A Portal for Your Thoughts Page 11

  Steve nodded. “Right. How does us meeting my ancestor not qualify as a paradox waiting to happen? Don’t you remember Back to the Future? Marty McFly messed up his how his parents met and ended up almost not existing.”

  Sarah laughed. “Well, aside from that. We just have to be careful.”

  Steve gently pushed the gates open. Both heavy iron gates quietly swung inward on well greased hinges. Together they turned to walk down the weed-free gravel road. Sarah whistled. Everything was pristine. Everything was perfect. The trees were trimmed away from the gravel road and there were no low lying branches that needed to be cut back. The future fruit orchard hadn’t been planted yet but there were a number of other trees that were all being meticulously cared for.

  A gentle breeze blew in from the south, carrying with it scents of wet leaves, moss, fresh grass, and blooming flowers. By Steve’s estimation they had a few hundred more feet to go before they’d round the bend and see their house. Well, the house that belonged to Luther at the moment. Steve shook his head. Trying to keep everything sorted out in his head was starting to give him a headache.

  “So what do you know about Luther?” Steve asked Sarah as they continued to stroll along the well manicured grounds. “You say he’s a recluse?”

  “Rosamund has talked about him several times,” Sarah recalled. “She can’t imagine anyone living the way Luther does, all holed up on his property like that. She did say that he has one of the biggest plots of land of anyone in town, though.”

  “Is he married?”

  “Obviously, or else you wouldn’t be here.”

  Steve fixed Sarah with a stare.

  “I mean, is he married at the moment?”

  “Yes. I’ve actually seen his wife more than I’ve seen him. She comes to town more than he does. Not much, mind you, but enough to sell or trade her gowns.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Oh, sorry. Cora is a seamstress and a very gifted one at that. She made the purple dress I was wearing last night and this blue one I have on now.”

  Steve looked at the snug blue Victorian style dress Sarah was wearing. The skirt was embroidered with dark blue thread and looked as though it was as flimsy as lace. The patterns were exquisite. Obviously this Cora person knew her way around a sewing machine. Sarah’s dress even had an old-fashioned bustle in the back. The dress was long sleeved, had a button up collar that stretched up Sarah’s neck to just below her chin, and then extended all the way down so that it was less than an inch off the ground.

  “Is that thing even comfortable to wear?” Steve asked yet again. “How do you even move around? Granted, it looks great on you.”

  Sarah looked at him and smiled.

  “Not that there’s anything that wouldn’t look good on you,” Steve hastily added.

  Sarah leaned in and brushed her lips against his right cheek.

  “And that’s why I love you so much.”

  “So she made that thing for you? That must have taken her ages.”

  “Two days. It only took her two days to make it. Can you believe it? I was shocked. Mrs. Jones was rendered speechless. I don’t know how Cora does it. Oh! I forgot to tell you that she’s made dresses for many of the girls in the other two dozen saloons scattered about town.”

  “Two dozen? Really? How many saloons does one town need?”

  “Not that many, that’s for sure. Coeur d’Alene is a dangerous place right now. Everything centers around mining and the search for silver. If someone thinks you’re hoarding silver or your mine has struck it rich then you’ll most certainly be hit by claim jumpers.”

  “I’m surprised Luther lets his wife go to town unescorted,” Steve commented, more to himself than to anyone.

  “I had thought that, too. I figure he must have his reasons.”

  “So what does Luther do? How does he make his money?”

  Sarah shrugged. “I have no idea. I haven’t talked to him. No one has. If you were to ask me I’d say he’s sitting in his house paranoid with fear.” Sarah suddenly turned to Steve and grabbed his arm excitedly. “I forgot to tell you and you forgot to remind me! Last night. Remember when I said you had to ask me about the Elephant?”

  Steve nodded.

  “You’re never going to believe who owns it!”

  “Is this Elephant a place in town?”

  “Yes. It’s called the White Elephant.”

  “Okay, who owns it?”

  “Wyatt Earp!”

  “The Wyatt Earp? Really? He’s here right now?”

  Sarah rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet.

