CHAPTER TEN
Jake frowned and shook his head. He dropped into the rocker and looked for all as if his legs gave way. “I don’t know what to say. There’s just no other explanation. You… you knew the hiding place was there when no one else was aware it or the documents existed.” He shook his head. “Still, time travel is something in movies and fiction novels. Unbelievable and just can’t be possible.”
“It’s not my place to interfere, but I told you she looks like the girl in the portrait. I told you both.” Sally hugged Penny. “Now they have to believe you, dear.”
“I—I owe you an apology, Penny.” Bart shuffled his feet like a guilty kid. “I sort of believed you, but still had doubts.”
“I don’t blame anyone for doubting me… at first.” Penny glared at Jake.
Ben took out his phone. “We need to let Caleb know.” Bart called his cousin with the news and asked him to come to the ranch immediately.
“While we’re waiting for Caleb, I’ll just go make us sandwiches. Y’all can probably use some fuel after this.” Sally laughed. “Anyway, the boys sure can.”
“I’ll help you.” Penny returned the grant to the safe and closed the door. Flashing Jake a smile, she pocketed the key. “And I’ll just keep this little key with me until I find a new place for it.” She left the room.
Jake’s world had spun out of control. He staggered out of Penny’s room and down the stairs. As if on autopilot, he stood in the parlor gazing up at the portrait of Penelope Jane Terry.
Bart scratched his chin. “No doubt it’s her.”
Jake shook his head, hoping jostling his brain would clear his thinking. “How could it be, Bart? Over 120 years ago, how could it happen?”
“Don’t know. I agree it’s illogical, but there’s no way she could have produced that land grant otherwise.”
“I. . . Hell, I don’t know what to say. Really thought she was loco, or maybe had amnesia or something. Not this.” Jake dropped into a chair. “Where does this leave her? Us? No way would I give her this ranch, even if I could.”
“Hey, bro, now that you’ve found the land grant, you’ll think of a way to work this out. You’re the brains of the family.”
Jake rested his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands. “My brain is so fried from this mess I can’t even process information.”
He raised his head. “Like you said, at least we’ve found the real land grant.”
“Danged right, it’s the real one.” Penny’s comment snared his interest. She stood with hands on hips as if challenging him to deny her statement.
Bart peered from Jake to Penny. “I’ll see what’s keeping Caleb.”
Jake motioned Penny to the chair near his. When she was seated, he met her blue eyes.
“I . . . I owe you an apology, far more than Bart did. Your story seemed impossible, so I didn’t believe you.”
She leaned back in the chair, letting her head loll against the upholstery. “Think about my side of the story. I fell off my horse in July 1896 and woke up in October 2017. Think that makes sense?”
She shook her head. “I still worry every time I go to sleep. Will I even wake up tomorrow? If I do, where will I be?”
“I’m sorry, Penny. You must be scared out of your head.” He smiled. “I don’t mean literally, but...aw, you know.”
She grimaced. “Yeah, I am ‘you know’ a lot.”
“Can we call a truce? I mean until this land grant deal is settled and we know who’s up to no good?” He stuck out his hand.
She accepted his offer. “Yeah, truce, but I still intend to recover the ranch. Don’t think I’ve forgotten. Our truce is only temporary.”
“Fair enough.” His thumb moved over the calluses. He should have noticed those before. She might look like a princess, but she was no stranger to hard work.
Her eyes widened and he realized he still held her hand. He wanted to pull her into his lap so they could comfort one another. He exhaled regret and loosened his grip.
The front door opened and Caleb strode in. “What’s so damned important you got me out here after the hellacious morning we had?”
Bart came from the kitchen munching on a sandwich. “Wait until you see what Penny has.”
Rising, Jake rested his arm around Penny’s shoulders. Felt good, having her near, but now his problem was worse. He couldn’t kick her out of what had been her own home. The situation made his head pound.
“You’d better hear the whole story, Caleb. We might as well go into the kitchen while we tell it.”
When they were all seated at the large round table, Sally passed a tray filled with hearty roast beef sandwiches and set out glasses of iced tea.
Caleb helped himself to a sandwich. “Okay, what’s to tell?”
While the others ate, Penny directed her gaze at Caleb. “Now just wait until I finish before you start asking questions, okay?”
Penny took a deep breath. “First, my last name is not Hardeman. I’m Penelope Jane Terry.” She launched into her story, occasionally prompted by Jake, Bart or Sally.
Caleb blinked and stared at her with wide eyes, and took a swallow of his tea. Jake and Bart remained silent until she completed the tale. When she finished, she folded her hands on the table.
“Unfreakin’believable.” Caleb stared at her. “What the hell is this, Mess-With-Caleb- Day?” He looked furious.
Jake held up a hand. “Don’t get angry. I know just what you’re thinking, Cuz, but she’s on the level. Didn’t you hear the part where she has the real land grant?”
Caleb raised an eyebrow. “So she says.”
