Forevermore (Heritage Time Travel Romance Series, Book 3)

Prologue

Later the same day…

Dave

I slowed, and then stopped my truck along the gravel road just past the gate to Cedar Township Cemetery. I slipped it into park, looking up the rolling hill toward the entrance of my home. It had been a long day. It’s been a long week. In fact, it has been a long goddamn three years.

The number of vehicles clustered around my driveway, including satellite dish trucks could only mean one thing—Torie is at the house. They have hounded her relentlessly this last week, ever since Thompson had died but this had me wondering; why is she at my house? When I’d talked with her last, our plan had been for her to stay at her place and do some writing today and I would go over to her house for dinner after getting cleaned up, per usual.

I stared up the road, thinking about how I really didn’t need to come home to this shit tonight. I am tired from the restoration that I am working on and putting in long hours to complete it on a timetable. I welcome the distraction, though. It is easier to live my solitary life when I can simply fall into bed at night and not have time to think about the nightmare that my life has become.

Rubbing across the stubble of my jaw wearily, I blew out a heavy breath and propped my arm on the window ledge, resting my head against my closed fist. I continued to watch up the road, thinking back to when everything had gone so wrong and wondering how in the hell we are ever going to make it right again?

First, the fallout from the book that Torie had written about Mark Thompson and the brutal murders of his entire family—every bit of that fiasco had been my fault. I had brought up the idea and then had urged and supported Torie’s decision to write Where Evil Lived. I could kick myself for it now. Torie had written the book like a true crime story, with factual accounts of the events, but with her own impressions and interpretation of what may have occurred, since none of the victims had lived to tell about it.

The disclaimer had said that the story was theory and conjecture, even though both Torie and I had known that every detail was totally accurate because I had provided Torie with all of the information. After all, I had time traveled back to 1959 and had lived that horrible day as sixteen-year-old Tim Thompson. Still—and in spite of the disclaimer, Torie had been forced to endure a lot of questions about how she had come to her conclusions.

During that first year after the book had come out, Wapello and Mahaska counties had become a freak show. Every place mentioned in the book had been overrun by tourists wanting to visit those locations. Cash registers had rung madly as the influx of traffic had benefited every shopping center, restaurant, gas station, and bookstore in the path of the hordes as they had passed through. And where the legions of book fanatics had gone—memorials and shrines dedicated to the deceased had sprung up overnight.

Then the newspapers and television stations had gotten wind of the frenzy and once articles had been written about it and the sites had been featured on the local evening news—the craziness had just gone through the roof. Within months, what had begun as an attempt at healing for Torie and me had become a blockbuster, selling millions of copies.

Then things had taken a huge frickin’ turn for the worse when a couple of people had come forward with information about that day back in 1959 and had corroborated the details that Torie had described as fiction. It wasn’t long after that when her readers had begun to believe that Torie must be a clairvoyant or some sort of psychic detective like that TV show Medium and the requests had started pouring in from all across the country, asking for her help with missing persons and cold cases.

After the book had been out for more than a year, some of the hysteria had calmed down and the press had moved on. Although Fremont had continued to be a Mecca for the book fans and Torie still had received the occasional rush of requests for an autograph when she was recognized out in public, life had gotten back to somewhat normal for our family.

That is until the time travels had started up again thirteen months ago.

It had been an utter nightmare. Torie and I had both been stuck in the past, leaving our eighteen-month-old daughter alone in our house for over twelve hours. We had fled our home and lived for nearly a month in a motel in Oskaloosa before returning. Well, I had returned home while Torie and our daughter, Rose Lynn, had moved to the town of Hedrick out in Keokuk County, about ten miles away, that is after we had tested it to be sure that it was warp-proof. They have lived there now, for more than a year, while I have lived at home—alone in our big old ancient house in Fremont.

We had thought that it was a combination of us living in the same place that had caused the time warps.

We had thought that we were safe now.

We were wrong.

Because for the last year, I have been keeping a dark secret from Torie; I have been time warping almost every night. I have kept this truth from her because I’m afraid that she won’t be able to accept what I know and have learned to live with, which is that time travel is part of my life; part of who I am.

