TIME TANGLE
By Roger E. Greider
SMASHWORDS EDITION
Copyright 2011 Roger E. Greider
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TIME TANGLE
Chapter 1
Brad Williams enjoyed teaching auto mechanics at the Vo Tech and usually left school on time Fridays. But this Friday he had worked late in the lab to finish repairing an antique shotgun belonging to his neighbor, Andy. Finishing up, he honed the locking blade on his pocketknife and looked out the window at the gathering clouds as he hung his shop apron over the peg.
As he hurried out to put the top up on his restored MGB, he smiled and waved at the elderly, slightly overweight, English teacher as she was leaving the building. Her round motherly face was always comforting and made you want to hug her. She was a favorite of the students and everyone liked her.
He finished fastening down the top on his car as Jewel Nicholson, the Oklahoma History teacher, came running in her high heels from the next building, calling to him, “Bradie; oh Bradie.” She was carrying her briefcase and waving at him as the hem of her pleated miniskirt bounced provocatively.
He hated the way she called him "Braddie." She was 36, which he thought of as almost 40. He was 25, and her constant flirting and giggling annoyed him. Actually, he wasn’t interested in a relationship with any woman. His college fling had gone sour, and after graduation, his failed marriage had led him to vow, "Never again."
Brad thought the way Jewel did her dark hair was attractive and made her look younger, but not young enough to wear that skirt. He had overheard one of the older boys laugh and say, after having watched her reach to write at the top of the chalkboard, “I don’t think she knows she’s a girl.” “Braddie, would you give me a ride home?" She giggled. "My car is in the shop. I thought you might want to fix it for me.” She giggled again. “But I didn’t want to bother you."
Brad gave her a forced smile, sliding behind the wheel and putting the shotgun in the back seat. "Sure, Jewel, hop in." He usually opened doors for women, especially older women, but he didn't want to give Jewel any encouragement.
"I see you got Andy's gun finished." She giggled, and then pointed to his pocket. "You forgot to put your pens in your desk again." Having studied his routine, she was always mentioning what he had or hadn't done. When she learned he was thinking of buying a house, she asked him to let her help him pick it out. Lord! He would have to discourage her from doing that.
As they were leaving the parking lot, a girl flagged them down. She was carrying what looked like a deep desk drawer with a football helmet in it. "Mr. Williams, could I have a ride? It looks like rain and my house is just down the block from yours." Something about her hair and dress intrigued him. Maybe she was one of the new students. As he moved the gun out of her way, he wondered why he hadn't noticed her on campus. He liked her voice and the way she moved.
Jewel's face sagged into a hostile frown as she let her in the back seat. When Brad pulled in Jewel's driveway, the girl said, "I'll get out here while you're stopped." Brad thought she sounded as though she were about to cry.
Jewel pressed against him as she tugged the back of her seat forward again to make enough room for her to get out with the big drawer. When the youngster was almost out of earshot Jewel said, "Too bad she doesn't know how to dress." Brad hoped the girl hadn't heard.
After they watched her go, Jewel reached into her briefcase, and her voice reverted to the sweet southern lady drawl. "Oh, Braddie, would you open my letters with your pocketknife?" This was the umtheenth time she had wanted him to open letters. He was beginning to think she looked for things for him to use his knife on. At the school picnic, she had wanted him to sharpen her pencil. He hadn't taken a date, and she boldly attached herself to him, making it look as though they were together.
She caught her breath and her eyes lit up as he snapped the knife open. "I don't know what I'd do without your pocketknife; it's so handy. Girls ought to have pockets. If I had a pocket, I'd buy me a little-ole knife to carry with me all the time." Giggling, she added, "But then I couldn't get you to help me with yours, could I?"
As he handed her the opened envelopes, hiding his annoyance, she leaned against him and put her hand on his leg. "Sweetie, it was so nice of you to bring me home. Why don't you come in for a cup of coffee before you go?"
A bolt of lightning, not far away, gave Brad an excuse and prompted his response. "Thanks, Jewel, but I'd better get home before it starts raining." She pouted but then giggled at the inadequacy of her skirt as she struggled out of the bucket seat. Watching her wiggle up the steps to the door, looking back at him with a meaningful smile, he had to admit she had a good figure.
It began to rain as he raced down the street. He turned on the wipers, and by the time he swung into his driveway, it was coming down hard. The car almost skidded into the yard, but Brad managed to stay on the drive and pull up close to the garage door, knowing he was going to get drenched if the rain didn’t stop. This wasn't the first time he regretted having the parking space in his garage full of antiques and tools.
Even though he could barely see the sidewalk through the cloudburst, he thought about making a dash to the front door. The porch light wasn't on and the walk would be slippery. But he was sure the new rubber and canvas walking shoes he wore to soften the concrete shop floor would grip the surface.
Retrieving the shotgun from behind the seat, he was ready to jump out if the downpour let up. But the rain came down heavier, and hail began pummeling the ground. Hailstones, the size of baseballs were hitting the concrete, exploding like grenades.
Watching the dents sink into the beautiful hood of his MGB made him moan. He was thinking it couldn't get any worse, when two giant stones tore through the convertible top, and the windshield shattered into a mass of flying glass, mixing with the ice fragments. He threw the door open and made an awkward dash for the porch, trying to hold the flat part of the gunstock over his head. Halfway there, a large stone hit him above the temple and he fell to the ground, in pain. With his eyes closed, he thought he saw a billboard on the back of his eyelids. It displayed his pleading, disorganized thoughts as they were racing through his brain.
