Saving Yesterday (TimeShifters Book 1) (17 page)

He leans closer. “Some of those men have babies at home that they want to see grow up. Some of them have a sweetheart and the only thing on their mind is to make it home alive to start a life with her. You have to think of them as individuals, each with worth and a story. When you start to think of people as groups or causes, you take away their humanity. If that’s the case, why are we wasting our time doing what we’re doing?”

“But, Michael … kill us?” I really should have stayed back in Keleusma.

He traces his fingers over the curves on the top of the iron table. “Back in our time, my neighborhood was surrounded by a forest preserve. The main street to get there had ponds lining each side. People used to fly down that street. I’m talking seventy, eighty miles an hour. But there were all these ducks that lived there. They’d sun themselves a few feet from the road.” He pauses.

I lock my gaze with his now. Let him know I’m listening, even though I have no clue why he’s telling me this right now.

“Even as a kid I remember thinking, wow, those stupid ducks. You know? They have wings. Can go anywhere in the world they want, but they pick to live by that road.” He shakes his head. “Each day, right there on the edge of death.” His gaze rakes over the group of soldiers.

I stack my plate on top of his. “Did any of them ever get hit?”

“Every summer, you’d see two or three smashed on the road each month.” He taps the table, then whispers, “Stupid ducks.”

His words transform the breakfast in my stomach to a twenty-pound knot.

He rises from the table. “I’m going to try and talk to the officers. Wish me luck.”

I’m left alone, drumming my fingers on the tabletop and staring at the sunrise. My eyes keep wandering back to Michael, expecting the other men in the group to pounce on him any second. If they did, what would I do? I can’t take them. Not in a million years. They’re all two or three times my size. Not to mention the gun each of them carries. And there’s no one who would come to our rescue if I yell.

Please keep us safe.
The words are there, but I don’t know who they’re for.

The hotel clerk smiles down at me as he collects our dirty dishes. He waggles his eyebrows. I shift my gaze away from him. Gross. He’s probably twice my age. That would be like Eugene or Darnell hitting on me. Although, in this time period, I don’t think they cared much about age. Note to self—do not look weird men in the eye. Wait, how about, only look Michael in the eye.

Okay, that’s not the safest thing for me either. He makes my stomach flip-flop too. But that’s different.

  Without encouragement, Creep-o-Clerk ambles back inside Hunt House. He leaves the front door standing open. No doubt an invitation for me to join him. I’m about to get up and saunter away when I recognize a voice. Every muscle in my body freezes. I only heard it once before, but Pinkerton’s—well, he goes by E. J. Allen here—tone is distinct. Michael said he’s not our concern as much as finding out secrets, but I can’t help listening.

“What say you, Mr. Allen? Will you join us in traveling as far as the encampment of troops at Camp Beauregard?”

Pinkerton says, “Gents, as I both lack an engagement and enjoy your company, that sounds like a marvelous plan. I may even join to do my part in the cause like you’ve all been encouraging me to do.” There’s a scuffling of shoes and grunts of agreement, then nothing. The stable is around back so if they’re leaving right away, they’ll exit the other end of the house.

Latched onto the armrest of my chair, my fingers go white. Weren’t we originally sent here to help the Union spy? Michael sensed a leading to save Pinkerton the first time. Now the man’s leaving Hunt House to go who knows where. I’m on my feet now, pacing the veranda. Oh, and biting my nails. I make myself stop.

Michael’s in the circle of men, swapping stories. Hitting each other on the back and laughing. Is it proper in this time to walk over there and snag him? Can I holler out his name to get his attention?

My friend Emma once forced me to watch
Pride and Prejudice
. Thankfully, it was just the two-hour one and not the eight-hour saga that requires an entire day devoted to watching. What did the mean-headed sister call her brother in the movie? I press my fingers to my temples. She referred to him by his last name. Not that this is the same time period. Actually, that story takes place in a different country all together.

I work my bracelet around my wrist. Taking action is better than thinking about movies. I start across the lawn. “Mr. Pace?”

Michael raises his eyebrows toward me, and then turns back to the men, bowing slightly. “Excuse me, friends. My sister is prone to lightheadedness when left in the sunshine over long.” He comes over and puts his arm around me, steering me away from both the house and the soldiers.

I dig my elbow into his ribs. “Lightheadedness?”

He squeezes my shoulder. “It was the best I could come up with. What’s up?”

“Pinkerton is leaving.”

He stops walking. “You saw him?”

“I heard him.”

“When?”

I shrug. “Two minutes ago.”

“Did he say where he was headed?”

“Not just him. I think he’s with some of the soldiers.”

“The clerk will know. He’s been feeding information to them this whole time. I asked him how to give money and pretended to be from a wealthy family that wants to help the cause. He’ll tell me where they went.” Grabbing my arm, Michael tows me into Hunt House and flags down the clerk who gives him the information about the Confederates. “Do you have carriages to let?”

Creep-o polishes the table without looking up. “No, sir. The last one left moments ago. I have a horse.” Then he glances at me. “Only one. If you need to travel somewhere, there are rooms open this evening. Should you pay in advance, your sister can stay here under my care for the duration of the day.”

I dig my nails into Michael’s hand.

He grits through it with a smile. “What a thoughtful offer.” He pays for the horse while I panic. If Michael leaves me here, I’ll take off into the woods and live like a hobbit until he returns. I will not stay at Hunt House alone.

Without wasting time, Michael ushers me out of the house and we’re tramping to the barn. He tosses me the backpack, and I sling it over my shoulder.

While he pulls a chestnut-colored horse out of a stall, I stalk back and forth, fists bunched at my sides. “You’re really going to just leave me here. I can’t believe this.”

He swings up onto the horse and trots it over to me.

