Inez Wiley gave up pretending to clean, walked upstairs, and lay down on the bed. For a while, she watched little dust angels floating in the beams of sunlight coming through the window. After a few moments, she extended her arm across the covers and splayed her fingers over the empty space next to her. Where her Enoch should be. Damn this world and whatever brought us here.
Sixty-one was too old for this pain. She had already lost two of her children, and two grandchildren, when Grantville went back in time. Anyone not in the vicinity of Grantville remained in the year 2000. Not just left there. They no longer existed. That whole timeline was completely altered by Grantville’s relocation to 1631 Germany. At least that is what most Grantvillers thought and what made the most sense to her. Her bright and loving Emily gone. John as well. And Emily’s sweet girls, her granddaughters, Kaylie and Sarah. Sarah had been the apple of her eye. Such a happy child. Full of hugs and tickles for her gammie.
She knew Enoch wouldn’t like these thoughts. He would say that Grantville and its people were sent to the past because that is what God intended. His stubborn presbyterian beliefs left him no doubts. She had relied on him to be certain, when she could not be. But now he was gone. Killed by assassins who weren’t even after him. They wanted Grantville’s Mayor dead, and Enoch happened to be standing too close. She didn’t even know who to hate. The killers’ true motivations had not yet been unraveled.
Knocking on the door below interrupted her thoughts. Damn. She had forgotten. Mary Jo Kindred was here to help pack away Enoch’s things. It would be no small task. He had been a pack rat. Mary Jo had been pestering her to put most of it away. It wasn’t good she said, to be surrounded by the constant reminders. In a moment of weakness, Inez had relented.
A loud voice rose from outside. “Inez McDow Wiley. I know you’re up there. Get down here and let us in.”
She sighed and made her way downstairs and opened the door. Inez had to hold up a hand to shade her eyes from the sun. “Well, if it isn’t the whole Red Cross chapter.”
“Just the pushy old ones,” Kathryn Riddle said. “Everyone else was too polite to barge in.”
“More likely too scared of Inez,” Mary Jo said. “Even with her gimpy leg.”
“We aren’t that old yet Kathryn,” Linda said. “I’m barely past fifty. And because they aren’t making Doritos or Ho Ho’s in 1635, I’m in better shape than I was at thirty.”
“Me too,” Mary Jo said. She made a sexy pout, stuck a hip out, and gave them her best Marilyn Monroe pose.
Kathryn snorted and chuckled.
Inez smiled at that. Kathryn was easily amused. Which, at this moment, was ironic because she was, by far, the best-looking of their group. Even at fifty-six, she could turn a much younger man’s eye. A classic Norse beauty. Mary Jo wasn’t really plump or short, but you might think she was, standing next to the willowy Kathryn. Inez remembered that people used to admire her looks, but life had been a little harder on her than her friends. Growing up poor in West Virginia tended to rub the shine off.
They each gave Inez a hug and pushed their way in. Linda had a basket of food and made her way to the kitchen. Mary Jo and Kathryn had small crates, like the ones that held produce before the days of cardboard boxes. There were no more decent cardboard boxes.
“I love ya’ll but–“
“No buts Inez,” Mary Jo said. “We aren’t throwing anything away, so you don’t need to worry. After lunch, some nice boys are coming with a wagon and big crates. Everything will go to the barn behind my house. If, in three months, you can actually remember something you must have, and describe it, I’ll dig it out for you.”
“Come on Inez,” Kathryn said, “you’ve been moping around for months and pining away in this house–“
“I have not. I’ve been to every church service and Red Cross meeting since Enoch passed away. You can’t say I haven’t.”
“Yes. Well. We saw someone that looked like you,” Kathryn said.
“Enough chit-chat,” Mary Jo said. “We’ll start in the study. That’ll be the hardest.”
After a couple of hours, they had made a lot of progress. There were several piles of papers, mostly Enoch’s old sermons, lesson plans, and pamphlets. One big mound of books would go to the town library and another one to be sold. Inez hadn’t objected to anything. In fact, she wasn’t really paying attention to any of it, until she came across an old yellowed sheaf of papers stapled together. She sat back in Enoch’s desk chair and started reading.
