West (History Interrupted Book 1) (2 page)

I wasn’t able to stop my smile. His passion was apparent. “I’d say that’s an amazing discovery. But … does it matter now?” I asked, puzzled.

“Have you ever seen Doctor Who?”

I laughed. “Yeah.”

“Just … pretend I’m the Doctor and you’re my companion and we can go back to any point in time. Okay?”

I nodded.

“One man in the eighteen forties made a single choice that forever changed the landscape –”

“His pants,” I said, grinning.

“– right or something else. Whatever it was, he did it on September twenty fourth, eighteen forty-two. So he does this one thing, and bam. The lives of nearly a million Native Americans and tens of thousands of pioneers are lost over the course of a century.”

My eyes returned to the pictures. This … speech, if it could be called that, was a bit morbid. I understood his point, even if I didn’t really get why we were playing this hypothetical game.

“What would you do if you could go back in time?” he asked. “Would you stop him if it saved a million lives?”

“Yeah. Who wouldn’t?”

“There are some people who think history is chiseled in stone, that it shouldn’t change, even if we could.”

I shook my head. “I don’t agree with that at all. I mean, assuming we one day had the ability to time travel, why shouldn’t we go back and help those who didn’t have a chance? We could do so much good, save the planet from all the abuse we’ve caused during the globalization age, stop men like Hitler. Of course I’d change things.”

He was smiling. “Good. You’re very idealistic.”

“My uncle says the same,” I said and rolled my eyes. “I’m not totally naïve. I know there are bad people who might try to go back and change things to make themselves billionaires or get revenge on the Homecoming queen who rejected them or whatever. But I’d like to think humans are naturally good and if given such a power, we’d use it wisely.”

Carter looked at me a little too long, his features glowing again. I was always friendly, especially since he was starting to remind me of the guys in
The Big Bang Theory,
who were uncomfortable talking to other humans in general. “Is that … it?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to stare.” He shifted feet like an excited child on Christmas Eve. “Just if you could, take the survey, so I get credit for something today. It’s only three questions.”

“What kind of research are you doing?”

“It’s a relatively new discipline of history. There’s a lot of psychology that goes into determining how our outlooks of our world have changed over the years. What we once viewed as moral and just is now barbaric, and so on.”

“That sounds interesting,” I said.
But not my thing at all.
Such a complex subject seemed right up the alley of the man I suspected was a genius behind all his blushing.

“It’s so beyond fascinating, I could spend days … but I won’t. I’ll let you complete the survey.” He moved way to give me space.

Amused, I turned my attention to the iPad, unable to shake the sense of déjà vu. After I filled out the portion for my name and age, I swiped to the second screen.

If you could go back in time to prevent atrocities such as the Trail of Tears experienced by the Native Americans, and the massacring of pioneers caught between native warriors and the Calvary, would you?

I glanced at the pictures on the windows, once more touched by the visible pain. The people gazed at me in silent desperation, suffering clear on their features. “Sure, why not?” I selected the green button on the survey and was taken to the second screen.

If you could save the lives of a hundred thousand people TODAY, would you do whatever it took?

“Duh. Who wouldn’t?” Tapping the button, I read the next question.

If you could go back and change history, would you?

“Only if there’s a modern sewer system, espresso and AC,” I quipped and then sneaked a look at the images looking over me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it,” I said to them quietly. “I’m hot and irritated. I would go back and save you all, if I had the power.” I swiped to the last screen and entered my email address.

Carter was waiting patiently nearby.

“That’s it?” I asked loudly enough for him to hear, perplexed by the simple questions. I replaced the iPad on the table.

“It is!” Carter beamed and joined me once more. “Well … except …” He cleared his throat, ears red. “Would you maybe want to … get a drink tonight at the Victorian Vittles Saloon?”

“Ah, I’m sorry, Carter. We’re leaving in an hour or so.”

“Oh.” He appeared surprised. “I thought you were staying here.”

“No, sorry.”

“Okay. Thanks for letting me down easy,” he flashed a dazzling smile. “If you change your mind or … decide to stay in town, I’ll be there shortly. I’m packing up soon to leave.”

