Lightning Only Strikes Twice (19 page)

Annie took a breath and looked over the shadowy grove. She’d felt as though she’d come home after a long absence. “This valley is special,” she said. “I hope, in the future, people don’t disregard what folks have built in White Rock.”

“I have an idea.” Luke put down the blanket. “Come with me.” He held her hand and led her to the opposite side of the young pine. After handing her the lantern, he took out his knife. “We’ll leave our mark for the next generation to find.”

“We can’t do that. It will change the future.”

“Like you said, we’re part of White Rock now. We should still be careful. But I think we’re safe to leave a tiny piece of ourselves.”

She held the lantern high as Luke carved first his initials, and then hers. Her heart swelled. Fate had brought them together, to White Rock, 1891, where they’d found each other. Something that wouldn’t have happened if they’d stayed in their own time.

He brushed the excess bark away from the weeping cuts. “I think that will do,” he said as he put away his knife.

There, gleaming in the stark white bark, for all future generations to see, were the initials of L.M. and A.C. Maybe they weren’t permanent, but they’d stand for a very long time. Like Paul’s and Elizabeth’s.

“I love you,” Annie whispered. The words tumbled from her lips without thought.

Luke went still. Then he slowly turned. His face seemed carved in stone, giving nothing of his thoughts away. He cleared his throat. “Elizabeth believes I’m courting you, doesn’t she?”

Annie swallowed and nodded, wishing she could take back her words. Instinctively she knew Luke hadn’t been expecting her to say anything. She spoke quickly, hoping to cover her mistake. “That’s just a ploy so she won’t get suspicious about what we’re really doing.”

He was silent for a moment. “I think after tonight we should make it real.”

Annie wanted to throw her arms in the air for joy. Yet the serious look on his face told her that he had spoken out obligation. Not love.

She clamped down her disappointment. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a grown woman. I don’t need anyone protecting my honor.”

Something flared in his eyes. “I’ve noticed.” His voice rasped. “I’ll admit that protecting your honor has something to do with my offer, but more than that, it makes sense to stay together.”

She balked at his reasoning. “Not if the feeling is one-sided.” She started to turn away.

He grasped her arm and held her. “Wait, Annie. Please.”

She stood her ground, but didn’t face him.

“Think about this week, about what we’ve shared. If we’re doomed to spend the rest of our lives here, we have to do it together. It’s too risky for us to hook up with someone else.”

Her heart shattered at his cold logic. “How practical of you.” It was all she could do not to run away.

“I
am
being practical. But if this night has proved anything, it’s that we’re good together.” He pulled gently until she faced him. “At least we won’t be keeping our secret from a spouse. You know we’ll always be drawn to each other. It’s inevitable.”

She trembled at the truth of his words. What he said made perfect sense. Could she be with him knowing he didn’t love her? Could they build a life in White Rock, knowing what the future held for the town? She glanced at his hand on her arm. “Let me go.”

“Not until you say you’ll marry me.” He drew her to him and kissed her.

Thought and reason fled as his lips took hers. When he lifted his head, she looked into his face.

His eyes seemed to plead with her, the same way he’d begged her to believe they’d traveled through time.

All those thoughts about making her own decisions, about controlling her destiny fled her mind. Luke was right, they were good together. They could make a life here.

She could stay with Elizabeth—keep her from dying. That had to matter more, right?

Annie took a deep breath, making up her mind. Regardless of what lay ahead of them, she had to believe she could make a difference.

She loved Luke, that wouldn’t change. Maybe it didn’t matter that he didn’t love her, right now. He might come to love her.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “If we can’t return to our own time, then I’ll marry you.”

The look of relief on his face would have been comical, if she hadn’t felt resigned to her situation.

Luke grabbed her hand. “Come on. Let’s go tell Elizabeth she right was about this night being special.”

Chapter Eleven

“Well, will you look at that?” Benjamin Powell said as he helped Luke set a beam for the schoolhouse roof into place.

Luke pounded the joint once more for good measure before lowering his hammer to see what Benjamin was talking about.