“What cha got there hon?” Kathryn said, moving behind her.
“Oh. It’s an old flyer from an exhibition of a Gutenberg bible in 1961. In Princeton. Enoch went all the way there to go see it. He thought the Gutenberg bibles were so important. The first step toward getting them in the hands of the people, he said. He would mention it from time to time when he talked or preached about letting nothing stand between you and God. Although, used to be, he didn’t much care for the elaborate illustrations. Enoch felt they should have just printed as many copies as they could instead of taking time for adornment.”
Inez flipped to a place in the flyer showing one of the bible’s pages and handed it to Kathryn. “See that little monkey painted on that page? Cute isn’t it? Enoch didn’t think so. One of Enoch’s favorite sayings was as useless as a monkey in a bible. He somewhat changed his mind about the illustrations when the Brothers of St. John entrusted him to keep-safe their Book of Kells. I can’t count the number of times I caught him looking at those illustrations.”
Kathryn began reading the flyer. “This is a shame. It says here that many of the best-illustrated pages of the Princeton bible were lost over the years. Ripped out by art thieves before the value of the book was known.”
As Kathryn read on, her face froze and she stopped, grabbing Inez’s shoulder.
“Ow! Keep your pinchy bony fingers to yourself,” Inez said.
Kathryn ignored her, staring at the text. “Inez. This bible is here!”
“What are you talking about?”
“In 1635, the Princeton bible is sitting on a shelf in Erfurt at the Prediger Church. A day’s ride away. It’s just gathering dust. The Lutherans took the place over during the Reformation and had no use for the out-of-date Catholic bible so it got put in storage. We could go get it!”
“What? Why?” Inez said.
“You said yourself that this bible was important to Enoch, and he even came to appreciate its beauty. Maybe in 1635 it has all its pages. We can save it. It can go right beside the Book of Kells. Oh, hell yes. We are going. And it may be just the thing to break you out of this funk.”
Inez scrunched her face. But she had to concede, Enoch would have approved.
Kathryn yelled. “Linda. Mary Jo. Road trip!”
* * *
The tall man with the broken nose looked down at Alfred Lange and considered. “Hit him again Arndt,” he said.
The sound of a sharp, hard smack filled the room and the man let out a howl. Or he would have, except for the cloth stuffed in his mouth.
“Not on his ear idiot. Look at that. He will have to make up a story for anyone who sees it. Below the ribs.”
Arndt hit him again. This time below the ribs.
“No, damn it. Did I say hit him again? I was just telling you where to do it, not to do it.”
Arndt shrugged. “Sorry.”
The tall man walked over and pulled the cloth out. “I apologize Herr Lange. I despise unnecessary violence. Perhaps you have something to say now?”
“Yes. Please. No more. I did hear something that might be of use,” Alfred said.
“Yes?”
“Well, I heard that a group of up-timers are going to Erfurt to get a book. A most valuable book. Perhaps the most valuable book ever made.”
“You see. Why do you make my job so difficult? I pay you for news from Grantville and I expect to get something in return. Now, tell us the details. Who, what, when, and where?”
Alfred did what he was asked.
After Alfred finished, the tall man looked down at him in silence for a few moments. “I think Arndt will need to put a splinter under a fingernail.”
“No! I gave you useful information. Please!”
“You’ve put me to a lot of trouble and I think Arndt hurt his hand. I cannot let that go. If my friends hear I let people get away with this sort of reluctance, well, it’s not good for business. Be glad. It would have been much worse if you hadn’t had anything for me. I hope, for your sake, it proves fruitful.”
Arndt stuffed the cloth back in Alfred’s mouth and grabbed his hand.
* * *
The train ride from Grantville to Erfurt took all day. It was actually two train rides, with a long wait between. The ladies were lucky to get tickets. Emperor Gustavus Adolphus, with whom the Grantvillers were militarily allied, was fighting the Poles and the remnants of the Holy Roman Empire at the same time. Something big was about to happen. Soldiers filled the passenger cars, and crates of supplies were stored in every nook and cranny.
