A Ranger's Time Read online

  A blinding bluish light flashed in the prairie. Followed immediately by the loudest clap of thunder Charlie had ever heard. The shockwave knocked him flat on his back, still holding onto Gus’s rope. Then, the unsettling calm returned. Charlie sat up and picked up his hat and his gun. He looked around and saw nothing. He heard nothing.

  “What the hell was that?” he questioned out loud.

  Gus stood calm beside him. The campfire had been blown out and only hot red embers remained in the pit. Charlie put some more wood on the fire and fanned the embers with his hat until the flames started up again. He strapped on his gun belt, holstered his Colt, and walked back over to Gus.

  “What do you think?” Charlie stroked the gray’s neck and patted his side. “You all right?”

  Just then Gus swung his head up and to the side and looked out in the direction the flash had occurred. His ears perked straight up and forward. Then, Charlie heard a snap and the rustle of brush from where the horse was looking. Gus lowered his head and gave out another low warning neigh.

  “I heard it too, boy,” Charlie said.

  Once again Charlie backed out of the fire’s light, and squatted near Gus, looking out into the blackness. He watched and waited.

  Then he heard another snap, louder this time. Charlie jumped a bit at the sound. The footsteps were getting closer now. Someone, or something, was coming toward the campfire.

  Without any warning, a male voice pierced the darkness. “Anybody there?”

  Charlie drew his gun and turned to face the sound. But he kept silent. He backed a little farther into the darkness. Then the rustling and steps stopped.

  “Hello? I’m coming in, okay? I don’t mean any harm, all right?”

  The footsteps started up again. Charlie could only watch and wonder. Following a rustle of sagebrush, a figure, highlighted by the firelight, came out of the darkness.

  Charlie’s heart pounded so hard it felt like it would explode out his ears. All he could think about was Walker’s cowboys. The anxiety of facing any of Walker’s men paralyzed him. His mouth was dry and he found himself not breathing. Every muscle in his body felt constricted. His hand shook as he fully cocked his gun and watched the figure approach the camp.

  As it advanced into the fire’s light, a young man finally came into full view. He stopped at the fire’s edge and looked around at the seemingly deserted campsite. Charlie could see this boy was not one of Abe Walker’s cowhands and he certainly didn’t come from Tascosa. The tension that gripped Charlie only moments before, evaporated. He was mesmerized by this boy’s appearance.

  Charlie guessed the stranger to be in his early twenties. He had a tall, slender build with reddish brown hair cut short on the sides and left longer on top. He was dressed like no one Charlie had seen in this part of the country. The man had on a tight shirt that was brightly colored in no particular pattern. It had no buttons, no collar, and sleeves cut way above the elbow. His pants were like Strauss’s dungarees, but colored a dark blue that looked way too tight. Charlie tipped the brim of his hat back and shook his head. Nobody could ride a horse in trousers that tight.

  Then he noticed the boy’s shoes. They had no heels, no side panels, and no spurs, and almost looked like moccasins, except they were pure white with laces on the front. Charlie shook his head in disbelief. He could only stare in amazement at this young man.

  “Hello, anybody here?” the young man called out.

  Then the stranger noticed Gus and walked toward him. Charlie watched him coming closer, and in one motion he rose, stepped out of the darkness, and pointed his revolver in the young man’s face.

  “That’s close enough, boy!” Charlie growled.

  The stranger was so startled he jumped back, stumbled and fell down. He kept staring up at Charlie, who was barely lit by the fire.

  “Who are you and what are you doing in my camp, boy?” Charlie grumbled.

  “I ... I ... Jesus!” he stammered.

  “Your name ‘Jesus’, boy?”

  “Huh? ... No! … I mean … What’s going on here?” the stranger asked.

  “Well if it ain’t Jesus, who are you?” Charlie demanded.

  “My name’s Russell,” the boy said.

  “Russell? That’s your name, boy? Russell? What kind of name is that?” Charlie demanded.

