West (History Interrupted Book 1) (25 page)

Unease stirred within me. He had also rescued me twice, held me when I was upset last night and had multiple chances to do something bad to me.

Stay away from him, Josie. He’s dangerous.
Carter seemed pretty certain.

The more I thought about him, the more confused I became.

But the real danger was someone else. Someone in the house. That much I felt with certainty.

Sad and distraught, I flung myself onto my bed to stare at the ceiling before I sat up suddenly.

Without Nell looking over my shoulder, I had time to look at the phones the girls had left in more depth. I closed and locked my door before dropping beside the armoire and sliding the bottom drawer open. I carefully pulled the fake bottom of the drawer open to reveal the three phones.

I replaced the drawer and took the phones to the space between the wall and bed, where no one who had a key could enter and see what I did. I started with the oldest phone with the cracked screen. I flipped it on and off and then squinted at the screen to try to read any messages that popped up.

“Nada,” I murmured and set it aside. I reread the messages on the other two. Carter had been in a panic when he sent them. Taking a picture of one, I sent it to him with a note.
Why did you tell her to get out?

The phones were in good shape, aside from the oldest one with a busted screen. There was no indication of who they belonged to, no stickers or personalized covers. Disappointed not to find more out about the mysterious women, I returned them to the armoire and sat back.

“Who the hell put you all there?” I asked the jewelry box with some frustration. “Why only three? Where’s the fourth?” And who was the fifth woman?

Would I be able to spot her if we crossed paths, or had she gone native? Determined to find out who wanted me dead before I ended up at the bottom of the well, I left my room.

I wandered the house. I went first to John’s room and stood outside it. He wasn’t there, but it still
felt
like he was. The enhanced memories drifted to me the way those from the well did, in splintered patches of randomness that were difficult to follow, except when it came to the images of his wife and daughter.

“He loved them so much,” I whispered, heart heavy. My eyelids drifted closed, and I watched the joyous memories of the old man that lingered with his energy in the place he passed away. Carrying real-Josie around on his hip, visiting the town square for a parade with his wife, stopping by the market at the edge of town …

I sucked in a breath, touched by the emotion that remained after John was dead. It was beautiful, pure, in a world that seemed to grow darker around me. I made another mental note to ask Carter what exactly he put in my head and how it worked when we met next.

For another ten minutes, I stood outside John’s door, the rhythmic tick-tock of his grandfather clock the only sound. I watched the happy memories. Not yet convinced I did the right thing by hiding the truth, I suspected John might’ve known, since he knew Carter.

I released my breath and left his room.

I could hear the dead. It was a good thing when I sought a missing person. I moved slowly through the house with its multiple parlors and sitting rooms, listening for any whispers or trickles of memories that brushed by me.

Tracking down every servant I could, I greeted them all and watched how they reacted. If time travelers had a tell, I wasn’t seeing it.

Hours later, I returned to my hallway and walked down it as well, realizing I had been avoiding the obvious: the source of my nightmares, the room at the very end. A whisper tickled the back of my neck, and I paused at the door.

Something terrible had happened there. The images were blurry, of blood and darkness. Two people … a fight … could that be what happened to the missing time traveler?

“Miss Josie!” Nell’s call made me jump.

I faced her.

“Why are you not resting?”

“I got bored,” I replied.

“That room is forbidden to you.” Nell shook her head. “Come. Let me fix your hair before the wake.”

I hesitated, intrigued by the idea she didn’t want me in the room beckoning to me. It meant she knew something about it. With another look at the door, I returned to my bedroom, where Nell waited behind my chair.

“Why is that room forbidden?” I asked.

“It was your father’s direction.” She raked the brush through my hair.

I winced. I couldn’t imagine her brushing the hair of baby-Josie like this. “You don’t know why?”

“It was not my place to ask.”

