A/N: Thank you, frtaylor and Timeless Badger, for your amazing reviews. I appreciate the kind words so much! After the week I've had, this was much needed. Sorry, this is a shorter chapter but I needed to conserve power and was able to get this uploaded and the final edit done. I really do appreciate the kindness and dedication to the story. It means so much. Thank you. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Present Day

Tenley sat at her desk in the infirmary, flipping through the pages of the old journal once more. Nothing had changed within the written words. She sighed heavily, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear as she flipped the book closed.

Just as Tenley was ready to toss the book into a drawer, the overhead alarm chimed. "Active time travel initiated."

Tenley glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall above the door to the infirmary. The team hadn't been gone long enough to be coming back so soon. Something was wrong. She pushed her chair out from the desk, locking the journal in her supply cabinet for safekeeping before heading toward the control room.

Rounding the corner into the control room, Tenley saw she was the last to arrive. She blinked at the others surprised. Jiya's eyes bounced about the screen as she read, "Isles of Shoals, April 5, 1781…"

"April 5th?" Mason repeated. When everyone glanced over to him, he recalled, "Wasn't that the same date the others just left to?"

Jiya turned back to the computers, typing madly at the keyboard. A new set of windows popped up on the screen. She nodded. "Yeah," she admitted, "April 5, 1822…"

"So, Rittenhouse jumped again?" Wyatt questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. "Just to a different year and location?"

"Something's not right about this," Quinn stated. "This smells like a trap."

"How do you know?" Agent Christopher asked, turning her attention over to him. "You're suggesting we ignore this jump?"

He shook his head. "Probably not wise," he confessed. "We should check it out but…the timing certainly is curious."

Agent Christopher sighed heavily, shaking her head slightly. "We have no choice," she said, allowing her shoulders to slump forward ever so slightly. "Quinn, Wyatt, Tenley, and Jiya."

"Wait, what?" Jiya asked, eyes growing wide.

"We don't have much choice, I'm afraid," Denise admitted. "You're all we have left and the longer we wait, the less likely we are at stopping whatever they're planning on doing there."

Quinn turned his gaze over to Jiya. "Don't ye worry," he said, a small smile forming on his lips. "I'll watch out for ye."

Wyatt rolled his blue eyes, turning away from the control room to enter the landing room. Quinn followed behind, leading the others to his dark time machine.

Once the machine was gone from the landing room, Mason turned to Agent Christopher. "Something has gone terribly wrong."

She nodded glumly. "I know," she agreed," but there's nothing else we can do."

1822

The team found themselves heading deeper into town. As they walked by the general store, Rufus spotted a bulletin board hanging from the wall. He elbowed Flynn before meandering over to take a closer look. Flynn stopped the others, motioning to where their friend headed.

Rufus stepped up to the board, eyes darting about the hanging flyers tacked to the wood. Part of him hoped to see another series of 'wanted' posters with better representations of the team but was disappointed when there were none. What he did see, however, caught his attention.

He turned back to the team, making a bee-line for them, a small smile spreading over his face. "Jedediah Smith was a real person?"

Lucy cocked her head at him. "Yes, of course, he was…"

"It's just… I watch a lot of westerns," Rufus admitted, "but I guess I never really thought he was a real person."

"I'm sorry," Rowan began. "What does this have to do with anything?"

Rufus pointed his thumb over his shoulder toward the bulletin board. "It would seem that Mr. Smith is planning an-"

"Expedition," Lucy and Rufus said at the same time.

She nodded, mouth parting as her jaw jutted out in thought. "Of course," she recalled. "The west was still being settled into at this time. He was part of The Rocky Mountain group - a group of men who worked for fur trading before John Jacob Astor forced the company to go under his employ-"

"Astor?" Rufus repeated, brows drawing together, "Like the dude from Titanic?" Flynn and Rowan blinked at his random remark.

Lucy shook her head. "That was John Jacob Astor IV," she told him. "Astor would be his patrilineal great-grandfather."