  “My name is Russell Hicks.” The young man stared straight into the gun’s barrel. “Can you point that thing somewhere else?”

  “Hicks?” Charlie repeated, wanting to be certain he heard it right. “Russell Hicks?” The name touched a nerve in Charlie’s memory. He repeated the name silently. Where did I hear that name before?

  “Yeah,” Russell replied.

  Charlie studied him and could see that he posed no real threat. He un-cocked and holstered his gun. The young man scooted backward a little.

  “Now, Russell Hicks, what are you doing in my camp, in the middle of this prairie, in the middle of this night?” Charlie stepped closer and frowned, waiting for an answer.

  Russell just stared at him with a frightened look on his face. Charlie stared back at him as if looking completely through Russell to what lay behind him. Charlie was trying to find that name in his past. Then it struck him. It was from his childhood. He had met a Russell Hicks when he was a boy. But the Russell Hicks he met was a frail, old man. Charlie filed the memory away and focused his gaze on Russell’s face.

  “Who are you looking for, boy?” Charlie demanded. “Are you working for Abe Walker?”

  “Who? I don’t know anyone by that name. I’m trying to …”. Russell stopped speaking and looked around. He appeared unsure of where he was. The expression on Russell’s face showed Charlie that this boy was very confused.

  “What’s today?” Russell finally asked with a frantic note in his voice.

  “Today?” Charlie leaned back surprised by his question. “Today is going to be your last day if I don’t get me some answers.”

  “No. I really need to know what day this is,” Russell demanded.

  Charlie wasn’t sure about this young man. “Well, Russell Hicks, I don’t rightly know what day it is exactly. Let’s see, it was a Sunday when we got to Cañon City. I remember that because the church bells were ringing. Let’s see now …”

  “No, no, not the day, the date, the date. I need to know the date! What year is this?”

  “Well, it’s sometime around the end of June. I know that, and the year is 1892,” Charlie answered.

  “Damn it!” Russell jumped to his feet and turned his back to Charlie. “Damn, damn, damn it! We missed it! This can’t be happening! I’m off a whole frickin’ century!”

  Russell kicked a small rock and stomped around screaming obscenities and talking crazy about it being all wrong.

  “Hold up, boy,” Charlie said.

  But Russell kept on with his tantrum, saying things Charlie didn’t quite understand. Things like, this is the wrong time, and the wrong century, and they’ll never find him again.

  “I said you’d better stop this right now!” Charlie said a little louder.

  Yet Russell continued on with his outbursts. Finally Charlie drew his pistol, pointed it skyward, cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger. Russell jumped, and then turned back staring wide-eyed at Charlie. The loud retort shattered the night’s stillness and seemed to hang in the air until Charlie finally spoke. “I told you to hush up, boy. And I mean it.”

  Russell froze, still stunned from the explosion that shocked him into silence. After a short eye-to-eye glaring, Charlie continued. “You feel like explaining your presence to me now? Or do I bury you here tonight?”

  Russell’s complexion turned an ashen gray as a wisp of smoke drifted out of the barrel of Charlie’s gun. He opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it again. Charlie saw the fear in his eyes. He motioned for his visitor to sit down, which Russell did immediately. Charlie holstered his gun and picked up his tin cup and poured himself a luke-warm, stale cup of coffee. He
tossed his canteen into Russell’s lap and sat on a rock near the fire.

  Despite his shaking hands, Russell uncorked the canteen and took a drink, never taking his eyes off Charlie. The two sat in silence for a few moments. Russell was intently staring at Charlie.

  “What you lookin’ at, boy?”

  Russell looked away and just shook his head. A glint of firelight reflected onto Russell’s face. He looked down and saw the reflection was from the badge on his vest. “You ever seen a badge like this?”

  Russell shook his head again. After a moment he looked at Charlie and broke the awkward silence. “Are you some kind of enforcer or something? A policeman or something?”

  ”Enforcer?” Charlie looked at the boy with a slight grin. He hadn’t heard that term since he was a boy. “I’m a Ranger, boy. A Texas Ranger.”

