West (History Interrupted Book 1) (20 page)

“I will find him.” The cold, soulless glint in his eyes made me instantly regret telling him where the man had gone. Fighting Badger started away but not before I got a glimpse of what he planned to do.

“He’s not for your collection!” I called anxiously, horrified by the idea of putting out a hit on the unknown man.

“I do not want him for my friend.”

Oh, Jesus. How do I talk sense to a man like this?
“Please, Fighting Badger! I need to know why he wants to hurt me, and if he hurt the others that came before me!”

“I will ask him before he dies.” The native melted into the night.

Holy shit.
I stood, staring after him. As with the first time we met, my pulse raced hard enough that I felt ill, and I had trouble breathing. No singular event or person in my life – aside from the death of my parents that I only vaguely recalled – had ever impacted me the way dealing with him did. The urge to weep was almost overpowering. It came as much from the knowledge of what he’d done as acknowledgment that such darkness existed in the world. I was unaware of how obliviously naïve I had been.

Someone else was there. The memories were too fleeting, too far for me to pin down, but I sensed the second shadow I’d seen in Fighting Badger’s mind. Twisting to face the direction of the hill, I knew without understanding how that whoever it was, was
there.
Watching.

“You all right?” Taylor asked, studying me as he returned with two horses.

Quivering on the inside, I nonetheless managed to smile. “Yes. A little shaken.” I took the reins of one horse and turned away from the hill.

“Let’s get you home.”

My eyes strayed once more in the direction that Fighting Badger had gone. For the first time since arriving, I almost didn’t care why I was here. I wanted to leave. Now.

“Can we swing by where you found me?” I asked with a glance at the sky. The drizzle continued, though the lightning had subsided.

“Not tonight.”

I pulled myself up on the warm horse. “Just for a minute?”

Taylor glanced at me. Something passed through his gaze. He was hiding something. For all I knew, his mind was as twisted as Fighting Badger’s. 

“No,” he replied. “We need to get you home.” Wheeling his horse, he started away.

I didn’t object. I had left John’s house in a panic to change history and go home. There was no longer lightning to take me back to the future, and I had done nothing to alter the course of history. If anything, I learned that I just might need someone like Fighting Badger to protect me.

Unsettled, I followed Taylor obediently into the darkness and cold rain, unable to piece together exactly who was after me.

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

Similar to my first night, I made it to my room moments before Nell knocked. The sheriff had gone to find the lead stable hand to discuss caring for his horses while I fled to my room.

For some reason, I felt safer knowing he was here. He said he was going to ask to stay in the barn until he had somewhere else to live.

Moving close to the fire, I released a deep breath. My head ached and my nose was stuffed. I checked for blood quickly, grateful not to see any. It was a cold and not an issue with the implants in my brain. About to read my messages from Carter, I froze when the floorboards outside the door creaked.

Nell slammed the door open as she balanced a tray of breakfast in her hands.

“My god!” I exclaimed, heart jolting. “You scared me, Nell.”

“No more than you scared your father!”

“What?” I hugged a blanket around me. “I think I’m getting sick.”

“It would serve you right, Miss Josie.” Despite the heated words, Nell cast me a worried look. She set the food and pot of tea on the table near the fire. “Drink some herbs. I expected you’d be ill today after you were out in the rain last night.”

“Oh. You knew?”

“I did not, but your father saw you leave last night and the sheriff return with you this morning. He’s displeased.”

“I didn’t worsen his condition, did I?” I asked.

“You did. He has not left his bed once this morning.”

Dammit, Josie.
I hadn’t noticed anyone watching me leave and prayed no one saw me sneak in. That John was awake and witnessed both stung. The good man didn’t deserve such worry, especially on his deathbed.

Nell was lecturing me in the tone I had quickly learned required no response. I had learned to tune out in the short time we’d been stuck together, but the last few words caught my attention.

“Sorry, what?” I asked.

Nell shot me a look. “Your father has decided that you will marry before he dies.”

“Oh, shit.”

