West (History Interrupted Book 1) (15 page)

But truth be told, I had time to visit and hadn’t wanted to, afraid of what I’d find in the room down the hallway. Afraid it’d make me think ill of John, the man whose love for his daughter only grew brighter and happier the more time we spent together. He was the sunshine of this place. After meeting Philip and Fighting Badger and beginning to doubt Carter, I wanted there to be a ray of sunshine, and I needed it to be the man who could’ve been my own father in a different place and time.

“Miss Josie!”

“Coming!” Turning away from door down the hallway, I hurried through my wing into the gentlemen’s wing, where Philip and John stayed.

Nell was in front of one room and motioned for me to hurry.

I did so, breathless by the time I reached the room that was John’s. I entered the antechamber and trailed Nell into the bedroom, where John lay in bed.

He was pale and wore a dressing gown beneath heavy blankets. The room was hot, the fireplace blazing.

He managed a faint smile. “My Josie,” he said, holding out a knobby hand.

“What’s wrong? Are you ill?” I asked. I went to his bedside and sank down in a chair, taking his warm hand.

“My body. It is weak,” John said. “My heart is happier than ever.”

“I sent for the doctor,” Nell said. “Your father awoke very unwell, Miss Josie.”

Shit.
My initial thought, that I’d never leave the house and accomplish my mission, was replaced by deep guilt at the idea of begrudging the man smiling at me the way he was.

“Nell, you are to contact my friends and all my neighbors, including the savages,” John called. His and Nell’s memories were both of the day real-Josie’s mother died in this very bed.

“Is it necessary?” I asked, confused.
Not John.
He was a good man, one I didn’t want to see pass away.

Nell said nothing and nodded grimly.

Concerned, I stayed at John’s side, listening to his wheezy breathing. The moral dilemma raised its head once more. I didn’t really know what to do. It seemed like he deserved the truth about his daughter, but being so weak, I wasn’t certain he could take it.

“I am glad I was able to see you again,” he said, smiling.

“Don’t talk like that, Father,” I chided him. “You will be on your tomorrow and the next day … every day,” I told him cheerfully.

“I hope so, my daughter. I wish to see you married.”

Ugh!
How did any self-respecting woman survive this kind of life? “Then you better stay strong and healthy, because it’ll be a while.”

He chuckled. “So stubborn. Like your mother.”

“Nell says I’m stubborn like my father.”

“Rightly so,” he agreed.

I watched his memories. They shifted to happier times, of the woman he wed thirty years before. His love for her was as strong as his was for me.
I wish I’d known her. I wish he’d been my father.
They weren’t the right thoughts for me to be thinking, not when I knew very well I was sent back in time for an important reason.

Yet sitting by John, I couldn’t help thinking
this
was where I needed to be at the moment instead of racing around the countryside to find Running Bear.

“Uncle!” Philip’s voice drew my attention. He rushed into the room, to John’s other side. “What is it? Are you dying?”

“Show some respect, Philip. He’s not dying,” I snapped.

“Peace, children,” John said. “I am dying, but it will not be today. When I am gone, you must care for my Josie, Philip.”

“Of course, Uncle.”

“Find her a suitable husband.”

“I give you my word, John, that I will not allow her to marry any man who would shame the family. I will keep my eyes on her every action.”

His statement sent a chill through me.

“Don’t you worry about me,” I urged and squeezed John’s hand. “Worry about staying strong.”

“Yes, my sweet Josie.” John’s eyes closed. His breathing remained steady, if shallow.

Unwilling to deal with Philip, I stayed at the side of my adopted father. Philip left a few minutes after John fell asleep. I studied John’s haggard face, surprised by the intensity of the pang of longing that went through me.

What would it have been like to have a father as good as real-Josie’s?

I frowned and ran my thumb over the loose, wrinkly skin of his hand. Checking my phone, I sent Carter a quick note to let him know I hadn’t had any nosebleeds yet today. His response was fast.

Good. I almost have a solution.