  “Oh,” Russell managed. “What’s a Texas Ranger?”

  Charlie glared at him. “The Rangers are a Texas militia. We work for the governor. But, I’m still wantin’ to hear about you, and you’re wasting my time.” Charlie sipped his coffee, waiting for his answer.

  “I think I’m lost,” Russell finally said. “I think I’m in a lot of trouble.”

  “Where’s your horse? You didn’t just walk out here. So, how’d you get out here?”

  “You wouldn’t believe it.” Russell took another drink from the canteen.

  “Try me,” Charlie encouraged.

  “You’re going to think I’m crazy, and then you’ll probably kill me.”

  “I think you’re crazy now. I’m still deciding about killing you.”

  Russell was fidgeting, apparently trying to stall for time. Charlie sat patiently waiting for what he imagined would be quite a story.

  “Okay. You wanted it, so here goes.” He gazed into the fire. “You’re not going to believe this.” He took a quick glance at Charlie. “But I came from a long way off. A really long way off.”

  He paused and watched Charlie for some sort of reaction. Charlie sat still and waited. “I actually came here from a … a … another time.”

  Russell looked at Charlie once more, turned away, and then moved a little closer to the fire.

  “I came here from the future,” he blurted out.

  Charlie sat motionless. Russell froze.

  “The future?” Charlie shook his head. “The future?” he repeated.

  “Yeah, the future!” Russell turned back to face Charlie. “I know it sounds crazy, and I know you don’t believe it, but I swear it’s true.”

  He was almost pleading for Charlie to believe him. There was a long pause as he waited for some kind of reaction.

  In a slow, calm voice, Charlie asked, “So what did you come here for?”

  “That’s just it!” Russell said, “I’m not supposed to be here. Well, technically I guess I’m in the right space, but I came to the wrong time! We were aiming for 1992, not 1892! I’m a whole century off!”

  Charlie shook his head. He couldn’t take his eyes off Russell. He swallowed as if he was trying to keep his insides from spewing out. Something about this Russell Hicks made Charlie very uncomfortable. Old feelings and memories of his past were flooding his mind. It was a cool night, but he could feel the beads of sweat on his forehead. Charlie stood and finished his coffee. “You’re loco, boy.” He looked over at Gus. The horse looked away. “He thinks you’re loco, too.”

  “I swear to you, it’s the truth.”

  “You need to leave here, boy, and I mean pronto,” Charlie said.

  “I can’t,” Russell said.

  “Well, you just came here. You ought to be able to just leave here,” Charlie reasoned.

  “It doesn’t work like that. I’m stuck here until an operator moves me.”

  Russell’s words seemed to strike a sudden note of finality in his own mind. He hung his head and stared into the fire, as if suddenly realizing the gravity of his situation.

  “Where you from, boy?” Charlie tried to change the subject.

  “I’m originally from Connecticut, but I’ve been living and working in Upton, New York,” Russell answered.

  “Upton?” Charlie recalled a distant memory of that name.

  “It’s the government’s National Lab facility out on Long Island,” Russell said. “We’ve been working on the development of time travel there for years. One of their clandestine projects that officially doesn’t exist.”

  “Upton,” Charlie repeated. He just shook his head while Russell continued to stare into the fire.

  “Did you come here for any particular reason?” Charlie asked after a brief silence.

  The question was apparently a surprise to Russell. He frowned and had a questioning look in his eyes. “Reason?”

  “Yeah. People go places for reasons,” Charlie said. “Why did you come here? Are you looking for anyone in particular?”

  “No, no it’s nothing like that,” Russell explained. “I was going to the nineteen-ninety’s for two reasons, actually. I wanted to find out how polluted their environment was. And, I was supposed to test a theory about what affect a disruption in the past could have on the future.”

  Charlie let out a sigh of relief and relaxed. “Well, I don’t care about any of that. All I know is that you can’t stay here. I don’t need you around me right now. You have no idea what a mess of trouble you just rolled into. And you are just one more problem I don’t have time for. The question is what am I going to do with you?”