Now I just wish that I could simply grab Torie and Rose Lynn, turn the truck around, put my foot on the gas, and never look back but I know that I can’t do that—I don’t really want to do that. I want my wife and daughter back in my life and I want to return to our quiet existence in my family’s ancestral home in Fremont. Realistically, though, I know that what I want—is looking more and more like an impossible dream. With another heavy sigh—I let the thoughts go and slip my truck into gear, heading on up the hill toward home.

Forevermore

Chapter 1

Dave

April 2016

Mr. Cameron! Mr. Cameron! Can you tell us how you’re feeling about Thompson’s death? Just give us a few words. An overly made-up reporter in a blue blazer shoved her large KCRG-TV 9 microphone toward me forcefully, doing her best to outshout her competitors for my attention.

I had to pause before entering the drive as I waited for the rush of people with microphones and cameras to clear my path. They were all scrambling frantically, to be closest to me. I rolled up my window, pulled into the drive and jammed the truck into park.

Mr. Cameron! Dave!

I don’t have anything to say—we gave a statement last week. I have no new information. Please leave us alone, I demanded as I attempted to get through the crowd and to the front walk of my home.

Daddy!

Rose Lynn, baby! My daughter ran down the stone walkway and beneath the arbor toward me, and I stooped to grab her up into my arms.

"Mr. Cameron, we would just like to ask you a few questions. How do you think Thompson’s death will affect the tourist traffic for Where Evil Lived? Do you have any information on the rumored sale of the movie rights?" a man shouted. I recognized him as a reporter for KCCI-TV in Des Moines.

Will his death change anything about the story? Does Torie have any plans for a special edition of the original book? another man with a mobile camera on his shoulder shouted.

The guy was a horrible human being. He’s dead! Find some other story. Now get off of my property before I call the police. All of you! Out of here! Now!

A reporter tried to get a photo of Rose but I splayed my fingers in front of her face to block him from getting a clear shot of her. Wrapping her in my arms, I tucked her head under my chin and with her sheltered against my chest; I crossed the yard and moved toward the front door.

Mindy burst out of the house and hurried down the walk toward us.

Oh my gosh, Dave. I’m so sorry. Rose snuck out before I could get my shoes on. She wanted to meet you, Mindy apologized.

Mindy, what are you doing here? Where’s Torie? I asked in confusion.

Mommy has an owie, Daddy, Rose said with concern.

I followed Mindy into the house, firmly closing the door against the prying eyes of the reporters and kissed Rose on the cheek; setting her down just inside.

Mindy, what’s going on? I demanded.

Dave, Torie’s upstairs—it’s nothing. She just wanted to lie down for a bit, she assured me.

Is she sleeping? I asked. I tried not to let my voice betray my fear of what might happen if she fell asleep in this house.

No, I think she’s just resting. She went up a little while ago to give the Tylenol time to kick in. She wanted to have dinner ready for you when you got home. It’s nearly done.

I locked the deadbolt on the front door and spoke to Rose gently, Rosebud, why don’t you go with Aunt Mindy and watch TV while I go up and check on Mommy?

Come on, Rosie. Let’s go and see if Bert and Ernie are on.

Mindy took her hand, patting it and gave me a quick smile before she turned and led Rose toward the family room.

Ernie! Rose shouted excitedly, running ahead. Her auburn pigtails bounced out behind her as she dashed through the living room and into the family room, plopping down on the area rug in front of the TV and pulling off her shoes.

I watched the two of them for a moment longer, before bounding up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Chapter 2

Torie

I opened my eyes, turned onto my side, and pulled the comforter over myself when I heard Dave coming up the stairs. I lay still, struggling to calm myself, and watched the door, knowing that he would arrive at the bedroom in just a moment. My heart was racing, pounding in my ears and I felt that at any second I might burst into sobs or begin screaming like a crazy person. All day long I had been trying to think of how I was going to tell him that I need to take Rose Lynn and leave for Des Moines to stay with Mindy and now—I still don’t have the words.

I know that I can’t tell him anything about what has happened to Rose and me over the last twenty-four hours because it will be the last straw, I feel sure of that. If he were to know the truth about my current condition—it might well be the end of everything. And he is so determined to keep Rose Lynn safe that I’m afraid that he might voice out loud what I have been thinking all day—that we may need to sacrifice our family’s life together in order to keep her safe—possibly end our marriage and get her out of the area permanently to keep her out of danger.

