Dream Weaver (8 page)

"Something to think about, anyway," Gwen said before she headed for the stairs to get ready for the trip to
Fort
Pitt
. Now, if she only had her MasterCard.

* * *

 
Christian twisted around in his saddle as they crossed a drawbridge and entered the town. "How d'you like it?"

Gwen forced a smile. "Well, it's different." What an ugly place, she mused, riding past the most humongous fort she could imagine. She'd ridden sidesaddle, an awkward way to ride, but she'd have to get used to it. A babble of voices filled the air, soldiers, traders, women, and children all talking in a variety of dialects, gossiping and calling to friends. Everywhere she looked, hawkers and farmers' wives sold their wares. Fruits, vegetables, and plucked chickens dangled from their hands as they shouted above the din. She and Christian made their way carefully among the crowd, easing their horses past the many villagers.

Gwen slanted a look at Christian, admiring the way he rode his horse, tall and upright, his breeches stretched taut across his muscular thighs.

"Let us stop here. 'Tis too crowded to ride." Christian slid from his horse, then reached for her, his strong hands lingering at her waist. An intense expression came over his face as he set her down, as if he wanted to kiss her.

Imperceptibly, she leaned toward him, wondering what his kiss would be like. They gazed into each other's eyes for countless seconds, their surroundings forgotten. Christian raised a tentative hand and brushed a lock of hair from her face, his fingers caressing her cheek.

His mount neighed, ending the special moment between them. With a sigh, he turned away to secure the horses to a hitching post.

The delicious aroma of baking bread from the fort ovens drifted in the air, an uncomfortable reminder to Gwen that it would be hours before they'd eat. Her stomach grumbled. Christian must be used to these long trips, she thought, but she sure wasn't.

 
An eerie feeling swept over her as she observed the fort. Her dream of the attack on this fortress returned to haunt her-- the deadly arrows, the hideous screams from the woods. She suppressed a shudder. The siege will happen later, that much she knew. Rather than worry about the coming attack, it would cheer her more if she remembered what the area looked like in her own time, with its busy streets, cars, and glistening skyscrapers.

But she couldn't erase the troubling visions. She'd always hated violence; even the sight of blood made her feel faint. The memory of her parents' terrible death still tormented her, often keeping her awake at night. Now to think what she'd have to endure here when the Indian troubles started, well, she didn't want to think about it.

She stared all around her, turning her head from side to side, her gaze absorbing the ramshackle houses on the outskirts of the fort, the trading posts, the taverns, and the blacksmith's shop. A high masonry wall blocked the view of the beautiful
Allegheny River
, leaving her with an ugly spectacle of dirty streets and primitive structures. She'd give anything to get back to her own city, her own time.

Christian made a wide sweep of his arm. "They call this town
Pittsburgh
now. It's under martial law."

"Martial law?"

"True." He indicated a tavern about ten yards to their right. "You can't open a trading post or a tavern or even build a house without permission of the fort's commandant."
 
Gwen took another look at the stone ramparts of the fort, her weird sensation returning full blast. A shiver raced down her back.

"Is something amiss?" he asked with a thoughtful frown.

"Oh!" She smiled with false cheerfulness. "I'm just so impressed with all that I see here...the fort and everything."

She removed the bonnet Rebecca had lent her, a lovely confection of white straw, pink flowers, and a wide blue ribbon on the crown. She shook the dust from the crown, then set it on her head again, adjusting the angle. More dirt had settled in the folds of her dress, and she brushed the sleeves and skirt, sending up a cloud that made her sneeze.

"When is this place going to get paved streets?" Gwen asked with a final sneeze.

"Paved streets?" Christian looked baffled. "Not for a long time, I shouldn't think."

Just as she'd figured.

"We have several trading posts here." He gestured toward the wooden huts along the Monongahela waterfront. "I doubt not it will take but a short while to see about the medicaments I ordered, but you might as well look around as long as you wish. I'll come back for you later, since I have business at the fort." He withdrew a watch from a small pouch at his waist to check the time. "That should give you ample time to make whatever purchases you need."

"What a nice watch." She bent closer for a look, their fingers touching. She spoke quickly. "You must be proud of it."

"My timepiece? Indeed, I am proud of it. A doctor on the staff in
Philadelphia
gave it to me when I completed my training there. Will one o'clock be agreeable to meet me again?"

Without thinking, she checked her wrist, then remembered once more her watch still languished somewhere in the twenty-first century. It was a Christmas gift from her parents years ago, and she'd never see it again. "I don't have a watch," she said, swallowing hard.

"The proprietor will know the time, I doubt not." He clicked his watch shut and tucked it back in the pouch, then ushered her toward the open door. "Shall we go in?"

She gave the trading post a disappointing glance. "Are there any other stores besides this one?"

"Other trading posts, as you can see," he said with an expansive gesture, "but Daniel and I always buy our supplies from this one. It has a wide variety of goods, I assure you."

Christian was on target about one thing, Gwen mused as they entered Levy and Franks. Maybe the trading post wasn't very fancy, but it did have a variety of goods that crowded the shelves and spilled from the counters. Everything appeared quite crude, except for a few adornments such as beads that peeked out from the shelves, along with mirrors--looking glasses, she mentally corrected--and buttons, buttons, buttons, hundreds of them. It sure wasn't
Saks Fifth Avenue
, but it would have to do.

Observing several bolts of cloth on the shelves, she considered that a good place to start, as Christian had suggested. Rebecca had given her a list of items to buy--needles and thread, a cake of lavender soap, tobacco for Daniel, among other things--plenty to keep her busy for a while.