"Oh, God; the porch; out of the hail; under the roof; any roof."
A response to his frantic plea flashed onto the sign. "I can take you back; yes, back in time, oh yes, back to when there is a structure enclosing; oh my yes, enclosing the space your body now occupies." Beneath the message was a signature: "Ozod."
In a cloud of confusion, Brad thought of how wonderful the promised enclosure would be. At that moment, a bolt of lightning struck the house, and he was engulfed in light. When the glare faded, he found himself lying on the ground in an electrical storm with no rain and no hail. But he was soaking wet.
It was daytime; close to three or four o’clock, he thought, judging by the Sun. The air had a fresh odor he didn't recognize. A thorny vine drooped only inches from his face. It was loaded with blackberries, and the crooked branches of a large scrub-oak tree sprawled over him. The thorns were hurting almost more than his aching head.
He used the gun to pry the bushes away, and he eased his way out of the blackberries, thinking he might be hallucinating. Looking at the Sun again, he set his watch back to four, which was going to make his day about five hours longer. He had the crazy feeling that the last ten or fifteen minutes had flashed by in a few seconds.
As he tried to think clearly, his thoughts were interrupted by the terrifying sight of a huge rattlesnake slithering beside him in the bushes. Brad was frozen in fear for a few seconds, and then he saw the snake was leaving. He closed his eyes and shook his head to clear it. The motion was painful but He had to get rid of this terrible thing that seemed to be happening.
For a moment he thought the lightning could have distorted his vision. But, with a change in the breeze, he could smell the singed tree, and when he opened his eyes it was still there. The pain from the thorns was certainly real enough, and he was as close to panic as he had ever been. He wanted to run; but where?
The stinging from the thorns subsided as he massaged the complaining areas gently. And he sat quietly on the ground, hoping the insanity would go away. His headache was letting up, but as he examined the goose egg rising on his head, frustration replaced fear. The author of the billboard message had obviously caused his dilemma, and Brad lashed out in anger.
"Ozod, if that's your stupid name, what's going on? Where’s the structure that’s supposed to be enclosing me? I'm not in a building! This is a blackberry patch full of snakes!"
Ozod added, in a loud, but rather high-pitched voice, "And an oak tree, and an oak tree; oh yes, an oak tree for a roof; yes indeed, an oak tree for a roof. You said, 'just a roof over my head.' Oh yes, that's all you asked for. You didn’t ask for a building, but I gave you this sturdy structure of bushes anyway. And talking about 'stupid', who was it that ran into a hailstorm with nothing but a gun over his head; oh yes, nothing but a gun?"
"My God; that’s all I had. And you knew what I meant. I just wanted to get out of the hail. We could have gone back to yesterday; going back only a few minutes would have been enough. I could have had that cup of coffee with Jewel until the storm was over. You didn't have to take me back to the Creation. And I wasn't running into that hailstorm. I was running out of it."
"Well, if you don't say what you mean, then I have to guess. Oh yes, I have to guess. I can do anything, but you have to be clear, clear about what you want. And, dear boy, please don't exaggerate; One snake. Oh my yes, one snake. Please!"
"Wait a minute," Brad said. "What's with the voice? If you can speak, why did I have to read those stupid signs? I'm not even sure you spelled the words right. And what kind of a name is 'Ozod.' It sounds slimy;"
Ozod quipped, "Well, I wouldn't talk; 'Brad' sounds like something with a sharp point and a flat head. I did the best I could on the spur; yes, the very spur of the moment; the best I could. And I never misspell words. Besides, you spelled those words yourself, in your mind. Now if I'm to help you, you'll have to be clear about what you want; oh my goodness, yes."
Brad paused in silence, trying to control his frustration. "OK. I want to go back; I mean forward, in time, to the day before the hailstorm. That will give me time to clear a place for the car in the garage."
"Oh, I can't do that. Goodness no, I can't do that."
"You just said you could do anything."
"Well yes, anything but that. That's out of the question; yes, out of the question. We could go back a year or so, or maybe a few months, but not just a day; oh no, not just a day.”
"But it wouldn’t be ‘just a day.’ It would be almost the same length of time as the jump we just made."
"Well, it's like a person trying to throw a ball; yes a ball, back to himself without first going to get it. It’s hard to explain. But we were just lucky; oh my yes, lucky there happened to be some good foliage over this spot a few years earlier."
"But it's not hailing here. We didn't need the foliage."
"You're right. Oh yes, you're right. But you didn't know that, did you? Actually, you know, I'm a little new; oh yes, a little new at this, and there's a weather restriction. But don't despair, I can do anything; oh my goodness yes, anything."
"Are you telling me you’ve never done this before? And what's this about the weather?"
"Well, I haven't always done it, you know. There are a few things, yes, things I'll have to learn. And to make a time-jump, we'll need a thunder storm; oh my goodness yes, we’ll need lightning. But I can do anything."
"All right, if you're so competent, where am I?"
"You're at the same place you started from; oh my yes, the same place. It's just a few years earlier in time."
"How many years earlier? What's the date?"
"Well, that's another; yes, another thing I'm not quite sure about. We need to do a little research on that."
"What do you mean, we? You’re the one running the show here. I don't have the slightest idea what’s happening. But one thing I do know. A few minutes ago, there was no ugly, crooked, disgusting tree in front of the house and no lethal bushes either. And there never were, as far as I know."
"Now dear boy, hurling insults at the beautiful greenery around us is not called for, and it won't help. No, it won't help. You can see what’s happening as clearly as I can. We must concentrate on helpful ideas."