“Dang it. You Knights are tough men to convince.” Penny stood and faced Caleb. “Just come with me, Mr. Doubting Thomas. I’ll show you.”
Penny wondered why the Knight men were so dadblamed hardheaded. With a sigh she admitted that, in their shoes, she’d doubt her story too. She led the way up to her room with the three Knight men trailing her. When they were all in front of the mantle, she pulled the key from her pocket and unlocked the secret door.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Caleb moved closer.
Bart chuckled. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
Penny retrieved the pouch and gently unrolled the land grant. “My daddy was a smart man. No thief would look for important papers in a daughter’s room. He figured his safe would be the one broken into, but this one would be . . . well, safe.”
Caleb reached to touch the grant then pulled his hand back. “Guess we shouldn’t be touching it without clean cotton gloves. Finger oils and such.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that. I’ve already held it.” She looked at her fingers then swiped her hands down her clothes. Thank goodness she hadn’t handled a sandwich since she’d washed her hands. “May as well keep it unrolled while you read it.”
“Sam Houston himself signed it. Damn, what a find.” Caleb scanned Penny’s face. “I don’t know what to say. If this is genuine, then guess I owe you an apology.”
“Get in line.” Eyes twinkling, Bart nudged Jake.
Penny sent Caleb a glare. “What do you mean, if this is genuine? Sam Houston himself gave this to my granddaddy in 1836.”
Caleb shook his head. “Look, I’m not doubting your word. Sometimes family stories get twisted when they come down through the years. Maybe time rewrote the true story.”
“Caleb,” Bart said. “She’s not talking the 180 plus years since 1836. This was her own grandfather.”
“Damn, you’re right.” Caleb frowned. “Guess we’d better let our lawyers know so they can start refuting this other claim.”
Jake forked his fingers through his hair. “Can you take care of the lawyers, Caleb? Today has been such a roller coaster ride my brain has shut down.”
“You think mine hasn’t?” Caleb opened his phone and punched in numbers. “Let me put out the word. See what happens.” He paused, listening, then said. “Mike, new development.” He walked into the hall.
Still frowning, Caleb returned in a few minutes. “Mike’s going to get with the other attorneys and let us know what falls out.”
Penny stared at him. “Does that mean they don’t believe me?”
With a shrug, Caleb said, “Can’t tell whose document is authentic. Mike figured they’d have to fly in an expert to decide.”
Jake snorted. “An expert? How can we insure he’s smart enough to recognize which signature is actually Sam Houston’s handwriting?”
“Right. Could be a problem.” Caleb gestured to the pouch still on the bed. “And they’ll need Penny’s land grant to accomplish anything.”
Shaking her head, Penny said, “No.” She rolled the grant back into the pouch and returned it to its hiding place.
“Be reasonable, Penny.” Bart said, “No one will believe us without proof to back up the claim. They’ll have to compare the grants.”
After locking the safe, she returned the key to her pocket. “Then the so-called expert will have to let me watch.”
Let them try to get this proof. She crossed her arms. “I am not letting this land grant out of my possession.”
“Guess we’ll let the lawyers and their expert work this out.” Caleb clapped Jake on the shoulder. “You know Mike Vincent is the best there is in this kind of dispute. We’ll just have to trust him.”
Jake said, “Not likely. This ranch is my life as well as my main source of income. I have to agree with Penny. No way am I trusting someone I’ve never met. We’ll just have to see who this expert is and what he has to say.”
Bart’s phone rang. “Knight here . . . yeah?. . . fax them to me . . . thanks.”
Jake slumped onto the bed. “What’s happened now? Damn, I’m not sure how much more I can take.”
“Marie’s forwarding two faxes. Whoever caught them just laid them on my desk, but she remembered I wanted to know when either of them arrived.”
“Faxes.” Penny asked. “What’s a faxes?” She visualized some kind of fox. Or maybe faxes meant more than one fox.
Bart patted her arm as he headed out the door. “You’d better come with us and see.”
The three men headed downstairs with Bart in the lead, and Penny followed.
As they passed through the kitchen, Penny dropped back and stopped by Sally. “What’s a fax?”
Sally dried her hands on a cup towel. “I can’t explain because I don’t understand how it works. You get on in there and see for yourself.”
Penny walked into Jake’s office. The old office she and her daddy used had been more than doubled in size with nice oak panels and bookcases, a fireplace, and comfy looking armchairs. The sturdy desk and tables that housed the computer and other things she didn’t understand were grouped at one end. Jake, Caleb, and Bart stood staring at a machine as it spit out paper. How did that happen like magic?
She paused to read some framed certificates, inhaling the lemon scent of the polish Sally used on the wood. Jake had graduated from Texas A&M University. The next certificate was for a Masters in Business from The University of Texas at Austin. Where else would it be? And, why would a rancher need all these degrees?