Inez felt somewhat disappointed. She had heard that true steam locomotives were starting to appear on the lines. But the engines that pulled them from Grantville, and to Erfurt, were nothing more than repurposed trucks. Such was the nature of the technological marvels introduced by the up-timers to seventeenth century Germany. Whatever could be salvaged or modified to work was used. It would be a while longer yet before this world could produce and support twentieth century technology and infrastructure.
The ladies finally arrived in Erfurt after dusk. Only a few lamps shone in the area. Although some electricity had made its way to Erfurt, it was not yet a city of lights. For some reason, the City put the station in a transitional area. They could see some new construction, but plenty of dilapidated structures as well. Sounds of loud arguing drifted toward them from an alley. Even the sky felt ominous. Ragged dark clouds flew across the face of a new moon. Inez was glad that Mary Jo’s husband, Lyle, had insisted one of his warehouse guys go with them. Hans. Lyle had not liked the idea of this trip and thought the ladies had no business heading toward a war zone, even if the fighting was a long way off. But Lyle had never been able to dissuade Mary Jo from doing something she set her mind on. He insisted Hans go with them as an escort.
The ladies had decided that Hans was probably the most gorgeous man in Grantville. Mary Jo was sure that Lyle had picked him just to embarrass them. He was very tall for a down-timer. Over six feet. He had shocking blue eyes, and bright blond hair that fell nearly to his shoulders. He knew what he was. His clothes were all a bit snug and he obviously arranged those golden locks every morning. Mary Jo said they would have the last laugh on Lyle. She would ogle Hans the entire trip.
They asked Hans to go find a coach and he responded by looking around with squinted eyes and a frown. He suggested they should stick together. Inez scrutinized him for a moment and realized that Hans, while pretty, was not a bold man.
“Don’t worry dear,” Mary Jo said, patting him on the shoulder a little longer than was necessary. She then put her hand under his arm and they headed off to find transportation.
“Kathryn dear. You better go with them and chaperone. Linda and I will wait here with the baggage,” Inez said.
It didn’t take long for the group to find a suitable coach and return. After loading up, they set off for their lodgings.
Lyle had been able to obtain the use of a home for them that belonged to a merchant who had left with his family on a trip. This was fortunate because, with all the military traffic, rooms were hard to find. The household servants were expecting them and got everyone settled into various rooms. Inez didn’t sleep well. She seldom did the first night in a new place.
The next morning, they gathered for breakfast provided by the household staff. Inez, Mary Jo, Linda, and Kathryn sat together on one end of a table that looked like it could accommodate twenty people. Inez looked around at the rich surroundings and wondered what business the merchant was in that afforded such wealth.
“Well,” Mary Jo said. “The Prediger church isn’t very far. Let’s get our business done with the pastor there. I’m looking forward to the afternoon tour that Lyle set up. They found the church easily. Inez saw its roof as soon as they got to the end of the block. They crossed the river Gera, which Inez thought looked more like a stream, and they were there. The church was beautiful, although it lacked the grand adornment and scale of the catholic cathedral looming over the City a few blocks away. It reminded Inez of the clean and simple lines of roman architecture. In contrast to this, the altar and choir loft were ornately carved wooden structures. An enormous organ stood at the back of the church. Inez recalled that Bach himself played this organ, though she had no idea if he was here now.
The sound of a side door opening interrupted their gazing. Two cassocked men, and two laymen, came in from the right nave and approached them. One of the pastors smiled but the others all had grim expressions on their faces.
“You are obviously the ladies from Grantville. I am pastor Effler and this is pastor Buttstett, with whom you have been corresponding regarding the Gutenberg bible.” He pointed to the other two men. “These are elders Vetter and Kittel.” Pastor Effler held out his hand to each of the ladies and gave them a short shake. No one else offered their hand. He motioned them to sit in the pews and continued. “I am afraid pastor Buttstett may have gotten ahead of himself in his communications. You see, he should not have, by himself, promised that you could take a valuable resource of the church. I should have been consulted, along with the elders of this church.”
