Baltimore, Maryland
November, 1864
CROW PUSHED his horse to near breaking. His last assignment had been a particularly difficult one and coming off the mountain took longer than expected. His appointment, imperative in his opinion, required he ride straight from reporting to his superiors. That meant no time to dump his saddle back at the base.
Saddles slowed him down and now he was late. He swore. He was due for dinner, and he knew he would never make it in time. The familiar sight of two ten-foot-tall iron gates came into focus as he rounded his way out of the trees. Less than a mile.
He made his way through the barrier and dug his heels again, running his horse more than might have been wise. As the expansive porch and lit sconces of the Powell farmhouse came into view, a sense of calm settled over him. He fully expected to hear an earful from Rayne Powell and Victoria Butler for arriving an hour late, but even the promise of chastisement couldn’t distill the peace welling within him.
He arrived at the Powells’ barn and handed his Pinto off to a groom before jogging up to the front porch. The door opened before he could raise his hand to knock. Samuel’s housekeeper, Tandy, smiled and clasped her hands in front of her.
“’Evenin’ sir,” Tandy said.
Crow smiled back at her as he removed his hat and gloves. “Good evening, Tandy.”
“Everyone’s in the dining room waitin’ on ya.”
Crow nodded. “I’m certain they are.”
Tandy held out her hand and Crow shrugged out of his heavy winter coat. “You’s can wash up in the back ’afore you’s go in. I lef’ a towel and soap by the basin.”
“Thank you, Tandy.”
Crow took the time to wash up and then made his way to the dining room. He strode through the door and met Sam’s eyes over his wife’s head.
“Where have you been?” Rayne Powell’s deep-blue eyes flashed in accusation. A lock of blonde hair fell over her forehead as she leaned toward him.
“Angel,” Sam admonished.
Crow shrugged. “I was held up.”
“At gunpoint?” Rayne asked sarcastically.
“Of course not.” Crow took her hand and kissed it.
Victoria Butler crossed her arms and glared at him. “Then what’s your excuse?”
Crow turned and smiled. Moving to greet her, he was met with pools of violet as she stared up at him. Her allegations were far subtler in the expressions on her delicate face.
“Rebel,” Quincy whispered. “We’re here for one more day. Do you want to spend the limited time you have to visit with Crow chastising him?”
Quincy and Victoria owned a town home in Washington, D.C., but had spent the last week with Samuel and Rayne here in Baltimore.
Crow smirked when Victoria shot a look toward her husband.
“Don’t start, Gus,” she warned and then turned back to Crow. “We’ve been worried sick.” Her voice grew in intensity, her southern accent heavy, indicating her distress. Crow studied her as she shifted in her chair, her tiny stature nearly swallowed by the large piece of furniture.
“All right, ladies, leave the poor man alone. You’re acting like his mother.” Samuel pointed to the chair he had saved for Crow.
“Someone should,” Victoria snapped.
“It’s dangerous out there. How would we know if he was hurt? He’s the best tracker around here, so it’s not like we could use him to find him. He could very well be lost forever,” Rayne continued as though she hadn’t heard her husband.
Doling out a spoonful of potatoes onto his plate, Crow sat back and waited for Victoria to carry on. She and Rayne were masters at finishing each other’s sentences.
Victoria dropped her fork with a clatter. “He could be lying dead on the side of the road and we wouldn’t be able to find him.”
Crow shrugged. “There were no roads.”
“Crow!” Quincy and Sam reproached at the same time.
“Excuse me?” Victoria asked.
Quincy patted her hand. “He was in the mountains, Rebel.”
Standing quickly, Victoria’s black hair fell from its pins, and Quincy had to grab for the chair she nearly knocked over as she turned and glared at her husband. “You told me he wasn’t doing anything dangerous!”
Quincy stared at her and smiled, love and admiration evident on his face.
“I asked Quincy not to say anything,” Crow explained.
She whipped her head around. “Why would you do that?”
“Because he didn’t want you to worry, sweetheart,” Quincy said. “Now, please sit down.”
“We always worry,” she snapped as she took her seat and tried to fix her chignon.
Victoria had been kidnapped shortly after her marriage to Quincy. Crow was able to find her and lead Quincy to the cabin where she was being held. Since then, Victoria considered Crow part of her family.
“He is obviously here and feeling well, so why don’t we finish dinner so we can finalize the plans for Thanksgiving,” Sam suggested.
The girls grumbled but let the subject drop, and dinner was finished without further incident. Afterward, the men moved into Samuel’s office and the girls went to Rayne’s private parlor. Sam handed each man a glass of scotch and they sat to discuss their trip to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.