Jake was really smart, both in books and experience. Lots more learned than she was. Smart as Daddy had been, his knowledge was based on experience. He sure didn’t like to read books. And the silly women’s academy she had attended was no match for a university.
She turned to stare at Jake. So, he had more book learning than she did. So what? She knew how to operate a ranch from experience, didn’t she? That was more important than reading about it in a book. Her gaze shifted to the computer and all the other gadgets she didn’t understand.
Dear Lord, help me. Guide my mind. Show me how to learn all I need to know.
So many new things confused her. She wanted to bawl for the loss of her old life where she knew everything she needed to run her ranch. Instead, she took a deep breath and watched Bart and Jake. She’d have to learn to use all of these new gadgets. She edged closer to the men.
Bart read the sheet as another started pumping out. “Well, I’ll be double damned.”
Jake looked over Ben’s shoulder. “What? Let me see.” Jake jerked the paper from Bart’s hands and shook his head. He sank onto his desk chair.
Bart smiled at her. “Do I know firearms or not? I told you those guns were old.”
Penny asked, “What does that paper say that proves my guns are mine?”
Ben smiled at her. “Back when you showed up with that Winchester, I faxed the company to see who ordered it and when. That answer says it was ordered by Wallace Terry for his son Harmon Terry as a present from his father on the occasion of his marriage in 1866.”
Penny raised her chin. “Hmph, I could have told you that if you’d asked. There was no need to go sneaking around behind my back.”
Bart grabbed the next sheet of paper. Instead of reading it, he offered it to Jake.
Jake braced his elbows on the desk and leaned his forehead on his hands. “You read it to me. Cut to the chase, okay?”
Bart looked at the paper. “The Colt was purchased by Harmon Terry in 1892. Special detailing on the handle.”
Caleb stretched out a hand. “Wait. I remember an article about the guns on display at the Pioneer Celebration made mention of Harmon Terry’s guns. If they were on view for the Celebration then Penny hasn’t had them all the time since 1896.” He pulled out a cell phone and started punching it. “Let’s check with the newspaper office. Maybe Terry had several guns.”
Penny nodded. “Sure he did. That’s his gun case on the wall there.”
“Jake turned to her. “Anything you want to add to Bart’s faxes or to your run down of the events?”
“Just that I’ve told you the truth.” She crossed her arms and raised her chin. “And that I want what’s mine. I learned today about the Penelope Jane Terry Foundation. I reckon you’re the trustees, and I want my money.”
“Your money?” Caleb paled and almost dropped his phone. He looked from Jake to Bart and then back at her. “Damn. Your money
Caleb took out a snowy white handkerchief. “Ahhh, I see. How, um, how much do you think that would be?”
Penny snapped, “I know exactly how much I had. Five thousand, six hundred and forty dollars and thirty-three cents. Daddy and I were saving up to buy the Staggs spread. See, old man Staggs wouldn’t let it go for less than six thousand.”
Caleb pressed his handkerchief to his forehead. “Penny, with interest over the years, it’s, ahhh . . . well, it’s considerably more than that now.”
“That’s great, because as soon as this mess with the grants, the mischief, and the guy trying to buy the ranch is settled, I’m finding a lawyer and getting my ranch back.”
Caleb’s eyes widened. “How can you?” He shook his head. “No lawyer will even try to prove you’ve traveled through time no matter who you claim to be. He’d be laughed out of court if he did.”
“Claim to be? I don’t claim to be me, I am Penelope Jane Terry. How else would I have known where the real land grant was? How else could I have Daddy’s rifle and revolver?”
“Everyone calm down.” Bert patted Penny’s arm and she sat down.
Caleb crossed his arms. “Just the same, I told you the guns were in a Pioneer Celebration exhibit last year. I read about it in the Terry Springs newspaper.”
Bart held up a hand. “Stop, we can settle this easily. Let’s find the article and contact the author. I’ll bet there were photos of the exhibit, so we can prove Penny’s guns weren’t there.”
“Thank you, Bart.” Penny sent Caleb a glare, then turned back to Bart. “How do we learn the author’s name?”
“Guess we call the newspaper.” Bart scratched his chin.
Caleb stood. “I can do that.” He punched on his cell phone again.
Penny listened to his conversation while she worried. Her head pounded from all this consternation. How could she reclaim her ranch without ruining other lives?
No, she couldn’t consider that now. She couldn’t weaken or she’d be without a home or ranch as well as in the wrong time.
Caleb closed his phone. “One of us has to go to the newspaper office and look in the archives.”
Jake stood. “Even though I know that Penny is who she says she is, I want this settled.” He gazed at her. “No point in risking someone else raising a question. I’ll go check the newspaper.”
Penny waffled between wanting to curl up in a ball and cry or to stomp her feet and scream in a genuine, all out, no-holds-barred hissy fit. She only subdued the urge because she recognized the pain in Jake’s eyes, the taut lines of his face. His head probably hurt as much as hers. And his heart.
Penny stood. “My guns, I’m coming with you.”