The Man from Forever by Vella Munn Page A

never lets me forget it. Damn, he’s going to sit there until I talk to him. Look, don’t leave, will you? I hope this won’t take long.”
    Although Fenton hadn’t indicated he wanted her to join him and Black, neither had he told her she couldn’t tag along. As they reached the pickup, Mr. Schonchin turned off the engine. After kicking and sputtering for a good half minute, the truck finally fell silent.
    Mr. Schonchin kept his attention on Fenton, giving her the opportunity to study him. If she’d been an artist, she’d want to paint him. His sagging, leathery, expressive face spoke loud and clear of a life spent out-of-doors. His eyes seemed locked in a permanent squint. His cheeks looked as if they’d been rubbed with sandpaper until they’d hardened in self-defense. Much of his hair was gray but enough black remained that she could guess he’d once had rich, midnight hair like Loka.
    Black Schonchin wouldn’t understand the concept of conditioning creams, of sunscreen, of sunglasses. Neither would he see any reason to go inside just because the air had a wind-chill factor of minus twenty. The way she guessed he saw things, if a man made his living from the land, he lived with that land.
    â€œHow’d you know to look for me here, Black?” Fenton asked in a tone that showed no respect for the Modoc’s age. “I don’t have time for you today.”
    Black regarded Fenton for a long time before moving so much as a muscle. “You say this because you hide from the truth.”
    â€œYour version of the truth. Come on, Black. You know how I feel about this nonsense of yours.”
    â€œIt is not nonsense.” Black pointed at the sky, his eyes following the line of his finger. “The truth is written in the stars. You cannot see it because you aren’t Modoc.”
    â€œYou’ve got that right. I thought we had this out earlier. I’m not about to keep people out of certain areas while you and the rest of your group poke around. Restricting touristsin any way, shape or form is the last thing I’m going to let happen.”
    â€œA man who walks blindfolded will never see the sunrise.”
    â€œWhere do you get these sayings of yours? You must stay up half the night thinking of new ones. Look—” Fenton made a show of studying his watch “—I told you the last time you were here, if you want to talk to me, you’ve got to make an appointment. You must have left Tulelake before dawn to get here this early. Too bad it was a wasted trip.”
    â€œMaybe. And maybe I saw him. ”
    â€œDon’t get going on that, Black. I don’t have time. I will not, repeat, I will not close off the butte.”
    â€œ He was there this morning. He wants back the Telshna place.”
    â€œTelshna?” Fenton frowned, then waved an impatient hand at Black. “Never mind. I’m not interested in whatever Modoc word you’ve conjured up this time. This spirit warrior business of yours has gone far enough.” On that, Fenton turned away from the pickup. When his gaze landed on Tory, he repeated his desire to talk to her, then asked whether she planned on leaving anytime soon. She gave him a noncommittal answer, knowing all too well that that would only feed his curiosity. Although he stared at her until she felt uncomfortable, she didn’t elaborate, and he finally muttered something about having a meeting to attend. After getting her to promise to hook up with him later in the day, he got in his rig and drove off.
    Although it took a great deal of self-control to wait until he could no longer see her in his rearview mirror, Tory pointedly didn’t move until Fenton was out of sight. “I’m sorry he was so abrupt,” she told Black. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say next; what mattered was finding a way to get him to elaborate on what he’d said earlier. “It sounds as