Reno let it go, but he knew he’d bring it up at another time. Whatever was bothering Gentry was too important to ignore.
* * *
“What are you mixing up?” Myra asked as she observed Journey from the sunroom door. “Down, Dudley,” she cautioned the dachshund who was always hungry for attention.
“A cream for sensitive skin. It’s good for any irritation caused by detergent, food allergies, scratchy clothing – you name it.” Knowing her aunt would want to know the ingredients, she named them off, “Per jar, I combine fifteen drops each of tea tree, lavender, and frankincense, combined with half a cup of coconut oil. Easy as pie.”
“I want a jar.”
Journey grinned. “Sure.” Her aunt wanted a jar of everything. “You’re my best customer.”
“Unpaid customer. I should reimburse you.”
“I’m staying here rent free, I think I can at least keep you in oil products.”
“This is your home, Journey. You don’t have to pay anything to stay here.”
“Well, thank you.” After a few seconds, Journey looked up from her work to see Myra still standing there. “You don’t have to hover. I’m fine.”
“Since Lou went home, I worry. I don’t want you to be lonely.”
“Lou had to go to work sometimes. She’s got a lot going on. In fact, I guess I could go home for a couple of weeks, myself. Reno won’t be returning until the middle of next month…” Journey’s voice faded to a whisper. Since she hadn’t heard from him as he promised, she didn’t know what to think.
“No. I think you should stay here.” Her aunt’s voice rose in volume. “Reno would want you nearby.”
Journey didn’t reply, she couldn’t. She just nodded her head and went back to work.
About an hour later, she taped up the last package for mailing. Her hands shook and her mind was a mess. She felt so helpless. If this were a normal situation, she could reach out. Call. Check on him. Go to him. But this wasn’t a normal situation, far from it.
Frustrated beyond belief, she pulled her laptop near. Hungry for anything to do with Reno or the past, she entered his name in the browser window. Oh, she’d done this before to no avail and the results were no different this time. Branching out, she entered Saul’s name. Nothing. Huck’s. Nothing. Feeling desperate, she accessed one of those ancestry sites and signed up. Once she’d filled out what little information that she could remember off the top of her head – names of parents and grandparents – she got up to ask her aunt for help.
“Aunt Myra!”
“In the kitchen, dear.”
“Do you remember those genealogical files your father left you? I seem to recall you loaned them to Uncle Myles at one time. Do you know where they are?” All of this was said as she entered the kitchen, head bent as she tied her hair into a ponytail.
“I believe I do. If you’ll excuse me, Kota. I’ll be right back.”
“Of course, my dear,” he gave Myra a smile as she left the room.
“I’m sorry.” Journey almost stumbled and had to catch herself on the back of a chair. “I didn’t realize you were here.”
“No, problem. It’s good to see you.”
“You, too.” Journey felt like she was tongue tied. “How have you been?”
“Fine.” He appeared to be thinking as he studied her face. “I won’t ask how you are; you look pale. Reno would not like you neglecting your health. Have you heard from him?”
Journey realized how close Reno and Kota had become. Still, she wished he didn’t know to ask this question – especially since her answer was so troubling. “No, I haven’t.”
When he didn’t reply, she felt like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “You know what he promised. Why do you think I haven’t heard from him?”
He shook his head. “I hesitate to say.”
“No visions? No hunches? Something went wrong, didn’t it?”
“Sorry.” Kota shrugged as Myra returned.
“Here you go, sweetie. What are you going to do with all of this stuff?”
“I’m researching our family in one of those ancestry sites.” She clasped the folder to her breast. “Thank you, Aunt Myra. Have a good day, Kota.” With that, Journey made her escape before she embarrassed herself.
…Two hours or so later, Journey was still at the computer. She’d entered all of the data and was awaiting results. What came up as responses to her request was rather disappointing. Most of the names were unfamiliar to her. She was just about to give up when she spotted an entry.
Emory Stanton aka Stanton Black, Author.
“Emory!” Journey couldn’t believe her eyes. “I’d forgotten you were a writer.” At one point, she and Reno had discussed searching for his work – but so much had happened. “The pen name would have thrown me off.”
Excited, she began a search for his work. After several failed attempts, she finally located a reference to a book of short stories. True Tall Tales of Texas. “How interesting.” Immediately, she attempted to track down a copy. The book was long out of print, of course. Journey was just about to give up hope when she found a copy for sale in a mom and pop bookstore in Marshall, Texas. Without hesitation, she got on the phone, called the shop, and gave them her credit card number. The owner promised to put it in the mail to her the next day. “Okay, Emory, we’ll see what you have to say.” While the book might contain no mention of Reno at all, even this tenuous link to the past made Journey hopeful.
* * *
As the stagecoach headed out of Waco, Reno took note of their companions. Both were already in their seats and seemed to be asleep when he