"OK, how about reversing the process? Wouldn't that get things back to the way they were?"
"Well, it's not that easy; oh no, not that easy. No indeed; the problem is, I don't know exactly what I did, you see."
"No, I don't see and I'm sure you can see I'm upset and confused. But if you can 'do anything,' as you say you can, you'd better take me out of here and get me back to where I belong right now."
"Now see here, my boy, I don't have to take or get you anywhere; oh my no, anywhere. How do I know 'where you belong'? Just because; yes, just because you were in 2012 when I rescued you doesn't mean you 'belong' there. Also, I'd like to know what you’ve ever done for me. I was minding my own business; oh yes, my own business, when you snatched me and started making demands."
"Hold it just a minute. I 'snatched' you? How do you figure that one?”
"You snatched me when you had your accident; yes, your careless accident, and our bodies became totally enmeshed. And you've left it up to me to get us untangled; oh my goodness yes, untangled."
"You're talking nonsense. I didn't have any accident; I was hit by a hailstone."
"Did you get hit by the stone on purpose?"
"No; of course I didn’t."
"Then it was an accident."
"OK, OK; it's unimportant. But for your information I do belong in 2012. That's when the hailstorm occurred. And I don't get this 'our bodies' bit; I wasn't aware that you had a body."
"Well, it's none your business, but since we seem to be attached, I might as well tell you. My body is interstitial. I exist in the space between atomic particles. So I share space with millions; oh my goodness yes, millions of bodies made up of atoms."
"Then it looks like you would be entangled with other bodies all the time."
"It looks that way to you because of interstitial ignorance; oh yes, ignorance. No, it only happened because of that flash of lightning."
"Ahah! Then how can you say I snatched you? You're as much at fault for the entanglement as I. And since you claim you’re able to do anything, get us out of this mess; but not before getting me back where I belong. Try a jump to a few months before the 'accident.' Just don't jump to a time after it. I might have been killed by one of those hailstones."
"I'm glad you realize that. And you don't seem the least bit grateful to me for saving your life. I'm going to let you think about that for a while. Oh my goodness yes, I'm going to let you think about it before I take you back forward."
Brad didn't feel like he needed to apologize to anyone, but Ozod seemed to be his only hope of getting home. So, reluctantly, he managed to say, "OK. OK, I'm thinking about it and I'm grateful to you. Thank you. Please forgive my ignorance. If you could just zap me, or whatever it is you do, back to 2012, it would make me very happy."
"Well, that's better! It shouldn’t be that difficult. But first we’ll have to try out a few ideas to see how this thing works."
"Wait a minute, wait a minute. I don't want to be part of an experiment. How will I know what to do to get back all in one piece? Will these trials be safe?"
"Oh yes, dear boy. We'll just take small steps; yes, small steps, to be sure it goes well. Don’t worry; I’ll tell you what to do. Of course, we'll need lightning, and that may be the most difficult part. But first we need to ahh; oh; did you feel that?"
"No. What?"
"I think I just got us untangled; oh yes, untangled. So you don't have to worry about me anymore. I'll be on my way."
"Wait, Ozod. Don't leave yet. Let's worry about me. Where are you going? Can't you help me get home first; in small steps? Get me back in any kind of steps. How am I going to get home? Ozod!" Brad was surrounded by silence. Ozod was gone.
The fear that had been hovering at the edge of his consciousness, now spread through him, working its way up to the roots of his hair. Could he possibly get back without Ozod? Actually, could he get back even with Ozod? Maybe he would wake up and discover it was all a dream. But it was too real. It couldn't be a dream.
Chapter 2
Brad sat for a few minutes with a feeling of loneliness he had never known. The electrical storm was over, and the clouds were moving off, uncovering a warm Sunny day. The blackberries looked inviting and he examined one. He popped it into his mouth and realized He was hungry. The Sun was still well up in the sky, but it should be the end of his day.
With a sinking feeling in his chest, he ate a handful of berries, attempting to analyze his predicament. He was lost and confused. Looking around, he tried to reconstruct what had happened. If Ozod was correct, this tree was between where he fell and the wall of his house.
His MGB would be; he looked over his shoulder to the place where the driveway should be; right over there. He was visualizing the hail dents, the broken windshield and the destroyed ragtop. Looking the other way, he should have been looking past Andy's house, down the street to where Jewel lived. But in any direction, the landscape was only rolling hills of prairie grass and trees, mostly scrub oaks.
He looked at his watch, checking it again with the Sun. Then he heard a dog barking. There were also voices and the sound of a hammer. Looking over the top of the tall grass, he could see a man driving a stake into the ground. He had a boy with him, and a dog was jumping playfully on the boy. The dog reminded Brad of the one he had played with as a child.
"Wow, Ozod, isn't that a welcome sight?" He was hoping to get a response from Ozod. He didn't. But he walked toward the trio, waving his arms vigorously and yelling, "Hey there." The man's straw hat fell off, as he dropped his maul, and scrambled to grab a rifle off the ground. He shouted back, competing with the barks of the dog. His voice was almost as high in pitch as Ozod's.
"This land's done staked out." He paused, fastening the strap of his bib-overalls, which had come loose as he grabbed the gun. "You better get on yer horse and get outa here." He paused again, putting his hat on and turning the brim up in the front. Brad kept walking toward them, as the man continued. "There's land south uh here that ain't been took yet."
"I'm not looking for land," Brad shouted, with the shotgun on his shoulder, pointing to the rear, "and I don't have a horse."
