The Rifters by M. Pax

Chapter 5

You can download this book at Amazon, B&N, Kobo, iBooks, Googleplay, and Smashwords. Until 12/31/14, it's free on all sites. Prior to 10/20/14, you can preorder the second book in the Rifters series, The Initiate for only 99 cents at Amazon, B&N, GooglePlay, and iTunes.

*****

Chapter 5

After every fruitful heist in the 1870s and 1880s, Earl had stashed away a handful of gold coins, his retirement fund. It would have bought him a few years of modest living then. In this later century, it funded his dreams. He had purchased land and built a luxury resort, Blackes Ranch Resort and Spa. His youth returned, money, the fixings to flaunt it, life in these modern times suited Earl better than his life in the 1800s had. He didn’t have to pretend to be a well-off businessman anymore.

He hiked west from Charming’s cottage down a dirt road to his ranch house of massive cedar logs, stone, and glass, bigger than any mansion he’d seen in his former century. A lava field hid it from town, making it appear as if he owned the whole of the old crater by himself. He had built the ranch at the far end of East Lake within sight of the shore. A marina jutted out into the calm waters, heated to a comfortable temperature by the sleeping volcano. The geothermal activity dotted the lake with bubbles, their rings marring the perfect reflections of sky and mountains.

Beside the house, sat the spa in a cedar-planked lodge of its own. Huge windows sparkled in the sun, revealing the delights inside. From his bedroom on the top floor of the house, Earl could take in all of the area’s splendor. In the summers he spent the dark hours watching the obsidian pillars.

“Not bad for a miner who never found more than a fistful of nuggets,” he said.

As he saw it, the world owed him for his life in the previous century. For other’s ideals in 1862 he had learned to master slop, blood, and death, delivering it, holding the last moments of those around him succumbing to bullet, ball, and cannon. During it all, he had lost his soul, and he believed he should be compensated for it.

Digging up his gold and selling it had finally given him the future for which he had yearned. Yet once he established his beautiful life, it wasn’t enough. It didn’t make up for what the war had taken from him. It didn’t make up for leaving his wife and daughters to fend for themselves in 1867. He had never returned to the Midwest. Maybe he’d never be able to right such a terrible wrong, but he kept trying.

An employee booked most of the guests for the resort ranch off of something called the internet. Earl didn’t understand the half of it or the machine that ran it. The idea of a box slimmer and lighter than a strongbox to communicate with the world awed him. No one had imagined such a thing in his former time. Guests took rooms on the first and second floors of his home. Although he didn’t let anyone close, he enjoyed having people around.

Down the dirt road, through the lava and trees, and up his long driveway, he thought about Daelin. It surprised him how little Charming and she resembled one another. If he didn’t know they were related, he never would have guessed. Daelin appeared to have more of an aesthetic for fine things than Charming, was taller than he expected, and had a boldness under her shaken nerves. Where Charming conjured up thoughts of light, Daelin made Earl think of shadows. They both had good brains. Eventually Daelin would find out he was more than her sister’s landlord and would ask a lot questions. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he couldn’t disclose Charming’s secrets. They were too dangerous.

Wilma Rider sauntered out of the spa, waving at him. “Mr. Earl, I didn’t see you leave this morning.” The glossy light brown tendrils of her braid never strayed out of place, nor the sheen on her lips. She wore no other makeup other than her nude-tinted lip gloss. In her mid thirties, she was a handsome woman, but her personality was too close to his former wife’s, one that grated on his nerves if he was around it too long.