"So," Flynn interjected, trying to keep everyone on track with the mission, "you think Rittenhouse is here for this expedition?"

Lucy shrugged. "It's the only thing that makes sense."

"What's so important about this group?" Rowan questioned. "Why would fur trading mean so much to them?"

Lucy shook her head. "I'm not sure that it does," she admitted. "I mean, eventually the fur business dies because the fashion evolves. No one was interested in beaver fur-"

"So, maybe it's one of the men involved in the expedition?" Flynn suggested. "Could one of them be important?"

Again, Lucy shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Well, it sounds like that's our best lead," Rowan admitted. "Let's see if they need any help on this long voyage of theirs." He turned toward Rufus and asked, "Did it say where to find these men?"

"Where else?" Rufus countered with a slight shrug, "the saloon."

Entering into the busy saloon, the team saw rugged men - some downright shady, like the kind you cross the street to avoid - eyeing them as they entered. They knew they looked like a ragtag group but it was still unnerving to be stared at.

They moved across the saloon toward the barkeep, who eyed Rufus carefully. "We don't serve their kind here!"

Rufus froze, feeling the tension inside growing. Glancing around, he could see the uncouth-looking patrons preparing to deal with him personally.

As Rufus opened his mouth to inform the others he'd wait outside, a large man dressed in furs and mountain trekking gear at the bar motioned to the barkeep. "Hey, how about you stop yelling at the locals and take some hard-earned coin?"

The barkeep eyed Rufus before serving the man at the bar. The team inched to the bar where the man sat drinking the warm whiskey from a semi-clean shot glass.

The man turned his gaze over to the team. "Not many would brave coming in here," he told Rufus, eyeing him out of the side of his gaze. "You've got guts, boy. I could use someone like you."

Rufus suppressed an elated smile, trying to keep his cool. "Well…" he began, looking at his friends, "We actually were interested in joining Mr. Jedediah Smith's little expedition."

The man laughed. "No one's called me 'mister' in a really long time…"

Rufus blinked at him, mouth opening to retort when Lucy asked, wide-eyed with admiration, "You're the Jedediah Smith?" He simply didn't look like what she expected him to - not like the paintings she had seen in her books.

The image of the man in her books looked to have a hook nose, dark flowing hair, and small eyes but the man sitting at the bar before her was completely opposite. Despite having been attacked by a grizzly bear a couple of years prior and having his scalp and ear torn off and sewn back on, he just didn't match his portrait.

The man sitting on the other side of the man chuckled, picking up his glass of whiskey. "Hear that, Jed?" he smirked, "You're famous in these parts."

Jedediah turned to his friend sitting on his right, chuckling. "What would you know about that, Jim?"

Lucy's eyes flitted over to Jim and immediately recognized him to be Jim Bridger. His rugged, weather-worn appearance matched every photograph she saw of him - right down to the amused twinkle in his gray eyes.

Jim shook his head, tossing the rest of his drink back before saying, "We might be in for some rough travel if we bring these fine folk out with us." His eye lingered on Lucy.

Jed turned to the four, eyeing them for a moment. "I do not believe they are all offering to go-"

"We are," Lucy interrupted.

Jed suppressed a laugh. "No offense, ma'am," he began, "but I ain't in the business of bringing along women on these expeditions."

Lucy was about to retort when Rowan asked, "About how long is yer expedition?"

Jed set his glass down on the bar top, turning to face the lot of them. It was clear to everyone he was growing annoyed. "Let me ask you this," he began. "How many of you are hunters? Trappers?" His eyes bounced about the four before he asked, "Have you ever come across Indians in the hills? Stared into a grizzly bear's jaw as it tries to eat you alive?"

He turned back to Jim. "Let's go gather the men," he ordered. "We have some ground to cover before nightfall." He looked at the team once more, tipping his hat in their direction. "Gentlemen. Miss."