“When are you leaving?” Quincy asked Crow.
Crow stared into his glass briefly. “Tomorrow. I’ll need that time. Otherwise I’ll arrive after Thanksgiving, instead of before.”
“Why don’t you pack a bag and we’ll take it on the train with us?” Sam suggested.
Crow raised an eyebrow. “I don’t own any luggage outside of my saddlebags.”
Quincy chuckled. “Victoria purchased something for you.”
Crow smiled. “Thank you.”
“The ladies are incensed you won’t be on the train with us.” Quincy sipped his drink.
“They don’t understand.”
“No, they don’t,” Sam agreed.
Crow had endured years of prejudice. His Indian name was Laughing Crow, but when missionaries came through his village and discovered his mother was white, he was given a white man’s name. From that day on, the whites knew him as Douglas Smith.
He learned quickly that the missionaries wanted to change him and teach him the white ways. For the most part, he played the game, but showed his true feelings by one act of defiance: he refused to cut his hair. Now, some years later, his hair hung more than halfway down his back. It was a style different from most of the Creek warriors, but still just as frightening when he was shirtless and riding bareback.
His tribe continued to call him Laughing Crow, whereas his close friends called him Crow. Sam had met him a few years ago when working on a missing child case. Crow was able to track the little girl to a remote area in the mountains and return her to her grateful parents.
It was Sam, however, not Crow, who was given credit for her rescue. Sam complained loudly that he had very little to do with it, but no one listened. Crow, who was used to being shoved to the background, quietly let Sam take the glory. They formed a close friendship, even though Sam lost a few friends and colleagues because of it. Through Sam, Crow met a few white individuals who accepted him as their equal, like Quincy and Victoria Butler.
Crow chuckled. “The women will forget about what they deem unfair eventually. Females usually do.”
“You have so much to learn about women,” Sam said.
“Yes, and apparently more to learn about our particular women,” Quincy added.
“You have both been making vague comments like that for weeks,” Crow pointed out. “Is there a purpose to them, or am I to guess?”
Sam glanced at Quincy and then focused back on Crow. “You’re right. There is something that Rayne and I feel you should know, however, it’s somewhat unbelievable.”
Crow swirled the drink in the glass. “Does it have something to do with her appearing out of nowhere and never speaking of her family?”
Sam nodded. “Yes. It has to do with where she came from.”
“More accurately, when she came from,” Quincy added.
“When?” Crow frowned. “What do you mean, when?”
“She’s from the future,” Sam said.
“Excuse me?” Crow sat up straighter. “What do you mean, she’s from the future?”
“She came from the year two thousand and nine.”
Crow glanced at Quincy. “And Victoria?”
“Yes, she’s also from the future. Two thousand and eight,” Quincy admitted.
Crow thought back to visions he’d received when meeting with the elders. Could they possibly have something to do with this unbelievable claim? He’d known Rayne was different. He remembered the vague conversations with Samuel, and how Rayne spoke so often of missing her best friend, Shaye.
“You were correct when you said Victoria and Hannah were different,” Sam said.
Crow smiled. “I believe I’ve mentioned Mrs. Madden as well.”
“You have. And Jamie and Sophie Ford are also from the future.”
Crow downed his scotch in one gulp and handed his glass to Sam for another. “Well, gentleman, start talking. I think this might take a while.”
* * *
Shaye felt a chill on her face. Slowly opening her eyes, she frowned as she watched the sky come into focus. The darkening blue was blanketed with stars and a half moon, just like her vision, and she noticed her breath, white in front of her face.
How long have I been out?
Sitting up carefully, she realized she still had her backpack on and Rayne’s jewelry firmly in her grip, but no indication of where she might be. She looked around and shivered, unsure if it was from the cold or the fact that not only was she not in the building anymore, she wasn’t even near the building. In fact, she wasn’t near any building. All she could see was a vast countryside in front of her.
“Where am I?” she said aloud.
The little puff of white and another shiver told her that if she didn't find shelter quickly, she’d be up a creek. She didn't have adequate cold weather gear. She then noticed what looked like a little cabin in the distance, but there was no light coming from it.
Unsure if anyone would be there, she decided to at least check it out and made her way toward the structure as she looked around again.
Where the heck am I?
She put one foot in front the other, shivering with every step, feeling like she was trapped in a strange dream. Every inch she moved toward the cabin, it seemed to move farther away. She was shivering uncontrollably by the time she reached the steps to the little porch and knocked on the door. “Hello?” She peeked into the only window, but without any kind of light, she couldn’t tell if anyone was inside.