“Hang on,” Mary Jo began.
Inez stopped her by placing a hand on her arm. She could see that Buttstett was pained and embarrassed. “Pastor Effler. Gentlemen. We completely understand that miscommunications can occur. If we have in any way contributed to this misunderstanding, I do apologize. However, I think we all should recognize that this bible is of no use to you and, although it may have been valuable in the time we came from, it is of little value here and now.”
“Well . . . you want it,” Effler said, continuing to smile. “And whether we could sell it or not to anyone else, that gives it some importance. I could not countenance letting it go without the agreement of the congregation, and they are most concerned.”
The two laymen nodded their heads in unison.
Linda tapped Inez’s foot and rubbed her thumb and index finger together in the universal sign for money. Yes, they were posturing. So, he could be bargained with. But with what?
Mary Jo leaned in and whispered in Inez’s ear. “Get them to make the first offer. He who goes first, finishes last.”
Inez nodded. “Well. Is there something you think we can do for you that would make everyone concerned comfortable with releasing the bible?”
Effler didn’t flinch, but Kittel cut his eyes to Vetter, who gave him an almost imperceptible nod.
Oh yes. They want something.
Effler cleared his throat. “We have been trying, without success, to get some copies of a Lutheran Hymnal from your time. You may know that hymns are becoming an important part of the Lutheran service. And the radio broadcasts from Grantville, especially the Ole Timey Radio Hour, have made many of these songs quite popular. I have even heard some of Martin Luther’s own chorales sung on the show. To have the complete library . . . well, we would most appreciate having them. I have written several times to Herr Gary Lambert in Grantville, but he has never even replied.”
Kathryn let out a small chuckle. “I am sure–“
Inez quickly raised a hand. “I must confer with my friends on this. Please give us a moment.” And she pulled the other ladies away from the group of men.
“Kathryn. I cut you off because this is almost certainly not going to be a problem. But we don’t want them to know that. They’ll just ask for more. Let’s chit-chat for a while. Mary Jo, I want you to start loud whispering like you’re ticked off about offering anything. I’ll act like I’m calming you down. We’ll have to get a message back to Grantville to see if we can get a copy. I know dang well Gary Lambert must have several. He had all that other old Lutheran stuff they distributed at the colloquy in Rudolstadt a couple of years ago. He is like a dog with an old bone.”
The ladies went through their pantomime and then returned to the men.
“Gentlemen. We will have to bring you an answer tomorrow. What you seek may not even exist and may be hard to find if it does. I’ll have to use my influence. If I can do it, do we have a deal?”
The men looked at each other and nodded. Inez knew she had the barb set deep.
“Yes,” Effler said. “If you can get the hymnal to us, the Gutenberg is yours. Would you like to see it?”
Effler led them down to the crypt, which, despite the name, was only a lower room of the church. He inclined his head toward a table where two large, leather-bound books lay flat.
“May I touch it?” Inez said.
“Please do. I looked through it quite thoroughly yesterday. You’ll find it is complete. I know from your letters you were concerned that pages had been removed. I saw no evidence of that.”
They began turning the pages in the second volume. “It is beautiful Inez,” Linda said.
Inez found what she was looking for. The page with the little monkey at the bottom.
Effler looked over her shoulder. “I noticed that too. A bit unusual. I am not sure I care for such whimsy.”
“You are a man after my husband’s own heart.”
Effler frowned. “Yes. He was a Calvinist minister as I understand? Please accept my condolences. A terrible thing.”
“Yes, a Calvinist of sorts. We call our brand Presbyterianism. But it’s close.”
Mary Jo interrupted. “I think we should get going. We need to get messages out as soon as possible if we hope to have an answer tomorrow. I sure wish they had phone service up here. The telegraph will have to do.”