Impressed by the genius, my doubt about him – triggered by my last interaction with the sheriff – was once more called into question. I hated overthinking anything. I would rather trust my intuition and my faith in humanity, but it was really hard to determine what was going on here. After the three days trapped in the house, I was restless for answers, to find what was in the bottom of the well, to talk to the Native American twins and uncover what the catalyzing event was that I was here to prevent.

Hell, I’d talk to Fighting Badger again, if it meant I learned something new.

But mostly, the same instinct that didn’t want me doubting Carter also wanted me to talk to the sheriff, the sole person here who seemed to know something I really needed to.
If only he didn’t hang people at the drop of a hat …

“Miss Josie,” a man said, entering.

I looked up. He was middle-aged, slender, and dressed in black, carrying a black bag. He rested the bag on the bed beside John and touched John’s face.

“Doctor Green,” I said, glancing at Nell. “What is wrong with my father?”

“His health has been declining for months now.”

“But why?”

“His heart is bad.”

His heart is so good.
I almost said something but stopped.

The doctor checked John’s heartbeat. Philip paced in the doorway, and Nell wrung her hands nearby.

“He’s resting peacefully,” the doctor said finally. “He will need more sleep. He should not leave his bed, unless necessary. Philip, may I speak to you?”

I watched the two men step into the hallway. The doctor spoke for a few minutes. Philip nodded grimly and motioned for the doctor to follow him out.

“He’s not going to make it long, is he?” I whispered, eyes returning to John.

“He may just be tired. He was more active the past several days, since you arrived, than he had been in months,” Nell said. “He wanted to go to town today.”

There was a note of denial in Nell’s tone, one that made me pity her. I was sad, but she was on the verge of being devastated. I wiped my face, compassion for the elderly man and his suffering while also wishing I had had more time to get to know him.

Two-week vacation,
I reminded myself.
When I get home, they’ll all have been gone for a very long time.
It was an awful idea that the people around me were already dead.

“Cousin,” Philip called from the doorway. “A word.”

I hated the way he spoke to me but joined him in the hallway.

“The doctor believes your father doesn’t have more than a day, maybe two, before his heart gives out.” Philips words made my breath catch. “I am gathering what family can make it here within a day. If there are any acquaintances you wish me to contact?” By his doubtful look, he didn’t think I knew anyone.

“What of the Indian Chief?” I asked. “They have been neighbors for years and share land.”

“A practice I will put an end to when John passes.”

“Not if the lands all go to me.”

“Cousin,” Philip smiled. “Your claim to his property will not stand in court. You have no husband and no real claim, unless you can prove you are his daughter. You disappeared a year ago. The courts will believe a father first, a faithful cousin second.”

Anger trickled through me. He was sure of himself, already discrediting my ability to hold onto John’s lands. They weren’t mine, but the thought of a man like Philip taking over anything of gentle John’s made me mad.

It was getting harder to remember that I was here for one reason only: to keep Running Bear or his twin from starting a war. I didn’t need the drama of John and real Josephine’s life.

But I couldn’t help liking John a lot and hating Philip, either.

“We will discuss this when my father is gone. Until then, you will respect my wishes,” I told him. “The Indian Chief will be invited here.”
If I can’t get answers, I’ll bring the answers to me.

Philip’s assured smile faded.

I turned my back on him and returned to John’s side.

He slept the entire day. I sat beside him, texting Carter when possible, and holding John’s hand when Nell or Philip or a servant or other visitor was present. I barely noticed the passage of the day, until someone came in to light the candles and lanterns around the room.

Nell brought me a small dinner. When finished, I rose and went to the fire, body stiff from sitting still all day. I watched the flames, allowing my mind to roam restlessly. No matter what, I had to get some fresh air in the morning, or I’d go crazy. John was too sick for me to go far.

The well – and the woman I saw falling into it – drifted through my thoughts.