"You must be lyin’ Mister." The dog continued to bark fiercely. "No one got out here this quick without a horse, unless you started afore the gun, an’ that ain't legal. We started at noon; rode hell bent fer leather from Kickapoo Crossing 'cross 7-mile flats."
The boy emulated the man's stance, trying, unsuccessfully, to turn up the narrow brim of his battered felt hat, as the man continued. "When the wagon road turned south, we forded the river'n come west across 9-mile flats; a good twenty mile. And we was the first to get here. The rest of the family's comin' with the wagon and more shootin' irons. So you better get."
Brad kept walking. "I don't own a horse, and I need help. I'm from Oklahoma City, and I'm trying to get home."
The man was close enough he no longer had to shout. "I knowed you was lyin’. There ain't no Oklahoma City; it's only been talked about. The folks we was with went south on the Wagon Road. They was goin' to Oklahoma Station; said that's gonna be Oklahoma City, but it ain't, yet. Now you stop right there an' put that gun on the ground, or yo’re gonna get a bullet right through yer middle."
Brad took the shotgun by the barrel and laid it down carefully, realizing Ozod must have jumped him clear back to the days of the land run. Oklahoma Station had to be close to the Brick Town area he was familiar with. So it would be about ten miles south of where he was standing.
"I'm alone, Sir. I just meant I'd like to go to where they're talking about building Oklahoma City. I've lost track of time. What day is it?" He walked away from his shotgun trying to establish good faith, and the man seemed to relax, lowering the rifle a little.
"What's yer name Mister, and where'd you come from?"
"I'm Brad Williams, and I was born in Kansas. How I got down here is a mystery to me. I got hit on the head, and would greatly appreciate any help you could give me."
The man edged toward him, spreading one hand toward the dog. "Shep, hush up. I think we got us a friend here." The dog settled down, and the man looked at the bump on Brad's head.
"Oh boy. You got a good one there. I'm John Benson, and this here's my boy, Billy." Brad nodded to Billy as the dog came closer, wagging his whole body and panting. Brad thought he looked as though he was smiling. Billy, who was staying close to his father, re-established his belligerent stance, with arms folded over his chest, legs firmly spread. His baggy, course weave, cotton trousers were well worn.
Benson continued. "I ain't one to refuse help to a man when he needs it. This is the 22nd, and the run started at noon. With that egg on you head, there ain't no way you coulda got here this quick, an' it's no wonder yo’re confused. I guess you was here yesterday, so you cain't claim no land."
With a tone of wonder and disbelief, Brad said, "April 22nd, 1889", remembering the Oklahoma history test he had taken for his teaching certificate.
Benson smiled. "Yeah, yo’re rememberin' things already. I think yo’re comin' around purty good on the inside uh that bump. Come on down, an' we'll dab a little coal oil on the outside. Go fetch his gun Billy." Shep wagged his tail, and followed Billy, who went willingly but with a frown, thinking his father was making a big mistake.
Brad followed them to where three horses were tied up. "My oldest boy, Junior," Benson said, "is on the far side uh the Claim." He chuckled. "He's more'n six feet an’ not full growed yet." He pointed at a small sandstone outcrop. "We're gonna build right here by the spring." Brad noticed the miniature waterfall as it splattered lazily from a crack. It was furnishing moisture for a good stand of pine trees just below it on the gentle slope.
"We're get'n 'er all staked out with our claim number. There's always claim jumpers to watch out fer. That's what Billy and me thought you was. We can put up a spring-house over them rocks."
Benson took the shotgun Billy handed him and examined it as he talked. "We'll keep this here shotgun, Brad, if you don't mind, till we get to know one another a little better. My lands! It shore is a good lookin' gun; it must be one a them new models." Brad smiled, even though he was a little uneasy about it. It would be at least three years before the gun existed. "I ain't never seen nothin' like it. Where'd you get it?"
"It belongs to a friend of mine. I've been repairing it for him. I'm a gunsmith."
"A gunsmith! Say, you oughta do a right smart business around here; if yer prices is right. Ole Betsy here," patting his rifle, "she could use a little help. She shoots straight, when she shoots. Maybe you could take a look at ‘er later, when you got time."
"I'd be glad to Mr. Benson, but I don't have any place to work. And I lost all my tools."
"You got to watch out fer them thieves. They can steal yer stuff right out from under yer nose. Sometimes they can just jump ya and take it. I’d say that’s how you got that knot on yer head."
"Not exactly. I think I was just a little too careless."
"Well, I got a wagon fulla tools. If you can use 'em, you can set up business right here on my claim, fer a share uh yer earnings. Tell you what. I can see you got a lotta schoolin'. You can set up here fer free if you learn my chil’en to read and write." Then, as an after-thought, "an' learn my boys the gunsmithin' trade while yo're helping' us, buildin’ the cabin and gettin’ settled on the claim. Have ya got a stake?"
"A what?"
"A stake; some money to get started with."
"I'm afraid not."
"Oh well, a hard workin' man can do fine startin' out with nothin' nowadays."
Brad could see Benson was planning to use him, but there wasn't a wide range of options for his immediate future. He tried to make sense of what was happening. What was the future? His immediate future was the past, and he was talking to a man that probably died long ago. It wasn't possible.
It occurred to him maybe he was insane. He lowered his head and held it in his hands. The hailstone knob throbbed under his palm, and his ears still felt sensitive from the bolt of lightning that had almost hit him. Being lost in time, or whatever was going on, was the most frightening thing that had ever happened to him. But Benson's friendliness gave him a small sense of security to cling to.
