After every fruitful heist in the 1870s and 1880s, Earl had stashed away a handful of gold coins, his retirement fund. It would have bought him a few years of modest living then. In this later century, it funded his dreams. He had purchased land and built a luxury resort, Blackes Ranch Resort and Spa. His youth returned, money, the fixings to flaunt it, life in these modern times suited Earl better than his life in the 1800s had. He didn’t have to pretend to be a well-off businessman anymore.
He hiked west from Charming’s cottage down a dirt road to his ranch house of massive cedar logs, stone, and glass, bigger than any mansion he’d seen in his former century. A lava field hid it from town, making it appear as if he owned the whole of the old crater by himself. He had built the ranch at the far end of East Lake within sight of the shore. A marina jutted out into the calm waters, heated to a comfortable temperature by the sleeping volcano. The geothermal activity dotted the lake with bubbles, their rings marring the perfect reflections of sky and mountains.
Beside the house, sat the spa in a cedar-planked lodge of its own. Huge windows sparkled in the sun, revealing the delights inside. From his bedroom on the top floor of the house, Earl could take in all of the area’s splendor. In the summers he spent the dark hours watching the obsidian pillars.
“Not bad for a miner who never found more than a fistful of nuggets,” he said.
As he saw it, the world owed him for his life in the previous century. For other’s ideals in 1862 he had learned to master slop, blood, and death, delivering it, holding the last moments of those around him succumbing to bullet, ball, and cannon. During it all, he had lost his soul, and he believed he should be compensated for it.
Digging up his gold and selling it had finally given him the future for which he had yearned. Yet once he established his beautiful life, it wasn’t enough. It didn’t make up for what the war had taken from him. It didn’t make up for leaving his wife and daughters to fend for themselves in 1867. He had never returned to the Midwest. Maybe he’d never be able to right such a terrible wrong, but he kept trying.
An employee booked most of the guests for the resort ranch off of something called the internet. Earl didn’t understand the half of it or the machine that ran it. The idea of a box slimmer and lighter than a strongbox to communicate with the world awed him. No one had imagined such a thing in his former time. Guests took rooms on the first and second floors of his home. Although he didn’t let anyone close, he enjoyed having people around.
Down the dirt road, through the lava and trees, and up his long driveway, he thought about Daelin. It surprised him how little Charming and she resembled one another. If he didn’t know they were related, he never would have guessed. Daelin appeared to have more of an aesthetic for fine things than Charming, was taller than he expected, and had a boldness under her shaken nerves. Where Charming conjured up thoughts of light, Daelin made Earl think of shadows. They both had good brains. Eventually Daelin would find out he was more than her sister’s landlord and would ask a lot questions. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he couldn’t disclose Charming’s secrets. They were too dangerous.
Wilma Rider sauntered out of the spa, waving at him. “Mr. Earl, I didn’t see you leave this morning.” The glossy light brown tendrils of her braid never strayed out of place, nor the sheen on her lips. She wore no other makeup other than her nude-tinted lip gloss. In her mid thirties, she was a handsome woman, but her personality was too close to his former wife’s, one that grated on his nerves if he was around it too long.
A soft tan always graced Wilma’s complexion, most likely due to her centuries of roots in the region. If he could get her to quit thinking she had a chance with him, she’d be the perfect employee.
“I hope because you were busy and not because you keep tabs on me.” He had enough of folks keeping an eye on him. Five years had passed since he came through the rift, yet the agents of Wells Fargo haunted him as if they continued to sit on his shoulders, and certain townspeople, like Culver, gazed too often in Earl’s direction. He had left Northern California in 1888 to get away from that sort of thing. “I’m going into the city. If you have any needs, leave the list on the front desk.”
Her long cheeks twitched, and she frowned. “Thanks for thinking of me, Mr. Earl.”
She wanted more. He didn’t. Their daily standoff. He didn’t dare smile at her and went on into the house.
Scott, his other full-time employee, didn’t need checking. That man never faltered in the care of the steer and horses. Good thing. Earl had never cared for horses. He had never owned one or used one in his former century. He wasn’t about to start. His years as an infantryman had served him well, allowing him to cover twenty miles in a day over the roughest terrain. These days he still used his feet and a shiny new pickup truck.
In his office, a room as large as the farmhouse he once shared with his wife and daughters in Iowa, he strode to an old mahogany desk. It had once belonged to a well-to-do mine owner. Neither the man nor the mine had any bearing on the world anymore.