Jim paused for a moment, watching Jed walk out of the saloon. He tossed his drink back, setting the print-smudged glass down. He looked at the team and suggested, "If you follow us, he might see you're serious about being a part of the group…"

"But?" Flynn asked preemptively.

Jim smiled. "But I think it's safer for all of you if you remained in town. It's dangerous territory out there," he told them, voice growing darker, "We've already narrowly escaped death once." Without letting them respond, he nodded curtly, brushing by them to join his friend.

Rowan glanced at the team. "So, what now?"

1781

The four members of the second team climbed out of the dark Mothership. Their eyes scanned the scenery. They landed nestled against a rocky crevice on one of the island clusters. Just at the shore of this particular island, they spotted a large herd of sea lions sunbathing in the last bits of sunlight for the day.

"Where are we?" Jiya asked, eyes squinting against the fading light.

Quinn's eyes drifted across the island, studying the layout of the islands in the distance. "Looks like we're on Star Island…" he pointed across the landscape, "they eventually build a chapel and large hotel in -"

"No offense but I'm not interested in the fifty-cent tour," Wyatt grumbled. "So, what else happens here?"

Tenley side-glanced Wyatt at his tone. She turned her gaze across the shore, taking in the waves as they crashed against the island. Sitting on the far end of the island was a tall two-story building. She pointed to it. "What's that?"

Without looking, Quinn replied, "A tavern or brothel, I would wager." When he spotted their expressions, he explained, "Given the date, it makes sense."

"Given the date?" Wyatt repeated, annoyed.

Quinn didn't react but calmly stated, "We are still in the midst of the piracy era. It only makes sense for that building over there to be one of those."

Jiya's eyes bounced between the two men. "So…" she began, drawing out the word, "Let's head that way…?"

Tenley and Jiya watched the two men carefully before making their way across the rocky fields toward the building in the distance. Eventually, the men followed, careful to keep a keen eye on each other.

The walk to the building took no more than fifteen minutes and once they arrived, they could hear the shanties being sung inside, quite off-key. Before they could enter the building, a couple of men stumbled outside, trying to fight each other but given their inebriation, they struggled to hit one another.

The team stood off to the side, watching them swing at the air before collapsing into the dirt. Blinking at the passed-out men, waiting with bated breath for them to move. When they didn't, Quinn grabbed one man under the arms, dragging him behind the building.

"What are you doing?" Wyatt asked.

Quinn didn't stop. "We need their clothes," he explained. "I don't know about ye but I'd rather not strip at the front door."

Wyatt nodded curtly. "Good point." He bent down to grab the other man, following Quinn around the building. Tenley and Jiya exchanged glances, unsure of what to do except wait.

Luckily for them, they didn't have to wait too long before the men returned, dressed as the drunkards they saw a moment ago. Wyatt's face wore a permanent scowl as he complained, "Ugh, this is by far one of the worst outfits we've ever stolen."

"At least ye look the part now," Quinn retorted. "Consider the smell part of the costume."

"And the vomit?" Wyatt questioned, lifting part of his coat away from him, showcasing the puke-laded chunks on the lapel. "Is that part of it too?" Quinn shrugged, a small smirk forming on his lips.

Tenley asked, "What do we do now?" she motioned between herself and Jiya, "We're not exactly dressed to go inside."

Quinn licked his lips, nodding. "Perhaps ye should wait here," he started.

Wyatt interrupted him, "By themselves? I don't think so-"

"If ye had let me finish," he countered, "I was about to suggest ye stay with them."

Wyatt blinked back his surprise. "Oh...yeah," he said, voice calming down, "that makes the most sense."

Another knowing glance between the girls before they turned their attention to Quinn. Tenley asked, "What are you going to do?"

"Find out why we're here," Quinn replied. He motioned off toward the side of the building. "Try to stay out of sight until I get back, yeah?" With that said, he turned on his heel, grabbed the handle to the run-down tavern, and jerked it open.

The music inside erupted loudly with the open door. Quinn stepped inside, letting the door close behind him. The three headed off to the side of the building, hoping to stay hidden until Quinn returned.