Across the yard, walked a man dressed in brown trousers and boots. With the mining boom and hope of striking it rich, strangers wandering through town was an ordinary enough occurrence, but the man’s jacket and hat caught Luke’s attention.

The fashionable gray bowler had a band decorated with brilliantly colored beads. A lone feather poked up on the right side. Long black braids lay over each proud shoulder of the man’s beaded deerskin jacket. High cheekbones and darker pigmentation indicated the man was probably Native American.

“Who is he?” Luke asked. In the two months he’d been in White Rock, this was the first Native American he’d seen.

“Looks like Nez Perce,” Benjamin replied, scratching the whiskers on his chin. “You know, he might be that wacky old medicine man I’ve heard tell of ’round these parts. I’ve never seen him before.” Ben looked at Luke. “He must know you, though. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you.”

“He’s a shaman?” Luke asked.

Benjamin shrugged. “Could be.”

Benjamin was right.

The man’s dark eyes never wavered from Luke’s face as he headed straight toward him.

A tremor rode down Luke’s spine.

In the week since he and Annie stopped trying to return to their own time, the vertigo that had plagued him had diminished a little more each day. Right now, the dizziness was as strong as right after he’d arrived in White Rock.

Luke climbed down the scaffolding and walked toward the stranger without realizing he’d moved.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Benjamin and the other workmen stopped their tasks and stared at him.

As Luke drew closer to the shaman, he held out his hand in greeting.

The shaman held out his hand as well. But, instead of taking Luke’s hand, he lifted an open palm to Luke’s face. In his opposite hand, he carried a leather-covered stick with beads strung along the sides. The cap on the top of the stick rattled when he shook it.

The shaman tapped Luke’s forehead with the tip of his stick before Luke could react.

Luke blinked, dazed by the sudden offense. Although the strike wasn’t hard, his sight blurred, fog crowded the edges of his vision until everything turned black. Images of his life in Boise, in the future, filled his mind.

He staggered backward.

Above the ringing in his ears, the shaman shouted, “Go home! You do not belong here!”

An instant later, Luke lay flat on his back. He never felt himself fall. It took a moment for his vision to clear and he was staring at the bright spring sky. He shook his head, sat up and looked around. He spotted the shaman as he strode toward the opposite end of town.

Benjamin ran over to Luke. Two other workmen chased after the shaman and grabbed him by the arms and started to haul him back.

“Leave him be!” Luke called to the men.

“The bastard hit you,” Benjamin said. “We can’t just let him walk away.”

“I’m not hurt,” Luke said.

The shaman was right. He didn’t belong here, but he couldn’t reveal that to his crew. Nor could he let the men punish the shaman for something that was partially Luke’s fault.

The men held the Native American’s arms, indecision on their faces.

Luke stood and dusted the back of his pants. He walked toward the group. The shaman appeared calm, almost smiling, as though he knew Luke wouldn’t let these men harm him.

“I said to let him go,” Luke repeated.

“It ain’t right what he did to you, boss,” one of the workers said. “He needs to be punished.”

“There’s been no harm done,” Luke said. “Get back to work or I’ll dock you all a day’s pay.”

A bit disgruntled Luke curtailed their revenge, the workers released the man and headed back to the job site.

Luke watched as they picked up their tools to start on the next beam for the roof, making sure none of them tried go after the shaman.

When he turned back, the shaman was striding away.

He thought about following. He wanted to ask how the shaman knew he didn’t belong, but if he gave chase, the men might get riled up again.

The vertigo from his vision clung to him like sawdust on lumber. He took a deep breath and it eased a bit, leaving only his question. How had the shaman known he was from the future?

He walked over to where he’d lost his hat when he’d fallen and scooped it up. Something on the ground glinted off the sunlight. Reaching down, he picked up a gold medallion half buried in the dirt.

This was the same medallion Annie had on her necklace in the grove…in the future.

The vertigo returned, this time much stronger.

