Veil of Time: A Paranormal-ESP Thriller (The Wizards Series Book 4) Page 17

  Chapter Twenty

  Libby woke up stiff, hungry, and thirsty. The stiffness, caused by sleeping on the dirt floor of the ancient cliff dwelling, would work itself out; meanwhile, there was water at the bottom of the valley. Finger-combing her hair as best she could, she levitated, moving past the verge of the shallow cave. The sudden absence of ground beneath her thrilled her as it always did, but frequent past levitations had given her confidence. Even teleporting seemed somehow routine, even though dangerous.

  She followed the shallow creek upstream. Sarah had told her that springs were the best source for water if she could find one, and that limestone cliffs often had many springs. Indeed, most western creeks and rivers were spring-fed, the cold water providing excellent habitat for trout.

  Libby thought of Sarah with a pang; was she safe? Had the settlers decided to come back and attack Sarah’s band despite what Libby had done to scare them off? The Paiutes had been very good to her, teaching her how to live as a Paiute girl. Finding food, preparing it for cooking, these skills and more they’d shown her. Libby’s mind had soaked up the information like a sponge. But she’d used a knife in preparing food, and she had none.

  She found a small pool where a spring bubbled from beneath the base of the cliff; even better, there was watercress growing a few yards away where the spring water merged with the stream. Libby picked a handful of the leaves and ate them, still wet from the stream. She drank her fill and briefly considered whether to bathe, Indian style, but the water was far colder than the river where the Paiutes had been camped. At some point she would need a bath, but not yet. Libby shivered at the thought, then levitated, rising above the canyon walls.

  She oriented herself by facing the sun. That direction was east, most likely slightly south of east. Since she’d teleported northwest while trying to reach her grandfather, orienting herself directly toward the sun during the next teleport should work.

  Libby was increasingly anxious to get home. Now that she had an idea of how she could do that, she would only need to teleport in stages, then attempt to comm one of her friends as soon as she arrived at the new location. She’d be home as soon as she received an answer from someone she knew. Ray and T would be very surprised to learn how far she’d traveled into the past! T especially would certainly scold her for not waiting as he’d told her to do!

  And what of Grandfather Shorty? How long had it been since he’d suffered the heart attack? Had he recovered by now? Could she stop at that time in the past, or even slightly before the heart attack? What if she went to Little Dry Creek in time to warn him, to be there when the heart attack happened? The questions filled her mind as she floated higher.

  Stopping when she was well above the mountains, Libby fixed her attention on a peak about fifty miles away. Forming her bubble, she waited a moment for the reddish color to fade, then teleported to the area just above the peak.

  #

  “I really think it was the gold, Tom. That was nice of you, giving Mr. Morgan two of your gold ingots and Mr. Harriman that smaller one.”

  “I think Mr. Morgan believed he could trust me. At any rate, he seemed quite anxious to invest in my mine. As for Ned Harriman, I think he was more interested in not allowing Morgan to get in on something unless he also had a share. I suppose I’ll have to incorporate the discovery, now that they’ve given me bank drafts in exchange for options. I hadn’t intended to do that. I don’t need the money, because the mine will provide enough to pay the costs of further development.”

  “That would be the proper thing to do, Tom. Both men can be very vindictive if they believe they’ve been cheated.

  “I now believe that Mr. Morgan misunderstood my plan all along. He believed I intended to build a simple transmitter and receiver, although such was never my intent. Mr. Marconi is already working on such a system, although whether it will work is not yet known. This much I’m certain of, if he doesn’t properly earth the antenna, he’ll never be able to transmit very far. The Earth itself must become part of the system, and his transmitters must engage with the surface as well as the electrified layer high in the atmosphere.”

  “Well, I’ll try to keep Morgan and Harriman happy. Meantime, some of this money will allow you to finish Wardenclyffe and give the system a full-power test.”

  “Tom, shouldn’t you keep the money for your own expenses? Living in New York is not cheap, you know.”

  “I have enough, Nikola. I want to see Wardenclyffe tested, but I shall also see to my own interests. How long will it take before you’re ready?”