  “Yes! And I even talked to him! He tipped his hat at me and said ‘good morning’. I returned the greeting and then Rosamund told me who it was. I was flabbergasted!”

  “Where did you see him?”

  “At the Silver Spike. I think he was checking out the competition.”

  “So you met Wyatt Earp! That’s so cool!”

  Husband and wife finally rounded the bend in the road and they came within sight of their future house. Steve nodded. Sarah was right. It wasn’t quite complete. The far southern-most section of the house still had several exposed walls and the roof hadn’t quite been extended over that area yet. Also, Sarah’s beloved garden had yet to be planted as there was nothing but a large field of overrun weeds and grass.

  Steve nudged Sarah’s shoulder and pointed at the garage.

  “Check it out. Looks a lot different than what we’re used to.”

  The large four stall RV garage that they were familiar with was instead a large, mostly completed structure with four open bays. A carriage with two bench seats was parked in the far left stall and a single-seat buckboard wagon was in the stall next to it. Several bales of hay were in the third while nothing was in the yet to be completed fourth stall.

  Sarah let out a small gasp and quickly pulled him to a stop.

  “What? What’s the matter?”

  Sarah pointed at two men who had just come out of front door. Both of them were seedy looking types that sported several days of growth on their faces and, since they were downwind from the two characters, they could tell that both were in dire need of a bath. Two horses, one an Appaloosa mare and the other a buckskin stallion, were saddled and tied to a hitching post nearby. Both men instantly spotted the newcomers and changed course to intercept them.

  Steve gritted his teeth. “Let me handle this.”

  “Remember,” Sarah whispered in his ear, “you cannot hurt them. Scare them, sure, but not hurt them.”

  “Got it. I’ll be the epitome of restraint.”

  “Lookee what we got here, Pete!” one of the men sneered. He was tall, thin as a rail, and had a single holster on his left hip. “This day keeps gettin’ better an’ better!”

  Pete, a short rotund man who was wider than he was tall, scratched his belly and spit a stream a brown juice from the huge wad of tobacco he had shoved in his lower lip. He grinned lecherously at Sarah and displayed his brown, rotting teeth to her. All ten of them.

  “I got me first dibs on her,” Pete told his companion. His hands started for the buckle on his pants. “You take care of that feller there. Since the lady of the house is off limits we should at least have some fun with this looker here. Come on over here, princess. I’m gonna make you a queen!”

  “If I heat those things,” Steve nonchalantly told Sarah as he indicated the guns, “then I could run the risk of setting them off. Someone might get hurt.”

  Sarah cupped her hands together and then opened them. A dozen shiny brass bullets fell to the ground. Sarah smiled at him.

  “You were saying?”

  Steve interlaced his fingers and cracked his knuckles.

  “Let the good times roll. Now let see what we have here. You, Beanpole, on your knees. Mr. RolyPoly, you too.”

  In a flash both of their assailants had their guns in their hands.

  “You just signed yer death certificate,” Pete sneered. He pulled the trigger. />
  The click of an empty chamber was music to Steve’s ears. His gaze dropped to Pete’s gun. Within moments Pete had dropped his revolver and was howling in pain. Beanpole, as Steve had referred to him, drew a bead on Steve and tried his luck, too. Everyone heard a second loud click. Moments later Beanpole’s gun was lying on the ground next to Pete’s. Both were glowing red.

  “Here’s what’s gonna happen, guys,” Steve jovially told them. “You’re going to drop anything you’re carrying that’s metal. You’re also going to drop those ammo belts.”

  Sarah tapped him on the shoulder and she pointed at the two horses.

  “I see rifles over there,” Sarah softly murmured.

  “Good one. Okay, after all that happens you are going to go to your horses and drop those rifles, along with any other weapons you may have in hiding.”

  “Why the hell should we do that?” Beanpole asked as he glared at Steve.

  “Because you’re wearing a belt full of bullets. Know what happens when a bullet is heated? Want to see?”

  Pete hastily stripped off his ammo belts and pulled a six inch hunting knife from his hip. Beanpole followed suit a few moments later. Once their weapons were all laying discarded on the ground the two thugs hesitantly turned to Steve.