Mary Jo took care of the telegraph, which she addressed to Ed Piazza, their fellow-Grantviller, and President of the new country that Grantville was part of. She explained to Inez that they would be wasting their time trying to lean on Gary directly. Ed, however, had leverage over Gary, and Mary Jo had leverage over Ed. Being in the newspaper business tended to open doors with elected officials. Plus, they were all friends with Ed’s wife.
That done, they went back to the house to meet their tour guide, Artur. Artur explained that he was a second-son in one of the patrician families of the city. He proved to be a knowledgeable and resourceful guide. Hans begged off, to Mary Jo’s disappointment. She strongly suspected him of cheating on her with one of the household girls. After it was clear that Mary Jo had decided to nurse a good pout, Kathryn gave her a hard pinch, with a twist.
“Ow dang it. That hurt.”
“Well, stop acting like a little freshman girl with a crush on the senior quarterback. A little bit of this is funny, but you’re forgetting that you aren’t wild and single. Not to mention your age,” Linda said.
Mary Jo started to frown some more, but it quickly turned into a grin. She twisted her leg up and sideways, gave Linda a kick in the behind, and then scurried ahead to where Artur was so that Linda couldn’t retaliate.
Linda raised her voice. “And he’d be out of your league even if you were still sixteen.”
They spent the rest of the day on a walking tour of the City with Artur explaining all the buildings and the history. By dinner time, they were both exhausted and famished. The house staff served them a simple but hearty meal. Apparently though, the merchant did not drink or serve wine. Another one of Lyle’s revenges? To put them in teetotaler’s home? Mary Jo was quite convinced that’s what he did.
They sent Hans out to find them some wine but realized their mistake as soon as he returned. He brought, not bottles, but tankards of wine he had purchased from some tavern down on the river.
Poor Hans, Inez thought. None too bright either.
Kathryn took a sniff. “Oh my God. Hans. You’re hopeless. Take this to the kitchen. Maybe they can make vinegar out of it. Come on girls. My room. I was saving some schnapps to celebrate after we got the bible but looks like this is an emergency.”
They were all too tired to celebrate for long. But long enough to get tipsy. That night, Inez slept much better.
During breakfast the next morning, a runner arrived with a message from Ed Piazza. Linda read it to them.
Gary does have the hymnals and I have negotiated an agreement with him. He will provide five free copies of the 1941 Lutheran Hymnal, in German. They must contract not to reproduce or release these copies. Gary intends to print future copies for sale. He will give the Prediger church the opportunity to place an early order. He also wants an exclusive look at the Gutenberg bible as soon as it comes to Grantville. Tell Lyle he owes me one free pass. Ed.
Inez laughed. “Classic capitalism. Everyone gets something.”
“Hey,” Linda said, “It’s a better way than the king, or some central committee, passing an edict. Lyle is going to kill me though.”
“Oh. I agree,” Inez said.
“Which part?”
“Both. Although Lyle seems to realize he can’t beat you in a straight-up fight.”
“You got that right. But he’s a master of revenge served cold. Let’s get the deal done so we can spend the rest of the day shopping.”
The negotiations took a little longer than expected. The pastors wanted everything in writing and a notary had to be found. Inez also had to agree to pay for the church’s order of bibles. She hoped Gary wouldn’t be charging too much. But they finished before lunch and had all afternoon to browse the City’s shops. Which were impressive. Erfurt had benefited greatly as the largest city near Grantville. Bustling was an understatement. They even found a clothing store with a stock of pants that closely resembled up-time jeans. Inez bought every pair that might fit her granddaughter. The child loved up-timer styles but, even five years after Grantville went back in time, there was very little new up-timer clothing being made. Brette would be beyond excited.
By the end of the day, they had accumulated a large assortment of packages, and more were to be delivered to the house the next day. That night, they dined in a restaurant specializing in the Italian cuisine of the time. They all ate, and drank, a bit too much.
When they finally got back to the house, the housekeeper greeted them with the news that all non-military train travel had been canceled. Inez and Mary Jo had anticipated this might happen and had already found a cartage company that could get them and their belongings back to Grantville. Horses would have been faster than a wagon, but not all of them rode well, and Linda not at all.
