Knight's Legacy (29 page)

S
ierra came to the ranch three days later. Cat's shoulder still gave her minor pain, but she was already on horseback. “Take a ride with me. We need to talk, but in private.”

“Sorry. I don't do horses.” Sierra smiled.

“How about pick-up trucks? Do you ‘do' them?”

“Sure,” Sierra said.

As they walked to the flat-bed pick-up truck, Sierra, always mindful of Cat's injury, offered to drive. “Won't your father need his truck?”

“He sticks close to the house these days,” Cat said, her eyes taking on a sadness as she glanced forward.

Sierra drove as Cat directed, and they stopped after twenty minutes by a cluster of trees. Parking the truck in the shade, Sierra waited patiently. Cat sat silently drinking in the beauty of her surroundings. She had ridden here by the pond countless times as a child.

Sierra broke the silence. “Your lawyer called me. He said he wants me to sign some papers about my being the recipient of quite a bit of money. What's that about?”

“I told you. I want you to take care of my father.”

“I've done hospice work before, but the amount is a lot more than my salary. Besides, why don't you take care of him?”

“I plan to be here as long as needed. But then I'll be leaving, and I can't use the money where I'm going. Someone might as well have use of it.”

Sierra folded her hands in her lap, and smiled. “Oh, that's right, Scotty may beam you up at any moment.”

Cat did not take the bait. “Something like that. After your fee is paid, plus a bonus, I want the remaining funds and the swords in my collection to be given to David Sellinger. He's my old boss. See he gets it, would you, Sierra? But don't contact him until I've disappeared again.”

“Catherine Terril, may I ask why you decided to pick me to tell this outrageous, cock and bull … ?”

Cat interrupted. “It's not a lie. This is not a story. I will be leaving, and I want my affairs arranged. Have you asked yourself why I would do this if I could use the money where I'm going?”

Sierra sat and studied Cat for a full minute. “Oh my God, you're leaving all right. You're giving up on life. Cat, don't even think this way. Other people lose a parent. You go on. You can handle it.”

“Sierra, calm down. I am not suicidal. I'm going back to my husband.”

Sierra quirked an eyebrow. “You never did answer. Why me?”

“You aren't the average nurse. You have a good sense of humor, but you're tough. You'd be good for Dad, especially at the end.”

“I understand about your father. Why am I the only one you've told about the time traveling?”

“Let's just say you have an eccentric reputation.” Cat smiled.

“True. If I ever told anyone this, they'd think I'd finally flipped and dropped acid. I'll do the hospice job for your dad. If you want to arrange a payment now, that's up to you. It'll be impossible to know at this point how much care your father will need, so I'll do as you ask. Privately, I think you'll need to keep your money. For mental health care.”

Cat said no more on the drive back to the house. Her lawyer could handle the rest.

Sierra began her job of home care slowly and carefully. Howard was not one to accept the arrangement gracefully. He raged at Cat, in particular, for wasting her money.

Sierra stood patiently listening to the exchange, then put her hands on her hips.

“Listen, old man, I am not your daughter! I will not put up with being bullied! So, bluster all you want, you aren't ruining this job for me!”

Howard stared her down with cold blue eyes. “Is that what you call a ‘bedside manner'?”

“It's the best you're going to get until you stop being rude!”

He stalked out of the house. Sierra smiled at Cat.

“Round one to me,” Sierra said with a wink.

Cat continued to pace her recovery by taking more time to rest. She rode with Howard in the mornings, and her heart wrenched when she saw him climb on a horse in spite of the pain. He spoke of many things: the past, his love for her mother. Just as often he said nothing, but Cat savored every moment with him.

Evenings were hard for Howard; the pain medication made him drowsy. If she were with him, he wouldn't take the pills unless Sierra bullied him.

“He doesn't want you to see him in this weakened state. He's always been the strong one, and it's also this macho creed he's believed in. That's why he suffers it in the mornings, to be with you. If you absent yourself for a while after supper every night, I know I can wear him down and get him to take the meds.”

As a result of that conversation, Cat kept to herself every night after supper. She checked out books at the library, and looked up information on the Internet. Sitting in front of Howard's computer one evening, she patiently waited to download an article about natural healing. Her father's computer was old, and the modem was slow. Intent on her work, she didn't hear Sierra enter the den.

“How's the shoulder?”

Cat jumped. “You startled me! It's not giving me too much trouble. I've gone all day with only a couple of aspirin.”

Sierra sat down in a chair by Howard's desk. “Cat, have you ever heard of post traumatic stress syndrome?”

“Yes. I have. Why?”

“You may have a misconception about it. It can affect not only war veterans. It also can be a problem for those who have experienced a severe trauma, such as being attacked, raped, or stabbed.”

Cat stopped reading. Her black lashes fluttered as she stared at Sierra, contemplating her friend's statement. “You think I have a post traumatic stress disorder?”

“It's possible. Our mind and memory can block out harsh experiences. Children do it when they're abused. They transport themselves to another world.”

The compassion in the other woman's eyes moved Cat. Sierra was professional as a nurse, yet there was nothing clinical or cold in her emotions. She cared deeply about her patients.

“I understand you're concerned, Sierra, but …”

“You have never spoken to anyone about your attack, not even the police. Is it because you can't face what really happened?”

“No, it's because this happened in the year 1230. If you think the Houston PD wouldn't find that strange, may I remind you of your own reaction when I tried to tell you the truth? One particular remark about my being ‘beamed up' comes to mind.”

Sierra smiled wickedly. “Sorry, it slipped out.”