“You should be worried. Your cousin Philip is the ideal husband.”

I froze. John was sick, and Philip was a rapist if not a murderer. How long would it take for me to change history and leave?

John doesn’t have long.
“I think I should talk to my father,” I whispered. “Can his mind be changed?”

“If anyone can change it, you can,” Nell replied. “He is very worried about you, Miss Josie.”

“Okay. Let’s get me dressed.”

Nell didn’t argue. The lines around the woman’s eyes were tight, an indication of her stress. I pitied her as much as I did John, wishing my appearance didn’t cause anyone else such strain. Whatever happened, I couldn’t get married off before I changed history. It was probably not the change history needed, and I definitely didn’t know how I was going to survive this world without making a mess by refusing to adhere to the customs of this era. Women weren’t taken seriously, and Philip was likely to kill me if I got in his way of taking over John’s land and wealth, which I would, because he was a dick and John’s servants didn’t deserve to suffer the way Philip’s did.

Half an hour later, I walked into John’s bedchamber. He appeared worse this day than the last, and guilt made my stomach twist. He was paler, fragile. The sight of his state wore down more of the barrier I was trying to keep between me and this place, to remain focused on what I thought really mattered. It was impossible not to pity him, especially knowing that he’d never see his real daughter again.

“Father?” I ventured and went to the bed, sitting beside him. “Are you awake?” I took his gnarled hand.

His eyes opened, and his features broke into a smile that brightened everything about his sickly appearance. “Hello, daughter,” he said softly. Even his voice was weaker this day. If he were angry, he didn’t show it. His blue eyes glowed with warmth and happiness, the way they did every time he saw me since I arrived.

Why did I want to cry for a man I didn’t know?

I cleared my throat. “Hello, Father. How are you today?”

“I fear I do not have much longer.”

“Nonsense,” I said and forced a smile. “You’re getting stronger by the day.”

“I wish it were so, my beautiful Josephine.” He was thinking of his late wife, recalling the day his daughter was born and the happy childhood years before his wife died. The memories flowed through my mind as well, and tears stung my eyes.

I’m such a horrible person lying to him.
But the more I saw of his mind, combined with the knowledge he was likely senile, the less I wanted him to know the truth. There was a selfish element to it, too. The little girl in me who had never known the love of a father wanted to bask in his adoration for once in her life.

“About last night,” I started. “I am so sorry to have worried you.” I sought out some sort of excuse that sounded reasonable to someone in this time of history about why an
un-chaperoned, unwed
woman left her home in the middle of a rainstorm at night.

“Since you returned, all I have thought about is what happened if I lost you again,” he admitted. “My heart cannot take such worry.”

“I’m here, Father. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know. I fear the doctor is right, though, my Josephine. Your mind is not well.”

I looked down at my hand. The flare of surprise his words elicited was quickly replaced by understanding. Whoever the real Josephine was, she was an absolute bitch to leave a father who cared so much for her. She had no idea what she was missing, but I did.

“Josie, I wish to see you wed and comfortable, before I pass away.”

I cringed at the words. “I understand, Father,” I managed in a calm voice. “But can we not wait a little longer? You won’t die on me anytime soon. I can feel it.”

He smiled. “Nonetheless, you must have someone to take care of you. I have prepared …” he stretched for a piece of paper on the nightstand and sagged.

Alarmed by his frailty, I reached for it and handed it to him.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “There are names there of suitable husbands. Read them and tell me who you choose.”

The man loved his daughter enough to give her a choice. I swallowed the lump in my throat, understanding how unusual it was for a wealthy father to grant his daughter a choice in this era. I read through the names. Philip and the names of seven others were listed in shaky handwriting that was at times, illegible.

“I can’t remember some of these men,” I whispered.

“They are all respectable men.”

This is insane.
Then again,
I
wasn’t getting married. A woman who no longer existed was. There was no need for me to choose carefully for the real-Josie, but I had the sneaking suspicion I needed to plan for
my
safety, in case I ended up here longer than I planned or John died before the twenty fourth. Whoever hurt the other Josies could always come for me.