This is so seriously like something out of Friday the 13th.
She didn’t hear any traffic noise and wondered just how remote she was. “Can someone help me, please?” she called into the window. “I’m lost and I’m hoping I can borrow your phone to call for help.”
Without warning, she was slammed against the side of the cabin and a large hand settled over her mouth. She screamed in fright, but it made no difference. The hand simply pushed harder and her scream was muffled in his palm. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt tears slide down her cheeks, the coldness of the night connecting with the wetness. She took a deep breath hoping to bolster her courage, and looked up at her captor. She tried to speak, but it was impossible with his hand covering her mouth.
The man loosened his grip and pushed her into the small cabin as she let out a ragged breath. She licked her lips and looked up at him. He stared at her but didn’t speak, so she asked, “Are you going to hurt me?” He paused and then shook his head. For some, unfathomable reason, she believed him.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“I’m lost. I was just looking for somewhere warm for the night, or a phone to call a cab.” She frowned as he continued to stare. “Where am I?”
He crossed him arms. “You don’t know where you are?”
His low deep voice washed over her, and she had to force herself not to tremble. She squared her shoulders and tried to stand taller. It didn’t help. The man towered over her.
“No.” Despite her fear, she forced her body to relax. She took a quick look around the room, hoping to find an exit strategy. She could hardly see anything due to the lack of light. “Is there a light switch in this place?”
“Excuse me?”
“Light.” She let out a nervous breath. “Is there light in here?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Well, then, could you turn it on, please?” Again, the man didn’t speak and Shaye wondered if he was touched in the head. “Where am I?” Glancing down, she pulled her cell phone out of her backpack. She flipped it open, but there was no signal. “This is weird.” She scrolled her phone down to Trevor’s number and pushed CALL, but got nothing. Looking up, she saw the man had moved to the other side of the room, his back to her, and he had removed his hat. She watched him flick a match against the wall and light the lantern. As the light caught his face, she gasped. He was badly beaten.
Her hand went to her mouth and she moved toward him. “What happened?”
“Don’t.” He held up a hand.
She stalled. “Were you in a car accident?”
The eye that wasn’t purple narrowed. “What is a car?”
“Are you trying to be funny or playing dumb?”
He frowned. “Neither.”
Shaye chuckled nervously. “Why do you look like you’ve been hit by a truck?”
“What is a truck?”
She pressed her lips into a thin line. “Okay…let’s try this again. Where are we?”
He turned toward the lantern, adjusting the wick. “York.”
“Exactly which part of Chicago is called York?”
“Chicago?” He faced her again and cocked his head to the side. “We are in York, Pennsylvania.
She shook her head. “I was just in Chicago. There’s no way I’m in Pennsylvania. Where am I—really?”
He looked at her intently and crossed his arms. “You are in York, Pennsylvania. You are on the land of an acquaintance of mine.”
Shaye’s hand trembled as she fisted it at her side. “You’re really scaring me. Please, just let me know how to get out of here.”
The man shook his head. “It is dangerous for a woman to travel alone. You will stay here.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “I was just in Chicago. I was looking for my friend, Rayne. She went missing two months ago and no one has seen her.”
“Rayne is married to Samuel.”
“What?” she squeaked. “Who’s Samuel?”
“A friend.”
“I don’t understand. Who’s Samuel?” He didn’t respond and Shaye’s heart began to race. “Where am I? How did I get here? I don’t remember anything. I don’t know if I was drugged.” She looked up at him in accusation. “Did you drug me?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“I’ve never seen you before, have I? Were you at one of Rayne’s concerts? Is that how you know me? Do you have some kind of fixation or something? Please take me home. I just want to go home.”
“I will take you to Rayne.”
She shook her head. “How are you going to take me to Rayne? Who are you?”
Glaring at the man again, she watched as he swayed and then crumpled to his knees. She let out a shocked squeal when he landed face-down on the floor, and she rushed to his side and laid her fingers at his throat. His pulse thumped steady and strong, but he was heavy, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to move him.
“Sir? Please open your eyes. Sir?” Taking a deep breath, she wiped her tears away and used all her energy to roll the man onto his back. She reached inside her backpack, pulled out her penlight and, as she shined it on the man’s face, gasped again. Dark bruises and dried blood covered the right side of his face. His left eye was starting to swell and turning a nasty color, darker than she’d noticed before in the unlit cabin. His lip was split and bloody. Her heart turned over. “Who did this to you?”