I just can’t bear to tell him that the warps began again last night. Even though we’ve lived separately to avoid them—it is obviously not the answer. And now Rose Lynn has been drawn into the time travels, too, and I have absolutely no idea how I am going to protect her or myself.

I came back from my terrifying thoughts and wiped the tears from my eyes just before Dave came to the bedroom door. He paused there in the late afternoon sunlight that was filtering in through the sheers. My gorgeous husband, my hero, and my best friend—a man who, I feel sure, would do his best to fix any problem that I have. I can see that unspoken promise in his eyes as he observes me now—he would try to move heaven and earth for me, but I know that he can’t fix this. This is beyond his help.

Are you okay? Mindy said that you aren’t feeling well. What’s the matter? he asked as he crossed the room to take a seat on the bed beside me. He took my hand in his, with a worried expression furrowing his brow.

I’m okay, Dave. I just got my period and I’m kinda cramping, that’s all. I was resting while I let the pain meds kick in, I said quietly, talking around the lump in my throat. I paused for a moment as though the next thing I was about to say was unimportant. Mindy invited me and Rose to stay with her for a few days in Des Moines. I hope that’s okay and I thought that we would have dinner with you first before we go. It’s in the oven.

No, it’s something more. Your eyes are red? Why have you been crying? Dave brushed my bangs off of my forehead as he studied my face carefully—the concern for my well-being showing in his expressive light-blue eyes.

I’m just PMS-ing really bad, I lied. Let’s go downstairs. I think I’m feeling better.

I pushed the covers back and started to sit up. In spite of my best efforts, my voice broke and the damn tears welled up again.

I hate lying; especially to him but the pain that I’m feeling isn’t only from cramps. I am sore all over because I was attacked and raped in my time travel last night, and the bite and other abrasions that I’d suffered at the hands of my assailant had somehow actually occurred on my own physical body—in the real world.

Still looking unconvinced, he said, All right, and lifted my hand to kiss the back gently before leaning over to retrieve my slip-on shoes from the floor and gently slipping them onto my feet. I’m going to grab a quick shower. I’ll be down in about ten minutes.

We both stood and I gratefully stepped into his outstretched arms and let him hold me for a moment. Then I lifted my head and he looked down into my upturned face and gave me a warm kiss.

Okay, boss, see you in a few, I tried to joke, but it didn’t come off sounding as carefree as I would have liked.

Torie, there’s something wrong—I can see it in your eyes. Did the reporters get to you? Is it something else? he asked and cupped my face with his hands, wiping the tears from my face with his thumbs. Talk to me, honey, please.

Yeah, I lied calmly. I’m just tired of the reporters pestering me again—and it’s only been a few days. I’m hoping that if I’m in incommunicado—hiding out in Des Moines that they’ll get tired of trying to find me and move on.

That might be a good idea, I suppose, he conceded. I hadn’t thought about you taking some time away, but maybe it would hurry the process along.

It’ll just be a few days, the end of the week at the most. You can come to Des Moines and have dinner maybe, huh? I know that Mindy’s husband and the boys would love that, I said. I’ll probably be back by the weekend.

Okay, Dave agreed. Let’s see how it goes. I hate the idea of you both being so far away, but I think I can take it for a few days, he said and kissed me gently. I’ll be right down.

***

I called for Rosie as I came down the steps to the front foyer and both Mindy and Rose came from the family room.

Mommy, you feel better? Rosie asked as she hugged my leg.

Much better, I said. I looked at Mindy. Dave’s taking a shower.

Was he okay with you coming to Des Moines?

I nodded and bent down to Rose, looking into her large light-blue eyes. How about we help Aunt Mindy set the table for dinner? Then we’re going to go to see Connor and Luke! Do you want to go and see the boys?

Yes! Goodie! Rose shouted, nodding enthusiastically. Her toddler version of jumping up and down became a galloping series of excited circles as she scampered toward the kitchen like a pint-sized cyclone.

