sink hole. He was beginning to think the smartest thing to do would be to admit that he wasn’t Alfred Dumler and that he hadn’t come for a job. Then he looked at Hannah and thought about the insane asylum. He kept silent.
“My wife’s cousin runs a driving school over in Harmony. He could probably take lessons there,” Barry suggested.
“There you go. That problem is solved,” Gabby said cheerfully.
Hannah did not look as if she liked the solution one bit. She pushed back her chair and stood. “We need to get to work.” She looked at Barry, who finished his coffee, then rose to his feet.
Wood watched Hannah walk over to a pegged rack on the wall, reach for a cap and slip it over her blond curls. “We’ll be back around noon,” she told Gabby. To Wood she said, “You have this morning to get your act together.”
Then she stomped out the back door leaving Wood to wonder what it meant to get an act together. Did she think he was a stage performer?
“Don’t-worry about it, Wood.” Gabby patted his hand reassuringly. “She’ll show you how to run the equipment. Once she gets to know you, everything will be just fine.”
Wood nodded in agreement, although he should have said the only way things would be just fine would be if he could figure out a way to get back to 1876. Right now he wanted no part of running any equipment—whatever it might be.
He needed to go back to his old life. He hadn’t died by the noose, and he sure as hell didn’t want his old life to be dead. It didn’t matter how pretty Hannah Davis was. He wasn’t going to live the rest of his life as a twentieth-century farmer.
Chapter Five
“A re you sure you’re feeling all right?” Gabby asked Wood as she cleared away the breakfast dishes. “Yoo-hoo, Wood?” She waved a hand in front of his face.
Wood looked at her. “What is it, Gabby?”
“You’ve been staring at that clock on the wall for so long now I thought you might have fallen asleep with your eyes open.”
Wood knew what she said was true. He had been staring at the clock, waiting for each movement of the large hand. He found it amazing that a hundred and twenty-two years had passed in barely the blink of an eye, yet now each minute seemed to take an eternity to tick away.
In the strangeness of his surroundings, the clock was the only thing in the room which had any significance for him. Why or how he had traveled through time, he didn’t know, but he wished he could find the answers in the timepiece hanging on the wall.
“Have you ever lost track of time, Gabby?”
“Sure. Hasn’t everyone?”
“Perhaps,” he answered. Only he hadn’t lost track of time. It had lost track of him. If time had simply passed, he’d be one hundred and fifty-six years old. He looked down at his hands. They were the hands of a thirty-four-year-old man, as was the face that had stared at him in the mirror this morning.
His bewilderment must have shown on his face for Gabby said, “Maybe you ought to lie down?”
Wood wondered if she would be this concerned for his health if she knew that he was not the prospective hired hand, Alfred Dumler, but a man who had been about to be hanged? It wasn’t likely.
“I doubt rest is going to cure the jumbled mess I’m in,” Wood said cryptically.
“What is it, Wood? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
The concern on her face tugged at his conscience. He didn’t want to deceive her, yet what choice did he have? With no place to call home, he needed her help if he was going to find a way back to his previous life.
“I can’t remember how I arrived here, Gabby. It’s as if one minute it was Tuesday and then all of a sudden it was Thursday and whatever happened in between is gone from my memory,” he said honestly.
“That’s because you’ve been sick, Wood. From the heat. I’m guessing that you might have had to hitchhike part of the way in the hot sun and—”
“Hitchhike?” he interrupted.
She nodded. “I know
“My wife’s cousin runs a driving school over in Harmony. He could probably take lessons there,” Barry suggested.
“There you go. That problem is solved,” Gabby said cheerfully.
Hannah did not look as if she liked the solution one bit. She pushed back her chair and stood. “We need to get to work.” She looked at Barry, who finished his coffee, then rose to his feet.
Wood watched Hannah walk over to a pegged rack on the wall, reach for a cap and slip it over her blond curls. “We’ll be back around noon,” she told Gabby. To Wood she said, “You have this morning to get your act together.”
Then she stomped out the back door leaving Wood to wonder what it meant to get an act together. Did she think he was a stage performer?
“Don’t-worry about it, Wood.” Gabby patted his hand reassuringly. “She’ll show you how to run the equipment. Once she gets to know you, everything will be just fine.”
Wood nodded in agreement, although he should have said the only way things would be just fine would be if he could figure out a way to get back to 1876. Right now he wanted no part of running any equipment—whatever it might be.
He needed to go back to his old life. He hadn’t died by the noose, and he sure as hell didn’t want his old life to be dead. It didn’t matter how pretty Hannah Davis was. He wasn’t going to live the rest of his life as a twentieth-century farmer.
Chapter Five
“A re you sure you’re feeling all right?” Gabby asked Wood as she cleared away the breakfast dishes. “Yoo-hoo, Wood?” She waved a hand in front of his face.
Wood looked at her. “What is it, Gabby?”
“You’ve been staring at that clock on the wall for so long now I thought you might have fallen asleep with your eyes open.”
Wood knew what she said was true. He had been staring at the clock, waiting for each movement of the large hand. He found it amazing that a hundred and twenty-two years had passed in barely the blink of an eye, yet now each minute seemed to take an eternity to tick away.
In the strangeness of his surroundings, the clock was the only thing in the room which had any significance for him. Why or how he had traveled through time, he didn’t know, but he wished he could find the answers in the timepiece hanging on the wall.
“Have you ever lost track of time, Gabby?”
“Sure. Hasn’t everyone?”
“Perhaps,” he answered. Only he hadn’t lost track of time. It had lost track of him. If time had simply passed, he’d be one hundred and fifty-six years old. He looked down at his hands. They were the hands of a thirty-four-year-old man, as was the face that had stared at him in the mirror this morning.
His bewilderment must have shown on his face for Gabby said, “Maybe you ought to lie down?”
Wood wondered if she would be this concerned for his health if she knew that he was not the prospective hired hand, Alfred Dumler, but a man who had been about to be hanged? It wasn’t likely.
“I doubt rest is going to cure the jumbled mess I’m in,” Wood said cryptically.
“What is it, Wood? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
The concern on her face tugged at his conscience. He didn’t want to deceive her, yet what choice did he have? With no place to call home, he needed her help if he was going to find a way back to his previous life.
“I can’t remember how I arrived here, Gabby. It’s as if one minute it was Tuesday and then all of a sudden it was Thursday and whatever happened in between is gone from my memory,” he said honestly.
“That’s because you’ve been sick, Wood. From the heat. I’m guessing that you might have had to hitchhike part of the way in the hot sun and—”
“Hitchhike?” he interrupted.
She nodded. “I know
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