“Is he much different than the first Morgan, the one who never came home?”
“In almost every way,” Mead replied. “My real brother was a hard man, and barely social. A grunt was his expression that something Ma put on the table tasted good.”
“Sounds charming,” Cara offered sarcastically.
“He wasn’t. I wish I could say I miss him, but I don’t. Just the way our Morgan treats Ma is enough to make me love him, and I do. He’s thoughtful, kind, and a remarkable man. Callie Mae is lucky to have him, and lucky he hasn’t made her sell that saloon.”
“Could he do that? I mean legally?” Cara asked in surprise.
“Yes, he certainly could. He’s her husband. She’s obligated to do as he asks with any property she once owned.”
“That’s not right,” Cara protested, wiping her mouth with her napkin, and shooting it down in righteous anger.
“No, it’s not, but that’s the way it is,” Mead replied almost regretfully.
“It won’t be for much longer,” Cara offered with a grin as she picked up their plates. “Women will have the vote soon. Then things will change.”
Mead snorted and rose to help her, shaking his head. She didn’t know the men of Kansas.
“You ready to get back to work?” he asked.
“I will be, just as soon as I take a shower,” she replied. “I’ll see you in the office in ten.”
The hours passed,each one leaving them more desperate, more distraught. Every time Mead found an article fromThe Kansas City Star. He read it carefully before printing it out and showing it to Cara. The stack of papers grew ever larger. Surely there had to be something, some tiny morsel of news, some tidbit of information buried between ads for women’s corsets or coal burning stoves! Even in a small town, news trickled slowly to the larger papers and eventually a slow news day would come along, and it would be printed, even if it was weeks later.
The minutes seemed to crawl by. Tired, his vision blurred by exhaustion, Mead was ready to give up and sleep for a few hours.
“Come on, Cara,” he pleaded. “We need to get some rest. I can barely see the print any longer.”
“Just a little while longer, Mead” she argued, her voice hoarse with exhaustion. “I can’t stop yet. The answer might be right here, just a few clicks away.”
“All right,” he answered getting up to go make another cup of coffee on the fancy machine in the kitchen. “One more hour and then we’re going to get some rest. And I don’t want to hear one bit of argument from you, or I’ll do exactly what Witt would do if he were here.”
“What?” she gasped out in surprise.
“You heard me. I’ll give you a good spanking and put you to bed whether you want to go or not,” he insisted as he left the room. “After all, if you take ill, I’m lost.”
Cara rolled her eyes before turning them back to her screen.
“You don’t have the energy to do that.”
“You’re probably right,” he grumbled as he limped away.
Cara lifted her head, her gaze following him from the room. He was right, of course. Without her, he had no chance of going home. It was wrong of her to put her health and his future in any more jeopardy than it already was. Not to mention he was clearly in pain. When he returned with the coffee she took it from him gratefully, murmuring an apology.
They foundthe article at 4:55 in the morning, just five minutes before Mead was going to demand they stop. The text was light, clearly added to the archives long after it had originally been printed. Cara gasped as she read it and Mead was instantly over her shoulder. In all reality it was more of what would be considered today as a public service announcement, and it was short on details, but they both knew what it meant. No wonder they’d missed it.
“Oh my God,” Mead cried. “I have to get back, Cara! I have to get back as soon as possible! Everything’s going to hell in a handbasket! Think of something,” he ordered.
“I’m trying,” she cried, jumping to her feet, and snatching the paper from the printer tray, reading it again as though she couldn’t believe her tired eyes. “This is quite horrific,” she said, putting a hand to her forehead.
Mead watched what little color she had fade from her cheeks and stared at her.
“Witt,” she cried out as though she were mortally wounded. “Oh, Witt, I’ve screwed things up so terribly. My darling, if you can hear me, if any part of you is somehow still around you have to help me,” she sobbed out.
“Stop it!” Mead ordered, grasping her shoulders, and giving her a shake. “Cara, you have to pull yourself together. Think, sweetheart, think. Witt was not with you when you sent Morgan back, yet you were smart enough, knowledgeable enough to make it happen. You can again. I know you love Witt with all of your heart, and you’ve come to depend on him, but surely you can manage on your own when you have to. And right now, you have to. Do you understand me? Do you understand how vital you are to me, to Witt, to all of us?”
“You’re right,” she replied, wiping the tears from her eyes, and squaring her thin shoulders. “I’m a competent, talented quantum physicist and I’ve studied time travel inside and out for years. What time is it?” she demanded, squinting at her watch.