“The sheriff isn’t on here,” I noted. “Is he not respectable?”

“He is, for a half-breed, but he is also very poor.”

I bit back my initial response, aware of how fragile John was. If I was going to be stuck with a stranger, I’d rather it be one I knew could probably protect me and accepted the reality that I was different. “He has a way of finding me when I am lost,” I said carefully.

John gave a wheezing chuckle. “Perhaps you are right, daughter. Perhaps I should wed you to a master tracker.” He laughed again before subsiding into a bout of coughing. Blood dabbed the corner of his lips, and he rested back on his pillows.

I shifted closer to rub his back and gave him a glass of water. “I should not make you laugh, Father,” I murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

“Nonsense. I have always loved to laugh at your jokes.”

I gave a tight smile and watched him sip water from the glass. His hand shook with the effort to hold it.

With a sinking feeling, I began to think he wasn’t going to last another four days, to the event I needed to stop. I didn’t want to feel …
this.
Whatever this was. Sorrow, guilt, yearning … emotions that I expected to feel if John was really my father and not someone who had already been dead for a very long time before I was born.

“You are serious about me wedding soon?” I asked uneasily.

“Tomorrow morning.”

“That’s very … soon. I mean … you may live for a month or two more, and I don’t know most of these men.”

“I have chosen men who will treat you well,” he said.

Except Philip.
I said nothing, guessing the familial relationship was what made the cruel cousin a contender. I read through the names I could decipher once more. The image of the three skeletons in the well reminded me of how important this truly was.

If I chose wrong, I could be number four.

“Am I interrupting?” Taylor’s gravelly voice drew my attention. He stood in the doorway of John’s bedroom, freshly shaven and dressed as if he was prepared to leave.

“The man who finds my lost sheep.” John struggled to sit up. “Come, Sheriff.”

“I had hoped to speak to you in private, Mr. Jackson,” Taylor replied.

My stomach twisted. What was the sheriff going to tell John? About my
dream
? That I wasn’t his real daughter? The dying man didn’t need that kind of stress. I didn’t think Taylor would betray me like that, but I also didn’t know a lot about what motivated him.

“Father needs his rest right now,” I said before the weak man could respond. “I don’t think you should tax him, Taylor.”

“I don’t intend to, ma’am,” he replied coolly. “I need five minutes of his time and will be leaving.”

I started to object when John squeezed my hand. “Go on, dear. Have some breakfast, and we’ll talk about the list later.”

With some reluctance, I decided not to argue. I kissed him on the forehead and left the bed, pausing beside the sheriff.

“Don’t stress him out,” I whispered.

“Your secrets are safe with me, ma’am,” he replied without looking at me.

“Thanks.”
I think.
I left.

The doors closed behind me. After a moment, I retreated to my bedroom for the tea still waiting for me. Spreading the paper out on the table, I began to suspect I was in a great deal of trouble, if I had to pick out a husband to wed tomorrow morning. I pulled out my cell.

Why do some people have empathic memories and others don’t?
 I texted to Carter and put the phone away.

“Lucas Stephens, Philip Jackson, Julius … Terr … Trev …” I drifted off, unable to read John’s scribbles. The names contained no empathic memories that I was able to see, no indication of who the men were or how John viewed them.

“Julius Terrence,” Nell said, entering from the direction of the bathroom. “What’re you doing, child?”

“Picking a husband.” I waved the paper with a nervous laugh. “Do you know any of these men?”

Nell approached and peered over my shoulder. “Oh, goodness. Lucas Stephens is older than your father! Not Julius, or James …” Nell leaned over to squint. “I can’t read the next name. Travis Horton is seventeen, third son of a wealthy man two townships over.” She stood and shook her head. “I know little about most of them, except for Philip of course.”

“He’s off the list for sure,” I replied. “So only rich men are on this list, right?” I twisted to watch Nell make the bed.

“I expect so. You are the daughter of a wealthy man, the granddaughter of an English noble. You should marry your equal.”