  Deciding a little incentive was in order Steve blasted out two jets of fire and whipped them through the air like unattended fire hoses. Both goons screamed like the small children they were acting like and dove to the ground. Steve continued his pyrotechnical demonstration for a few seconds longer before pulling his jhorun back into his hands and snuffing them out.

  “Stand up.”

  Both men leapt off the ground as though they had been lying on a hot plate that had just been switched on.

  “You wanted to kill me to have your way with my wife. I’d be well within my right to finish you two off right here, right now. As it is, you’re not worth my time, so you two had better pray that we don’t ever meet again. Is that understood?”

  Both goons quickly nodded.

  “Good. Get out of here. Now.”

  Both men turned towards the distant gate and began running.

  “Hey geniuses!” Steve called out in his loudest voice. “You can take your horses.”

  Pete and Beanpole reversed directions and ran to their mounts. Within moments they were gone. Steve looked down at the discarded weapons.

  “What do we do with all of that?”

  The weapons vanished.

  “I’ve got it covered,” Sarah told him. “I put them in the hidden snug back at the Silver Spike. No one ever goes down there so they’ll be safe there.”

  “We were just down there,” Steve reminded her.

  “Did you see how much dust was down there? We were probably the first people in years to use that room. Trust me, they’ll be fine.”

  The front door of the manor opened and a young woman in her mid twenties slowly came down the steps. She was slender, had blond curly hair, and was wearing a twin to Sarah’s dress, only this one was maroon. She nervously eyed the two of them before offering them a tiny smile.

  “Thank you for what you’ve done,” the woman said in a soft, high pitched voice.

  The voice didn’t match the person, Steve thought with a smile. If he were to close his eyes and hear that voice he’d think the person speaking was a young girl of perhaps eleven or twelve.

  “Are you Cora?” Steve asked, already knowing the answer.

  The woman nodded. “I am. You look very familiar. Have we met before?”

  Steve shook his head.

  “I guarantee you that we haven’t. You might have met my wife, though. This is Sarah.”

  The two pale green eyes that were peeking out from beneath her mop of blond curls widened with recognition.

  “I do know you. You’re employed at the Silver Spike Saloon, aren’t you?”

  Sarah nodded. “I am. I love your gowns. You do exquisite work.”

  Cora gave them a meek smile. “Thank you. I would invite you in for refreshments but now is not a good time.”

  Without any warning Cora broke down in sobs and began weeping uncontrollably. Sarah rushed forward to encompass her in a hug.

  “There, there; everything will be alright.”

  Cora shook her head. She looked up at Sarah with tears streaming down her face.

  “No, it won’t be.”

  “Those men are gone,” Steve assured her. “They won’t be back. What were they doing here, anyway?”

  “You don’t understand. They came with the others. They’ve taken him!”

  Steve and Sarah risked a glance with each other.

  “Who?” Steve asked once it became clear that Cora wasn’t offering any more information.

  “My husband. They’ve taken Luther!”

  Chapter 5 – Tweaking the History Books

  “Who in their right mind would do that?” Steve demanded as he angrily addressed Cora, as though she alone were responsible for Luther’s disappearance. “What could he have possibly done to deserve that?”

  Cora, already distraught at losing her husband, doubled over in agony and would have collapsed to the ground if Sarah had not been there.

  “Nice going, Ace,” Sarah murmured as she elbowed her way past him. “Why don’t you give her a paper cut and pour some lemon juice on it? She’s already hurting. There’s no need to make it worse.”

  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. What I meant was…”

  Cora wailed in misery. Sarah gave her a friendly, but stern, shake to get her attention.

  “Hush now. We’re here to help. Who took Luther?”

  “Who else?” Cora managed to get out between sobs. “Sheriff Bixby. He’s got the people thinking Luther found a rich silver mine and now he wants it.”

  “Has he?” Steve asked. “From what I hear he doesn’t really sound like he’d make a good miner.”