"Ah, Dr. Norgard." The proprietor greeted them from behind the counter, smiling at Gwen. "You've captured another customer for me, I see."

Christian grinned. "You know how ladies love to shop."

Gwen silently fumed. Male chauvinist!

After making the introductions, Christian leaned against the counter. "About those medicaments I ordered..."

"Indeed, sir. I have the opium, aye, and the henbane, too. Also, the other medicaments." "Very good, Mr. Davenport." Christian tapped his knuckles on the counter, his gaze covering the room. "I'll be back in an hour to collect my things, and that should give Miss Emrys ample time to select her purchases." With a brief smile in her direction, he left for the fort. "Take as long as you want, Miss Emrys," Mr. Davenport said as he hurried to help another customer, "and you may examine anything on the counters or the shelves."

She headed for the fabrics. "Right, thanks."

Now that's pretty material, she mused, fingering a bolt of white calico printed with tiny red rosebuds and green vines, the fabric tucked between a length of blue linen and striped muslin. She ran her hand over the smooth cloth, imagining a dress made from the fabric, with lace around the neck, if possible. Colorful glass beads sparkled from one of the shelves, and glittering brooches nestled beside them.

She paused, her hand lingering on a pair of blue glass earrings. Christian had said he had business to tend to at the fort. Might that "business" have something to do with her? Checking up on her "spying", no doubt? She shuddered, afraid to dwell on his suspicions.

* * *

Surrounded by budding apple trees in the King's Garden--a grassy park north of
Fort
Pitt--Gwen
enjoyed her midday meal with Christian. A light breeze blew across the Allegheny, while sunlight played on the rippling waters of the river. In the midst of such a beautiful ambience, Gwen resolved to act pleasant and not disagree or argue with Christian. She'd benefit more if she gained his confidence. Possibly then she could convince him she really had come from the twenty-first century, that she really could see things that would happen in his future. Her future, too, come to think of it.

Absently plucking the grass, she gave him a sidelong glance. "Are you going to the frolic at the Chamberlains?"

After a long swallow of cider, he set the mug on the ground. "I intend to, if nothing interferes. 'Twould be nice if we could have frolics more often. They're always gay affairs."

"Gay?"

He tore off a piece of rye and Injun bread. "Of course. You know, music and dancing. Everyone has a good time." Biting into the bread, he looked at her as if she had a room temperature I.Q.

"Oh. Gay. Yes, I see." She munched on a piece of cheese, keeping a close eye on him. She liked to watch his hand movements--those strong, expressive fingers--and dared to imagine those hands touching her, caressing her. Fanciful visions warmed her face, and fearing he'd sense her feelings, she returned to her meal. A few moments of silence stretched between them while Christian opened and closed his mouth, looking agitated.

He nodded toward the fort. "You were alone for an hour. That gave you much time to look around
Fort
Pitt
, I should think."

She paused, a slice of oat bread halfway to her mouth. "Look around
Fort
Pitt
? Why would I want to do that?"

"'Tis what I should like to know, that, and your purpose in coming to this part of the province when 'tis obvious you're accustomed to a more refined way of life."

She tapped her fingers on the ground, giving herself time to frame a plausible answer. What in the world could she ever say or do to convince him she'd really come from his future? After giving the matter careful thought, she came up with a better idea. Like all men, Christian no doubt loved to talk about himself.

"Christian, let's forget about me for now. I'd rather hear about you. So tell me about your work as a doctor, the sort of things you do."

Christian raised his eyebrows, as if he suspected her ploy. "Sometimes it seems as if the only time I see my neighbors is when one suffers from a physical ailment." He paused, a thoughtful frown on his face. "I can think of so many things I would like to do for the people, starting with smallpox inoculations."

"Preventive medicine!" Christian was way ahead of his time.

"Aye, you could call it that."

She leaned forward, hands pressed to the ground. "Envision a world where smallpox is eliminated, where so many other diseases such as scarlet fever are a thing of the past."

He nodded. "It could happen here in the British colonies, I suppose, but not in my lifetime. Maybe not for one-hundred years. And as for other diseases..." Christian shook his head. "Not for a long, long time, I should say."

She grasped his warm hand but found his touch a distraction she couldn't deal with now. "It has happened...or will happen," she said, confused about the time but determined to make her point.

"You are speaking nonsense. 'Has happened'? 'Will happen'? Which do you mean?"

"I'm trying to explain about my time, the twenty-first century." At his incredulous expression, she went on in a rush of words. "No, let me finish. In my time we don't need to worry about the diseases that used to kill and maim so many people." Her long skirt fluttered in the breeze, and she absently tucked the hem between her ankles while she kept a sure gaze on him. "In the time I come from, diseases such as smallpox and scarlet fever will all have been conquered."

Christian remained silent for so long, she felt sure she'd convinced him. Then: "Tell me, what else do you see in your crystal ball?"

She gave an exasperated sigh. "I don't need a crystal ball. I know these things will happen--correction!--have happened." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "But even after smallpox and so many other diseases are gone, new diseases appear, like the Ebola virus and AIDS."

He set his fork down and pushed the plate aside. "Aides? I do not believe one word of what you are telling me, but only for the sake of argument, please explain."

"A-I-D-S," she replied. "It stands for acquired immune deficiency syndrome. At present, there's no cure."

"What is the nature of this malady?"

She chose her words with care. "I suppose you'd call it a venereal disease, but we don't use that term anymore. We--"

"'Tis not a fit subject for a lady," Christian said with a reproving look.

She waved her hand airily. "Oh, everyone talks about it, or did, or will. Whatever."