15. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
E mily woke up bright and early the next morning, dressed in a blouse and pants she’d previously used for riding, packed her most important supplies in a saddle bag, and headed for the saloon. Only Will was inside already.
“I should’ve asked if anyone’s got a hat,” she said as she sat down next to him by the bar. “And a whip. Then I’d look like a proper treasure hunter.” She took in Will’s casual outfit and the absence of large pieces of luggage. “So you’re not leaving?”
“I am,” he said. “With you.”
“But you have to be in Boston soon. Now, not that I’m shooing you away, because you know I’d love to go treasure hunting with you, Gramps, but you gave the impression that business in Boston was important to you.”
“I know.” Will stared through the window into the distance, then looked at her with the slightest hint of a smile. “But I don’t wish to leave you. You came here because of me. It’s not particularly fair I abandon you. ”
“Especially to those two, huh?” Emily chuckled and playfully punched his shoulder. “For real, though. I can handle myself.”
Will raised an eyebrow.
“I can handle myself when I don’t have too much to drink. Which I won’t ever, ever again.”
“Very well.” He traced the counter with his finger. “But …”
“Ohh.” She leaned on the counter and moved in closer. “You want to go treasure hunting.”
Will made a weighing motion with his head. “I said no such thing.”
“True, but a lot can be said in words not spoken.”
“I’d like to leave Eggy here.” Will avoided further discussion on the subject. “We can get another fauxmonite barrel out of it while we’re gone. But I’d need to leave it somewhere safe.”
“You could have Molly safe-keep it.” At his puzzled look, Emily added, “I think she can be trusted. And in case Ross comes strutting into town and makes it five steps without getting himself shot, she’ll be the least likely suspect to be hiding the device.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to ride as a normal person?” James pushed in the swinging doors, leaving them open for Sylvia, who trailed close behind. “I can ask one of the townswomen for that lady-skirt-contraption-thing.”
“I am not donning anything with the word ‘split’ in it.” Sylvia wore her usual brown velvet jacket and floral skirt, complete with gloves and a fancy little hat.
“If I’m Indiana Jones,” Emily whispered to Will, “she’s that annoying screaming lady from the second movie.”
“You know I don’t understand your references,” Will whispered back.
“And just because we are going into less civilized places … ”
“It’s a forest,” Emily remarked.
Sylvia turned a pointy look toward her. “… does not mean one must dress like a savage.”
Emily shrugged. “At least I’ll be comfortable.”
“Don’t you think you should start dressing—and behaving—according to your status, Lady Haverston?”
“Oh, no. We’re not going there. We said we’re ignoring the whole thing!”
“You should rethink that.” James lazily moved toward the bar. “As a viscountess, you outrank her.”
“Now that’s an intriguing fact,” Emily mused. “If I cared about your rankings, which I don’t. So, Sylvia, you coming with us?”
Sylvia raised her chin. “As is obvious. Excuse me while I go pack.” She disappeared through the door.
“It’ll do her good.” James leaned on the counter next to Emily. “If she’s to stay with me, she must learn to live here.”
“It’s a good idea,” Will agreed. The look he sent Emily also communicated the rest—it was unwise to leave Sylvia alone in case Ross came while they were away.
Emily tapped the counter. “Camping with Sylvia. Fulfillment of my life’s dream.”
They set out an hour later, with James leading the expedition and Emily riding beside him. Each horse was packed with supplies—a tent, sleeping bags, cooking utensils—and combined with the steep trail up the mountain, the pace was slow. Emily didn’t mind since her riding skills only extended so far, and besides, there was something about them riding single file through the forest that gave her an adventurous feel .
That was also the only adventurous thing she got out of the first part of the journey. Direction, for this day, included James orienting them based on Emily’s descriptions of a mountain, stream, and a three-path crossroads.
“If we need a lake next, we have two choices from here,” he said as they paused at the crossroads. “This one goes down into the valley to a small lake. The other wraps around the mountain. You can see the lake from there, but we wouldn’t get right to it.”
Emily scrunched her nose while recalling the story. “Morty said you should rest your eyes on the waters of sunrise.”
“Logically, it would be easier for us to see the sunrise from up here instead of the bottom of the valley,” Will said. Emily sent him a smile over her shoulder. Gramps was enjoying himself, all right.
“The mountain path it is.” James cocked his hat and clucked the horse.
They were still on the path, no lakes to be seen, as the evening drew close. James located a clearing and suggested they bunk down for the night. James and Will put up the tent for the women while Sylvia unpacked the rest of the supplies, and Emily was sent to gather wood for the fire and stones for the fire ring.
By the time she returned, Will and James were nowhere to be seen. Movement in the tent betrayed Sylvia’s position.
