Ranger's Quest- The Beginning Read online

  Sunday was church. The four of them rode into Summersville and attended services at a small wooden church that barely held thirty people. Fran stood in the back along with the other Negroes. After church they rode back home. There was no work on Sunday.

  One particular Sunday Clemens brought out Charlie’s Navy Colt pistol. “Let’s see how good you can shoot.” Charlie broke into a cold sweat and followed the blacksmith to the side of the house. Clemens set a piece of wood on top of a fence post and handed the pistol to Charlie. “Can you hit that?”

  Charlie held the heavy firearm in his hand and lowered his head. He told Clemens that he didn’t remember ever loading a gun before, much less firing one. Clemens sighed. “How in the world did you ever survive to this point, boy?” He took the pistol from him and showed Charlie how to load the cap and ball revolver. Clemens was about fifty feet from the fence post that held the chunk of wood. He explained the firing technique to Charlie, aimed at the wood and fired one shot. The shot knocked the wood target into the field. Charlie jumped at the report, both frightened and excited. He was amazed at Clemens’s prowess with the handgun.

  Jed came running around the corner at the sound of the gunshot and stopped next to his father. “What ya shootin’ at, Pa?”

  “Just trying out Charlie’s pistol, son. That’s all.”

  “Can I try it?” Jed looked at Charlie with pleading eyes. Charlie turned to Clemens with a look that begged for intervention. When Clemens nodded and smiled, Charlie was surprised that he would let a child fire a gun.

  “I… guess… so.” Charlie said. “Have you shot before?”

  “Oh yeah. Me and Pa go huntin’ a lot. I killed me a boar last month. Didn’t I, Pa?”

  “You sure did, boy.” Clemens smiled, turned to Charlie and held his hands close together to indicate it was a small boar. He nodded to Charlie, handed Jed the handgun and reset the wood piece on the post. Charlie stepped back away from Jed and watched as the boy lifted the pistol with two hands, carefully aimed at the wood target and fired. The post splintered just below the wood piece.

  “Dang! I missed it. Too low.”

  Charlie was dumbfounded. Here this young boy was upset that he’d barely missed a small target fifty feet away. He shook his head, sure he would never be able to hit anything.

  “Can I fire it again?”

  Charlie nodded. Jed took aim again and fired. The wood chunk flew off the post. Jed handed the gun to Charlie and ran to reset the wood piece on the post.

  “You try it, Charlie,” Jed hollered as he ran back. Charlie looked at Clemens again.

  “Go ahead. Just sight down that barrel like I showed you, pull the hammer all the way back and pull the trigger. That’s all there is to it.”

  Charlie took a deep breath, trembling. He knew he would miss. He stared at the target and took another breath.

  “Go ahead, Charlie,” Jed coaxed. “What ya waitin’ for?”

  “I think he’s just nervous,” Clemens said. “Charlie still don’t remember things, Jed. We gotta help him remember how to shoot. Okay, son?” Clemens smiled at Jed, who nodded. Charlie felt a little more at ease after overhearing Clemens’s explanation. He smiled, took a breath and sighted the barrel of the gun on the wood target. He pulled the hammer back three clicks and pulled the trigger. The gun erupted in his hand. He had a little trouble holding onto it from the recoil. He excitedly looked through the smoke, but the target was still there.

  “Give it another shot, Charlie!” Clemens said.

  Charlie fired a second and then a third shot but the target never wavered. Firing a weapon was exhilarating to Charlie. He didn’t really care that he had missed the target. He was just excited to have actually fired a weapon. He looked at Jed. “I’ll get it. I guess I just need a little more practice.” He walked to Clemens and handed him back the pistol.

  “You keep it with you. It’s your gun.” He smiled and handed Charlie the holster. “We’ll shoot some more later on. You’ll get the hang of it soon enough.” The three walked back to the barn and Charlie hung his gun belt on the peg that held his Confederate jacket.