The next morning, they found a teamster waiting for them in a ridiculous contraption. The teamster explained that it was, by far, the most luxurious vehicle in the City. It would be like riding on a cloud. And faster. Only two days to Grantville. The cartage company had apparently been to Grantville and acquired some junk leaf springs, a couple of old car axles, and a set of tires of dubious condition. They had built a wooden frame and box above it.
“My word,” said Linda. “That’s the most hillbilly thing I think I’ve ever seen.”
“Shh,” said Kathryn. “You’ll hurt his feelings. And if you think about it, he’s gotta be right. It’s gonna ride a lot better than some seventeenth-century contraption with iron-strapped wooden wheels that pretty much directly connect the ground to our butts.”
Hans had them packed up and ready in an hour. He may not be brave, or smart, but he certainly wasn’t lazy. Pastor Effler had packed the bible in a box with cushioning and sealed up the whole thing in an oiled cloth.
“Ladies,” Inez said. “Barring anything unforeseen, we’ll get to Arnstadt today, about halfway back. Thank goodness they have an Inn that is up to the Grantville’s standards of cleanliness and pest control.”
The road surprised Inez. It looked like Grantville had graded and improved it all the way to Erfurt. She hadn’t expected that. The driver and Hans sat on a high board in front. The wagon had a second bench seat just behind the front one, but it faced backward. It had cushions and could seat all four women, though Linda chose to sit on top of some luggage and face forward. The morning air chilled them but, as the sun rose, it got warmer. A nice breeze kept them comfortable in the afternoon. But the road was quiet as a country church on tuesday. They saw only one wagon all day, and a few locals on foot.
They rolled into Arnstadt with an hour of sunlight to spare. Inez had not been here before. The closeness of Grantville had clearly influenced the Town. New homes and businesses were everywhere they looked. They had taken the new sanitation measures to heart. Street cleaners seemed to be on every block, and the town had none of the stench that most municipalities suffered from in the summer.
Inez thought the Town was utterly charming. Much of its early architecture still stood, including the city wall and a medieval gate under a tower. They drove by the quaint St. Boniface church, which, she had heard, would become the Bach church, because Johann Bach played the organ there for a while. Just how many churches did he play the organ in?
It was silly perhaps, but Inez slept with the bible under her bed covers. She wouldn’t be able to rest if it were left in the wagon, no matter that the teamster slept there.
The next day came with clouds and a chill wind. The driver thought they might get rain. He took the precaution of putting a covering over the wagon. After a few hours, they entered the dense forests to the west of Grantville. Most of the rest of the journey would be in these dark and quiet woodlands.
They met no one on the road that morning. It didn’t seem natural to Inez. The forest became thicker and imposed a silence on the group. Linda told them the story of three Roman legions who were wiped out, to a man, by the German tribes around 1,600 years ago. She said it happened in this same forest on the other side of Erfurt. Inez thought it was a little further away than that but didn’t bother interrupting the story. Linda intended it to be a ghost story that would shake them out of their unease. It had the opposite effect. Inez imagined painted German tribesmen charging at them through the trees with their axes and spears as they must have done to the Romans.
The driver suddenly pulled the horses to a stop with a sharp jerk of the reins. Linda tumbled off her perch and landed in a heap in the bottom of the wagon.
“Dag nab it. What the heck,” Linda said, rubbing her knee.
“What happened,” Kathryn said.
“There is a tree across the road up ahead,” the driver said. “Hans? You have young eyes. Can you see if it was cut or if it fell over on its own? I can’t see three horses ahead in this dank place.”
“It looks broken off at the stump to me,” Hans said.
The driver reached under his seat to pull out his musket.
A voice called out from the side of the road. “If you please, stay your hands driver. There is no need for anyone to be harmed.”
A tall, light-skinned man, with reddish hair and a crooked nose, looked out from behind a rock. He pointed a large wheellock pistol at them. “You, the young man, and the ladies please put your hands where I can see them. I do not wish to, but I will shoot anyone does not keep them that way. And just so you know, I have a man behind you. Wave to the ladies.”