Emily pushed aside the tent’s wing. “Hey, where are the guy—aah!”
Sylvia’s face was engulfed by a stark white paste. The tent smelled vaguely of oranges, but beneath that was something else—more bitter, metallic.
“What are you doing?” Emily asked.
“Personal hygiene. It is to remove face blemishes.” Sylvia turned to a small mirror and continued putting on the paste, which she held in a small metal can .
“What blemishes?”
“My freckles, of course.”
“Freckles can’t be removed. Hell, even pimples can be a pain in the butt.” But then, maybe Victorian scientists had special secrets. Emily kneeled and checked the can. It had an illustration of a pretty lady with dark curls and an inscription Gowland’s Lotion in an arc above it. She sniffed it and wrinkled her nose. “What is this?”
“Mix of lard, bitter almonds, mercury—”
“Mercury?” Emily snatched the can. “That’s poison. You’re putting poison on your skin.”
Sylvia pursed her lips. “I’d appreciate you not sticking your nose into my business. Especially since I doubt you ever used a cream or lotion in your life.” She snatched the can and stormed out of the tent.
Emily squinted as she replayed Sylvia’s last words in her mind. Was that an insult? “Well, you’d never seen a mascara in your life!” she snapped at the tent’s wing.
At least now she had the privacy to attend to her own hygiene. She wouldn’t have to explain to Sylvia why her toothbrush looked strange, and her toothpaste wasn’t poisonous.
When Emily left the tent, Sylvia was outside, sitting on a log, still messing around with that cream of hers.
“Come on, really?” Emily said.
Sylvia sent her a look that was even more poisonous than the cream. Surely, she was just being stubborn, right? She didn’t want to stop because Emily was the one to tell her so. Or she thought Emily didn’t know what she was talking about, being such a savage .
Fine, then. Emily concentrated on Sylvia. Heartbeat, wait. Heartbeat, stop .
Sylvia froze. Emily took the can and put it on a log across the fire ring, then released the freeze.
Sylvia reached for the can and frowned when her fingers encountered only the rough bark. She looked around, located the can, and repositioned herself on the other log.
Emily waited for a few seconds, froze time again, and moved the can back to the original log.
“What on …” Sylvia muttered as she found her missing object again. She eyed the can, then the other log, then carefully set the can in her lap.
You’ll get tired of it eventually. I’ve got all evening. Emily repeated the procedure—but when she blinked, the can was back on the log where Sylvia sat.
Wait, what?
“You need to stop,” Will’s voice came from behind Emily.
She startled. “Jesus, Gramps! A little warning?”
“You were not playing fair. It seemed appropriate.” He grabbed a bucket of water by his feet and carried it to where they’d unpacked the cooking supplies.
Emily followed him and whispered, “I was trying to help her. She’s putting freaking poison on her skin!”
“Poison?” Will flashed a worried look toward Sylvia.
“Yeah. That cream of hers has mercury in it. And god knows what the rest of her fancy creams and soaps and lotions include. You people should know better!”
Will toyed with the handle of the bucket before responding, evading Emily’s gaze, “You must think us all terribly stupid.”
“I—no, Gramps, come on. You’re much smarter than me. I just have the advantage of a century of progress. If I traveled a hundred years into the future, everyone would probably tell me how everything I’m doing is so backward. Which is why I’m not going to the future.”
“I’m not questioning your reasons. Only your methods.”
“I tried telling her first, but she wouldn’t listen. If you think you’ve got a more diplomatic method, be my guest.”
Will sighed and walked over to Sylvia. Emily couldn’t catch what they were whispering, but after a minute, she handed him the can. Will returned and tossed it to Emily. “Problem solved.”
Well. She supposed she did challenge him. But the interrogation about his methods Emily had in mind was interrupted by James’s return. He held up a few fish. “Anyone up for dinner?”
With the fire going and the fish slowly roasting over it, all four travelers gathered around. James had also brought some dried fruit and opened a can of beans to warm it up.
“How long do you believe this treasure hunt of yours will last?” Sylvia asked, sitting prim and proper on a log.
“We’re about halfway through with the directions, though I guess that also depends on the distances between specific points,” Emily said.
“You needn’t worry, Silly,” James responded. “We’ve got enough supplies, we’ll be close to water for most of the part, and I can always hunt for food.”
“Yes. That is my precise concern.” Sylvia swatted at an insect buzzing close to her, then moved an inch across the log.
“Glamping people, am I right?” Emily smiled at Will, who gave her no reaction. “Fancy camping? Like going to the nature but bringing all the luxuries with you.”
“I would prefer not to involve nature at all,” Sylvia said .
