West (History Interrupted Book 1) (5 page)

Weird.

I cracked my eyes open and recognized what I assumed was the tray ceiling with ornate crown molding of the historic hotel where I had fallen asleep. I lay still. All I needed was a mocha, and I would be set for the trip back to California.

Excited to be home, I tossed off the covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

And stopped cold.

My heart turned over in my chest, and a chill went through me.

I wasn’t in the hotel. This room was large with a hearth, tall windows and a sitting area. The period furniture looked new and was of high quality, the quilts, rugs, and blankets all brightly embroidered. The drapes had been pulled back to let in the sunlight.

A quick assessment of my clothing revealed a long, loose nightgown of homespun cotton. It was plain, soft and comfortable, covering everything from the top of my feet to my neck.

I crossed to the window, praying I would look out over the cars parked along the street near my hotel.

My chest tightened so fast, I gasped. Outside my window was a sea of rolling grassland beneath a wide blue sky. The tall grass was punctuated by a herd of fluffy white sheep I would squeal over, any other time.

The night, and the reason my hair was still damp at the roots, returned to me.

Carter had sent me back in time. “He really did it.” Butterflies churned in my belly. Where was I?

“Miss Josie.”

I turned. A middle-aged woman in period costume resembling that of the women I had seen in Tombstone stood inside my doorway. She wore an apron over a dress that was apricot in color. Her leather shoes were worn and well kept.

Starting to smile, I marveled at how well she fit in with the surroundings.

“I didn’t expect to see you awake,” she said, scrutinizing my features. “Are you warm enough?”

I nodded.

The woman closed the door. “Are you well?” The words were a whisper.

I didn’t respond.

“Can you remember me now?”

“I’m sorry but no,” I replied. “Who are you?”

The older woman’s severe features softened into pity. She went to the bed and patted it.

“Lie down, child,” she said. “They say you’re taking on this illness to avoid a certain obligation.” She moved across the room to add wood to the fire as she spoke.

I listened, brow furrowing. I went to the bed and sat on it, curious to explore the world Carter sent me back to.

“I say you cannot remember a blessed thing. It’s true, isn’t it?”

“I’d say so,” I replied.

A look of disappointment crossed her features. “I’m Nell. I’ve been your governess since you were but a babe.”

“Why do I need a governess? I’m like, twenty two.”

The woman’s face fell even more, and I felt bad, even knowing I shouldn’t.

“Miss Josie,” Nell said, tilting her head to the side. “Would you tell me if you knew me?”

“I would,” I assured her.

“Swear on the Bible?”

“I’ll swear on a stack of them. I don’t even know where I am. Where am I, Nell?” Fear fluttered through me.
Short vacation.
I told myself. Then I returned to my own time.
This is an adventure – nothing more.

“Indian Territory, where you been raised your whole life.” Nell sighed. She appeared haggard suddenly, tired and worn. “I prayed to God every night when you were gone.”

From what I recalled, Indian Territory later became Oklahoma and northern Texas. Astonishment bloomed within me. Carter really was a genius. Realizing Nell was staring at me, I blinked and returned to the conversation at hand.

“Gone where?” I asked. “I can’t remember living here at all.”

“Of course you did, child,” Nell said, concerned. “Your father knew you on sight when them savages and that sheriff brought you in. I did, too. You been gone for a year, but we knew you.”

Hmm. So I have a father
. I wasn’t sure how else to ask about who Nell thought I was. Carter had said to play along. I just needed a few notes on who I was supposed to be, and then I could probably manage it. He had clearly placed me in a safe environment, or so it seemed.

“Look.” Nell pulled a photo off the mantle and crossed to me, sitting beside me on the bed. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

The girl in the photograph did look a lot like me. Long, flowing blonde hair, a small frame. There was no color in the photograph, but her eyes were light, her skin ivory. The differences were subtle: the girl in the picture appeared a little taller than me, if the chair photographed was the same one by the window. Her lips were thinner, her hair straight where mine was wavy.

We could’ve been sisters,
I acknowledged silently.
But this isn’t me.