Her thoughts were … blank. The strange, brief gap fueled my curiosity. She wasn’t lying, but …

I hadn’t yet run into something like this. A block, one I didn’t think was purposeful, similar to how my uncle’s old school record player sometimes skipped.

Half an hour later, I left the house in a heavier than usual gown and black veil that reached my knees. A sleek back coffin was in the back of an elegant carriage, John’s best, if I had to guess. I frowned at the final resting place for the kindly man. It wasn’t anywhere near what such a beautiful soul deserved.

“Ms. Nell, Miss Josie.”

I turned at Taylor’s low voice, heart taking off for two reasons this time. He was dressed in a dark suit that appeared new and nothing like what he normally wore. He gazed at me, unreadable. He was sexy as sin in his worn, patched clothing and even more so in a new suit.

More people arrived as I waited, and I found myself moving towards Taylor as much because he cancelled out the memories accosting me as because of how much I admired his striking eyes and the way the suit fit him. I was attracted to him and had been since we met.

Half the town was here, to include Running Bear and several other natives who kept their distance from the others. Without Taylor’s presence, I’d be in a puddle on the ground from the onslaught of memories of the people standing so close. As it was, there was something I could almost read from
him
for once. A fuzzy vision of grays and black, of a sky and beneath it …

Almost …
I released my breath. One tiny memory was trying to reach me from his mind and failed to make it the last step.

“How was your day?” I asked. I searched his handsome face for some sign of what he hid from me and how dangerous Carter claimed him to be.

“Well.” His attention was on the crowd. I had no trouble believing he wasn’t one who liked crowds or who knew how to handle his sudden fame in the small town. “Would you care to join me for supper?”

“We’re married. Aren’t you supposed to order your poor little wife around?”

He chuckled, a flare of genuine warmth crossing his features before it disappeared. “I can. Thought I’d ask first.”

“I’d like that,” I said, unable to help my smile.
Just don’t be the bad guy.
I almost sighed. “We can talk tonight,” I added. I didn’t have much more time to win him to my side and help me stop the native twins.

“Deal.” He offered me his hand.

Together, we walked behind the wagon through the property, trailed by half the town, to a small plot on the backside of a hill in a graveyard. There were five headstones present already with John’s grave dug out.

Grateful for the veil, I did my best not to cry too much. I was spent from the night before and just a little afraid of drawing the attention of Philip, who was always within about four feet of me.

I moved away from Taylor to go to the casket. The assault of memories from the townspeople hit me like a stiff wind.

Don’t faint.
It took a moment for me to steady the foreign, swirling images and emotions in my head. I moved to the far side of the casket, where only the memories of two people were able to reach me instead of the dozen that nearly drowned me.

And then there were
the rest.
I turned to face the other tombstones in the peaceful, well-kept family cemetery.

The dead were talking again. Most were too faint for me to make out, and only one appeared to be …
unhappy
, as Fighting Badger might say. This one was close and, judging by the power of the whisper, somewhat … fresh.

Who would’ve been buried recently in the family graveyard?
I resisted the urge to step towards the whisper. There was no grave where it came from.

“Miss Josie,” the preacher said.

Realizing everyone was watching me, I focused on John’s casket and bent to lay a wreath of flowers on it. Taylor’s arm was around Nell, who wept hard enough for her shoulders to quake.

As selfish as it seemed, I was grateful not to know that kind of pain. I ached for John more than I should, but Nell had no closure with him at all after years spent pining for him.

The preacher began speaking once more. The casket was lowered, and I whispered a final farewell and thank you to the man who showed me what it was like to have a father, even if only for a few days.

The throng of people returned to the area behind the house, where long tables had been overloaded with a feast of food. Bonfires blazed on either side for warmth, and the group sat around the tables, talking and eating.

Sticking close to Taylor so he cancelled out my empathic memory chip, I picked at my food, uncomfortable with Philip seated across the table from me and even less certain what I was supposed to do since Carter hadn’t messaged me in half a day.

I had the urge to return to the cemetery once everyone else was gone, to listen to the whisper I’d heard.