  “Two weeks, Tom. The tower will be complete and I’ll have time for preliminary tests, but I shall certainly wait until you’re present before applying full power. I’m afraid I’ll be busy, very busy, during that time. I doubt I’ll have time for dinner with you, pleasant as our conversations have been.”

  “Nikola, before you begin I have a request for you. I have a number of notes involving mathematics that I’d like to make sense of, and it occurred to me that you’re just the man to do that. I’ll get them together in summary form and present them to you tomorrow morning if that would be acceptable.”

  “I’ll need to hire workmen to finish Wardenclyffe, Tom. Once I have a reliable foreman to oversee the work, I can make time for your notes. May I ask what sort of numbers you’re referring to?”

  “I’d rather wait, if you don’t mind. I’ll be busy too; can you recommend a reliable stockbroker?”

  “A stockbroker, Tom? Such men don’t do incorporations; they only act as intermediaries between those who wish to buy stocks and those who have stocks to sell.”

  “I know. I have several hundred dollars to invest.”

  “There are several who have very good reputations. Rothschild and Company, Salomon Brothers and Hutzler, Stewart and Company...”

  “Are they affiliated in any way with Morgan or Harriman?”

  “I believe those men do business with several firms, including Rothschild and Salomon. They also have their own seats on the New York Stock Exchange. Tom, I must tell you that many have attempted to buy stocks that Mr. Morgan and Mr. Harriman are interested in, hoping to profit from their involvement. Few have been successful.”

  “I’ll be careful, Nikola.”

  The two shook hands and separated, Tesla to see about hiring workmen and T to find the offices of Stewart and Company, stockbrokers.

  Morgan and Harriman had seemed affable, almost friendly, but the façade was shallow. In reality it was no more than window dressing; underneath, the two were as friendly as sharks and just as loyal to each other. Harriman had attempted to take over Morgan’s railroad stocks in the past, and Morgan’s immediate reaction had crashed the stock market. A number of speculators had sold short, expecting the stock prices would immediately drop back to their previous position. Instead, the stock kept on rising to unheard-of heights, forcing the speculators to pay as much as a thousand dollars per share to fulfill their short sales when they came due. The ensuing panic had ruined many, but not Morgan or Harriman. Both had eventually managed to turn short-term losses into eventual profit.

  What had they been meeting about today, or rather what did Morgan believe they were discussing? Was it simply the desire to keep the financial order stable?

  Ned Harriman intended another raid on Morgan’s holding company, the one used to manage his railroad stocks. Harriman had been quietly buying up stock in individual railroads, a few thousand shares here, a few thousand a day or two later. In each case the block of stock had been signed over to a dummy corporate entity wholly owned by Harriman. Now that he was within striking range, he’d come to see if Morgan suspected anything. Harriman’s sense of glee was unmistakable; a few more days, perhaps a week, and Ned Harriman would finally have control of Morgan’s railroad holdings. When merged with Harriman’s own interests, this would make the joint enterprise enormously profitable. Harriman, finally free of Morgan’s stabilizing influence, could then raise rates to whatever the market
would bear. If some of the customers went broke, well, that was their lookout.

  Best of all, Morgan would be weakened in the process. Perhaps it would be enough to break, once and for all, Morgan’s financial empire. With Morgan gone, Harriman would be king of American finance. Unlike Morgan, he would not hesitate to exploit his control. The great game played by Morgan, Carnegie, and a few others was for the strong and the ruthless. He, Ned Harriman, would be the greatest of them all.

  #

  Ray paused periodically during the evening to drink coffee. The night bartender was puzzled, but asked no questions. If Ray wanted coffee, he would get coffee. The result of all the coffee, other than frequent visits to the outhouse, was that when the gamblers and drunks cleared out after midnight, Ray was wide-awake and ready.

  Instead of heading up to sleep, he entered his room only long enough to change into his buckskins. Opening the curtain, then the window, Ray slipped out onto the flat overhang. This time, no assassin waited in ambush.