Benson was still talking to him. "If you're feelin' poorly maybe we'd better sit a spell."
Brad decided, insane or not, it would be best to pretend he was all right. "No, Mister Benson, I'm OK. I just feel a little lost. But I accept your kind offer, and I'll do my best."
In a fatherly voice, Benson said, "Sure you will; sure you will. I knowed you was a honorable man when I first seen ya." Then, not missing a beat, "Now if you'll pick up that maul, I'll show ya where to jab these stakes in the ground. Me'n Billy'll lay 'em out fer ya."
Benson had forgotten about the Coal oil, and that was all right with Brad. He knew it had been an all-purpose germicide in the past, but he wasn't anxious to have it 'dabbed' on his head. When Junior came over, Benson told him to saddle up. "Since we got Brad, here, helpin' us, you kin go get yer ma. Mind you don't get lost now, an' don't talk to no one. An' don't ride too fast. Yer horse is tired from runnin’".
As the boy swung onto the horse, Brad could see the tall youngster was well coordinated. He rode off, with Benson yelling the last of his instructions. "Be sure to give him a good drink when you cross the river. You stay there in Kickapoo tonight, an' bring the wagon with yer ma an' the kids in the morning."
By sundown they had the 160 acres marked. Benson smiled at Brad, clapping him gently on the back. "The Misses will shore be happy to see you, Brad. She was worried about me an' the boys doin' all the work we got to do."
He opened a saddlebag and divided a small portion of food between them. "We'll have to eat light 'til the Misses gets here. We might have figured a little scant. What we got here'll have to do us."
Brad ached all over. During the day he had used muscles he didn't know he had, and he was realizing what a soft life he had been living. Teaching at the school was enjoyable, but he was now finding out how wonderful it was. Even putting up with Jewel didn't seem so bad anymore. He had to get back!
Chapter 3
The next morning, with an uneasy feeling, Brad went down to the pine grove with Benson and Billy. He noticed the trees were not on Benson's claim but decided not to say anything. Later, when they were busy cutting them down, the claim owner, Henry Wallcot, rode up. Brad discovered later he and Benson had camped next to each other at Kickapoo Station for a few days before the run. But neither knew they would be on adjacent claims. Brad thought Benson had probably been hoping the quarter section claim next to his hadn't been taken yet.
Wallcot stopped and watched for a while before saying, “I guess you know those are my trees you’re cutting down, John.”
"No, Henry, I didn't know they was yourn. I didn't know they was on anyone's claim. Was you gonna use 'em to build a cabin?"
"No. We've started a dugout."
"Well then, seein' as how you won't be needin' 'em, maybe you won't mind me usin' a few of 'em fer my little cabin?"
"I'll be glad for you to use them, John, but of course you'll want to pay me for them."
"Well, Henry, when the Misses gets here tonight, we'll see what we can do. We'll want to consider it's my water that grew 'em."
"John that water just went through your claim. It was mine when these trees started drinking it, so I'll tell you what you can do. You can pay me for the logs, or leave them where they fell. You wouldn't want to be accused of stealing. There was a sturdy looking jailhouse and a lot of soldiers at Kickapoo Station. And I don't think it would take long to convince them what you're doing is against the law."
"Now wait, Henry, I'm a fair man. How much do you want fer enough trees to build a small house?"
Brad walked back to the spring, being sure Benson was going to find some way to get the logs without paying for them. When Wallcot rode off, Benson motioned for him to return to work. "Henry's a right nice feller. We come to a understanding on the trees. I told him I wouldn’t mind if you and Billy helped him an’ his misses with their dugout just for a few days each week fer a while, till they get settled in; as part of our agreement, you know."
Already thinking of skipping out, Brad found it difficult to be critical of Benson's sharp dealing. The man was struggling with difficult problems. Brad thought of his own soft life. His parents had been older and had furnished him with a loving home with advantages Benson had never dreamed of. He wondered if he would have had the courage and strength to take a family into the wilderness with nothing but a few animals and a wagon.
The next day, when Mrs. Benson and the younger children arrived, Brad's uneasy feeling about his situation didn't improve, although when he watched her marshaling the four-mule team from the high seat on the wagon, he was impressed. In a dress that reached from her chin to the floorboard, she appeared to be almost as tall as he. Nothing of her could be seen except her face and hands, but he thought she must have the body of a wrestler from the way she handled the reins and brake.
That would explain the size and muscular build of Junior. And Billy looked more like sixteen than twelve. Later, after she had taken a wet cloth to her face, he could see she was probably not much older than he was.
As she brought the wagon to a stop, the children, three girls and a boy were behind her with their heads clustered around her bonnet as though they were growing from it. Some of them were making faces at him, causing him to smile. He chuckled with his mouth closed, thinking "Well, at least I'll have students with plenty of spirit, until I leave."
Shortly after the wagon got there, Benson introduced his wife. "Mrs. Benson, this here is Mr. Williams. He's gonna help with the kids and with the work fer his keep. An' a better man you ain't gonna find. He'll be the best hired hand we ever had."
Brad could see the obvious affection the children had for Benson as they gathered around him. "These are the young'uns, Brad. You'll get to know 'em in time." And then continuing without a break, "When you get the tools laid out careful, so we know where everythin' is, it'll be dark, so it'll be quittin' time." He gestured toward the pine trees. "We can start cuttin' more logs fer the house in the mornin'. Be shore to cover them tools up with a tarp so they don't rust."