“I expect there are some changes. Frontier life is not easy on us,” Nell said, before I was able to speak. “But your father … he came back to life when you were brought to his door.” Her eyes sparkled with happiness. “As did I.”

Play along,
Carter had said. Thinking of him made me stretch for the pocket that wasn’t there.

“Nell!” I exclaimed. “Have you seen my phone?” At the blank look she gave me, I racked my mind for an explanation. “A small, silver box that was in my pocket when I came here.”

“You mean the devil’s box?” Nell’s voice was hushed. “I have it. I did not let your father see it, Josie.”

“Right. Where is it?”

Nell hesitated then got up and went to a jewelry box on a vanity near the window. She opened it and pulled out the phone.

I almost sighed with relief.

Nell put it back quickly, closed the box and kissed the dainty golden cross she wore on a thin chain around her neck.

“So I am the daughter of John,” I began. There was no easy way to figure out who I was. “I’ve been gone for a year because … why did I leave?”

“A certain obligation,” Nell whispered, as if I should know. “Do you remember?”

“No.”

“You were to marry a man your father chose.”

I started to laugh then stopped at Nell’s confused look. I hadn’t thought twice about the status of women in the Old West. Recalling that the women’s rights movements didn’t start for another almost hundred years, I began to think I had a lot of learning to do in order to fit in.

“Now that I’m back, do I have to marry him still?” I asked.

“He has since married another,” Nell added.

“Oh.”
My gaze went to the jewelry box. “Good for him, I guess.”

“Would you like to dress to see your father?”

“Um, yes. Yes I would.”

Nell appeared pleased. “I’ll prepare your gown.” She hurried out the door.

I shook my head and went to the vanity. I pulled the cell free and examined it again. Like yesterday, there was no battery and no signal – and two messages from Carter. At least he was keeping up his part of the deal and texting. I gazed at the phone, grappling with the idea that somehow, Carter was communicating with me, even though we were two centuries apart.

I wished I’d had more of a science mind. I knew nothing of physics or how any of this was possible. Not about to question it, so long as he was talking to me, I kissed the cell, my one connection to my time.

Be like Amy Pond or Clara Oswald,
I told myself, recalling my favorite Doctor Who companions. They were never scared or worried when they went to strange worlds or hostile time periods.

Next to the phone was a familiar, folded coat. I touched the soft brown leather. The lawman with the beautiful eyes had given it to me. I recalled meeting him clearly, down to his reticence about telling me anything, but not what happened before that ended with me waking up in a crater.

I picked up my cell, more interested in the messages.

It should be mid September, 1842,
claimed the first.
The girl you’re pretending to be shares your name! Isn’t that an awesome coincidence?

The décor of the room and Nell’s explanations seemed to support the bizarre words.

“Kind of a weird coincidence,” I whispered to him. Starting to smile, I read the second note, hoping for information about who I was supposed to be.

Put a passcode on your screen.

“That’s it?” I murmured. “Genius enough to send me back in time, male enough not to realize how big of a deal that really is. No tips on how to … wait, do they even have flushing toilets?”

I sent him a long message in response with half a dozen questions. The alleged brain chip that held historical knowledge hadn’t kicked in. At least, I didn’t know anything more about bathrooms than I did before.

Just as I finished, Nell returned, this time with a long dress draped carefully over her arms.

“You want me to wear
that
?” I asked in surprise and started to laugh. “It’s September! I’ll burn up.”

“It’s your father’s favorite gown, Miss Josie. He bought the material from Spain, because it matches your eyes.” Nell’s gaze misted over.

I took two drama classes and didn’t feel too silly pretending to be someone’s daughter in the eighteen hundreds. It was like a really intense play. But the wardrobe …

Ugh.
The gown looked heavy and uncomfortable – not the kind of clothing I was accustomed to wearing – and came in two pieces: an elaborately decorated bodice and layered, bell-shaped petticoats. It was as far from yoga pants and a tank top as anyone could ever get. My bestie back home used to say I was too nice, because, right now, I was going to wear that mess of a gown and probably end up overheating and dying of dehydration rather than refusing and upsetting a complete stranger who appeared ready to cry.