It wasn’t the real Josie I saw in the distant memory, but it was someone, possibly one of the girls the sheriff had mentioned. I had been about to pry the wood off the top when he appeared. Nell was likely to be too worried about John to hover around me if I stepped out to the barn for some air.

“Josie, you should rest. Tomorrow, the house will be full. You will have to entertain, and I don’t know if you’re well enough yet,” Nell told me primly. “To bed, child.”

I didn’t roll my eyes like I wanted to and forced a smile. I had too many questions about what was going on around me, and I wasn’t able to stop thinking about the well. And … I was more worried about John than I thought I should be.

I went to my room, grateful that Nell didn’t follow. Upon entering, I stretched back to untie the girdle and took a deep breath.

The comfortable room was warmed by the fire with light from lanterns giving it a cozy glow. I found myself smiling, liking the bedroom that technically belonged to a stranger.

I went to the jewelry armoire to replace the necklace Nell insisted I wear this day. I went through the drawers, surprised by the amount of jewelry. It was expensive, too, with each necklace, ring and bracelet laden with precious or semi-precious stones. They were all well cared for and polished without even a fingerprint or smudge showing.

I admired them, unable to fathom why a girl who lived with a father like John and jewels this spectacular would ever consider running away, unless the man John wanted her to marry was a real monster.

With a grunt directed towards the bulky clothing, I knelt to reach the drawer at the bottom of the armoire. It was jammed, and for a moment, I wondered if it was just for show. With a hearty jerk, I dislodged it.

It was shallow and empty, except for a cell phone charm that read
Happy Graduation!
in one corner.

I stared at it. “What on earth?” I squeezed my eyes closed then opened them. The flashy, twenty-first century charm clashed with the world I was slowly adapting to.

Unease went through me. I plucked it up and saw it was connected by a thin wire to something beneath the bottom of the drawer. I pulled it, and the false bottom popped up.

“Three cell phones.”

Just like the sheriff said. Three other girls sent to live with John, maybe even for the same reason I was there: to change history. I had wanted to write them off as posers after John’s money, until Carter confirmed others might have preceded me. My faith in him was shaken once more, and I hesitated to touch the cells. The whispers were back but too faded for images to form.

There was something wrong about these phones, an instinct, a knowing, a flare of intuition that told me something bad happened to those who owned them.

None of them left.
Sheriff Hansen had said.

Three phones. Three whispers at the well …

Both located on John’s property.

No.
The man on his deathbed had nothing to do with this. I couldn’t even entertain the possibility.

Coldness filled my chest, freezing it. I cocked my head to the side, struggling to decipher what the empathic memories were attempting to convey. The only thing I saw was the same images from down the hallway: shadows, blood, voices, a fire. The energy or memories around the phones were too weak to show me anything.

I touched one phone. The cool metal beneath my fingertips made my dread grow stronger.

“Flip phone,” I almost giggled, a little hysterically. The bulkiest cell phone was clearly from the late nineties, while another looked like it was closer to five years old. The third was newer, maybe two years old. The women they belonged to had been taken from different years but sent to this one.

I touched the start button at the bottom of the youngest phone, not expecting its screen to light up.

It did. Like mine, there was no explaining how, given the lack of battery power and signal. There were fragments of a few messages on the front screen from the same contact I had: Carter.

 
Where are you??????
Read the most recent one. The others sent slivers of panic through me.

No matter what - don’t let him know why you’re there.

I can’t let this happen again. You WILL NOT go to …

I swiped my finger across the screen, alarmed at the idea there was some kind of danger here – one that Carter knew about and was refusing to share with me. To my frustration, the screen was locked by a passcode.

I set it down and reached for the next one. There were two messages on the screen from Carter.

How does he know who you are?

Get out. NOW.

I tried to unlock it but found it passcode protected, too. I picked up the oldest cell phone, certain there was no passcode on it. Its screen was tiny, dim, and cracked beyond repair, a reminder of how far cell phone technology had come in the past twenty years. There was no keypad, just numbers with letters, and a quick examination showed no camera, either.