I grinned at Mindy and laughed, You sure you’re ready for little Miss Rosie? She’s gonna be a constant shadow for Connor and Luke.

The boys love having her around, and I’ll love having you both. I was thinking—do you realize that you have never spent the night at my place in all of our adult lives? I’m so looking forward to it! I plan on some major shopping excursions in the next few days, she promised with a wicked grin. Your visit is the perfect excuse!

I shook my head, Uh oh—once we let your shopping monster out to play, we may never get it reined in again, I predicted.

You got that right, Mindy agreed.

We both laughed and followed Rose toward the kitchen.

Come on, I said. Let’s get dinner on. Dave will be right down.

***

After dinner, while Mindy cleaned the kitchen counters, I put the leftovers into containers that Dave could reheat while allowing Dave to spend some time with Rosie on the floor of the family room, watching a movie and working on some simple wooden puzzles. As I put the clean roasting pan away on a shelf of the pantry, I glanced around the corner and into the family room and could see that Rose was using Shadow as a lounging pillow, while Shadow was using Dave’s lap as a pillow of his own. It was a heavenly illusion—for a split second—I could imagine that this was just a normal family night at home, but in reality even before the warp last night, and even before Mark Thompson’s death last week—our world has been turned upside down ever since I’d published that damn book.

It is so heartbreaking because we have survived so much. The intrusion into our lives after the book had become a sensation and the tourists by the thousands who had descended upon Fremont—month after month. We had survived all of the questions and concerns from our family and friends who had wondered about our separation and current living arrangement. We have learned how to live this sad existence and make it work for us. Dave living here alone while Rose and I live ten miles away in Hedrick. Dave has always been so great about spending his evenings with us in Hedrick; having dinner and helping get Rose off to bed, and then spending a couple of hours with me as we have tried to have some semblance of a family life. He always—always stops into Rose’s room before leaving for home to give a last goodnight kiss to his slumbering baby girl.

Now it seems that even those tiny bits of normalcy will come to an end, and I will need to figure out some other way for us to survive. Will getting further away from Fremont and vicinity be enough to stop Rose and me from warping? What if the distance isn’t the answer? What if the only way that we can stop the warps, is to isolate Rose Lynn from both of us at night, which will fracture our family even further? This is impossible and I feel so—so alone.

***

Finally, it was time to go. Dave lifted Rose into her car seat, buckling her in, and gave her a kiss goodbye. He closed the back door of my Pathfinder and pulled me into his arms for a kiss.

Call me when you get to Mindy’s so that I know you’re there safe, okay? he asked.

As he ran his hands up and down my back, I had to fight the urge to cringe away from the painful contact; every brush of his hand over my right shoulder blade was causing the bite mark on my back to throb. Several times throughout the day, I had ducked into the bathroom to confirm my suspicions—peeking under my shirt to see a spreading bruise that was continuing to develop into a deeper and angrier shade of dark purple.

I will. And I’ll call you again before I head off to bed, just to say good night, I offered. I glanced along the gravel road, relieved to see that the press had left and the scene was quiet. At least the bloodsuckers seem to have given up for now. We should be able to get out of town without being spotted.

Leeches, Dave hissed. I’ll be curious to see how long it takes for them to give up permanently.

Maybe if they sit outside my house in Hedrick and see no movement, they’ll get the hint, I said and slipped my arms up around Dave’s neck again, hugging him tight. I’d better get going.

I gave him one last lingering kiss, and then he opened my car door for me.

Bye, Daddy! Rose called from the back seat.

Bye, sweetie, Dave said. Have fun.

He waved at Mindy as she called a goodbye from her car and backed out of the drive.

I climbed in and Dave leaned in to give me another light kiss as I buckled my seatbelt.

Call me, he said again.

I will, I promised. He closed the car door and then he stood on the drive, watching us pull out behind Mindy. He reached down to scratch Shadow behind the ear as he joined him and then waved at me one more time before he and Shadow turned for the house.

