When she reached for the left boot, she spotted a sharp fluted stone sticking up out of the ground. She dug it out and brushed off the dirt. “Cool!” She’d never seen anything like this before.
It’s a Clovis Point.
Her head shot up. “Who said that?” The booming voice didn’t answer, of course, because she’d only imagined it. But if she’d imagined it, then how’d she know what it was?
Maybe she just assumed it. She’d heard of Clovis Points before, and it made sense that she’d find a prehistoric tool out here in God’s country. This one was about four inches long, an inch and a half wide, and fashioned from what? She spat on it and wiped away the dirt in the small waves that resembled ripples in a pond. “I think this is jasper.” The stone also had a groove at the base to fit the point onto a shaft.
Finding the 10,000 BC version of a Swiss Army knife was a stroke of luck and the first hopeful sign since this madness began. Well, except for her healed foot. But that was too unexplainable to think about right now.
9
Washington, D.C.—James Cullen
JC returned home from Theodore Roosevelt Island, convinced he made the right decision to go after Ensley without telling his family. The goal was to protect them, and not involving them in her rescue was the best way to do that, although they’d never see it that way. Fortunately, by the time they discovered what he’d done, it’d be too late to stop him.
It was easier to beg forgiveness than ask for permission.
He settled into his desk chair and outlined the research he intended to do on TR’s time in the Badlands. He started with a YouTube video titled “Theodore Roosevelt and the Western Adventure.” While he listened, JC scrolled through book titles on Amazon and downloaded TR’s book Ranch Life and the Hunting Trail. He also ordered a topography map of North Dakota, paying extra for expedited delivery. If he landed in the wilderness, miles from civilization, he’d have no idea which way to go without a compass and topo map.
For the next several hours, he read and visualized his arrival in the past and the first steps he’d take. Like Roosevelt, JC had traveled around America and hunted moose, elk, caribou, bison, mule deer, and white-tailed deer, so adjusting to life in nineteenth-century North Dakota shouldn’t be difficult. And he didn’t intend to stay very long or do something idiotic like help Andy Jackson fight the Battle of New Orleans.
Nope. That wasn’t for him. He’d find Ensley and get the hell out of there.
“JC,” Paul yelled.
“In here,” JC yelled back while shoving the pages of research material he’d printed into a folder. Paul wouldn’t ask JC what he was doing, but he’d notice and then later slide an “innocent” question into their conversation, like “I thought I’d go deer hunting in North Dakota. Do you know when the hunting season opens?”
As his dad’s good friend Louise would say, “What a cheeky bastard.”
Paul strolled in and noticed the stack of mail JC had dumped in a side chair. He picked it all up before propping a hip on the corner of the desk. “When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow.”
Paul separated the first class mail from the magazines and junk and tossed the junk mail into the recycle bin. “Do you want me to take you somewhere?”
JC thought a minute. Since he’d decided to take one of his horses, he’d need a ride to the stables. An Uber would work, but what the heck? Paul could take him. “Sure. I’ll need a ride to the stables.”
Paul gave him a puzzled look as he placed the stack of first-class mail in front of JC. “I’m not even going to ask.”
“Good, because I don’t have an explanation.” JC thumbed through the mail, separated bills from invitations, and returned the bills to Paul. “Pay these. I’ll look at the invitations and mark them as usual.” Which meant he’d RSVP yes or no, and if no, he’d send donations to the charities.
“I’m going over to the computer lab and won’t be back till eight or nine.” On his way to the door carrying the fistful of bills, he glanced over his shoulder and said. “Before you leave again, call Ms. Montgomery.”
“Have you been talking to Becky?”
Paul turned back toward JC with his lips twitching. “What do you think?”
JC stacked the invitations and put the pile next to his calendar to respond to later. “Since both of you came highly recommended from the same person, I’d say you text each other regularly.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I do know you should call your mom. I’ve never met her, but I’ve heard rumors that she can be a controlling bitch.”
JC rolled his eyes. “Who told you that?”
“Your cousins Emily and Isabella. So please call her.”
“She wouldn’t be ugly to you, and she only acts out when she’s stressed. And right now, nothing much is going on in her life, which is why she harasses me weekly.”
JC looked at the desk clock. His mother had an appointment with Trainer Ted every afternoon at five for a half-hour yoga class to relieve her accumulated stress. If she stuck to her schedule, she’d be there now and wouldn’t answer her phone. He tapped on her number, and the call went straight to voice mail. “Mom, hi. I’ll be at the plantation next week, but until then, I’ll be out of pocket. Hope to see you at Uncle Braham’s.” He clicked off. “There, I tried to talk to her. Satisfied?”
“Bullshit. Ms. Montgomery has a yoga class every afternoon at five. You knew she wouldn’t answer, so it doesn’t