Her expression all at once became professionally somber. “I'm worried about you.”

“I know,” Cat said.

“If you want to start seeing a shrink, I know a couple. They're not boring, I promise. They have open minds.”

“That's not necessary,” Cat said.

“One of the doctors was raised by a couple of hippies just like me who rebelled by going ‘establishment' and becoming a psychologist. You'd like him. He may even swallow the Medieval thing without laughing out loud.”

“Sierra, no.”

Sighing, Sierra stood. “You're as stubborn as your old man. By the way, your boss, the stunt coordinator, called. He's coming to see you.”

“What! When did he call?”

“Yesterday.”

“And you're just now telling me?”

“I'm a hospice home care nurse. I get paid to cook meals for your father and see to his medication. I am not your personal secretary, Lady MacBraveheart.”

Cat narrowed her eyes at the ridiculous title.

“Well, what did he say? Did you tell him I was fine and there's no need for him to come?”

“You can't hide from your friends, Cat. He's going to want some answers, and I don't blame him. His entire company was questioned by the authorities because they were some of the last few people to see you unharmed.”

“Oh, no,” Cat said, closing her eyes.

“Of course, if you want to call him yourself, you can. The number's on that yellow pad in the desk drawer.”

Cat retrieved the pad and walked to the door. “I'll call him from my room.”

Sierra watched as Cat left the room and mounted the stairs. She ambled around the desk and sat down, listening intently to the sound of Cat's footsteps climbing. Not wanting to get caught snooping, Sierra waited a bit, then began to read the information Cat had downloaded from the net, and shook her head. It seemed Cat was increasingly unable to recognize fantasies as delusions.

Picking up the sheet, she studied it. It was research materials about Medieval history concerning the Scottish clans, herbal remedies, and healing plants indigenous to the Scottish Highlands.

The heart of him that hath understanding, seeketh knowledge.

~Proverbs 15:14

S
ierra returned to her apartment and went to bed early. Needing to move a few more of her things to Mr. Terril's ranch in the morning, she set her alarm for five-thirty. She'd been sleeping for a half an hour when she suddenly felt a movement on the bed as if someone sat on it. Thinking it might be her cat, she turned on the lamp, then pulled up her black satin sleep mask.

“Holy shit!”

“Be at ease, lass. I mean you no harm,” he said.

Sierra bumped her funny bone when she scrambled off the bed, moving away from the man on her bed. Sitting on the floor, she breathed deeply, agitated, and rubbed her eyes, staring hard at the intruder.

The man was dressed as a Medieval knight, in deep blue and gold. The costume was regal, as if he just stepped off a film set. He had long, white, flowing hair and blue eyes.

Sierra stood up, holding the blanket in front of her, trembling with fear. “I'll tell you right now, if you mean to rob me, my rings are all cubic zirconia!”

Shuffling over to the phone by the nightstand, she stepped away from it when he rose.

“I do not mean to harm you; do not fear me.”

“Then what the hell are you doing in my bedroom?”

“I must speak with you, Lady Casslin,” he said.

“I'm suppose to be impressed you know my name? You can find that information on the Internet! What are you? Some kind of stalker?”

“Nay, lady. I seek not to harm you, or to rob you.”

“That's right you're not! Because I'm calling the police!” Trotting over to the phone, she picked it up.

“I shall be gone before they arrive,” he said. He spoke calmly, as if certain of an escape plan. When he came toward her, she saw that he held a sword.

She brandished the phone receiver, shaking it in his direction. “You say you mean no harm, but you brought a weapon?”

“I beg of you, lady, but a moment of your time and I will be on my way.”

“In some kind of hurry? Have to make the supper show at one of those restaurant stunt shows where they make you eat with your fingers?”

“Nay, I wish to speak with you about Catherine,” he said.

“Cat! Oh, Lord, she paid you. That's it, right? You're an actor!”

“Nay, lady, this is no jest. And you will listen!” He stalked toward Sierra, and she decided very quickly to humor him before she started to scream the rafters down. Dropping the phone, she put out her hand as if to keep a distance between them. “That's far enough, Grandpa! Just say your little piece at a safe distance!”

Sierra was already regretting that she had not called 911 when she had the chance. He came closer, and she reached out to touch his chest, testing to see if she was seeing things.

He smiled. “Do you think I am your mind's fabrication?”

She shrugged. “I've had some pretty crazy dreams in my time, but they were after too much tequila. I was sober when I went to bed, and I'll give Cat hell for this. How did you get in here? At the very least, this is breaking and entering.”

“I have my ways, and you will find nothing disturbed. Do not berate Catherine. She knows nothing about my coming here. Catherine will have need of your assistance. I wish to beseech you to give it.”

“In what way?”

“Your knowledge as a healer is vast, indeed. Catherine must find answers, and will seek out tools for her journey. I ask that you help her find them.”

“Okay, okay. I'll do what you ask. Just leave. If Cat needs my help, she has it anyway. You didn't have to scare me like this.”

“Your fears, lady, are your own crop, planted and watered by a falsely assumed threat. I have no need to frighten you. You would be wise to remember that Catherine tells you no lies, and she needs your help.” He pulled something small from beneath his robes.

“This, I believe, belongs to you,” he said.

He put the object in her hand, and when Sierra bent down briefly to examine it, he walked toward the wall.

“Wait, you can't go out that way.”

Blinking, she saw the mist, and he literally disappeared before her eyes. Running to the other room, she checked to see that both doors were locked. Her heart pounded when she came back to bed and sat down. How did he leave the building?