  The moon was down. Ray looked at the sky until he found the Big Dipper, then followed the lower two stars to locate the North Star. Levitating, he floated silently up, pausing when he was well above the buildings of New Town. Far to the east, he could see a faint lightening in the sky. The sun would be up in another hour or two.

  Meanwhile, he had enough light to travel safely.

  Ray formed his bubble and waited for the glow to fade. For now, he would levitate. There was no real hurry, because he had conceived of a plan to find Libby.

  Ray was floating just above South Sandia Peak when the sun finally peeked above the eastern plains. Selecting a smaller peak to the west that was in line with the taller mountain, he settled to the ground, collapsed his bubble and looked for firewood. It was cold, even through his buckskins; the elevation here was around 9,000 feet, and snow could be expected in another two months at the latest. He snapped dead limbs off trees, mixing the types of wood for his fire. Juniper burned with a pleasant aroma, but it could be difficult to light and it tended to go out if not well tended. Ponderosa pine caught easily and burned hotter, but didn’t last as long, so mixing those together with limbs broken off the scrubby oaks would provide a hot fire that would last during his absence.

  After collecting the firewood, Ray scraped pine needles and dried grass away from a large, flat stone. It was the work of only a few minutes to gather and stack a ring of boulders around the stone. This would shield his fire and be safe enough to leave unattended for short periods. He wouldn’t be gone long.

  The line of sunlight had crossed the Rio Grande and passed on to the hills west of the valley. Far to the west, Mount Taylor loomed. Ray recalled visiting the mountain during his earlier travels while he waited to see whether the US Attorney intended to freeze his bank account. The man had eventually acted, based on the belief that Ray had profited from drug dealing. Ray smiled; hiring a lawyer to disprove the unfounded suspicion had cost money, but had resulted in an indirect benefit. Because of the traveling he’d done, Ray was familiar with the state’s geography.

  He had driven to the base of Mount Taylor back then before levitating to explore the ancient volcano and the malpais below. The country was rough and dangerous; even in the 21st Century, people disappeared while hiking on those forbidding slopes. Helicopters, search teams, none of those could effectively search the folded landscape below. The rough terrain meant that he need not fear observation from someone who might be camped on the mountain. As for the Sandia Range, there might be hunters. The area held elk during this time of year, grazing in the cool heights. He’d deal with that if it happened.

  Ray expanded his telepathic sense as soon as he was above Mount Taylor and felt nothing. There were no humans nearby to see what he was doing. The two peaks were the best locations he’d been able to come up with.

  A clear line of sight existed between South Sandia Peak and Mount Taylor, and the direction was perfect. The distance between Mount Taylor and the smaller peak was not ideal, about sixty miles, but it would do.

  Finding a convenient location, Ray built a second ring of rocks. There were no trees nearby, so he looked for fuel farther down the mountain. Levitating while carrying the firewood was a chore. It was not physically tiring, but it required several trips down and back up the mountain.

  Finally it was done; he had a large stack of dead wood waiting, enough fuel to last through the night.

  Despite the coffee he’d drunk, Ray was tired. He headed back for New Town.

  How was he to get back to his room now that it was daylight? The town would be stirring, even though most of the drinkers and gamblers would not yet have arrived at the Bucket. Someone would surely see him if he landed on the roof.

  Finally, he decided to simply brazen it out. He landed south of the livery stable behind a large cottonwood tree and walked over to the dirt road. Turning south, he walked the half mile to New Town.

  He ate breakfast at Grandpa’s cafe, paid the owner, and spoke briefly to the man. Grandpa had been a camp cook at one time, but he’d run afoul of a large diamondback rattler that had crawled under his cookwagon. He’d survived, but lost a leg to the snake’s bite. The wooden peg he now used allowed him to move around his cafe with surprising ease, but only because the floor was flat and made of wood. Grandpa told Ray that he’d understood his career as a camp cook was over the first time deep mud had sucked the peg leg off his stump. He’d collected his wages, bought the cafe, and now was happy to be serving New Town’s residents.

  Ray walked south after breakfast and entered the Bucket, walking past Muddy.

  “I didn’t see you go out. I figured you’d still be asleep!”