Shining the light in her bag, she found the bottle with the rest of her water in it, along with a couple of T-shirts she’d packed and an old sweatshirt of Trevor’s she didn’t realize she still had. She grabbed her darkest shirt and poured some water on it. She gently wiped the dried blood from his face. He came to after being out for about ten minutes. “Shh. Careful.”
“I am fine.” He grabbed her hand to stop her ministrations.
“Are you sure?”
He sat up and then stood quickly. Jumping up beside him when she saw him grasp the chair, Shaye wrapped an arm around his waist. A very tight waist. She looked around the room and saw a small bed in the corner of the room. Maybe if she laid him diagonally he would fit.
“I don’t need to be carried like an old woman,” he snapped and pulled away from her.
Shaye released him. “Perhaps not, but you still haven’t answered my question.”
He blew out a quick breath. “You’ve asked several. Which one are you referring to?”
“Who did this to you?”
He shrugged. “Men who objected.”
“Come over here.” She wrapped an arm around his waist again and tried to lead the tree trunk to a chair. “Objected to what exactly?”
He sat down and shook his head. “It’s not important.”
Shaye was losing her patience at a rapid rate. “Well, if you could let me know where your phone is, I’ll call a cab and be on my way.”
“What is a phone?”
Shaye chuckled. “Good to see you have a sense of humor.” He looked at her strangely, so she pulled out her cell phone and showed it to him. “See? No service. I need a landline, because for whatever reason, there’s no cell service here in ‘York, Pennsylvania.’ ”
“How does this work?” He took the device from her and turned it over several times.
“Seriously?” she asked. “You haven’t been in prison or something have you?” She bit her lip. “Although, you would have had a TV in prison, so you’d know what a cell phone is.”
He held it for several minutes before handing it back to her. “What is your name?”
“You first.”
He paused for a minute before answering. “Laughing Crow.”
Shaye’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“Laughing Crow,” he repeated slowly.
“You’re Native American,” she said.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know what that means? Your nations are considered Native Americans.” She wagged a finger at him. “You should know that.”
Laughing Crow shrugged. “I am a half-breed.”
Shaye gasped angrily. “Don’t call yourself that!”
He shrugged. “It is the truth.”
She settled a hand on her hip. “Well, it’s offensive and I won’t stand for it.”
“You have no say in the matter,” he said.
“Don’t speak to me like a child you need to placate. I do have a say in it. Sometimes I feel more Creek than white. I have flown from one coast to another more times than I can count in order to spend as much time as I can with the Muscogee.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You grew wings and flew?”
“Funny.” She threw her water bottle back into her bag. “Do people call you Laughing Crow?”
“Crow.”
Shaye pursed her lips in consideration. “You must have been a very serious child.”
“Why?”
“To get that name.” She smiled. “Has that changed?”
“What is your name?” He ignored her astute observation.
“Apparently not.”
“Your name?”
“Shaye Montgomery.”
Crow’s face showed surprise. “You are Shaye?”
Shaye’s heart raced. “Do you know me?”
Crow nodded. “Rayne speaks of you often and highly. She misses you and spent much time in an effort to go home.”
“Rayne?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“You expect me to believe you know Rayne?” Shaye gripped one of the chairs in the small space. “Where is she? And again, who is this Samuel person?”
“Currently, she is on a train with Samuel, her husband, on the way to Harrisburg,” he said.
“Not likely. Rayne is not married, so you couldn’t possibly know her.” Shaye zipped up her backpack, hands shaking.
“She is married, Miss Montgomery. To Samuel Powell of Maryland.”
“Why are you saying this?” She backed slowly toward the door. “Are you going to hurt me?”
Crow stood slowly, which didn’t help Shaye’s nerves. It reminded her how huge he was. “You are safe here.”
“How do I know that? Because you say it?” she snapped. “There is no way Rayne is married. She never mentioned a boyfriend, let alone a fiancé, and believe me, she would have told me.”
“I am not telling you an untruth.” Crow crossed his arms. “She is married and they are on their way to Harrisburg.”
Shaye mimicked his actions. “Why Harrisburg?”
“I am joining them there for Thanksgiving.”
Shaye’s eyes widened in surprise. “Thanksgiving is in November.”
“Yes.”
“It’s September,” Shaye said.
“No, ma’am, it is November.”
Shaye narrowed her eyes. “Did you hit your head?”
“What do you think the date is?”
“September 15, 2018.” As he looked straight through her, Shaye shivered in fright. “You are really scaring me.”
“Miss Montgomery, it is November 20, 1864.”
Shaye grasped the handle on the front door. “Right. Okay, well, I’ll just find my way to the main road now.”
* * *
If you liked the sneak peek of The Bride Pursued, you can buy it !