“Hey, you never know. I’ve seen and heard some strange things in my day.”
“Stranger than the man who saw the flying bed?” She felt a kinship with George Vernon that didn’t come from their blood ties. Perhaps it was because he reminded her a little of Lou. “Enlighten me. I need the distraction.”
“Well, all right. I told you I once worked for a research company in the Antarctic.”
“I remember.”
“Very few people know about them, but persistent, giant tornados exist at both of our planet’s geographical poles. They’re called polar cyclones or polar vortexes. The Antarctic one is stronger, but they are both stationary, spinning monsters of gray fog. Can you imagine?”
“I’m trying.” This sounded a little familiar. “So, this is a vortex, like a portal vortex?”
“Oh, you’re smart. I like you.” He chuckled with amusement. “Now, here’s the wild part of the story. In April of 2001, we attached a weather balloon to a cable and sent it up into the Antarctic vortex with a meteorological instrument attached to it that recorded wind speed, barometric pressure, and temperature. We also included a scientific chronometer to accurately report the times of the readings. As soon as the balloon was released, it was sucked right up into the swirling fog and disappeared from sight.”
“Wow. How long did you leave it up there?”
“Not long. With some difficulty, we pulled it in several minutes later and were shocked by the readout on the chronometer. The displayed date read January 27, 1965.”
“Oh, my God. Seriously?”
“I saw it with my own two eyes. We even repeated the experiment. We sent the instruments on that balloon right up into the gaping maw of the vortex and the same date showed up the second time. January 27, 1965. When we reported the episode to our superiors, they turned over the results to military intelligence. We heard later that they gave it the code name of Time Gate.”
Journey ached with longing. “I wish I could go through the Time Gate.”
“Me too. Imagining where I’d travel to is a favorite game of mine.” He laughed. “This time, I think I’d love to visit Medieval England. How about you?”
Journey didn’t even hesitate. “I’ve always felt an affinity for the old west. I think I’d choose Central Texas in the year 1869.”
“Very specific, but definitely a good year. You’d be around to witness the greatest weather event to ever strike the area.”
“And what is that?”
“The great flood of 1869. After sixty-four hours of straight rainfall, the waters crested at fifty-five feet above flood stage. In Austin, the river was ten miles wide. There were even buffalo carcasses floating in the river. The whole Hill Country was devastated.”
“What month?” she asked with wide eyes.
“Well, I’m not sure. About this time, I guess. May or June, that’s when the heavy rains usually fall.”
“Kingsland would’ve been flooded.”
“Absolutely, any town on the river would’ve been completely inundated. There’s no telling how many people drowned.”
Journey clutched the edge of the seat. She tried to remember if there was any mention of the flood in the papers she’d examined. She knew the Stanton children were already in Boston by this time. Of course, Reno’s return might’ve changed things in some way. What if he were in danger?
“What’s wrong?” George asked. “If you’re worried, it looks like the storm is moving away.”
“That’s good,” she muttered, but this wasn’t the storm she was worried about. She needed to know if Reno was safe. “Excuse me, George. It was nice talking to you, but I need to make a call.”
“No problem. I enjoyed getting to know you.”
She gave him a friendly wave and returned indoors. People were still milling about and renewing old acquaintances. Weaving through the house, she headed upstairs to find some privacy. Once she was behind closed doors in the room she was sharing with her aunt, Journey phoned Lou.
After three rings, she answered. “Hey, Jo. What’s up?”
“I need you to go into my room and find Saul’s journal. I think it’s in the top drawer of the dresser, right hand side.”
“You got it. What am I looking for?”
“When you find it, open the journal and see if there is a letter affixed to the back cover in some way.”
“All right. When is the last time you saw the letter?”
“I haven’t. Reno was supposed to write me a note to let me know he arrived safely. I need to know if it’s there.”
“Okay.”
Journey waited, staring out the window at the diminishing storm. “Well?”
There was silence as Lou looked for the journal. “Found it.”
“You found the letter?” Excitement coursed through her voice. “Read it to me.”
“No, I found the journal. Hold on. When are you coming home?”
“Tomorrow. After the funeral.” Journey waited. And waited. “Well? Lou? Is it there?”
“There’s no letter here, Journey. Not in the back or the front. I looked all through it. I’m sorry.”
“Dammit!” Journey wanted to scream.
“Well, it’s probably too soon. He’s only been gone a little over twenty-four hours. Give him time. He had to do a lot of riding and…”
“Oh, Lou. I’m scared.” She sat down on the bed and began to cry.
“Settle down, honey. I’m sure everything is going to be fine. That man of yours is resourceful. If there’s any way in the world, he’ll get in touch with you.”
“I hope so. I won’t rest until he does.”
* * *
The sixty-mile ride from Packsaddle Mountain to Austin generally took about eight hours. Since they’d left before daybreak, King expected they were over halfway there. For most of the way, the conversation had been limited to talk of the weather or observations about people they passed on their journey. Reno didn’t try to introduce any new topics. If his