"I'll remember to do that Mr. Benson. Would it be alright if I talk to the children first, for a few minutes?"
"Yeah, I recon so, if you got to. Kids, get up here to Mr. Williams, an' pay attention. Listen close. He ain't got time to waste; yuh hear now? You get up there too, Junior. Yo're big, but I'm still yer daddy."
Brad first learned their names and then spoke to them of the wonderful future waiting for anyone with courage and determination who is willing to work hard. He told them they must make an effort to get along with others, honor their parents and be kind to one another. Stressing the importance of education, he told them one of the most important keys to success would be learning to read and write.
Brad was pleased with the way the children responded to him, and after about ten minutes, Benson broke in. "Well, that was a good talk Brad, but we better get back to work. Now you kids mind what he said. An' go help yer ma."
Before the sun went down, Mrs. Benson and the children had a small tent put up. She brought Brad a plate with two strips of hardtack and two hard biscuits. Benson explained, "The kitchen ain't set up yet, so the helping's is small." However, Brad noticed the family members ate well.
He didn't take long eating the biscuits, but the hardtack lasted like an all-day sucker. He didn't mind, since he was hungry, and it tasted good. Going to the spring several times, he noticed Mrs. Benson was already using it as a cooler. Food was placed in a shallow tub, shaded with a piece of canvas, with the cold spring water running through it.
When the sun was almost gone and the family was settling down for the night, one of the girls came out with Shep to where he was working alone. He had noticed the blond child earlier in the day as she was helping her mother, and even though it was impossible, he felt he had seen her before. She was taller than Billy, and Brad thought she was probably almost full-grown.
She had put on a pair of not so new, but shiny, dress slippers and a shin-length wraparound blue skirt over the bottom half of her sheath dress. When she smiled and introduced herself, Brad thought she was the prettiest child he had ever seen. "I'm Ellen. I'm the oldest girl. I'm almost ten. I thought, since you was workin', you'd need some extra food." She handed him a small cloth bundle, which she had secretly carried out, under the shawl she was wearing. The action touched Brad.
As he thanked her, her smile broadened, tugging at his heart. "I thought what you done; I mean, what you said to us was wonderful." Brad noticed she was looking at the colored ballpoint pens sticking out of his pocket, and he offered her the red one after Mrs. Benson called "Ellie, you get back in here."
Embarrassed, Ellen tucked the pen in the tight waist of her skirt and ran back into the tent. Shep stayed with Brad and kept him company as he quietly finished sorting the tools. He saved the food for later, when his jaw would be rested up for another tussle with the hardtack.
Brad gave Shep a few caring strokes, remembering the dog in his childhood was also named Shep. He saw him often on his way home from grade school. A lady would invite him into the front yard for milk and cookies. She would sit on the porch swing and tell him stories while he shared a few cookie crumbs with Shep. Now he realized her facial features were similar to Ellen’s, and that’s probably why Ellen looked familiar. He had called her ‘The Park Lady’ because her yard always looked like a park to him.
From a stack of tarps, as Shep watched, he chose one to cover up the implements and selected a blanket-sized piece of canvas for himself. He had been on the alert, all day, keeping tabs on the location of Andy's shotgun, which was now on the ground between Junior and Billy. He hoped the loud snoring of Mr. and Mrs. Benson would not wake the family as he slipped the gun, inch by inch, from between its sleeping guards.
Then, with Shep going quietly beside him, Brad moved back up to the scrub oak. Using the orientation of his body on the front walk, after the lightning, he looked toward where Bricktown would be. It was probably the location of the first commercial buildings of Oklahoma City.
When he thought about the snake he had seen, he didn't relish the idea of breaking trail through the tall grass and brush at night. But the moon was bright, and he wanted to be at least a mile or two away from the Benson claim by morning. Of course, his important goal was to be back at home in 2012, but that seemed impossible.
He looked at the shotgun. It was an 1892 Remington with ordinance steel barrels, and it weighed ten pounds. The shells for it didn't even exist yet. Returning it to Andy was apparently not an option, and it distressed him. The gun had belonged to Andy's grandfather.
It occurred to Brad he might just leave it under the tree, giving Benson something to wonder about. But he decided to take it, just in case he was eventually able to get home. Shep looked at him with a questioning tilt of his head and seemed to understand when Brad pointed, speaking softly, “Shep, Go back and take care of Ellen.”
After Shep left, Brad was on the verge of starting toward Bricktown when the soothing night sounds were interrupted.
Chapter 4
"Brad, I have our problem solved, oh yes, definitely solved."
"Ozod! Is that you?"
"Of course, it's me, who else would it be? Oh yes, who else. How many other voices do you hear? Am I dealing; oh my goodness yes, am I dealing with a nut case?"
"I don't hear other voices; but I'm beginning to think I am a nut case. I thought you had abandoned me."
"That's ridiculous. Why would you think that? I never abandon anything"
"Do you 'never abandon anything' the same way you 'can do anything?’"
"Now, there you go, being sarcastic; oh my yes, sarcastic."
"I'm sorry Ozod, but can't you help me without irritating me."
"Oh for goodness sake, Brad, you'll have to make up; yes, make up your mind. Do you want me to help you? Or do you want me to waste my time; oh yes, waste my time trying to avoid irritating you? It's so demanding of you to want both."
Brad decided being too argumentative might risk losing Ozod for good. "You're right Ozod, and I'm not in a position to be demanding. But I don't understand why you leave, giving the terrifying impression you are not returning, and then show up, acting like everything is sweetness and light."