“Sure. Sounds good.” I picked up my purse and offered my hand. “Nice talking to you.”

“Thank you. So much.” He was nearly gushing as he clasped mine in both of his.

Overwhelmed by his enthusiasm, my cheeks grew warm, and I laughed instead of answering. Pulling away, I waved and started towards the direction towards where I was supposed to meet my aunt and uncle. The tingling instinct that I knew him lingered. Not one to ignore my intuition, I halted.

“Wait, Carter, can I ask you something?” I asked, turning.

“Of course.”

“Have we met before?”

He looked like I’d agreed to go on a date with him. His unguarded expressions were something I expected from a kid, not a full-grown man. “Does it feel like we have?” he asked with hushed awe.

My brow furrowed. I gave another small laugh, uncertain how to take his strange reaction. “Sorta. Like déjà vu.”

“We haven’t,” he said. “But I’m really glad we did.”

“Me, too.” And I was, without really understanding why. His innocent, boyish charm made me want to tease him the way I did my youngest cousin or maybe, to ask him if he needed help doing his homework. I couldn’t explain it, except that it wasn’t physical attraction per se, more of a sense of being kindred spirits. My aunt believed in past lives and how we met the same souls over and over again throughout our many lives. I could almost believe it about Carter. “Bye.”

Hopping off the raised wooden sidewalk, I strode across the street and glanced over my shoulder. Carter, the table and survey sign were gone.

Then I realized I had left too quickly to get my gift card. “Broke for another week.” I sighed. “Oh, well.”

I spotted my aunt – a slender woman with bleach-blonde hair – and jogged towards the middle of Tombstone. My uncle was short and squat in comparison, a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon with a warm smile and a wife he turned from pretty into an ageless beauty.

“Great news, Josie,” my aunt started. Her loud words were like her dress – exaggerated. From the obscenely wide-brimmed hat to the bug-eyed sunglasses and fuchsia cowboy boots, there was no chance of my over-the-top aunt fitting into the dusty, laid back environment of Tombstone. “We’re staying here tonight!”

“Here? Where?” I asked. 

“Your uncle won a drawing for a free night here in Old Tombstone!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, okay,” I murmured.
Looks like I’ll be able to meet Carter for a drink after all.

My quiet uncle appeared proud of himself while my aunt beamed him an adoring smile. As different as they were, they’d always been a doting couple. I viewed a relationship like theirs as enviable, even though they used to embarrass me when I was younger.

 “You have time to look at more rocks,” my aunt added.

“Yes, because that’s all a rock hobbyist is interested in,” I said with a sigh. I had given up explaining why I became an amateur geologist. My aunt had never gotten past the fact I was more interested in rocks than jewelry and accessories. “I do love them, though,” I added, excited about the multiple rock shops I’d visited already. I had too many interests. I barely had the credits to escape the dreaded, generic liberal arts degree to obtain one in modern languages.

“I’m sure there are some fascinating specimens in these shops,” my uncle added. “They have a lot of dinosaur fossils here, too.”

“And meteorites. Maybe there’s some space peridots,” my aunt said.

We stared at her, surprised she’d noticed something about a gem that wasn’t a price tag or whether or not her wealthy neighbors already owned something similar.

“Come on!” she said, oblivious. “Let’s find our bed and breakfast. It’s supposed to be authentic!”

“I really hope that doesn’t mean we’re peeing in buckets,” I said with a laugh, recalling the first tour we went on when we arrived to Tombstone.

“You and me both.” My uncle smiled then led us down the road to an intersection. His warmth always melted my impatience with my aunt, a reminder of how much I had always wanted a real father when growing up. My uncle was as close as I had gotten, and he’d always been sweet and supportive – but not really mine. He had three other kids that called him
father
while I called him
uncle
.

Orphaned when I was young, I was grateful that my aunt and uncle had taken me in and treated me as family. None of my cousins were roped into this crazy trip across the southwest in search of some kind of rare turquoise my aunt had heard about. Of course, none of them were geological hobbyists who could help her find what she wanted.

