Soldier Mine (Sons of War #2)(66)

“And meteorites. Maybe there’s some space peridots,” my aunt said.

We stared at her, surprised she had noticed something about a gem that wasn’t a price tag or whether or not her wealthy neighbors already owned something similar.

“Come on!” she said, oblivious. “Let’s find our bed and breakfast. It’s supposed to be authentic!”

“I really hope that doesn’t mean we’re peeing in buckets,” I said with a laugh, recalling the first tour we went on when we arrived to Tombstone.

“You and me both.” My uncle smiled then led us down the road to an intersection. His warmth always melted my impatience with my aunt, a reminder of how much I had always wanted a real father when growing up. My uncle was as close as I had gotten, and he’d always been sweet and supportive – but not really mine. He had three other kids that called him father while I called him uncle.

Orphaned when I was young, I was grateful that my aunt and uncle had taken me in and treated me the same as any of their biological children. None of my cousins were roped into this crazy trip across the southwest in search of some kind of rare turquoise my aunt had heard about. Of course, none of them were geological hobbyists who could help her find what she wanted.

My uncle guided us around one of the buildings to a three story, restored Victorian house that appeared to deliver on the promise of being authentic by its wooden fa?ade. The ground floor was a saloon with a hanging sign in front that read, Victorian Vittles Inn and Saloon.

Another sense of déjà vu washed over me as I stepped onto the porch. I had never been here before, but like Carter, it was almost familiar.

Shaking my head, I followed my aunt and uncle into the foyer dividing the saloon from a more formal dining area. To my surprise, Carter was already seated at the bar. I looked twice, not sure how he managed to get here before us, but curious about him to the point I didn’t really care.

“Hey, I’m gonna grab a drink,” I said to my uncle.

“Here.” He handed me a twenty.

I accepted it and walked to the bar. “Mind if I join you?” I asked and plopped down beside Carter.

“I thought I’d see you here,” he said with another excited smile.

“You’re kinda weird, Carter.” I laughed.

“Well … I didn’t mean … I’m sorry. I just …” He sighed.

“It’s okay. I understand.” I didn’t, but he was flushed again, and I felt bad for embarrassing him.

The quiet was awkward. I ordered a beer and waited for Carter to say something. For having invited me, he was strangely quiet, staring at his bottle.

“How did your surveying go today?” I asked finally.

“Slower than usual.”

“Hmm.” I wasn’t good at pretending to be interested in things that really held no importance to me. “So, uh, you like history.”

“I like changing history. The idea,” he added quickly. “Theorizing. Researching. That kind of thing.”

“If you went back in time, would you change things?”

“Yes. I have it calculated.” He pulled out a cell phone. “You could spend two weeks in the eighteen forties to stop a million deaths. You’d just have to find this man named Running Bear and another one named Taylor Hansen.”

“They caused everything?”

“Sort of.” He glanced up. “Am I … weirding you out?”

“Not yet.”

He perked up and began talking. I wasn’t really interested, but I paid attention to him as much as possible while he began an epic tale about how one change could have prevented a million deaths. His detail and knowledge of the past was astounding, along with his passion.

Drinking beer after beer, I was more interested in watching him speak than in what he said. The sense we were friends in a past life or had met somewhere in this one grew stronger the longer he spoke, and I found myself laughing and enjoying his company.

Somewhere around beer four, more people trickled into the saloon for dinner, and the lantern-like lights went on around us. My uncle texted me what room I was in while my aunt mentioned a wine tasting bar they were headed to. I, however, liked being around Carter. Bubbly and cheerful, he had a natural, happy energy that compelled me to stay.

By beer number seven, the bar had grown loud, the televisions were blaring a college football game, and Carter and I were plotting how to change history.

The drunker we got, the more sense it made.

“So would you go?” he asked some time later above the noise of the evening crowd. “Like a two week vacation to the Wild West.”

“Yes,” I said with no hesitation. “All you have to do is figure out how to time travel.”

“I can do that.”

“I believe you. You’re one of those geniuses aren’t you?”

He grinned. “Yes, I am.”

“I so knew it!” My words were slurred, but so were his. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had this much fun at a bar.

“You go back in time. I’ll stay here so I can help you find the right people. We can text each other,” he said.

We stared at each other for a moment before we both began laughing at the amazing yet ridiculous idea.

“But wait, Carter!” I exclaimed suddenly. “I can’t speak Choctaw ... Choctawan. Whatever. How do I convince him to wear jeans?”