"Well, Brad, if you must know, I was wrong; oh my yes, I was wrong when I thought I had untangled us. And, as long as you are living, I can only continue my business if we're not tangled up."
"I can't say I like the sound of that. You aren't by any chance thinking of arranging things so I won't be living?"
"Oh, my dear boy, you shouldn't even think of such a thing; although I realize those thoughts come; yes, those thoughts come to humans. I'll never understand it; kill, kill, kill. And your Earth; oh your poor Earth. Humans won't be satisfied until it's a cinder."
"I know that's the way it looks, and I'm truly sorry. But did I hear you say you'd solved the problem of getting me back to the present?"
"Yes; I take it you're interested."
"I am definitely interested. If you have a workable idea, let's run with it."
"Well, I've been researching, yes, researching. And I've discovered hundred-year jumps are the easiest. And every jump occurs between two lightning strikes; yes, time can skip between two lightning bolts that occur at the same place. So, I've decided, since it must be precise, our last jump should be a hundred-year jump; oh my yes, and we should try a few practice jumps first."
"Then the first few jumps must occur between 1889 and 1912?"
"Exactly, and I've found a lightning strike here in a few days that repeats in 1891. That will be our first jump."
"That sounds all right with me, Ozod, but something about this worries me. Don't they say lightning never strikes twice in the same place?"
"Oh yes, they say it. Goodness yes, they say it. But it's not true, dear boy. Not true."
"I've also been thinking we could speed things up by using different places to jump from. If we could do that and plan ahead, there might be less of a delay between jumps. Less time between jumps would mean less chance of something going wrong. That rattlesnake I saw yesterday morning might have killed me. Or I might have killed it. The domino effect of something like that could alter the entire ecosystem."
"You're right, quite right, which, you will agree, makes it a good thing that I've already been planning ahead. There's a repeating strike coming right here; oh my yes, right here, just before morning; yes, just before sunrise, just before sunrise, just before sunrise."
"Ozod, I think you have a loop in your transmitter circuit, or something."
"Oh goodness yes, it's called interstitial hiccups. But it's not nice; no, it's not nice of you to point it out. That's like me telling people you have a wart on your nose."
"I don't have a wart on my nose."
"Well, no, but you wouldn't like it if I told people you do."
"Ozod, when you're right, you're right. I'm sorry; my apologies. Now, about this storm, I don't see a cloud in the sky."
"Brad, Was there a cloud in the sky on the morning of the day you left 2012?"
"That’s an excellent point Ozod. So what do I do until the storm gets here, just mill around in the grass? I don't want to crawl back in there with the thorns and snakes."
"Just one snake, Brad, just one snake, and he'll warn you with his rattle if you get too close. Besides, the thicket will help protect you from the lions, tigers, and bears."
"Ozod, there were never any lions or tigers here. But you're right about the bears. And since you brought it up, there could also be coyotes, cougars, and wild cats. "
"Just because you haven't seen tigers, Brad, doesn't mean they've never been here. But there won't be any lions or tigers here this morning; oh my no."
"That's good to hear Ozod. I'm not very good at fending off wild animals before breakfast. And I am glad you're still with me. Even though I may appear to be calm, this whole thing is scaring the wits out of me."
Feeling comforted by Ozod's news of the approaching storm, Brad ate a few blackberries and went to sleep, Later, toward morning, when storm clouds rolled in, he was awakened by thunder.
"Ozod, are you here? Shouldn't I get out from under this tree? How close to the strike do I need to be for the jump to happen?"
"Yes, you should definitely distance yourself from the tree. But you should be within, uh, one hundred feet; yes, within one hundred feet of it. That's close enough. Fifty feet would be all right also."
"Thanks. I'll take the 'one hundred.'" Going out to about a hundred feet, he spread the tarp on the ground, and lay down on it. He thought the rain would probably get there before the lightning, but it wasn't raining. The booms of thunder seemed to be occurring less frequently, and after a while the clouds began drifting away.
"Ozod?─Ozod, I think it missed us. What's happening?"
"Aaah, yes Brad. There's been a slight change in the plan. Now don't worry. I think; yes, I think it'll be about a week before the next storm gets here."
"Ozod, for two days I've thought you were gone forever, and then you gave me hope of getting back right away. Now you say it will be a week, I’m beginning to think you don’t know what you're doing. It could be months before repeating lightning strikes here again. And if you remember, I didn't agree for you to send me into this nightmare. I could have been in classes with my students on Monday."
"There's no need to despair, Brad. I'm sure a strike will happen here in just a few days. You can trust me; Oh my yes. And you won't miss any school because you will get back at the same time you left."
"So you're making me stay with this Benson bunch for I don’t know how long, and then you’re going to drop me back in front of my house with a near-fatal injury?"
"Dear boy, I didn't think you were hurt that bad, you recovered right away didn't you? And I'm not making you do anything. You can stay anywhere; oh yes, anywhere you want."
"Thanks. I'm having trouble making a choice from all the wonderful places you must think I have available. Did you see what the Bensons fed me? Actually, I should be asking, did you see how they're not feeding me? I don't know how I'll get through another day."
"Now, let's not be upset. I think you're just hungry. Why don't you eat the food Ellen brought you, and try; oh my yes, try to think good thoughts? Think about Ellen. She's been nice to you, hasn't she?"
Brad again had to check his desire to argue with Ozod. Accusing and assigning blame wasn't going to help. "You're right. Thank you." He opened the bundle Ellen had given him, and was surprised at its contents; cornbread, smoked ham and an apple. He felt better already.
