Trish stared out the dirty pickup window, deep in thought. She loved Quinn. She even loved him enough to try to save his life, but did she love him enough to risk her own? Rhea had taken her silence to mean that was precisely what Trish intended to do. She wasn't so sure. She counted in her mind the different stories Grammy had told her. It was a safe bet that there had been at least a dozen, maybe more. How many of them happened during a single trip? It was hard to say.
Rhea turned their pickup off the road to follow the track left by Jen’s tractor to the stack yard. The pickup bounced along the rough road, dust rising behind it.
"It doesn't look like Jens has any hay in his yard. But I guess you knew that when you asked me to bring you here." Trish remained silent. "Trish? Are you okay?"
Trish shook herself, returning her thoughts to the present. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just trying to decide whether or not this is really worth doing."
Rhea cut the engine. "You can always come back. You'll have the talisman."
"What if it was the actual shifting in time that eventually killed Grammy?"
Rhea gave her a ladylike snicker. "Grammy lived well past her ninetieth birthday. She lived a good life, full of adventure and a generous amount of living. If I knew I'd live that long and be that healthy, I'd borrow that talisman in a heartbeat and never give it back."
"Really? I mean, I don't even know if he cares about me."
"Men may have changed in the last hundred years or so, but, in my experience, a man that saves you from being raped, takes care not to rape you himself, carries you, watches your back and kisses you has feelings. What they are, I'm not one to say. But Trish, when was the last time you even considered saving someone's life? Grammy gave you the talisman, and not as a toy. Maybe she knew you had to do this. Have you thought about that?"
"You mean she might have lived in 1887, in that community?"
Rhea smiled, letting a short laugh escape as she climbed out of the pick-up. "You might want to pay a little attention to the people you come into contact with while you are there. You never know. I have no doubt that Grammy traveled to more places than you can imagine. Now, off with you before the sun stops shining and cuts off your chance."
"I love you, Mom." Trish leaned toward her mother, giving her a hug.
"Get going before someone notices this isn't Jen’s truck."
Trish walked away several yards. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the talisman out from under her 1880's costume. She smiled at her mother, giving her a finger wave, and flicked the talisman, making the inner scrolls spin.
Time sped past her. Trees appeared, then shrunk in reverse of their growth pattern, giving her a regressive perspective. She fell back, pushed aside by a stout bramble bush. She stumbled, her breath knocked out of her as she hit the ground. Then everything stopped. Birds chirped in the trees overhead. A squirrel stopped to lecture her for her unexpected arrival.
She shook her head. Why had this trip been different from the last? Could it be the difference in the mass traveling through time? Last time, she'd been on Yedi. This time she had come alone with just the clothes on her back. Of course, Yedi had spooked and crow-hopped dangerously the first time.
Trish glanced around to get her bearings. The swimming hole was upstream. She knew that its location hadn't changed much despite the difference in years. Quinn's homestead was across the river. She peered through the trees searching and finally located it slightly upstream but much closer than the swimming hole. She studied the structure, looking for any hints that it was different than it had been last time. She saw none and released a huge breath of air. She pulled herself to her feet and dusted herself off. She had a good walk before her. She smiled, thinking of an Irish redhead that would call it "a good stretch of the legs."
Most of an hour later, Trish walked past Lucinda's, wishing she had built a friendship with her. Maybe it was for the best that she hadn't. Her jacket hung open, letting a little cool air circulate and lift the sweaty heat off of her skin. If she didn't have to pass Penelope's in a little while, she would take the jacket off, but she didn't need the exposure. She chuckled. The exposure, like returning to the saloon, wouldn't be exposure enough.
Trish reached the saloon tired and footsore. She slid her weary body into a chair at the poker table, thankful that no one was there. Was this normal for a Friday?
Pierre entered the saloon from his living quarters and stopped short. "Trish?"
"Hey, Pierre." Trish sounded tired even to herself.
"What happened to you? You were here and then gone. Now yer back again. You plannin' to stay this time?"
"Pierre." Zelda bustled in from Pierre's kitchen and living quarters, dryin her hands with a towel. "You goin' plumb loco? I thought I heard ya talkin'--"
"Look who's here." Pierre didn't sound too excited to see Trish.
Zelda stared at Trish before hurrying to her. "Honey, I thought the worst. You okay?" She laid her hands on either side of Trish's face as if looking for clues to answer her question.
"I'm tired from a long walk, but I'm fine."
"We thought you ran away with Quinn. Well, not for long when he said he couldn't find ya. He said ya disappeared. Where'd ya go? It's been a week. And look at ya -- You look like ya stepped outta Wards book. Right nice. You gonna stay around?"
Trish gently pulled Zelda's hands away, noticing how sweaty and smelly her own were next to the watery clean of Zelda's. Trish shrugged out of her jacket, relishing the coolness that sifted across her skin. "I'm fine, really. Just thirsty for a tall drink of water."
Pierre hurried from the saloon with a "Don't ya tell everythin' or I'll make ya tell it again."
Trish smiled at Zelda, thankful to have a few moments to collect her thoughts as to just what to share with her friends.
"Don't listen to him." Zelda waved Pierre's request aside. "You went home, didn't ya?"
Trish weighed her answer carefully. She couldn't afford to reveal the truth any more now than before. "Sort of."
Zelda studied her. "Don't look so surprised. No woman leaves the man she loves to go anywhere but home, even if he lied to her. You should probably know Quinn's in jail."
Trish mentally let the impromptu news wash over her, hoping to look appropriately stunned. The dryness in her throat helped her cough sound more surprised. "Why? What for?"
"Who knows what for? Tuckett's had it in for him ever since I got here. I swear those two lock horns over nuthun an' everythun'. Latest shoddy prattle is that Quinn kilt a man. I don't give Tuckett no never mind, but he wears a badge an' it ain't lookin' too good for Quinn."
Pierre returned with a mug of water in each hand. He handed one to Trish and set the other on the table. He pulled out a chair to sit down just as the first of the evening's customers burst through the door, clamoring for whiskey and women. Pierre abandoned all intentions of relaxation and hurried behind the bar to pour drinks.
"Honey, if yer here to work, ya better put a wiggle on." It was all Zelda had time to say before a lanky cowboy draped his arm around her, making his intentions clear.
Trish ducked away from another cowboy with a smile. "I better get changed and give you boys some decent entertainment. Drink up and I'll be back down to sing you the sweetest song you've ever heard."
She had her trip up the steps, the few minutes of throwing her jacket on the bed and hitching her skirt higher with the buttons to decide that tomorrow she must visit Quinn, even if it meant a long walk into Root Hog. Clearing her throat and vocally running a single scale, she descended to the saloon. She paused briefly to finish one mug of water and carried the other to the piano should she need it later.