I leap back. “Okay, you know how I feel about those animals.”

Maneuvering his shoe from the holder, he reaches out his hand. “Put your foot in the stirrup and climb up behind me.”

I’m lifted onto the back of the horse by more of Michael’s strength than my own.

He peeks at me over his shoulder. “Hang on tight. This isn’t going to be a little stroll.”

“I thought you were going to leave me behind.” I lace my arms around him. Perhaps hanging on too tightly.

Clucking his tongue, he gets the horse to jog out of the barn. Michael turns his head slightly. “I’ll never leave you behind. That’s a promise.”

Michael lands a swift kick to the horse’s side, sending it into a full run. I pull closer to him, bury the side of my face against his back and close my eyes. Sway against him as the horse tears across a field.

Instead of thinking about falling off the horse, I focus on Michael. He’s warm and carries the mixed scents of the outdoors and hard work. When I was younger and spent all day playing outside with friends, I used to come home smelling like that. My dad would pick me up, twirl me in a circle, and say I smelled like the sun. What a great way to say it. So much better than saying someone reminds you of sweat and dirt.

We’re at the train depot quicker than I expected. Michael’s easing me off the back of the horse before I get a chance to open my eyes. He loops the reins over a hitching post and strides to the front doors, then pauses. “I’m going inside to do some surveying. Wait for me out here, okay?”

Once he’s inside, I skirt around the horse and decide to check out the other side of the station. Where the horse is hitched faces the road, but I want to see the side with the rail. Someone has planted a few flowers to trim the building, but they’re in horrible need of watering. Stuff like that must fall to the wayside during a war. One wayward bee searches each wilted blossom for nectar. Bad luck, buddy.

I turn the corner and stop dead in my tracks. The three men I saw the first night I shifted are there on the platform, waiting beside a monstrous black train as it belches smoke. I have to do what I can to find out about Pinkerton. The sooner we finish this mission, the better.

Raising my chin, I try to act the way a lady in this time would, although I don’t really know how that is. I saunter toward the train, pretending to be dazzled by the contraption. My ploy works. The men talk as if I’m not even there.

 “Why the pretense about showing him the fort?”

“If he’s the spy I think he is, capturing him will get us promotions and loads of money. We could also be granted positions off the battlefield for a capture this grand. Isn’t that what we all want—to be done fighting once and for all? This could be our ticket, but I’m being careful until we have him surrounded by a thousand soldiers.”

“You did send a telegram? They’re aware we’re coming with him?”

“From the second we step off the train, he won’t stand a chance.”

I’m inching my way down the platform when I spot Pinkerton. He’s seated inside the train, reading a newspaper as if all is right in the world. Without thinking, I scale the three large steps into the train and hurry down the aisle.

I slide into the seat next to Pinkerton. “I know you don’t know who I am, but I just heard those men you are traveling with. They know you’re a Union spy and they have people ready to jump you at the next stop.”

Pinkerton’s eyes narrow. “Jump me?”

Okay, so not the best word choice for the 1800’s. “Abduct you.”

He glances out the window, then stands. “I’m indebted to you, Miss.”

 My heart is pounding so hard I’m afraid he can hear it. “Exit on the other side of the train. You can make your way off the platform on that side before they realize you’re gone. I’ll keep an eye on them for you.”

Pinkerton follows my instructions. Once off the train, he ducks behind carriages until I can’t see him any longer. Who knew I could complete a mission that easily? I take a long breath. Bite my cheeks to hold back a smug smile. Wait, I need to get off this train before it decides to go somewhere.

Just as I turn, a hand clamps around my mouth and another wraps around my middle. Strong body odor makes me gag. It happens so fast, I don’t have time to fight. I’m jerked backward and dragged off the train.

The long-haired Confederate soldier slams me against the outside wall of the station and smiles at me like the Cheshire cat. Except there’s black ooze dribbling down his lip. “Do you realize you just cost me a trip home to see my family? You’re either the greatest fool in history or another spy. Either way, you’re coming with us.”

I try to wiggle free. Shift!
Nicholas, if you’re real. Shifting now would be nice
. “Please. I don’t know what this is about. Let go.”

“I think you know exactly what this is about. Anyone who warns a Northern spy has either picked the wrong side—or is a spy herself. My gut says—I got a spy. If I’m correct, Commander Bragg may give me a promotion yet.” His giant hand locks my neck to the wall. I gasp for breath and claw at his skin. He spits tobacco juice all over my shoes.

As my brain starts to go fuzzy from lack of air, only one discernible thought pounds over and over in my head.

Stupid duck.

The world snaps back into view as I gain consciousness, and it smells like a Dumpster. They’ve hauled me around the corner of the train depot, near a small shed. Two men bind my arms, my feet. I try to struggle, but my limbs feel so heavy. I half close my eyes against the stinging sunlight.

It’s impossible to scream with a sweaty handkerchief in your mouth. Try it if you don’t believe me. My brain commands me to shriek, but each attempt ends in a cough, which leads to eye watering and gagging. Why do I even bother? There’s no one to ride in on a white horse and rescue me. Any other Confederate sympathizer will slap these men on the back for a job well done if they see me. Of course there’s Michael, but the thought of him in danger makes my gut clench.

These men aren’t really going to injure me, are they? A woman can’t be hanged for spying. Or were they? I wish I paid better attention in history class. My mind trips down a bunny trail to flannel-clad men who kill women in the woods, or worse, lock them up somewhere for twenty years while they waste away. Maybe I’ve watched one too many true crime shows on cable.

The soldier with the long hair hoists me onto his shoulder. “Round up the rest of the men. Tell them we won’t be taking the train today. Not with this little bit of cargo. We’ll have to keep the horses from Hunt House and be late delivering the medical supplies, but I don’t see a way around it.”