"Now that I think it over, a day's work for Benson is better than a ten mile hike through the brush. For all I know, working for Benson now, might be better than what I'll run into in 1891. Actually, he'll probably still be here. Hey, Ozod, it just occurred to me, there were a lot of lightning strikes in the storm that just went through. Couldn't I have jumped on one of them, if I'd been close enough to it?"
"Well, yes, if you want to go looking for multiple strike locations."
"I do, I do. Where's the next electrical storm. I'll take the first suitable lightning strike."
"That will work for the next jump, but the last jump we make must be made from the exact; oh my goodness yes, the exact spot in front of your house."
"Yes, I understand that, but let's worry about that when we're ready to make the last jump, OK?"
"Very well. Let's see; the next strike is in Fairbanks, Alaska. Oh yes, Fairbanks, Alaska, in seven seconds."
"Ozod, this is no time for joking."
"It's true, It's true, Fairbanks, in seven; uh, oh! I'm afraid we missed it."
"Look, Ozod, I don't have the ability to be anywhere in the world with a second's notice, as you evidently do. I need an electrical storm not too far from here. And I need time to get to it. Is that asking for more than you can do?"
“No problem. I can do anything; oh my yes, anything."
"I've heard that one before, but since I don't know where and when this strike will occur, I have to rely on you. Can I do that?"
"Brad, in spite of your unreasonable lack of faith in my abilities, I say; oh yes, I say; the next strike will occur, aah; do you see that fir tree on the next slope south of you?"
"It's still dark; I can't even see the slope."
"Well, in the morning light you'll see a large fir tree; yes, and the next strike in our vicinity will hit it a few minutes before sunrise."
After thinking about it for a few seconds, Brad said, "That sounds good, but won't there be a cloud cover? How will I know exactly when the Sun is going to rise?"
"Don't worry; I'll give you an hour's warning before the strike."
"I'll appreciate that, and hopefully I'll be able to get to it with no problems. I'll be getting away sooner, and also, when I arrive in 1891, I won't be on Benson's claim."
Thinking about Ellen, Brad relaxed and went to sleep, and after a few hours, he woke up to the sound of Ozod's voice. "Brad. It's about an hour till the lightning hit's the fir tree." There was just enough pre-dawn light for him to see the landscape around him. And after he had eaten a handful of blackberries, it was light enough for him to see the tree.
When he had gone well into the adjoining claim, the head of a bear came into view. It was halfway between him and the fir tree. The bear was watching him, his eyes only a few inches above the tall grass. For a long time they remained in motionless eye contact, each waiting to see what the other was going to do. He couldn't see how big the bear was, but he knew it wouldn't make much difference. A small bear could probably ruin his day just as fast as a large one.
He had taken, as a joke, Ozod's remark about 'lions, tigers and bears', but he could see no humor in it now. Not wanting to get farther from the tree, he began edging to the left, moving as slowly as he could. The bear didn't move, so, using all of his willpower, he looked casually away.
He continued his walk, listening for a charging bear, for as long as he could stand it. Hearing nothing, he let his head drift back, unhurriedly, to look. To his relief, he saw the head moving away from him. So he circled around behind the bear, toward the tree.
It was still a half-hour before the strike. But since it might be the first strike of the storm he would have to listen carefully for Ozod’s warning. And to be prepared, he moved on up to within a hundred feet from the tree.
He sat down, on a rock, and in the early morning light he was about to ask Ozod for some comment on his position and the timing, when he heard a calm voice, loud but not shouting. "You're on the wrong claim, fella. I think I'd keep going if I were you. We shoot claim jumpers, you know." Brad looked around at the tall man who was almost smiling but pointing a rifle at him. Red suspenders over a blue striped shirt were holding up his jeans, the bottoms of which were stuffed in his boots.
"Hello there," Brad said, smiling. He left the shotgun on the ground, and stood with his hands up. "I'm Brad Williams. I just spent the night with your neighbor, John Benson, and I'm on my way now, just passing through."
The man relaxed. "Glad to meet you Brad. I'm Frank Phillipon. I met Benson in Kickapoo; good man; a little tight fisted, but when he tells you something you can depend on it. He and Agnes are raising a well-behaved bunch of children. Brad's thoughts suddenly went to Ellen, and he realized she would be older after this next jump, as Phillipon continued. "I was hoping you would shoot that bear."
"Oh." Brad laughed. "No, I don't kill bears, unless they're trying to kill me."
Phillipon moved toward him, lowering his rifle. "Well, I'll probably have to kill him before long. We'll be raising chickens, and I'm sure he's going to want us to share with him. Where are you headed?"
"I'm going south. Benson told me that's where Oklahoma City's going to be."
"Yes, it'll be where Oklahoma Station is. I think they're already calling it Oklahoma City. It'll probably grow like a prairie fire. You'll find opportunities all over the place. If you go east, a mile or two, you'll come to the railroad. You can follow it right into the town. Guthrie is just north of here. It's better established, has more industry and it'll be closer to the rail line that goes east. I plan to do most of my trading there. Before you showed up, my wife and I were about to have breakfast. It won't be fancy but you're sure welcome to join us."
"No thanks. I appreciate the offer, but if you don't mind I'd like to just sit here for a few minutes and then be on my way."
Just then, Ozod said, "hear it comes." Brad folded the tarp around his gun, and put it under his arm. He stood there, wondering what Frank was going to think when he disappeared.