The sounds of hammering and sawing filled the air as even more structures were being built. At this point in time, Garretsville was still growing. The cabin where she stayed with her co-volunteers didn’t yet exist and wouldn’t until this part of the Garnet Mountains became a park. A painted sign nailed to fence posts, reading Welcome to Garretsville, now stood where that cabin would be in the future. “Wow.”
“It’s quite different than what you remember.”
“Definitely.” She leaned against him for a moment, wishing she’d thought to bring her phone with her, so she could take a few pictures. “The bank first?”
“Aye, the bank first.”
The trail they were on led to the main street, and Daniel turned the wagon left toward the bank. Beside the bank, the assayer’s office drew her attention. Knowing what she did about what was to come, she wondered if Joe Biggs was indeed responsible for the deaths caused by the three thieves.
People exchanged friendly greetings with Daniel, glancing curiously at her. She smiled in return. The bank was the only structure in town made of native stone rather than logs or planks. Hard to believe, but she’d taken tourist groups through that very building just a day ago, nearly one hundred seventy years in the future.
Daniel engaged the brake and wrapped the reins around the handle. He hopped down, hurrying to her side to lift her to the ground. “Shall we, Miss MacCarthy?” he said, offering his arm.
She tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow, and noticed he stood a little taller when she did. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Cavanaugh.”
Daniel held open the door, and she preceded him into the bank. It was exactly the same as she remembered, only the planks of the floor still gave off the tangy scent of pine. Everything here was brand new. Iron bars rose from the tellers’ counter to the ceiling, separating the two clerks from the customers.
A couple stood at one of the small window-like openings, being taken care of by a young man of medium height. He wore his brown hair slicked back, and he had a neatly trimmed mustache. Both tellers and the couple glanced their way for a second before returning to their own transaction.
“Good morning, Mr. Cavanaugh,” a tall, thin man greeted Daniel from his spot behind the counter.
“And to you, Mr. Johnston.” Daniel placed his free hand over hers as they approached the counter. “This is Miss Meredith MacCarthy, one of my partner’s many cousins from New York. She and her brother are visiting us for the next few weeks.”
“Oh?” The banker smiled warmly her way. “It’s lovely to make your acquaintance, ma’am. I hope you enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you, Mr. Johnston.” She returned his smile.
His curious gaze swung back to Daniel. “What can we do for you today, sir?”
“While Miss MacCarthy is here, she wishes to keep a few personal items in the Hannigan & Cavanaugh strongbox for safekeeping.” He patted her hand. “I’m in town for supplies today, so I’ll also be withdrawing some cash.”
“Of course. Wait here a moment while I inform Mr. Becker you wish access to your box. He’ll take you back to the vault.” He slid a form and a fountain pen through the window. “In the meantime, fill out a withdrawal slip, and I’ll take care of the cash when I return.”
“Thank you.”
Once the clerk left, Daniel began filling out the form. “Becker owns the bank,” he said. “He runs a tight ship and has made this building as secure as possible. He’s a decent sort.”
A half hour later, with her fortune and the pink diamond safely tucked away in the vault, Meredith folded the written receipt for what belonged to her and stuffed it into her bag. She walked beside Daniel to the wagon as he pulled out his shopping list.
“The butcher, baker, mercantile, feed store, and then we’ll head to Widow Hague’s for fresh eggs and butter,” he said. “Once we’ve secured everything in the wagon, we’ll have lunch at Klein’s Diner.” He glanced around, as if making sure no one was within earshot. “We suspect Mrs. Hague’s husband was one of the victims of the three you came to warn us about,” he said, his voice low. “We always buy our eggs and butter from her. She has two growing sons to support. I believe her eldest is nearly eighteen now, and he’s apprenticing with a gunsmith.”
She nodded as she looked down the street. “There’s Keoghan’s Saloon,” she murmured, mentally comparing what the street looked like now to what she remembered. Next to Keoghan’s stood a two-story building with a small balcony overlooking the road through town. Despite the lingering morning chill, two scantily-dressed women sat on the balcony, their arms—and ample breasts—propped along the top of the railing as they watched the goings on below. “One of the bawdy houses?” she asked, nodding her head toward the women.
“One of three,” Daniel confirmed. He grabbed a number of burlap sacks and a basket from the back of the wagon and once again offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
Smiling, she took his arm, grateful to have his guidance because her quivering historian’s heart wanted nothing more than to drink in all the sights without worrying about where she stepped.
A few hours later, and bearing a buttermilk pie placed in a tin from the diner, Meredith strolled beside Daniel, smiling happily. “It’s hard to believe I met Judy’s great-great grandmother and her great-grandmother in person. I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling them that I know their descendant.”
“I can imagine,” Daniel said, smiling her way. “On to Sheriff Ramsey’s office,” he said, taking the pie tin from her. They’d reached the wagon, which was now