“I kinda like it.” Emily munched on a dried apple slice. “We’re literally hunting for gold. How cool is that?”
“Have you done such things before?” James asked.
“Not the gold part. I did go camping a few times, though. Mama took Debbie and me to Skidaway Island once when we were little. She liked the quiet and the pretty views across the marshes, but Debbie and I were more interested in chasing raccoons. Or finding them, first.” Then, in the evening, they all lay down and gazed at the stars, peeking through the branches of Spanish Moss. If she tried hard enough, she could still feel the slight breeze over her skin, the smell of roasted marshmallows from the neighbors’ camp, and the warm, fuzzy blanket Mama had covered her with. Emily had said she’d never fall asleep, just keep laying like this and watch the stars move—and, according to Mama, was sound asleep twenty minutes later.
“Then once, I went to one of those summer camps with Sarah. Her parents had signed her up, and she didn’t like going alone, so Mama let me go. Did y’all know freaking summer camps had cliques, too? The musical kids were the worst. Always the first up, always with some overly cheery song. The games were fun, though.”
Emily paused as a wave of nostalgia grabbed her. It came on top of her excitement about the hunt for gold and created a strange feeling—homesickness, but also a desire for this adventure to continue a little more. Suddenly, it all felt a bit more real—the very log she was sitting on, the crackling fire, James and Sylvia’s faces across from it. At the beginning of summer, she’d ascribe a scene like this to one of her wild dreams, which usually resulted after too much thinking about time travel. Who would ever believe she’d be sitting here with Gramps, a posh English lady, and an aristocrat-turned-cowboy-turned-gunslinger ?
She took in their faces, ranging from confused to amused. “Anyway, that’s just stuff I did. Back home.” Would they ever understand? James and Sylvia, even if they knew of time travel, could never see her world. Will could, and had already, but his take on it was still radically different.
Then Sylvia, who’d been leaning toward confused, spoke. “I played games, too, when I was younger. Mama would have her friends over, and they’d bring their daughters. Charades was a particular favorite of ours.” With a shy smile, she glanced at James.
“I remember that,” he picked up. “Was that when I suggested every lady who loses must kiss the nearest eligible gentleman?” He winked at Emily.
Sylvia gasped but then, surprisingly, cracked a smile. “Yes. I don’t think I’d ever seen Francesca try harder to fail. She was usually very competitive.”
“I used to play hide and seek with my cousins,” Will added. “The vineyards were the best place for it. Even if you spotted someone, they’d be long gone by the time you found a gap in the row. In Hartford, Charlie and Janet and Vicky—the neighbors’ children—liked to play Murder. The one where you wink to ‘kill’ people, and the one that plays the detective must find the murderer?”
Emily nodded, smiling.
“But Charlie always wanted to be the killer to spook his sisters. Which kind of defeated the purpose.”
“Have you played detective?” Sylvia asked.
“I did, perhaps, prefer that role.”
A gentle glance passed between them. Emily tore her eyes away, then spotted James looking at her, amusement still dancing with the flames in his eyes. She cleared her throat. “Well, after dinner, maybe we can go for a game. Or we can tell spooky stories by the fire … ”
A wave of nods followed, and then the fish were done, and before Emily knew it, it was just like camping with friends she’d remembered.
Gentle shaking and a whispering of her name awoke Emily. The sky, passing from dark to pale blue, announced the night’s end. She’d been sleeping outside in a bag, leaving the tent to Sylvia, and now James was kneeling beside her.
“Come on, Flicker. I have something to show you,” he whispered.
Emily winked the sleep off her eyelids, rose, and stretched. On the other side of the slowly dying fire, Will was still sleeping.
“What?” she asked, dragging the a while yawning.
“Just come.” James took her hand and led her away from the camp and through the forest, heading up the mountain. Any other time—and especially with James as the initiator—she might have felt caution, even fear, but something in his voice assured Emily. Besides, what could the others do if they saw them leave together? Force them to marry?
The forest opened into a grassy mountainside, ending in a sharp precipice facing wide, open plains—still a hilly area, but not the narrow mountain valley she’d been used to. Far in front and below them, the first rays of sun glistened on a still water surface, dark amidst the green and yellow fields of grass.
“Do you see them?” James pointed to the lake. Emily squinted, focusing on the dark brown splotches bordering it. They moved.
“Bison,” James whispered, as if the creatures were close enough to hear.
Emily gaped. James sat close to the precipice and pulled her down with him .
“I’d never seen bison before.” Now that her eyes adjusted, she recognized more details—the heavy, square frame with a large hump, the sprinkling of lighter fur at the top. “Are they dangerous?”