A shorter, darker man stepped into the road behind them and gave them a wave. He had a very old blunderbuss of some sort pointed at them.
As they were looking at the man behind them, the tall one slid the musket out from under their driver and laid it on the road. “I am afraid I must take your wagon and put you on foot. And–” The man looked at Hans. “I said keep your hands out. I will not ask again.”
Inez could see that Hans was not trying anything. He was just petrified. His eyes were wide open and his body trembled.
“I said hands!”
And with that, Hans cried out, leapt from the bench and ran toward the woods.
Inez heard the shorter man’s gun go off behind them, quickly followed by the tall man’s wheellock. Without thinking much, she reached into her large travel bag and came out with a short-barreled shotgun. The wagon horses were beginning to panic at the commotion, so Inez jumped over the side. She felt a jolt of pain in her bad leg and partly crumpled. But she pushed off the ground and limped around the front of the horses. She saw the tall man still looking at the woods and leveled at him, pulled the first trigger, and then the next. The forest around them echoed the shotgun’s sharp cracks. The man fell forward with a strangled cry and began screaming.
Crap! She had forgotten the extra shells. She whirled around to find the shorter man trying to reload.
“Hey. Stop right there or I will shoot you down so help me God.” And she aimed at his face and started walking toward him. She hoped like heck he didn’t know much about up-timer shotguns.
The short man dropped his blunderbuss but reached for his sword. Inez thrust the shotgun out at him. An eternity seemed to go by. Then, his will broke, and he raised his hands in the air.
Thank God he didn’t realize I was empty.
“One of you ladies bring me that little heavy red box in my big bag right now please. And a length of rope for this fellow.” She hoped the driver would have the sense to retrieve his musket quickly. She risked a glance and saw him picking it up at that moment. Good man.
Linda found the ammo box and the driver handed her a long piece of leather.
Mary Jo and the driver went to the tall man to make sure he was no further danger. They needn’t have bothered. He was writhing on his stomach and still screaming in pain.
“Shit Inez. You shot this guy right in the ass. He’s a right mess.”
After a few minutes, both men were tied and in the wagon. Linda did the best she could to bandage the tall man’s wounds. His pants were soaked in blood. Inez sat on the bench with the shotgun, now reloaded, watching. The driver had found Hans, who was too embarrassed to say anything. Fortunately, both shots missed him completely. He and the dirvers were now taking turns with an ax clearing the tree in the road.
“Geesh Inez,” Linda said. “I didn’t know you had that thing. How did you do all that? We were all too scared to move.”
“My grandaddy gave my momma this gun to take with her when she went midwifing in the backcountry. He cut the barrel and the stock so it fit in her bag. She used it a few times too. Though only once on a person that I know of. But she didn’t have to shoot him. When I started joining her in her midwifing, granddaddy made sure I knew how to use it. But I’m sorry I had to. He’s not gonna die you think?”
“No. Unless it’s of infection. Or if you can die of crying like a baby. He’ll find pooping a chore for a long time though.”
Inez smiled and Kathryn and Mary Jo burst out laughing. Linda joined them. But the laughing ended quickly. Inez actually put her hand over her mouth as other emotions washed in.
Linda got a serious look on her face. “He’ll be fine. He’s not even bleeding that bad though I’m sure it hurt’s like hell.”
“Good thing for him I didn’t have it loaded with buckshot. He’d be a dead as a doornail,” Inez said. “My grandaddy told us to always load a buckshot shell in the second barrel. He’d be mad I forgot about that. I didn’t really think we would need a gun at all. Frankly, I was gonna let them have the bible until the shooting started.”
The rest of the day was not pleasant. It got colder and the tall man continued his wailing, albeit with a weakening voice.
With only a few minutes of dusk left, they finally reached one of Grantville’s border posts. There were several guards there and one officer of the Town police. Fortunately, he knew the ladies well and, after getting approval from the Chief on their radio, let them go home with the promise they would come into the station for a full report the next day. They called a squad car for the short man and an ambulance for the tall one.
