The judge remained his defiant, pompous self even as the quivering in the floor sent him stumbling backward and he plopped on the edge of the bed.
“Don’t you feel that?” he asked, growing agitated.
But Deputy Hatch just kept talking. “The sheriff didn’t even know Annie was gone until he came into the office the next morning. Yeah, he took off after her, hoping to track her down, but when he came back with that smelly body wrapped in canvas, I had to wonder a bit.”
Jay and Lila braced themselves, feeling the tremors. They knew something was brewing: another time shift, another fading between time dimensions, perhaps a weird phenomenon they hadn’t even seen yet.
Oh-oh. Deputy Hatch’s voice sounded strange. First it sounded lower, then it sounded higher, just like a faulty recording. When he laughed, his laugh sounded low and rumbly. “So I had a little talk with Stanley Hemple the undertaker just yesterday, and guess what? He told me about that side of beef you and the sheriff stole from Abe Smith’s slaughterhouse, and how you had him put it in the coffin that went into Annie’s grave.”
The judge’s eyes narrowed and his face grew fierce like that of a cornered animal.
The kids’ eyes were widening, but for another reason.
Hatch’s voice was going up in pitch, and he started talking faster. “I guess he was happy to meet the first lawman around here who wasn’t on your side. Stanley’s hoping you’ll go to jail so he won’t have to pay you off with any more little favors. Abe Smith feels the same way. But they aren’t the only ones.” Hatch’s image began to waver and his voice drifted up and down in pitch and speed as he spoke to the kids. “The judge here owns most of this town and almost all the mining interests. Around here, if you expect to keep your job, you’d better keep the judge happy.” Then he looked with a cold, piercing gaze at Judge Crackerby. “Until someone else came along and struck it rich. Someone who might want to hire some workers to develop a new mine—one that Amos Crackerby doesn’t own and control. Someone like Cyrus Murphy.”
The sun was getting low and the shadows long as Dr. Cooper and Richard MacPherson fought against the wavering, shifting gravity and moved the hydraulic lift to a new location.
Dr. Cooper braced himself against the lift as he looked around the ruins, rechecking the landmarks. “This should be the right place, judging from the old photographs.”
Mac climbed onto the platform even as it rocked and swayed. “Then let’s get it done before the sheriff knows what we’re up to.”
Cooper joined Mac on the platform and operated the levers. The lift began to rise, swaying and creaking. “This time we’re looking for the height of that one upstairs window. And if the carving is there, it should be in those cliffs to the west.”
“Just beyond the site of the old mercantile,” Mac reminded himself, his eyes gazing intently westward.
The windows of the old boardinghouse were beginning to rattle and the floor was creaking as Deputy Hatch continued. “You wanted Cyrus Murphy’s mine, so you and the sheriff arranged to have Cyrus killed and Annie blamed for it so she could be hanged. Then you rigged the auction so you could buy their mine. Only problem was, Annie escaped before you could hang her. You tried to fake her death anyway, but she came back.” Then he added with a glint in his eye, “Came back to this very room and nearly scared Mrs. Crackerby to death.”
Jay piped up, “Yeah! Mrs. Crackerby thought she’d seen a ghost!”
Both Hatch and the judge stared at Jay a moment. The judge’s voice was low and wavering as he asked Jay, “What’s wrong with your voice?”
Deputy Hatch stayed on the subject. “But you knew it was no ghost, and that’s why you sent for Sheriff Potter to try and catch her. You knew she was back, and you knew she’d figured out what really happened. Well, you were right. She knew. And she’s been writing her story for the last few days—or I guess I should say, carving it.”
Hatch looked at the kids again and said to Lila, “I saw you hanging from the roof of the courthouse, saw you fade like a ghost and fall, saw everything. I already had the ladder handy, so I climbed up to see what you were looking at. You were admiring some of Annie’s artwork, am I right?”
Lila nodded.
“Same as you found from up on the roof of the mercantile?”
Now both Lila and Jay nodded; they were impressed. The deputy had been doing his homework.
The judge was impatient, as always. “Hatch, just what are you talking about?”
Deputy Hatch exchanged a knowing look with the kids. “Carvings, Judge. Carvings in the cliffs all around town. Remember, Annie Murphy was a sculptor who couldn’t read or write. So she did the only thing she could do to tell the world.” He chuckled. “Now all those rock slides we’ve been having make sense.”
The judge was finally starting to look nervous. “Carvings in the cliffs?”