  “He’s not a miner!” Cora insisted. “I tried to tell them that but they wouldn’t listen. We have too much land. Our house is too big. My gowns are too ornate. He thinks we must have a plentiful supply of silver and gold.”

  “What’ll he do when he discovers Luther doesn’t have a mine?” Sarah wanted to know.

  Cora let out another wail.

  “Then he is as good as dead! Oh, my poor Luther! Whatever will we do?”

  There was a distant clang at the gates, followed moments later by the ringing of a bell. Someone was waiting at the gate.

  Steve shook his head and hooked a thumb back towards the far-off gate. “Wouldn’t they still be open if those two men just rode out? And how did they ring a bell? I didn’t see any bell.”

  Cora groaned. “It’s Cecil and AnnaBelle. I had forgotten this is the day we play cards together. What am I going to tell them?”

  “Cecil and his wife are the least of your worries,” Sarah assured her.

  “Who is this Sheriff Bixby person?” Steve demanded. “And where can I find him?”

  “Cool your jets, Sparky,” Sarah scolded. “You need to not only remember where you are but when you are, too.”

  Cora stifled her sobs just long enough to gaze speculatively at the two of them.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asked as he crossed his arms over his chest. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “The people here are armed,” Sarah clarified. “In fact, I think just about everyone is packing around here. Your, umm, hands won’t stop bullets.”

  Cora frowned. “Packing? Why would the folk be packing? No one is moving anywhere.”

  “Packing heat,” Steve helpfully added. “Carrying guns.”

  Cora nodded. “Everyone carries guns. It’s our right to bear arms.”

  “And this sheriff? What’s his story?”

  Sarah escorted Cora inside the incomplete manor and guided her towards a pair of Victorian style arm chairs covered with dark blue upholstery and took the neighboring chair for herself. Steve decided he’d be mo
re comfortable pacing.

  “That’d be Sheriff Marcus Bixby,” Sarah answered with a frown. “From what I’ve been told he moved here years ago, from New Jersey, I think. He has an incredible knack for wresting control of lucrative mines away from the townfolk. Legally. I don’t know how he knows which mines are in financial trouble, or how he knows which people are about to be foreclosed on, but he does. He’s a cattle wrangler, gambler, and saloon owner. He’s about as corrupt as a person can get. Everyone around here is afraid of him and, as a result, no one would ever cross him.”

  “Where’s it written that every town has to have someone like that?” Steve exclaimed with a sigh as he rubbed his temples. “This is just what we don’t need right now.”

  “Everyone in town has become accustomed to simply looking in the wrong direction whenever he’s around. And not being noticed, that is.”

  “That’s no way to live,” Steve grumbled. “Man alive, this sucks.”

  “I didn’t plan on this happening,” Sarah stated matter-of-factly.

  “Have you met him before?” Steve asked.

  Sarah shook her head no.

  “Not really. I’ve seen him from a distance several times and have even waited on him once but I have never talked to him.”

  “What was he like?”

  “Cold,” Cora’s quavering, high-pitched voice spoke. “Heartless.”

  Steve turned to Sarah.

  “And your take on him?”

  “Smart,” Sarah instantly responded. “Ruthless and cruel. He’s used to getting what he wants, and if you happen to have what he wants then it’s too bad for you.”

  “I don’t like this guy,” Steve decided. “At all.”

  Sarah sighed and shook her head. She leveled a gaze at Steve.

  “We’re going to have to break him out.”

  “You’re breaking someone out? Of jail?”

  Everyone turned at the sound of the incredulous voice that had spoken up behind them. They had been so engrossed in their conversation that they had failed to hear Cecil or his wife approach in their wagon. The two of them were standing just outside the front door and both wore surprised expressions on their faces. Cecil recovered first.

  “Er, knock knock? We’re sorry to barge in like this. In our defense, the door was open. Well, with that unpleasant bit of business out of the way I’ll say hello, friends!” Cecil stepped inside and took off his black bowler hat. He pulled AnnaBelle across the door’s threshold and then smiled at the three of them. “I must be hearing things. I thought I heard someone say that they were going to break a person out of jail. Tell me I misheard that.”