Earl took Charming’s glasses and the crystal disc out of the top drawer, wrapped them carefully in a piece of rabbit fur, then slipped the package into his coat pocket. At the fireplace, he kneeled at the hearth and slipped his fingers underneath one of the floorboards. It lifted with ease and he pushed the insulation out of the way. Beneath it, a safe was embedded into the volcanic rock that made up the ground in all of Caslow County.
Deftly, Earl dialed the combination and opened the vault. From its depths he lifted out a cell phone, one different than his normal phone. He’d have to get another of these prepaid models today. This one was almost used up.
His thumb selected a contact, one of two. Charming was the only other. The line rang then clicked when the other end picked up.
A lilty voice striking notes as harmonious as a bow on a violin spoke. “Are they onto me?”
“Not yet. I’m coming in today with a guest.” He brushed insulation dust off his pants.
“Who?”
“Charming’s sister.”
“Do you think it wise?”
“Sooner or later she’s going to find out about her sister’s activities and look into it all. It’s more likely than not since Daelin will be working directly for Sabina. I think that means our Envoy to the rift has plans for Daelin. If so, the young lady should have proper guidance. Don’t you think?”
The line went quiet, but Earl could hear breathing. Pots clanged then came the rapid-fire thuds of chopping. Finally, there came a sigh. “You may come. You still going by Earl Blacke?”
“Yes. You still going by Dante?”
“No, I go by Dan now, and I don’t look as old.”
Earl wondered how that worked. Were he and Dante actually younger or did they just appear so? “Still in the same place?”
“No. I have a little sandwich shop now.” He rattled off the address.
“Perfect. It’s right by the return lot for the car rental, and my new friend is very hungry.”
Earl hung up, placed the phone back in his safe, and locked up. In the kitchen, he found some leftover roast chicken and made a sandwich, topping it with his homemade tomato salad. With a square of waxed paper, he wrapped it up and stuffed it into a paper sack with a bottle of water.
Inside the spa, cedar and rain hit his nostrils from ten candles blazing across the top of the reception desk. Earl rubbed the sides of his nose. It was probably a scent to put him in the mood. He blew the flames out and nabbed Wilma’s shopping list from the desk. She wanted supplies for scrubs, facial masks, and wraps. At the bottom she added chocolate, roses, and a set of silk sheets.
“I’ll never understand her.” He pocketed the list written on the spa’s linen stationery and left without speaking to her.
In the garage, the sight of his shiny gold pickup made him smile. It was like having his own stagecoach. If only it had a strongbox that filled up with gold on a regular basis.
It took four minutes to drive to Charming’s place. Daelin waited in her rental. Earl drove up beside her and handed her the sack lunch through the vehicle windows. It took less than five minutes to drive out of town. The Basin Highway never had much traffic, so he didn’t fret about losing her. Thirty minutes west and they turned onto the busier Highway 97, heading north for another thirty minutes. He drove slow, careful to keep her right behind him.
The rental return lot was located across the street from where Earl needed to go. He pointed at the sandwich shop, telling Daelin to meet him there when she finished.
Inferno Grill blazed on the window next to the door of the little restaurant. From all the hours spent in Dante’s company, Earl knew Dante liked the joke of it. Earl thought it stupid.
Two customers sat at tables nibbling sandwiches the size of bison noses. The small eatery had a simple decor in black, red, white, and chrome: an order counter, a place to assemble and grill sandwiches, and a few simple square tables. The rich aroma of specialty coffee perfumed the air. So did bacon. Dante wiped down the grill, his deep blue irises heating to yellow for the briefest of moments, long enough for Earl to notice.
When Earl tugged at his collar, Dante smiled. His appearance differed greatly from when he ran Settler’s library. With blue eyes and sandy hair, he could be one of Earl’s brothers. They had the same fit builds, the same style of beard and mustache, only Dante stood an inch taller and had longer hair. The dapper old man who had helped Settler pick out books now had less wrinkles, no eyeglasses, and wore no tweed. The hat was gone too. Wisdom, however, still furrowed his brows.
Tossing the cleaning rag aside, he smirked. “You’ve always inspired me, my friend.”
“Makes me wonder what kind of convoluted place you come from.” Earl thrust his chin toward the back of the restaurant. “Ran into your brother last night. We’ve a lot to discuss before she gets here.” He took out Charming’s bloodied glasses, peeling back the rabbit fur enough to give Dante a quick glimpse.
“I knew recruiting you was a wise move.” Dante squinted at an elderly woman dressed in pink eating at one of his tables. “Betty, keep an eye on things for a minute.”
hapter 