Hatch nodded. “Helen Billings showed me Annie and Cyrus’s faces above the Murphy cabin; I found your face above the courthouse and Annie’s above the jail. I stood on the roof of the mercantile and found a carving of Cyrus Murphy shot in the back—shot three times, with a .40 caliber revolver, remember?”
He reached into a cloth sack on the floor and brought out a revolver. “Remember this? It’s supposedly the revolver that Cyrus owned and Annie used to shoot him. Only it’s not his gun. Same manufacturer, same style, but a different serial number. Three rounds fired.” He held it up as a display. “Turns out this one belongs to Sheriff Potter. I checked and found out he got it special delivery just a few days before Cyrus was killed. The .40 caliber slugs taken from Cyrus’s body were a major piece of evidence in Annie’s trial. They were supposed to prove Cyrus had been killed with his own gun.”
The judge looked a little pale now. “Where did you get that?”
“I found it on the sheriff’s desk just the other day.” Hatch’s eyes narrowed. “I think Annie left it there to get my attention. I imagine since she can pass through walls and go just about anywhere she wants, she’s probably learned a lot of things the rest of us need to know.”
The higher the lift went, the more unstable it became. By the time Dr. Cooper had raised it to the level of the boardinghouse’s upstairs window, it was swaying dangerously. He asked Mac, “Do you see anything?”
Mac carefully scanned the cliffs to the west. “Are you sure of the location?”
“Quite sure. We should be exactly at the same point in space as the window to the Murphys’ room in the Crackerby Boardinghouse.”
The lift rocked crazily, and they grabbed the safety railings to steady themselves.
“We’d better find it soon if we’re going to find it at all,” Mac warned.
“It has to be here!” Dr. Cooper insisted, searching the cliffs.
The judge glared at Deputy Hatch with cold, hate-filled eyes. “Regardless of what you think you may have found, you still have nothing but the word of a convicted murderess.”
The deputy shook his head. “I have more than that. I have tobacco spittle on the rooftop across the street, a witness who heard gunshots coming from that rooftop, a prisoner in my jail who knows how you rigged the trial, plenty of people who’ve already seen Annie’s carvings, another gun just like Cyrus’s . . . and this!”
Deputy Hatch stepped over to the window and threw the curtains open.
“Got it!” said Dr. Cooper, pointing. “Just above that dark fissure, about one o’clock.”
The kids were amazed but not surprised as they looked at the image in the early light of dawn. They could hear a low, murmured curse from the judge behind them.
Deputy Hatch looked back at the judge, smiling with deep satisfaction. “Sheriff Potter always was a lover of chewing tobacco . . . and a very good marksman.”
The judge rose to his feet and gazed out the window, his jaw dropping open.
The kids could see it plainly and knew the judge could see it too: a carving of Sheriff Dustin Potter looking right back through the window, sighting down the barrel of a revolver—a .40 caliber revolver just like the one Deputy Hatch had found.
“Right after Mrs. Crackerby saw Annie’s ghost in this room,” Hatch explained, “I came up here to have a look, took the trouble to look out the window, and there it was. Needless to say, it got me thinking. I figured there had to be more carvings like this one, and I was right.”
“Your hunch was correct,” said Mac, his voice hushed with awe. “Annie carved Cyrus from the killer’s point of view.”
“And the killer from Cyrus’s point of view.”
POW! A gunshot rang out. There was a loud PING! as a bullet hit the steel railing. They instinctively dropped to the platform.
POW–ZINNNNNG! Another shot ricocheted off the corner of the steel platform.
“The sheriff,” Mac concluded.
“He’s onto us,” said Cooper.
Deputy Hatch looked once again toward the carving beyond the mercantile. “So I’d say all the pieces are coming together against you, Judge, and some of the testimony is even carved in stone. You—”
POW! A flash of fire exploded from a gun in the judge’s hand. Deputy Hatch hit the wall from the impact of the bullet.
The judge was obviously proud of himself. “Never turn your back on your adversary, Deputy!”
The kids stood by the window. The judge stood between them and the door.
They chose the window, tumbling out onto a small roof. From there it would be a big drop to the ground.
“You won’t get away from me!” the judge was hollering, his voice rising in pitch.
The roof felt strangely soft under their feet. The soles of their shoes were sinking through the shingles. They swung over the edge of the roof and dangled from the gutter. Their hands slipped through the fading wood and their bodies dropped slowly—too slowly—to the ground. They landed softly in a flower bed and leaped out onto the lawn, trying to run. The ground felt like water under their feet. They were moving in slow motion, pulling desperately for every stride.