“Not unless you upset them. If anything, we’re dangerous to them. This is probably one of the last herds still existing.”
Emily blinked a few times. Bison still existed in her time, even if they were rare. “I think they’ll be fine.”
“Now wait,” James said.
Unsure of what was going on, Emily did so, maintaining her sitting posture. In a minute, the sun rose higher, freeing itself of the last hill in the distance. Its reflection flew over the water, painting a long, orange-gold stripe. Emily was vaguely aware of her jaw dropping at the sight, and, as she finally tore her gaze from the stunning view, saw James examining her with a curious, amused look.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” He looked back to the sunrise. The golden sheen from the fresh morning sun highlighted the freckles across his nose, hidden under the tan. “Rest your eyes on the waters of sunrise,” he murmured.
And Emily looked, and sighed, and did.
“Why do you call me Flicker?” she asked after a while.
“You do that thing. When you move between the blink of an eye. It’s like you flick in and out of existence, ridiculous as it sounds.” James gave her a side glance. “How do you do it?”
“Magic trick.”
“Something you picked up in that interesting city of yours?”
Emily decided to let the silence speak as a sort of an affirmative answer.
“You told stories about your home.” James returned his eyes to the lake. “I can’t say I understand it all. It sounds like a very different world. But you clearly love it. ”
She waited to see where this was going.
“I wish I could ever love a world like that. The rush, the thrill of moving around, running, changing places … it’s exciting, but sometimes, I wonder where it would ever feel like home.”
“Richling Creek doesn’t?”
“I like it. Very much. But there’s always something missing. Even with a beautiful sunrise like this.”
“Well, looks like we found the next marker. If we find the gold and there’s something left after you pay MacPherson, you can go anywhere you wish and find yourself the home you want.”
“Yes. I suppose I can.”
They continued to stare at the lake. Then his fingers touched hers on the ground, tentatively, barely brushing over. Emily’s breath caught. Slowly, he rested his hand on hers. She stayed.
Heartbeat, wait. Heartbeat, stop.
A silence, even clearer than that of the early morning, fell upon her. Emily took a deep breath, looked over to James, and then to the lake. She wouldn’t hold the time stop for long; she wouldn’t even do anything. It was just to stall the moment, to remember it, every ray of sun that brought out the fiery highlights in his hair and splattered liquid gold across the lake.
It was simply for the enjoyment.
Two wrong turns following the next direction in Morty’s legend led to a three-day continuous journey through the mountains, with the occasional retracing of the path they’d already taken. Somewhere at the end of day two, Emily had finally transcended into higher planes where she could no longer feel the pain in her thighs and backside, Sylvia gradually abandoned her jacket and hat, and James and Will’s jaws started showing signs of darkening.
Emily had been wondering whether they’d completely missed the point—and the treasure—when she spotted a dark outline through a forest of white-barked aspen trees. “Cabin!” she yelled, waving at the discovery to alert the others.
“Is this the one we need?” Will asked.
“Sure hope so. Clock’s ticking.” James clucked his horse into a trot down the path. Soon, they were gathered in the clearing next to a tiny log cabin overgrown with lichen. James secured the horses to a tree while Emily yanked the cabin door open. The only light in the dusty room came through a small, cracked window. Emily ignored the dust and dropped to her knees, looking for a hatch to the hidden compartment.
“Here.” Will stood a few steps away and dusted off a metal latch. Emily’s hands shook from excitement as they went to work on it.
“Oh, I can smell it.”
“I can smell mostly rot,” Will said.
“Come on, Gramps. I know you’re excited.” With a few shakes and pulls, they yanked the hatch free. Underneath was cold, tramped soil—and a small metal box. “There it is, there it is!” Emily raised it to the floor. “Locked.”
“Pins?”
She removed a few from her hair and watched Will’s nimble fingers get to work. “One of these days, you’re gonna teach me that.”
“How is it going in here?” James appeared at the entrance.
“We have it!” Emily jumped in excitement, then lapsed into a sing-song voice. “The gold is ours, the gold is— ”
Will lifted the lid. Emily and James peered over his shoulder. Nothing golden blinked back—but the chest did contain a black pouch and a folded piece of paper.
James picked up the pouch, released the string, and turned it on its head. Lumps of dirt fell out.
“I don’t think gold goes bad like that,” Emily remarked.
“Emily.” Will brought her attention to the piece of paper. He’d unfolded it, revealing a handwritten message.
Emily squinted in the faded light.
Sorry, partner. Hope you won’t mind I broke the deal. Jenny will be mighty glad for all we’ll be able to afford.
“Someone else has already taken the gold,” James voiced her thoughts. “We’re too late.”