The Sunstone Brooch : Time Travel Romance by Katherine Logan (i am reading a book TXT) 📕

“You traveled back in time with the lad’s brooch. You should not be here. This is not your time, but I will use your presence for James Cullen’s benefit. Bring only Dr. Fraser and Sean MacKlenna.” He pointed. “Follow that path over there. The mansion is a kilometer to the south.”

Paul’s head was spinning. Erik hadn’t given him time to analyze the situation, but he didn’t want to risk another of those neck squeezes, so he turned and jogged toward the trees.

Before he reached the tree line, Erik yelled, “Wait.”

Paul stopped, but he didn’t turn around. “You told me to hurry. Now you tell me to wait. What the hell is going on?”

“Bring Emily Duffy as well, but no one else.”

“Emily? She’s here, too?” Now Paul turned and faced the man. “I should tell you, Elliott might not listen to me. As a matter of fact, he might just shoot me.” He realized now that he should have told Elliott the truth about JC’s disappearance, but who the hell would have thought they were all involved in this black hole business together.

“You did not tell him James Cullen disappeared into the fog, and you should have done so. It would not have changed the outcome, but Young Paul, do not ever lie to the Keeper again.”

“What’s a Keeper?”

“You ask too many questions. Now go!”

Paul risked asking one more. “How’d you know I didn’t tell Dr. Fraser?”

Erik threw a knife that splintered a tree inches above Paul’s head. It happened so fast he didn’t have time to duck. “What the shit?” He yanked on the knife but couldn’t pull it out, and he was no weakling. “You almost killed me!”

Erik reached into his boot and drew out another knife.

“Okay, I’m going. Don’t throw another knife at me, but what year is it?”

“It is 1885, Young Paul.”

The whole Young Paul thing was bugging the shit out of him. He might be young compared to the warrior, but why was Erik constantly referring to Paul’s age. He didn’t call JC, Young JC.

“One more thing,” Paul said. “Why do you call me Young Paul?”

Erik flicked the knife back and forth between his hands, and in a voice as unbending as stone, he bellowed, “Go!”

Erik then entered the cabin, and Paul sucked in his first deep breath since landing at this strange intersection of the past and present—a time when ancient warriors roamed the world and spoke in riddles.

He ran like the Devil was chasing him, wondering how in the hell he was going to convince Elliott to come with him?

I’ll think of something when I see how Elliott reacts to me being here.

When the mansion came into view, he sucked up the courage to face Dr. Fraser, but by the time he neared the veranda, he slowed to a crawl, having second thoughts about going to the front door. If he went to the back door and asked the kitchen help to get Mr. MacKlenna, he could tell MacKlenna that a man named Erik was at the cabin and wanted to see Dr. Fraser, Emily Duffy, and him. Then Paul could run back to the cabin and find JC.

With a plan in mind, Paul walked around to the back of the mansion.

39

The Badlands (1885)—Ensley

Three days after returning to Elkhorn Ranch, Ensley packed the Burroughs book and her few things, which now included an extra shirt. TR gave her one of his since he had plenty, and Mrs. Sewall altered it to fit Ensley. She also scrubbed Ensley’s white shirt until it was almost clean again. Of course, it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

At daybreak, she rode out with TR, Sewall, Dow, and a remuda of about thirty horses, with Norman driving the chuckwagon. They would join dozens of cowboys at Box Elder Creek to participate in the roundup for the Little Missouri District 6. The district, a distance of two hundred miles, ran along the river from the mouth of Beaver Creek to the mouth of the Little Beaver Creek.

While TR, Sewall, and Dow managed the remuda, Ensley rode beside Norman, talking about trail food, the Badlands, and how he came to be a cook.

“I wuz a kid in Texas when the war started,” he said. “Everybody I knew was leavin’ to fight for the Rebs, so I went, too, an’ they put me to work in the mess tent. After the war, I joined a cattle drive. Since I had experience cookin’, they put me to work helpin’ the cook. Now I drive my chuckwagon from one cattle drive to another.”

“Did you ever go back to Texas?”

“Jus’ to git another job.”

They rode without talking for several long minutes, listening to the chuckwagon jolting and rattling over the uneven ground, along with the jingle of the traces connecting the wagon to the four draft animals…and, of course, the wind. The Badlands was home to Ensley. No matter how much she loved New York City, this was home.

As the saying goes, you can take the girl out of the Badlands, but you can’t take the Badlands out of the girl. But was that an actual place on a map or just a place in her heart?

“What did Roosevelt tell ya about the roundup?” Norman asked, breaking into her thoughts.

“All I know is that at one time ranchers settled disputes over ownership of unbranded cattle with either a neighborly agreement or finding out which rancher had the fastest draw.”

“It’s not like that now.”

“Glad to hear it. I’d hate to witness two otherwise intelligent men try to settle an argument with a six-shooter when they can use their big guns in an arm-wrestling challenge.”

Norman gave her a side-eye. “What does that mean?”

She flexed her arm and pointed to her bicep. “Back east, newspaper reporters talk about pitchers having big guns.”

“Baseball?” Norman asked.

Ensley made a windup motion and pretended to throw a pitch. “Throw a few of those every day and see how big and strong your arms will get.”

Norman laughed as he