My uncle guided us around one of the buildings to a three story, restored Victorian house that appeared to deliver on the promise of being authentic by its wooden façade. The ground floor was a saloon with a sign hanging in front that read,
Victorian Vittles Inn and Saloon.

Another sense of déjà vu washed over me as I stepped onto the porch. I had never been here before, but like Carter, it was almost familiar.

Shaking my head, I followed my aunt and uncle into the foyer dividing the saloon from a more formal dining area. To my surprise, Carter was already seated at the bar. I looked twice, not sure how he managed to get here before us, but curious about him to the point I didn’t really care.

“Hey, I’m gonna grab a drink,” I said to my uncle.

“Here.” He handed me a twenty.

I accepted it and walked to the bar. “Mind if I join you?” I asked and plopped down beside Carter.

“I thought I’d see you here,” he said with another excited smile.

“You’re kinda weird, Carter.” I laughed.

“Well … I didn’t mean … I’m sorry. I just …” He sighed.

“It’s okay. I understand.” He was flushed again, and I felt bad for embarrassing him.

The quiet was awkward. I ordered a beer and waited for Carter to say something. For having invited me, he was strangely quiet, staring at his bottle.

“How did your surveying go today?” I asked finally.

“Slower than usual.”

“Hmm.” I wasn’t good at pretending to be interested in things that really held no importance to me. “So, uh, you like history.”

“I like
changing
history. The idea,” he added quickly. “Theorizing. Researching. That kind of thing.”

“If you went back in time, would you change things?”

“Yes. I have it calculated.” He pulled out a cell phone. “You could spend less than two weeks in the eighteen forties to stop a million deaths. You’d just have to find a Choctaw Indian named Running Bear and another man named Taylor Hansen.”

“They caused everything?”

“Sort of.” He glanced up. “Am I … weirding you out?”

“Not yet.”

He perked up and began talking. He was a delight to watch, charismatic and exuberant. With little interest in history, I paid attention to him as much as possible while he began an epic tale about how one change could have prevented a million deaths. His detail and knowledge of the past was astounding, along with his passion.

Drinking beer after beer, I was more interested in watching him speak than in what he said. The sense we were friends in a past life or had met somewhere in this one grew stronger the longer he spoke, and I found myself laughing and enjoying his company.

Somewhere around beer four, more people trickled into the saloon for dinner, and the lantern-like lights went on around us. My uncle texted me what room I was in while my aunt mentioned a wine tasting bar they were headed to. I, however, liked being around Carter. Bubbly and cheerful, he had a natural, happy energy that compelled me to stay.

By beer number seven, the bar had grown loud, the televisions were blaring a college football game, and Carter and I were plotting how to change history.

The drunker we got, the more sense it made.

“So would you go?” he asked some time later above the noise of the evening crowd. “Like a two week vacation to the Wild West.”

“Yes,” I said with no hesitation. “All you have to do is figure out how to time travel.”

“I can do that.”

“I believe you. You’re one of those geniuses aren’t you?”

He grinned. “Yes, I am.”

“I so knew it!” My words were slurred, and so were his. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had this much fun at a bar.

“You go back in time. I’ll stay here so I can help you find the right people. We can text each other,” he said.

We stared at each other for a moment before we both began laughing at the amazing yet ridiculous idea.

“But wait, Carter!” I exclaimed suddenly. “I can’t speak Choctaw ... Choctawan. Whatever. How do I convince him to wear jeans?”

“Oh I can fix that,” Carter said. “I created a brain chip … I mean … micro chip for your brain and it’ll let you understand and speak every language known to man. It translates everything into … American English and then everything you say is translated into the language of … whoever you’re talking to.”

“Seriously?” I gave him an astonished look. “I could’ve used that for French class.”

He laughed. “You want to … to use billion-dollar technology to cheat on a French exam?” For some reason, that tickled him, and he laughed until he was crying.

I ordered us another round of beers.

Wiping tears away, he drew a deep breath.