ZINNNNNG! A bullet whistled by their heads.
BOOOOOOOM! The slow sound of a gunshot rumbled behind them. They could see the judge bursting from his front door, yelling, aiming the gun.
“Where’d he get the gun?” Mac wondered.
“Must have been hiding another one,” Dr. Cooper remarked.
PANG! Another shot hit the bottom of the platform, and a small dent poked upward.
The lift was swaying crazily now as gravity lurched and heaved at them from several directions.
Dr. Cooper estimated the angle of the shots.
“He’s to the left, perhaps twenty feet from the base.”
“Are we that high right now?”
Dr. Cooper liked Mac’s suggestion. “High enough.”
They grabbed the siderails and began to throw their weight back and forth, making the lift sway even more.
Dr. Cooper caught a quick glimpse over the side.
“I’ve got him, right below us!”
They could feel the next gravitational wave coming and timed their rocking accordingly. They pulled, shifted their weight this way then that way, back and forth.
The wave hit. They rolled their bodies to one side, pulling on the rails.
The lift tilted, teetered for a moment on two wheels, and then began to topple like a big tower. The sheriff quit shooting and ran to get clear. The ground was coming up fast.
“Oohhhh,” Dr. Cooper hollered as the wind whistled by them, “this is going to hurt!”
They leaped from the platform right before it crashed to the ground in a cloud of dust. Mac rolled in some soft dirt and came up unharmed.
Dr. Cooper landed on Sheriff Potter and they both went down, grappling, wrestling. Potter still had the gun in his hand.
Mac leaped on Potter as well, grabbing for the gun.
The ground lurched. The sheriff turned to vapor and slipped out of their grasp. They spun around, groping to find him.
He was standing over them, solid a moment, ghostlike a moment, wavering, flickering, aiming the gun at them.
“Be careful!” Cooper cautioned. “If you fire that gun you could hit someone in the past!”
“Just as long as I hit you!” the sheriff responded, aiming and ready to fire again.
Time stabilized for a moment. Jay and Lila could finally run full speed—but so could the judge.
“What do we do now?” Lila called to her brother as they ran up a wooden sidewalk with the judge hot on their heels.
“The weeping woman!” Jay gasped. “One arm . . . one arm not finished. Annie never finished it!”
Lila understood. “But how do we know she’ll be there?”
Jay had no answer and no time to offer one. Another bullet whizzed by. “Quick! That alley!”
The alley led to some back streets with places to hide, cover from bullets, and perhaps a route back to cemetery hill—but they would have to cross the open street to get there.
A wagon pulled by a team of horses came up the street on an early morning delivery. As it passed by, they leaped into the street just behind it.
Good. It came between them and the judge long enough for them to reach the alley.
Lila stopped in front of a large rain barrel to look back.
The judge fired another shot just as gravity tilted.
The town faded—
The bullet thudded into the rain barrel behind her back, releasing a stream of water.
The town became solid again. Jay grabbed her and they ran up the alley. They had to get to cemetery hill!
Gravity was swirling and lurching so much that Sheriff Potter could barely stand, much less remain solid and visible. He could hardly aim the gun.
Dr. Cooper and Mac took full advantage of that and managed to pounce on him, sometimes holding him, sometimes passing right through him. It was like trying to capture a shadow.
He became solid. Dr. Cooper grabbed his arm; Mac grabbed his leg; Dr. Cooper hit him in the jaw. He faded again and got loose.
“This isn’t working!” Dr. Cooper despaired.
“The cemetery!” said Mac. “Run for it!”
Dr. Cooper didn’t need to hear another word. He took off running, Mac followed, and the sheriff gave chase.
“Act scared,” said Dr. Cooper. “It might help.”
“Who’s acting?” Mac retorted.
They ran through the ruins as one more shot rang out and a bullet nicked Dr. Cooper’s ear.
“He’s very good,” said Dr. Cooper, touching his ear and finding blood on his fingers.
“And very solid, unfortunately,” Mac responded.
They made it to the edge of town and started up the hill. It was a tough climb and the sheriff, still on flat ground, was catching up easily by just walking fast. He reached into his coat pocket for more bullets and reloaded the small revolver in his hand.
“Oh nuts,” said Cooper. “He has more bullets.”
The kids raced down a back road, through a yard, over a fence, and around a house, then into the open street again. Cemetery hill was just ahead of them.