Do you want to watch a movie? I called back to Rose as we passed the cemetery and headed onto the paved roads of Fremont. She didn’t respond and a glance into the rearview mirror confirmed my suspicion, she was already drowsing off. The rough gravel roads had always been like a sleeping potion for Rosie. When she was little and in a fussy mood, all Dave and I had needed to do to get her to fall asleep was to go for a drive through the Mahaska County countryside. It still worked—she was gone almost before we were out of the town proper. I had hoped that she would stay awake until we were a little bit closer to Des Moines since after an hour-long nap she will probably be up all night. Oh well, I thought philosophically. At least there’s nowhere we have to be or anything important we need to do tomorrow.

Chapter 3

Torie

My namesake, ten-year-old Connor Lee White, lay sprawled out on his stomach on the floor before the big screen TV, lined up beside Rose Lynn and his little brother Luke. Connor slapped his hand against his forehead and rolled onto his back, laughing with frustration at his failed effort to show Rose how to use the game controller. The racecar she had just spectacularly crashed into the virtual concrete wall was on fire; flames licking out from under the crumpled neon-green hood.

Okay, Rosie. Now we need to start the game over, eight-year-old Luke said gently. Ready? Here we go. Now you need to wait for me to take my turn, just a minute now. Luke explained patiently as he whipped his racecar around the track in record time, leaving the competition behind him.

With the noise from the engines blaring out of the home theater system, it sounded as if we were all in the middle of the Indy 500. I was relaxing in one of a pair of overstuffed recliners, as Mindy lounged in the matching chair and we each were enjoying an adult beverage.

We’d just finished making up a room for Rose and myself, and had put our things away. Soon we would need to shoo the kids off to bed, but first, we wanted to give them a few minutes to catch up with each other and unwind. Mindy’s boys are always wonderful with Rose, patiently trying to include her in activities such as video games that are way over her head; and like the little trouper that she is, Rose was trying to absorb the instruction as best as any two-and-a-half-year-old can.

My phone going off in my jeans pocket reminded me that I’d promised to call Dave when we had arrived at Mindy’s and I’d spaced it off. I looked at the display, expecting to see Dave’s smiling face but instead it was Carrie Aldridge calling.

Mindy, I’m going to take this in the other room, I said before I answered the call. I hurried out of the noisy family room and through the house to the quiet of the living room as I answered.

Hey, Carrie.

Hey Torie, I was calling to confirm our lunch for tomorrow but I just saw Dave at Casey’s getting gas, and he said that you were in Des Moines for a few days, she said. Can I assume that our lunch is postponed?

Carrie, I totally forgot. I’m so sorry, but yes I’ll need a rain check. I’ve been inundated with reporters and decided to come into town for a few days to escape.

No problem. We can make it next week or something, she offered.

Yeah, I agreed. As soon as I figure out our timetable, I’ll be in touch.

Okay. Talk to you then, she said and hung up.

I blew out a breath as I ended the call and covered my face with my hands, wondering what excuse I would be able to use to avoid her again next week?

Carrie Aldridge. Someone who I had met briefly through circumstances and who has subtly but persistently tried to befriend me over the last year. My life being the nightmare that it is, I have kept her at arm’s length, although she keeps trying. I am glad now that I’d been able to keep the connection from becoming too close, but her efforts are a constant reminder of another relationship which I had failed to keep up my end on and the time for making amends for that failure are now past.

Back in 2013, Dave and I had been visiting the cemetery during the Memorial Day weekend, and I had met a wonderful woman named Edith Brooks. She had known my family’s older generations fairly well and had provided me with some new information about my grandaunt Lucy and the day that Lucy had died back in 1948. In fact, Edith had been present when Lucy had passed away.

I had asked Edith that day if we could maybe get together for lunch sometime and we had shared more than a few lunches at my home in Fremont. At the end of each visit we would always make plans to do it again until we were routinely sharing a Saturday lunch every few weeks. And then—Where Evil Lived had been published and all hell had broken loose. I’d tried to keep up our lunches for as long as I could, even after the time warps had started up again for me and Dave, and even after I’d moved to Hedrick, but I’d needed to cancel on her so many times at the last minute that it wasn’t long before she had stopped calling and the connection between us had been lost. In the bigger scope of my crazy life, those lunches had seemed dispensable but I had missed them all the same.