  “I decided to look around. Jesse Evans is still unaccounted for and I figured it would be worth my time to scout the areas he might try shooting from.”

  “I don’t want any more shooting, Ray. It was bad enough before, drunks and gamblers shooting and knifing each other, but at least they weren’t shootin’ rifles from ambush. If you reckon Evans might come after you again, then it’s time you moved on. I appreciate what you’ve done, calming the place down a mite, but I’m damned sure not going to risk that mirror! It costs a fortune to ship a replacement in! It sure does add class to the place, though, don’t it?”

  Muddy beamed at the mirror as Ray muttered his farewell and climbed the stairs to his room. Moments later, he was stretched out and snoring.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Muddy was waiting when Ray walked down the stairs late that afternoon.

  “Ray, I’ve been thinking. I reckon it’s a shame, but you’re a target and I ain’t havin’ a gunfight here. Been too much of that already. First thing you know, people will forget that this is a high-toned place. You done a good job, but I’m lettin’ you go. I added a couple of days worth of pay to what I owed you.”

  Ray nodded. “I understand. Truth be told, I’ve been expecting it. Any sign of Jesse Evans?”

  “Nope, I asked around, but nobody’s seen him. Either he’s moved on or he’s laid up somewhere, waitin’ to get a clean shot at you. I’d watch out if I was you.”

  “I’ll be careful. I’ll pack my stuff and if you don’t mind, I’ll slip out after it gets dark.”

  “Smart. Yeah, you do that. You need to borrow a pistol or maybe a Greener? I’ve got a spare coach gun, ten gauge.”

  “I’ll be okay. I’ve got a rifle.”

  “You keep it handy, then. I’ll tell people I fired you, but I won’t mention you’re still upstairs. I reckon Evans will hear about it if he’s still around.”

  “Luck, Muddy. See you around.”

  “Same to you, Ray. Sorry it had to end this way. But you understand, don’t you?”

  “I do. No hard feelings, Muddy. Buy you a drink one day if we meet up again.”

  “And I’ll drink it, Ray, and be glad to do it.”

  Ray nodded and went back upstairs. He would wear the buckskins and pack the suit he’d worn while working at the Bucket. He’d carry
the rifle too, not that he expected to need it. Muddy had asked around, and no one had known where Jesse Evans went, but Ray had used his telepathic ability to listen for anyone who might be thinking of the man. Of the two, he relied more on his ability to pick up at least part of what people were thinking. Both methods produced the same results, so likely the man had gone back to his old stomping grounds down south.

  Ray slipped out the window and floated down behind the cafe. Walking around to the front, he went in to the cafe and greeted Grandpa. “I need you to make me up a pack of food. I’m going to be on the trail, so jerky or anything that will keep a while works best.”

  “I can let you have jerky and half a side of smoked bacon too. It will keep good. Got some dried beans, and you’ll want coffee. You know you can get this stuff and more over at the general store.”

  “I’ll be buying a few things there too, but I don’t want people to know I’m stocking up for a trip down south. I’ve got enemies.”

  “Hell, I won’t tell anyone. I’ll get you a pack together, got a flour sack I can put everything in.”

  Ray carried the sack to the general store and picked up more supplies. He added salt, a small skillet, coffee pot, and a tin cup to what he already had in the sack. A fork and knife completed his kit, all he expected to need. Carrying his purchases, he headed back behind the building, levitated, and was soon back in his room.

  Ray stretched out on the bed, fully clothed except for his boots. He’d made up a pack for his other clothes using an old Army trick, tie the legs of a pair of pants together, then stuff the garments inside. While it wasn’t the same as the laundry bag he’d used in garrison, it had made a fine field expedient for carrying dirty uniforms. It worked just as well now for carrying the suit he never expected to need again. Still, the suit, complete with black string tie, made a good souvenir of his time in the past!

  Ray left through the window as he’d done the previous night. The only difference this time was that he closed the window after leaving. Levitating, he floated until he was hundreds of feet above New Town Albuquerque, then headed for the place he’d selected west of South Sandia Peak.