A hay wagon came around the corner. No! They couldn’t wait for it to pass! They dashed forward as the horses bore down on them, praying for just one extra second of time.
They got it. Time wiggled, the horses slowed down, the kids sped up, the kids got to the other side of the street just as the horses thundered past.
Jay and Lila started up the hill. They could see the judge coming across the street, smiling at them with nasty confidence, reloading his gun. They were much younger than he was and should be able to outrun him up the hill.
Oh no. Time was warping again. They were slowing down, floating in slow motion, pulling for every stride, while the judge was moving briskly along, coming closer.
Time stabilized and the ground became still as Dr. Cooper and Mac reached the top of the hill and ran to Cyrus Murphy’s grave. They stood there, panting for breath, looking desperately in all directions.
“She’s not here,” Mac said between huffs.
“She has to be,” said Dr. Cooper. “She has to be here. The weeping woman was her last carving!”
But Annie Murphy was nowhere to be seen. The sheriff appeared over the edge of the hill, his gun in his hand and the cold look of a killer in his eyes.
The world of 1885 became solid again as the kids reached Cyrus Murphy’s grave. They were huffing and puffing and looking for Annie.
They didn’t see her.
“She’s got to be here!” Jay cried.
Lila moaned and pointed toward the cliffs. “Jay!
She’s been here already!”
He looked and his heart sank. The carving of the weeping woman was visible in the morning light. Annie had been there, had carved it, and was gone.
“No . . .” Jay groaned. “We couldn’t have missed her! Oh dear Lord, no!”
Then came a voice behind them. “That’s right, boy. Better say a prayer!” It was the judge, breathing hard from the climb but quite solid and deadly. He raised the gun. “Because it’s time to finish this business!”
As Dr. Cooper and Mac stood directly on Cyrus Murphy’s grave, the sheriff approached with gun in hand, snickering at them. “So you figured it all out, did you? Then you understand how I can’t go back. And I can’t let you live either.”
On the morning of June 9, 1885, Jay and Lila stood on the grave of Cyrus Murphy and watched helplessly as Judge Amos Crackerby stood directly north of them and aimed his gun.
On the evening of June 11, a century later, Dr. Cooper and Richard MacPherson stood on Cyrus Murphy’s grave as Sheriff Dustin Potter stood directly south of them and aimed his gun.
Jay quickly stood in front of his sister, blocking her body with his own. But in that instant, out of the corner of her eye, Lila saw a flash of blue behind a large tombstone. She recognized a long blue dress and flowing red hair. Annie’s been hiding! Lila thought.
The ground quivered. Potter squeezed the trigger.
The ground quivered. The judge squeezed the trigger. The weird, wavering image of the woman in blue leaped toward the kids, hands outstretched. She touched them—
FLASH! WHOOOSH!
Dr. Cooper and Mac were suddenly crowded by two other bodies in dusty, dirty clothes. They stumbled sideways, trying to remain standing as time crashed and rippled around them, gravity swirled, and the earth whirled like a cockeyed carousel.
Two gunshots! They sounded far away, from opposite directions.
Dr. Cooper looked south, and through a quivering, waving window in time saw Sheriff Potter doubled over, wounded.
Jay and Lila were dazed, disoriented, caught up in a whirlwind of colors and sensations. They seemed to be surrounded by the bodies of two big men. To the north, Judge Crackerby’s image waved and rippled as if they were looking at him from below the surface of a pond. He was staggering, tottering, holding his abdomen as if wounded. He began to fall toward them, falling in slow motion . . . slowly . . . slowly . . .
Dr. Cooper and Mac saw the sheriff fall toward them ever so slowly, like the slowest slow motion film. . . .
OOF! Jay, Lila, Dr. Cooper, and Mac landed on the solid, unshaking ground in the evening of June 11, a tangle of four bodies who still didn’t know what hit them. They didn’t even realize they were all together in one place in one time.
But they all saw the same thing at the same time only a few feet away—the wavering, fluctuating image of Annie Murphy standing where her gravestone had been, watching two men fall at her feet. At first she seemed horrified.
Then she grew calm and sighed a deep sigh of relief. She looked up at them, a look of deep gratitude on her face, and mouthed, Thank you.
And then, as the earth gave one more tiny tremble, her image flickered out like a candle flame in a puff of wind.
She was gone.
It was quiet. The earth, time, and space had ceased their struggle.
Dr. Cooper touched his daughter and found that she was real. Then his son. Then they embraced as tears filled their eyes.