The very last lunch that Edith and I had shared had been at her house, and it was then that I’d met her grandniece Carrie Aldridge. Edith’s health had started to decline in early 2015, and Carrie had quietly moved to Iowa to care for her. Carrie is an RN, who had recently left a bad marriage and had taken back her maiden name as the first step in changing her life. When the need arose, Carrie’s move to Edith’s home in Iowa had been the perfect answer for both of them.

Edith Aldridge Brooks and Carrie are both descendants of early Fremont pioneer James Aldridge. In the early 1940’s, Edith’s older brother had moved his wife and children including Carrie’s father, just a toddler then, down to Missouri. Although Carrie had been born and raised just outside of St. Louis, she and Edith had always been close. Carrie had visited Fremont every summer as a young child and all the way through her late teenaged years, to spend time on Edith’s farm. She and Edith had shared a love of both flower and vegetable gardening, and Carrie had also helped Edith’s husband Fred Brooks with farm chores such as detasseling corn and walking beans. Never having had any children of their own, Fred and Edith had truly treasured their grandniece.

Just a couple of months after Carrie had moved in, Edith had suffered a stroke and her health had deteriorated to the point that she had needed to go to the nursing home in Oskaloosa where she had slipped closer to the end of life. I’d spent just one more afternoon in Edith’s company, visiting her one snowy Saturday in December of last year, although sadly, she was no longer conscious or responsive. That day, Carrie and I had sat side-by-side in Edith’s room with our laptops open, speaking softly as we had shared our family trees and ancestral ties and we had formed one of those instant companionable bonds that day, sitting together in the critical care wing of the facility, keeping our vigil over dear Edith. It had been a kinship that could have become something special if I would’ve let it happen—I hadn’t.

Edith had died at the end of that month, on the exact same day of the month that my grandaunt Lucy had passed. Dave and I had attended the small service for Edith at the Fremont Funeral Chapel on Main Street and then we had followed along as part of the procession that had brought Edith to the Aldridge family plot at Cedar Township Cemetery, where she had been laid to rest beside her beloved husband Fred and surrounded by three generations of her family.

Carrie is now a member of the staff at the Maple Ridge facility where Edith had spent her last days. She had been both shocked and grateful to learn that Edith had willed her the farm, and she had decided to make the move to Fremont permanent and to make Edith’s home her own. She felt that it was destiny and a wonderful blessing because she loves Fremont every bit as much as I do. The farmstead and the four hundred acres of fields that surround the house and outbuildings are all hers now and she has continued to lease the fields out for crop production in the same arrangement that had been Edith’s main source of income in recent years.

Now that the warps have started happening again, I am even more determined to keep Carrie at a distance because as much as I desire a quiet, small-town life in Fremont Iowa—the reality is that with the current state of our screwed up lives, I know that I will likely never achieve my desires. I need to now seriously consider leaving it all behind me for good in order to prevent the warps that are after me again. I might need to seriously consider living away from Dave permanently and it frightens me to think that it has come to this—to me actually entertaining thoughts of ending my marriage but—and I know that Dave will agree—if that is what it will take to ensure Rose’s safety, then we will do anything and everything to make it happen.

I pressed speed dial for Dave’s cell phone to let him know that we were at Mindy’s and settled in for the night.

Hi, honey. Sorry I didn’t call right away. We’re here, I began.

Hey, I was gassing up my truck and saw Carrie Aldridge, he said.

I know. She just called me. I forgot I was supposed to have lunch with her.

Well, what’s on your radar for tomorrow? he asked.

Probably shopping, if Mindy has her way, I groused.

"Torie, take this time away from Fremont to enjoy yourself, he urged. You deserve it, babe."

"I will. Let me know if you see any reporters circling you, will you? And Dave—please keep your cool, okay? Don’t let them get to you."

Dave had gotten into a slight altercation with a photographer just the other night as we were leaving the Finish Line Diner after dinner. It had only amounted to a small nudge as he had pushed the photographer out of our way but it had only served to make the guy that much more determined.

I won’t, he promised.

I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Give me a call if you get a break.

Will do—I love you, Torie. Give Rosie a kiss goodnight from me.

I will. I love you, Dave. Bye.

Chapter 4

Dave

Thomas, let me have it, demanded a dark-haired boy of about fifteen.