* * *
Kathryn and Linda stayed at Inez’s house that night to keep her company. Inez knew they were concerned about her and felt she was bottling everything up. Which, she knew she was. Despite that, exhaustion got her through the night.
Inez awoke to the sound of a light rain pattering outside her window. The sound of plates and cups clinking in the kitchen rose from downstairs and she could smell coffee and bacon.
Inez pulled on some sweatpants and a clean T-shirt and padded down the steps. She saw Mary Jo had arrived and was seated at the breakfast table with Kathryn while Linda was plating some food at the counter.
“Well. The dead hath arisen,” Mary Jo said. “It would have been okay to take a few more minutes to fix your face and comb that mess on your head.”
“Good morning to you too,” Inez said. She plopped on a chair and accepted a cup of coffee form Linda with a smile.
Linda sat. “Well, do we need to get our stories straight before we go talk to the cops?” She said this with a grin on her face.
“Let’s talk about Hans,” said Mary Jo. “You can bet Lyle’s gonna pay for saddling us with that useless hunk of man-flesh, gorgeous that he is . . . but I don’t want to get him fired . . . hmm.”
“Seriously, Linda said. “I do think we need to talk about it. I need to talk about it any way.” She gave Inez a lingering look. “How bout you girl. How do you feel?”
Rather than answer, Inez stood up quickly from her chair. She cocked her head sideways, frowned, and raised a hand to her face.
“Inez,” Mary Jo said. “What’s the matter?”
“Get the Gutenberg out for me please. Put it on the table. I’ll be right back.” She left and went upstairs.
A few moments later, Inez came back in with the Princeton exhibition circular and began flipping through the pages. The girls had the two volumes of the bible unboxed and out on the table.
Inez stopped turning the pages of the circular and smacked the back of her hand against them. “The monkey.”
“The monkey?” Linda said.
Inez put down the circular and pointed at the picture of the monkey. She then began flipping through one of the Gutenberg volumes until she found it. “It suddenly hit me. When we verified it was the Gutenberg in Erfurt, I didn’t notice it . . . Look!”
And then they saw it. The two monkeys were identical. Except the faces were turned in different directions.
“Did they cheat us?” Linda said.
“I don’t see how,” Mary Jo said. “Look. The illustration on this page matches the circular perfectly in every other respect.”
“The pictures were done by hand, so no two books were alike,” Inez said. “And the book was exactly where it was supposed to be. Even if they had wanted to, could they have made such an otherwise perfect duplicate?”
Over the next half hour, they compared everything they could between the bible and the circular. Everything else seemed to be the same, down to errant marks and flourishes in the illustrations.
“Could the monkey have been repainted?” Linda said.
Inez paused. “It’s possible. This circular isn’t the best quality print. But I don’t think so. Wouldn’t we see some damage or remains of the original face? And why would anyone erase the old face and then repaint it with the monkey looking in a different direction?”
“Well, it beats me. Maybe they decided there was a theological reason he shouldn’t look left. These Germans might have called a three-day colloquium just to argue about it. You know how they can get.” Mary Jo said.
Kathryn cleared her throat. “I can think of one explanation.”
Inez, Mary Jo, and Linda looked at her in silence.
“You know most people think we went back in our own timeline. But there are a some folks, me included, who believe there are a series of timelines stacked side by side. The ones closest to you are the ones most like your own. But there are slight, perhaps extremely rare, differences. Maybe we discovered one? I admit we can’t be sure, but it looks that way to me.”
Inez stared out the window for a few moments and then went to her coach and sat down. She cupped her face with her hands and her eyes welled with tears.
“Inez. Sweetheart. What is wrong?” Mary Jo said.
“Don’t you see? If we didn’t go back in our own timeline, then my babies. My grandbabies. This means they are still there in the timeline we left. Still alive.” She dropped her head and it all washed over her. Inez began crying in earnest. Great wracking sobs. Like a beast was trying to tear at her from within. Mary Jo, Linda, and Kathryn surrounded her. Put their arms around her. And held her, for a very long time.
The End
Chuck Thompson's Writings 