  “Wait,” Russell said. “Do you understand anything I just talked about?”

  Charlie leaned in closer to Russell and glared at him. “I think I know who you really are. I’ve been looking over my shoulder for 30 years, wondering if that stranger eyeing me is the one or not. Whether I know what you’re talking about or not don’t matter. It don’t change nothing. You still can’t stay here.”

  Russell’s eyes widened. He had a shocked look on his face. He just stared at Charlie and then suddenly shivered from the cold night air.

  “Put that blanket around you.” Charlie pointed to his bedroll.

  Russell pulled the blanket around him. He looked at Charlie. “Thanks.” He stared into the fire, watching the flames lick back and forth among the logs, apparently trying to grasp the situation he’d been thrust into.

  Charlie untied his duster from behind his saddle and draped it over his own shoulders to guard against the cool night air. He too stared into the fire.

  Charlie mumbled to himself under his breath. “I’ve been trying to hide from you all my life.”

  Charlie continued watching the fire, never once looking up to see if Russell was watching him or listening to him.

  If Russell heard the old lawman mumbling, he never acknowledged his words. The two sat silently watching the fire dance in the night. Charlie now had this boy to deal with. What to do with him? His thoughts of Russell were soon replaced with the consuming thoughts of his upcoming meeting with the cattle baron. He couldn’t shake the fear of facing Mac Sherman and Abe Walker. Yet, as the fire created dark shadows that danced among the trees, he knew the unavoidable showdown was coming … and soon.

  4

  The Trip Home

  As the sun crested over the eastern hills, a beam of sunlight crept across Charlie’s forehead and struck his eyes. He sat up, startled awake. He had slept on the ground next to his saddle. The sun’s up. Why was it so late in the day? His conscious mind pulled together the events from the previous night. He looked over at his bedroll and it was still occupied by that stranger. What was his name? Oh yeah, Russell, - from the future.

  He cursed the light. Usually by the time the sun rose, he had broken camp and had been on the trail for a while. Now the day was going to be longer than he wanted. The trip home over the prairie would be during the hottest part of the day.

  Charlie wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep. The last thing he remembered was staring into a dying fire pit. Over the years, Charlie’s body became trained to wake in that gray dawn jus
t before the light of the sun begins to push away the dark. That, of course, assumed he got a reasonable amount of sleep the night before. Last night was not a reasonable amount of sleep. Last night was not a reasonable night.

  He struggled to pull himself up out of the dust. The aches and pains of an older worn out body were intensified from sleeping on the cold ground. He stretched to loosen as many muscles and joints as he could. A snap in his neck, a pop in his knee, and a sharp pain in his shoulder all brought back memories of the hard times of his younger days.

  He made his way to where Gus stood. He patted the horse’s neck and removed the hobble. Gus walked off to the river to drink and graze a while before the trip home.

  The fire had died down to just smoke and hot cinders. A few tongues of fire occasionally spurted from a burnt log in the pit. Charlie refilled his coffee pot at the river and poured the last of his crushed coffee beans into the pot. Then he set it dead center on the hottest coals he could find.

  From his saddlebags he retrieved his last can of peaches and a folded up oilcloth that contained his loose food supply. It held four hard-packed corn biscuits that he called “dodgers”, and some chunks of jerked beef. He poured a cup of lukewarm coffee for himself and sat down on a rock by his saddle. He dipped a dodger in the coffee and chewed on the biscuit while he watched his unwelcomed guest sleep. What to do with this boy?

  He was sure Russell would wake up with all the commotion he was causing. But there he lay, with the sun shining bright in his face, sleeping as if it were the middle of the night. He finished his biscuit and pulled a knife from the sheath on his belt and cut open the top of the can of peaches. After eating a few of the peaches, Charlie couldn’t wait any longer. He stood up and nudged Russell with his boot. “On your feet, boy. The day’s half gone already.”