James, wait a minute, Thomas snapped. He spun the cylinder of the revolver and added another round, then handed off the box of ammo to me. Lester, hold this.

I was standing beside the two on the sidewalk of downtown Fremont, outside a store with a banner across the front of the brick building which read Hardware & Mercantile.

It is always a royal pain in the ass to arrive in the middle of a warp and be with a bunch of people. I have no idea what is going on or who I currently am, however, there is a glass window before me so I am able to get a look at myself and see that I am also a kid of probably the same age. I have light-blond hair and am tall and thin. I’m wearing a plain white cotton shirt and suspenders holding up my early style of blue jeans.

I closed the lid to the box of ammo as I accepted it from Thomas and used their preoccupation with the gun, to take a good look about the street—getting my bearings. It appeared to be midday and quite a few people were strolling along the sidewalks. The day is warm and I decide that it is probably early summertime. I can hear what sounds to be, most likely, a hammer against an anvil coming from the livery stable across the street and watch as a Ford Model T chugs past us on the dusty dirt road.

I look back to the boys to see the one called Thomas cupping his hand around his eyes to block the glare of the sunshine as he looks through the plate-glass window.

Here he comes, he said.

A fourth boy yanked open one of the double doors to the store and came out carrying a leather holster and the packaging from the gun, tucked under one arm.

Aaron, let me see it, Thomas ordered.

I have the distinct impression that this kid Thomas is the ring leader of this group although Aaron appears to be the oldest of the four.

Here, Thomas said to the boy James, handing him the gun.

It looked to me to be a Colt six-shooter, the kind that every TV and movie viewer will later associate with cowboys and the Wild West. I don’t know what year I am currently in but by the surroundings and the style of our clothing, I would guess probably 1910 or so considering that I can only see one or two other Model T car’s along Main Street. Mostly horses and buggies are lined up along the road as people are going about their business.

Thomas, it isn’t yours, you know, Aaron barked as he relinquished the holster to the younger boy, then continued reading a small pamphlet that he had in hand. He held out the empty wooden gun case toward me. Lester, hold this.

I took the case and noticed the Colt emblem burnt into the lid of the box before I tucked it under my arm while I watched Thomas trying to strap the holster around his skinny hips. The belt was made of fancy tooled leather and there were shiny brass rivets decorating the entire surface.

Hand it over, Thomas demanded of James but before James could comply, Thomas rudely snatched at the gun.

It happened in an instant. As the boy James held the gun and Thomas reached for it, the gun slipped from both of their grasps and both boys grabbed for it but as they did, the gun discharged with a loud pop! and all of the boys jumped, as did I.

Damn it! Thomas barked.

Oh, shit! I shrieked; my voice cracking. I looked down at my crotch to see that a stain of bright red was spreading across the front of my pants. Dropping the gun and ammo boxes, I bent over, reaching down to grab hold of my dick. To say that the pain was excruciating doesn’t even start to describe it. I couldn’t catch my breath as a searing burn began radiating from my groin all the way up to the left side of my waist.

Jesus Christ! I gasped.

My hands were already smeared with blood and it dripped down my pants and from between my fingers, spotting the ground below me. I began to stumble, swaying unsteadily on my feet and I could tell that I was about to pass out. Thomas slammed the gun into the holster and grabbed my arm just before I did a face-plant right onto the concrete sidewalk.

I’ll go see if Doc Meythaler is in his office! Aaron shouted, dashing down the street.

Hold on, Lester, Thomas cried. James, help me!

Both boys took ahold of me around my upper arms and wrapped their other arms around my waist, while I used both of my hands to try to keep my genitals in one piece. Then the boys were hustling me down the street, in the direction Aaron had headed.

I have the worst fucking time warp luck imaginable, I decide silently as we stumble along the street. If there is an accident, an injury, or some other catastrophe, I am damn sure bound to find it and it wouldn’t be such a big deal if I could simply leave the warp behind, but that is never an option. All I can do now is to try and survive this, damn it—still after all this time!

What’s the trouble here boys? asked a heavyset elderly man sitting on a wooden bench outside of the bank building. He leaned forward depending heavily upon a sturdy walking stick, while spreading his legs to accommodate his huge gut