“Sounds great,” I said. “So … how is Father?”

Nell set the gown down on the bed, left and returned with more items of clothing: a chemise, corset and stockings. She spoke as she moved briskly. “He is not well. His health has been declining since your disappearance, and his mind is not right. I fear for him, Miss Josie. He is too agitated by your return. You must strive not to jest the way you always do and to be dutiful.”

Dutiful. Ha!
“I’ll be good, Ms. Nell,” I replied cheerfully.

“Come!” she said and motioned me over.

Nell stripped my nightgown off with speed that left me embarrassed. Seemingly unaware of my nakedness, Nell pulled free a clean shift and tugged it over my head.

I pushed my arms through it then eyed the corset. It appeared rigid and unfriendly. I soon had a reason to despise it even more.

Nell fastened it around me then yanked the ties as far as they would go, binding and tightening it around me until I wasn’t able to draw a full breath. With my waist held in and my breasts pushed up, I tossed my head back to try to breath better.

And then it hit me.

“Um, Nell?” I asked. “I need to um … go to the restroom.” I was definitely not looking forward to my options in this regard.

“To make?”

“Yes. I think.”

Nell left my side and went to a wardrobe. She pulled out two pieces of china: a dainty, porcelain, round bowl, and what looked like a gravy boat and set them down. She rested a cotton washcloth on top of the big one.

“Chamber pot and bordalou, as you prefer,” she said.

I eyed both and began to wonder how many of my aunt’s antique china pieces were really
bordalous
instead of dinnerware. “Right,” I mumbled. “Love my bordalou.”

Nell smiled patiently and stood aside, waiting.

“Isn’t there an outhouse or something?” I asked.

“A lady does not use the same water-closet as the servants!”

Okay, whatever.
“Can I have some privacy?”

Nell nodded her head once. “I’ll bring you some tea.”

“Thanks.” I watched her leave then stared at the pot.
This is gonna be rougher than I thought.

I snapped a photo of the two dainty urinals and sent it to Carter, pretty sure he’d get a kick out of it, then pulled up my chemise. Unable to bend over, I thanked the heavens repeatedly for the intense yoga classes I took with my aunt as I lowered myself with pure thigh power.

Ready to laugh at the idea of peeing in a bowl, I managed to do it and stand.

Only when I stepped away did I realized I had completely missed the pot.

“Shit,” I muttered, face getting hot at the idea of Nell seeing what I had done.

As if on cue, the matronly nanny opened the door, carrying a tray of tea and delicate cups.

“I can explain,” I started, startled. “I didn’t mean to go … make on the floor.”

Nell wasn’t fazed. “The doctor said it would be a while until your mind returns to you.”

There’s no response for that.
It took a lot to embarrass me, and in that moment, my face was hot.

“Let us finish. The tea will be cool enough to drink,” Nell said without missing a beat.

After peeing on the floor, I wasn’t about to complain about another layer of discomfort.

Nell stood on a small stool and draped the petticoats over my head. I stood with my arms in the air while the nanny tugged it down over my body. She placed the bodice on next, and another set of straps or ties was tightened. I lowered my hands. In addition to the layers, the gown had long sleeves as well.

I was burning up.

“Sit. Drink your tea while I straighten up,” Nell said. “Your favorite breakfast will be cold soon.”

I mumbled a
thank you
and sat. I was hardly able to move, and my breathing was becoming labored. I struggled to pour tea in the stiff get-up and sat back finally, tea cup in hand.

Tea smells the same now as it does in the future.
I sipped, added sugar, and then drank it down. The familiarity of a cup of tea did more than I expected to settle the part of me that was a little shaken at the thought of being dropped into the eighteen hundreds with the mission of finding two men, one of which I was supposed to stop from doing something in a few days.

There was cut fruit, ham and boiled eggs for breakfast, along with a slice of bread with jam. I ate what I could but quickly found it hard to keep much down with my torso in a vise.

“Are there … Indians near by?” I asked when it was impossible to eat more.