  Clemens stood in the doorway to the barn, his large figure silhouetted in the bright sunlight behind him. “Season will be changing soon. Food will get scarce around these parts come winter.”

  “What do you mean?” Charlie asked.

  Clemens walked into the barn and sat on a box next to the worktable. “We’ve got a pretty good store of grain. We’ll add to it over the next month or so. I’ve got winter squash and corn in the ground now. If the weather holds, we’ll be able to put some up for the winter. Fran will dry whatever she can. But, we’ll have to hunt and trap our meat. And we’ll have to do it soon. Takes a while to cure up.”

  Charlie sat on his bunk listening. He was eager to learn how to hunt and set traps.

  “You need to keep up on that pistol. I’ll learn ya that long-rifle when you get good with the pistol. The more people we got shooting, the more meat we’ll bag.” Clemens stood and walked to the side of the chimney. He picked up a shiny gray brick and brought it back to the work table. “I got some lead here, you can use it to make your shot. I got more powder in the house. You can practice all you want. But only after the work is done.”

  With a hammer and chisel Clemens knocked off a corner of the lead bar and set it in a very small crucible with a long handle. He set the crucible in the coals and within a few minutes the lead liquefied.

  “Get that mold off the shelf there.” Clemens ordered as he pointed to a small tool. The mold consisted of two metal bars with four half-round gouges dug out of each bar. Each hollow seemed to be a little larger than the next. When the plates were placed together the cavities formed a ball. Clemens clamped the two halves together and carefully filled the mold with the molten lead. “That’s all there is to it.” He set the crucible on the table. “Give it a little while to cool and you can open it and trim the seams with a file. Throw the two smaller balls back in the cup. We’ll re-melt them.”

  Charlie and Clemens sat in the barn talking of their plans to set traps and go hunting. “You need to keep practicing with that pistol. When it comes to hunting, you’ll only get one shot at an animal and ya have to make it count.”

  Charlie nodded.

  Clemens talked about the harvest time and how the neighbors all got together and helped each other. They would clear fields, butcher meat, catch up on news and gossip. Families would trade commodities with other families for the winter. There’d be bonfires and a big feast in the evening. Clemens leaned in a little closer to Charlie and smiled real big. “Jake Morrow always brings out a jug or two of his corn squeezin’s. Takes the nip out of the air.” He winked.

  Charlie chuckled. He looked forward to that harvest.

  “Pa! Dinner!”

  “Well, I guess we’d better wash up for dinner.” Clemens stood and walked outside to the water barrel and filled a bucket. He and Charlie washed their hands and faces. It was mid-afternoon when they headed in for the main meal of the day.

  After the meal they sat and talked about the upcoming week. Charlie wasn’t paying much attention. All he could think about was the exhilaration he’d felt when he fired his pistol. “I think I want to practice a bit more on that gun with the little daylight I got left. Is that okay?” He stood and headed for the door.

  “Can I go?” Jed blurted out.

  “That’s a good idea.” Clemens stood and followed Charlie outside.

  Charlie went to the barn and retrieved the holster containing his shot, powder tin and caps. Clemens went to the large stack of firewood that stretched along the fence. He pulled a log from the stack, set it on the ground vertically and leaned it against the larger cord of wood.

  “That log’s your target.” Clemens drew a line in the dirt with a stick about thirty feet from the log. “If you miss the log, you’ll at least see where it hit that cord of wood. Then we’ll be able to see how to adjust your aim.”

  Charlie f
umbled with measuring and pouring powder in each cylinder, then adding a ball and patch to each cylinder. After each cylinder was filled and compressed, he had to place a small cap over each cylinder’s nipple. He dropped more than he installed.

