It is. And Walter is our travel companion."

"Ah," James nodded. "And... Roger?"

"Oh." I sighed. "That's me."

James raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"In a pen name, yes. It's led to a bit of an undercover identity. You'll see the outfit later." I grabbed the bottom of my coat. "This'll go great with it."

"I see," James said and I was relieved to see the sparkle of approval rather than apprehensiveness in his look.

My eye caught a figure walking behind James toward the mercantile and it seized my attention. As the man got closer I could make out some things about him, and it struck me as oddly familiar. His hands were dirty, but his shirt was buttoned to the top beneath a fitted coat. His pants were tucked into his boots. With glaring eyes behind spectacles, he glanced at me for a startling moment before turning into the building right before the mercantile.

My mind flashed to the darkened clearing beside the cabin the first time Talan and I had traveled through time. The man on the horse, "I don't shoot women..."

I was about to say something about him when Talan and Walter emerged from the mercantile, and Talan bounded up to me.

"I bought something." He proudly waved a bright red bandana.

"That's it?" I asked. "Aren't you going to get… remain… a little cold?"

"You gave me the blanket," Talan pointed out.

"Don't worry, I got us covered." Walter held a package wrapped in brown paper. He gave an aggravated glance to Talan. "We're going to match."

* * *

The first thing I did when we returned to camp was change into pants.

The walk home had been uneventful, and passed much more quickly with James’s conversation. Besides James, Jasper had not managed to round up any more recruits. However, he did report that he was on good terms with the town Farrier, Mr. George Anderson, who was keeping him informed on any pro-slavery dangers in town, which Gil accepted as a successful day.

I caught a moment to myself that evening before we sat down for supper, along the creek away from camp, as the sun was setting. Talan found me, looking much warmer and proper in the dark blue store-bought coat, though it appeared that not all of the ill effects of the whiskey had worn off.

"Walter's impossible," Talan groaned. "Would it kill him to leave Gil's shadow for two seconds? Well, you're all happy this evening. What gives?"

"James is here," I answered honestly.

"Yeah, he is. But, of anyone, you should know the best what happens to him. Or are you going to prevent it?"

"I'm keeping him the hell away from rivers, if that's what you mean. Besides, he's not going to die. He's staying. He told me he wasn't planning on it, but he is. So, if he doesn't leave, he won't have to cross a river. If he doesn't have to cross a river he doesn't drown. And if he doesn't drown, he doesn't die."

Talan bit his lip and looked down to his worn shoes. Finally, he stated quietly, "You can't change history."

I took a few steps back, fighting my rising anger. "Then what are we doing here?" I turned, and left Talan alone in the dusk.