He swallowed, pushed down the queasiness and looked over his shoulder. The shaman rounded the corner of the general store on Main Street, then disappeared.

The entire encounter was strange—well, not any stranger than time travel, but odd enough that he wondered if it was a sign that he and Annie should try going home again. The medallion could be the trigger, a piece of the equation they’d been missing. He pocketed it to show her later.

Taking several more breaths to steady the spinning in his head, he strode over to the building site and climbed the scaffolding.

Once settled on his beam, he picked up his hammer and turned to Benjamin. “Did you see where the shaman came from?”

The big man paused his hammering and pointed. “The south end of town.” He gave Luke a curious look. “I’m wondering where he’s going next.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t head back the same direction.”

Luke squared the nail and took aim at the beam, ready to get on with the job. “Well, whatever he wanted, it was very unsettling experience.”

Benjamin continued to study Luke. “Why would he say you don’t belong here?”

“Maybe he knows I’m new in town,” Luke said, evading the question.

“Well, if that’s the case and he’s chasing down all the new people in town, he’ll probably visit Miss Annie, too.”

Luke froze. Benjamin was right!

If the shaman knew about Luke, then he
would
seek out Annie. But not for the reason Benjamin thought.

Luke dropped his hammer. “I think I’d better check on her.” The words strangled in his throat. He scrambled down the scaffolding and then headed through the yard toward Main Street.

“Hey,” Benjamin called after him. “Don’t be too long. We have to finish the south wall today.”

Luke ignored him and started running toward the Crawford home. As he neared the house, he saw the shaman walk around the corner.

Luke followed and reached the Crawfords’ backyard.

Annie stood under the clothesline hanging laundry. She turned as the shaman approached.

He opened a small pouch and tossed the contents in her face before Luke could stop him.

She raised her hands to ward off the attack. Powder dusted her face and hair. She swayed back and forth a moment, but remained on her feet.

The shaman said something Luke didn’t understand, and then started to leave.

Luke ran to her and gathered in his arms. “Are you hurt?”

“Grandpa!” she said. “I’m home.”

“Annie.” He shook her slightly. “It’s me, Luke.”

She blinked at him. “Luke?”

Thank God. She recognized him. “Yeah.” He wondered if she’d had a vision of the future similar to his. “I need to talk to this guy. Will you be all right if I let go?”

Her nod was brief, but it was enough to ease the fear in his chest.

“I’m okay.”

Luke called to the native. “Wait.”

The shaman stopped.

“Who are you?” he asked as he approached the other man. “What’s going on? Why have you sought us out?”

“I have done what I came to do.” He pointed a long boney finger at Luke. “You”—he nodded toward Annie—“and the woman must return to the time you both came from.”

“We can’t,” Luke said. “We’ve already tried. Can you help us? Do you know how we’re supposed to go back?”

The shaman didn’t answer. He turned his back on Luke. As he walked away, Luke heard him say, “Go home.”

Luke started to follow when Annie’s voice stopped him.

“Luke.”

He looked over to see her clutching the clothesline pole. Color faded from her cheeks. He rushed over and caught her as she collapsed. Fear clutched in his gut. What if the shaman had poisoned her? Would a medicine man do such a thing to get rid of people who didn’t belong in his time?

“Annie.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her to the back steps. “Hang on.”

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

He set her carefully on the bottom step and helped her sit. Her pupils were huge, black disks in a pale face.

“I’m…so dizzy,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said. “The same thing happened to me. Did he hurt you?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. Some color returned to her cheeks. “Who was he?”

“A Nez Perce shaman, I think.” Luke brushed errant strands of hair from her cheek. White powder came away on his fingertips. “What is this?”

“He threw dust at me.” Annie shuddered.

Luke rolled the fine powder between his fingers, brought it to his nose and sniffed. It took him a moment to identify the strange odor as a mixture of ash and sage. Unless the dust got in her eyes or she breathed it in, it shouldn’t harm her.

He glanced to where the shaman disappeared. “He knew we’re not from this time,” he told Annie.

“How could he know that?”