  “Firm grip, but don’t squeeze it.” Clemens barked. Charlie nodded. He stepped to the line and took a deep breath. “Deep breath and then let it out slowly.” Charlie aimed the gun and began to slowly release the air in his lungs. “Slow squeeze. Don’t jerk the trigger.” Charlie slowly pulled the trigger and the gun fired. The recoil didn’t bother him this time. He was prepared for it. The lead ball lodged itself in a log about six inches to the right and above the log where he’d aimed. Clemens explained the adjustments Charlie would need to make in his aim. Charlie took it all in, following Clemens’s instructions to the letter. Within a few shots, Charlie hit the target. He was elated. Now, if he could just remember how he did that.

  The three took turns shooting and having friendly contests until the sun started to set. Charlie couldn’t remember a more rewarding and fun-filled day. He was disappointed when Clemens said it was getting late and time to quit. Charlie holstered the gun and packed up what little shot and caps were left. They were still laughing and kidding with each other as they headed back to the house. Then, as if joined together, they all abruptly stopped when they looked to the barn.

  Standing next to the barn were two men. They were almost identical in size and shape. They each had short, black, well-groomed hair and a rather pasty, pale complexion. They were both dressed in tight black trousers, black boots, and a tight long-sleeved black pullover shirt. Each wore a vest and matching belt that seemed to gleam gold and silver as it reflected the setting sun. Charlie’s blood ran cold. He could hardly breathe.

  “Can I help you boys?” Clemens asked.

  The two men didn’t move. One of them took a step toward Charlie. “Archibald Campbell! You are wanted in connection with the death of San Francisco traveler Michael O’Donnell and for violation of Time Statutes 22-754 and 22-641. You will come with us.”

  “Archibald?” Clemens asked. He took a step toward the two but stopped when Charlie grabbed his arm.

  “No, Clemens. Take Jed inside. Let me handle this.”

  “You know these fellas?”

  “No,” Charlie said, “but I know who they are.” He paused. “Just go inside, please.”

  Clemens took Jed and ushered him into the cabin. He stopped at the door and looked back at Charlie. Charlie gave him another nod and Clemens stepped inside and closed the door. Charlie looked across the clearing at the two time-agents and started a slow walk toward them. “This should be interesting.”

  9

  Confession

  Clemens pushed open the window shutter from inside, leaned against the sill and watched Charlie walk toward the two strangers. Unseen by anyone was his Kentucky long-rifle that he held alongside him.

  Charlie approached the man that had shouted out the charges against him. The other one clutched a vest and belt similar to the ones they were wearing and held it out for Charlie.

  “Put it on. You’re coming back with us,” the first man said.

  Charlie shook his head. “You got the wrong man. My name’s Turlock. Charlie Turlock.”

  There was a long pause. The two men studied Charlie, not blinking, not moving, apparently confused. Then the first man spoke. “That’s incorrect. Turlock was listed as missing during the battle of Cedar Creek on August 9, 1862. Analysis of your facial structure proves to a ninety-four percent certainty that you are Archibald Jackson Campbell.”

  Charlie snickered, glanced back at the cabin and let out a sigh of frustration.

  The agent followed his glance and noticed Clemens staring at them. “You are forbidden from interacting with personnel in different eras. That is a violation of Time Statute 23-1015.”

  “How’d you find me?” Charlie finally asked.

  “You, of all people, should know that any travel in time causes a ripple through the dimensional matrix. Even travel within the same dimension will leave a trail.”

  Charlie vaguely remembered his father talking about tracking people through time. He never thought it would be himself.

  “Your father gave us a general idea of where you might be found. It took the agency a while to determine which trail belonged to you.”

  Charlie’s cheeks flushed as anger rose up within him like a volcano. He had feared his father might turn him in, but deep down didn’t want to believe he would actually do it. His father only wanted to save his own skin. “Well, that tears it then. I have no family anymore. No future to return to.”

  The agent looked at him a little askew but ignored his remark. “It took us a while to track your second jump after we got to Culpepper. That brought us to the general area of this farm.”

  Charlie realized that there would be no rest for him. They would always be able to find him whenever he used the belt. He was still angry about his father and resentful that his new life had been invaded by elements of his old life.