It was close to midnight by the time the last guest left, and I made my way up the stairs to my bedroom, trailed by Nell. My nanny helped me change and laid out the slippers once more.

I eyed them. The other thought I hadn’t dwelt on as much as I probably should have: what Taylor expected on our second night married. Instead, I was thinking about dead people.

I had slept with men whose names I didn’t know the next morning, but something about Taylor was different, and it wasn’t just Carter’s assertion he was dangerous.

It was the sense of familiarity, the fact I didn’t fear him, no matter how many times Carter told me he was a threat. It was almost like some part of me – whether instinct or magical chip – knew Taylor was what he claimed to be: someone who would help me.

The mischievous part of me looked forward to embarrassing him. I slid my feet into the slippers. Nell gave me an approving nod and led me out of the hallway and down John’s wing. We passed his room, and I released a breath, relieved we weren’t going to the chamber where he died.

Nell left me at the door of Taylor’s room, and I hesitated a moment before knocking.

He answered it, dressed in his pajama bottoms and a loose shirt. Stepping aside, he motioned for me to enter.

His room was as large as mine, decorated in manly shades of dark blue and red, with a bed that was closer to a king size than my full bed. I faced him, curious in the tense silence between us. The butterflies were back, along with the distant reminder that Carter seemed to think Taylor was bad.

I just don’t see it.

Taylor’s eyes swept over me quickly, as if he was afraid to look too long, before he crossed to a carafe of amber liquid I assumed was whiskey. He poured a glass and offered it to me.

I shook my head.

He poured himself one and tossed it back.

“You all right?” I asked.

“I am … new to this.”

“To what? Being married?”

His eyes went to the bed in a silent response.

“Wait. You’re a virgin?” I asked, astonished.

Red crept up his face. “Not a virgin. No honorable woman will consider someone raised by savages. I’ve visited the soiled doves once a year on my birthday and …” He drifted off and cleared his throat.

My unease vanished, and I tempered the urge to tease him. He had been uncomfortable but dutiful all evening long. The sight of the uncertainty dogging an otherwise confident man touched me. “I got you covered.” I grinned and went to the hearth.

He frowned but joined me. “Where you’re from … you’re … “

I glanced at him. Every once in a while, he said something that reminded me he knew more about me than I did him. I wasn’t always certain what to think about that. “Where I come from, men and women both try on relationships before they’re married. It’s like pretending to be married to see if it works.”

“Does it work?”

“Not usually.”

His brow furrowed.

“I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re asking,” I supplied. “Have a seat. We can talk.”

He left the tumbler on the tray and sat beside me the way he had last night. Apprehension and desire eddied and spun through me. We gazed at each other. I found myself fiddling with the ties of my housecoat, as if it were my first night. I stilled my hands.

“I’ve never touched a woman meant to be mine,” he said softly.

The way he said it robbed me of any shred of amusement I had at being thrown back in time with a near virgin. To him, this wasn’t pretending or temporary. It wasn’t going to be another one-night stand for me, not when it was
real
to him. I didn’t want to hurt him when I left.

I also didn’t understand how he could know I didn’t belong here – and still believed this arrangement to be real.

“We don’t have to do anything,” I said. “You don’t seem comfortable.”

“I want to. I don’t know where to start,” he admitted. “I’ve been alone here for so long. I’m not sure what to think about all this.” He motioned to the room. “I’ve never had nothing, Josie, and now I have everything.” There was a familiar glow in his gaze, one that reminded me too much of the look John gave me often and stirred my guilt.

I hate lying to good people.

“Maybe I do need a drink,” I murmured and stood. I went to the whiskey and poured a shot, gazing absently at my reflection in the mirror of the dresser behind the table on which the tray sat.

How did I tell him not to get attached? He was somehow part of all this yet oblivious at the same time. Unable to make heads or tails of him, I likewise didn’t know why I was drawn to trust him.