  “I’m not going back with you. You can go to hell.” Charlie turned his back to them, took a few steps and pulled his pistol from the holster he was carrying. He was turning around when the stranger pointed a small horseshoe-shaped object at him. Lightning shot from it and hit Charlie. A violent, painful shock surged through every nerve in his body and immobilized him. He collapsed in the dirt unable to talk, move or even breathe.

  “The paralysis will subside in a moment. You will come with us.” The time-agent took a few steps forward. Within a minute, Charlie found his breath and let out a painful cry. He tried to stretch out his arms, but they wouldn’t respond. He continued to try to force his muscles to move. His struggle was suddenly interrupted by the loud retort of Clemens’s rifle. The chest of the second agent exploded with sparks and he collapsed to the ground, still clutching the extra vest and belt. The first agent stopped and looked at the house where Clemens stood in the window reloading his rifle, then at his partner lying in the dirt. A bright blue light suddenly surrounded the downed agent and with a loud snap he vanished.

  The first agent stood perfectly still staring at Clemens, trying to decide what to do. While the agent stood motionless, Charlie regained his muscular functions, stood and pointed his pistol in the man’s face. “I’m not going with you. Your companion took the vest. You need to go back and tell them I’ll never come back. And if you don’t leave now, my friend there, or I, will blow you to pieces like your partner.”

  The agent stared at Charlie without emotion. “Very well.” Another blue light surrounded him and in a flash he was gone.

  Clemens burst out of the cabin carrying his rifle alongside him. His wide eyes and open jaw revealed his amazement. Charlie wondered whether Jed had witnessed this.

  “What… what… the hell was all that?” Clemens stammered. “Ain’t you hurt? What happened? I… I just shot that fella. Where’d he go? Do you know what happened? What… wha… I don’t understand. Where are they?”

  “Settle down a minute, Clemens.” Charlie took a deep breath and put his hand on the blacksmith’s shoulder. “I guess I need to explain a few things to you. I tell you, though, it’s going to be hard for you to swallow.” Charlie looked in Clemens’s eyes. “Are you okay? Did Jed see any of this?” Clemens shook his head. “Good. You can explain it to him later when the time’s right.”

  “Explain what? I don’t know what just happened here!”

  “Let’s go in the barn. We can talk better sitting down.”

  Clemens followed Charlie into the barn and sat down on a wooden box by the table. His bewildered expression hadn’t changed. Charlie picked up his haversack from behind his bunk and then dug up the canvas bag containing his time belt.

  “This is twice you saved my life.” Charlie set the canvas bag and his haversack on the table. “First, when you took me in, and second when you just shot that agent.”

  “Who the hell were those boys, Char
lie?”

  “First of all, my name isn’t Charlie, and I hadn’t lost my memory. I’m sorry I had to tell you that. I’m not a deserter from the rebel army. I’m not even a soldier. I took that jacket and this shirt off a dead soldier a few weeks back in a battlefield near Culpepper. My real name is Archie Campbell.”

  “Archie? Then you’re the fella those two were looking for?”

  Charlie nodded. Clemens stood and looked away for a minute. He spread his arms wide open in a single gesture. “Then all this was a lie?” He bellowed. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “Wait a minute, Clemens. Listen to what I have to tell you and you’ll see why I had no choice. I couldn’t tell you the truth. You never would have believed it.” There was a pause. “Hell, you may not believe it now.”

  Clemens stared at Charlie, the disappointment plainly visible in his eyes. He started for the door, then stopped. “Why should I listen to you now?”

  “Because those two, or two just like them, will be back here. Probably soon. And you have to know what they are and why they’re here. Just give me one chance to explain all this.”

  “You can explain all this?” the blacksmith asked with skepticism. “The light? The vanishing? You can explain all that?”

  “Yeah. But you’re not going to believe it.” Charlie smiled at the blacksmith and let out a little snicker.

  Clemens turned and faced Charlie. The tension in his face seemed to have eased some with Charlie’s flippancy. “This better be a good yarn.” He smiled and sat back down on the box.