Chapter 7

"Uhn!"

The sudden grunt jolted Chris awake. In the early morning light, he didn't see anything amiss, but he reached for the gun under his pillow anyway.

"Mr. Dunne, I do not appreciate your advances," Ezra said dryly.

Chris sat up and looked toward the sound of the struggle and saw JD scrambling away from Ezra. Ezra sat up himself and dusted off his sleeves.

Chris felt his lips twitch in a grin. The way the kid had kept as much distance from Morgan as possible in the shared bed, it was only a matter of time before he had fallen over the edge. And apparently right onto Ezra.

Morgan was rubbing her eyes and sitting up. She squinted blearily.

"How's your head?" Chris asked her, putting his gun back in the holster under his pillow.

"Better. Good," she answered.

Chris gave a nod. She blinked and he saw when she noticed the pictures on the floor, where they had landed the night before. She frowned, then saw him watching her and quickly smoothed her expression.

The door to Cheyenne's room opened and she came out, a slight air of suspicion around her as she looked at the men. Not that Chris blamed her. If it was Morgan who had a houseful of strange men with her, he would be more than suspicious.

Cheyenne was wearing long pants today. But today's shirt was still missing its sleeves. Her long hair was pulled back from her face. She had several rings on her fingers and earrings that looked like blue feathers hanging from her lobes. It was the strangest get-up Chris had ever seen.

"I have Captain Crunch in the kitchen," she said. "I have to go…to work."

Chris heard the other men jolt to attention.

"Who's in the kitchen?" JD asked.

"No one," Cheyenne said, her brow wrinkling, then clearing as she understood. "It's the name of a cereal." She went to the kitchen and came back with a strange colored box. She turned the picture toward them. "Captain Crunch."

Morgan let out a laugh at the drawing of a captain. The sound eased some of Chris' tension.

"There's milk in the fridge," Cheyenne said, then seemed to think better of it. She opened the door to a person-sized box. "The fridge. Cold food goes in here." She looked around at all of them. "Maybe just don't…do anything stupid while I'm at work. Don't shoot anyone. Or let anyone see you. And feel free to time hop back to where you came from," she finished with a halfhearted smile.

Chris would like nothing better than getting back where they belonged.

She looked around at all of them and let out a long sigh before leaving the house.

Chris stood, getting his gunbelt fastened around his hips, feeling more comfortable with the familiar weight. He picked his blanket and pillow up from the floor and tossed them onto a chair.

Morgan started to fold the blanket she had been using, but there was a knock door. Chris moved to stand in front of Morgan. He was aware of Buck also moving closer to Morgan.

"Hello?" came the female voice. "Are you guys still there? It's Casey. From downstairs?"

The teacher and museum worker. Chris relaxed slightly. Vin opened the door.

The young woman gave them all a bright smile. "You're all still here," she said, actually sounding pleased about that. But then, they weren't all camped out on her floor.

"So are you," JD said, then flushed. But their downstairs neighbor didn't seem to notice JD's awkwardness. She came in through the door with a thanks to Vin for holding it for her.

"I was up all night thinking about all of you and how incredible this is."

Chris wouldn't call it incredible. Inconvenient. Frustrating. A nightmare. Any of those would be fitting.

"I was thinking of how you guys could fit in a little better." She stepped back out onto the small porch and lugged in two large bags and a third smaller one. Vin started to move to help her, but JD beat him to it and brought them inside.

"Thanks. JD, right? The sheriff?" Casey asked.

JD's ears burned red. But he stood a little straighter. "Yeah. That's me."

Casey turned her attention from him to the rest of the group. "There's a homeless shelter that has free clothes. I got some for all of you. Jeans, flannel shirts, t-shirts…" She started pulling things from the bags. The men gathered around.

Casey stepped back and let the men sort through the things. Chris frowned at the words printed on some of the shirts. He had never seen a picture or words on a piece of clothing before. There was one advertising whiskey. Vin held it up. "Perfect for you, Cowboy," he said, tossing it over to Chris.

Casey smiled at their obvious humor over what she had found before handing the smaller bag to Morgan.

Chris watched Morgan take it uncertainly. He couldn't remember ever seeing Morgan out of her element before. If she had ever felt uncomfortable, she had always managed to cover it with enough sarcasm and attitude to maintain the upper hand. Seeing her faltering so obviously was the worst part of this entire situation.

Chris couldn't see what Morgan had in the bag. But her face lit up and then she grinned mischievously and gave Buck a look that her brother didn't notice. Whatever was in the bag had given Morgan some of her attitude back. For that, Chris was thankful.

"So…the other thing is kind of…" Casey pulled a face. "This is a little awkward. Do any of you have any money?"

The men looked up from the clothes.

"We'll pay for this," JD assured her.

"No!" Casey said, looking horrified. "These were free. I was thinking of a little longer term. Feeding eight extra people," she trailed off again and bit her lip.

"We ain't expectin' that from Cheyenne," Vin said.

"We can go huntin' today," Buck assured her. "And Nathan's real good at scavenging plants."

Casey looked bewildered by his suggestion. "Um. Ok. No," she said. "That's not going to—we should probably put your guns somewhere safe."

Chris let that comment slide. He wasn't going around unarmed in some strange place. But he wasn't going to discuss it with this girl.

"I meant, I was researching money from your time last night. Do any of you have any money on you?"

The men all reached into their pockets and pulled out various paper bills and coins. They put them on the table that had been moved aside for the pullout bed.

"Ezra," Chris said.

Ezra hesitated, then heaved a sigh and reached into his boot for a fat wad of bills.

To Chris' surprise Casey ignored Ezra's stockpile and looked at the coins Vin had deposited.

"Let me know if anyone has enough to buy me a drink tonight," Morgan said, picking up the bag Casey had brought for her.

"Morgan," Buck said.

Morgan responded to his unspoken warning with a grin and went into Cheyenne's room, closing the door behind her.

"This is a double eagle," Casey gasped, picking up one of Vin's coins.

"Yeah. It's worth five dollars. You think we could get someone to pay us twenty or thirty for it, bein' it's old?" Vin asked.

Casey tore her eyes away from the coin she held and gaped at Vin. "You could get thousands for this. Tens of thousands."

This time all the men gaped at her.

"This is incredible," Casey breathed, looking at the coin again. "It's in such good condition. It's almost flawless."

Chris tried to wrap his mind around the amount of money Casey was saying.

"Can I keep the rest of the coins for now? To sort through them and look up their values?"

Her brown eyes were guileless. Vin shrugged, looked around at the other men. They all nodded.

"Wow. Thanks guys. This is amazing. So incredible." Chris got the feeling the value of the money wasn't what was leaving the girl in awe. She handled the coins like they were precious treasure, a link to an era she had only read about. Like she had with JD's sheriff badge.

"There's a guy at the history museum that specializes in post Civil War items and he loves coins. He'll be able to help me with the rest of these." She looked at Vin. "Thanks for trusting me with this."

Vin couldn't say anything. The lights started flashing. The men braced themselves for something to break, shatter, fly across the room. The chairs in the kitchen started clattering across the floor, building velocity until they finally were shoved over with a crash.

#

Morgan pulled the clothing out of the bag. Casey had found denim pants like she and Cheyenne wore, and a couple long skirts in the same material as the t-shirt Cheyenne had given her to wear. One was black, the other a dark green that reminded her of the pine trees in the mountains of the Arizona Territory.

Thoughts of back home, the place and the time, made her heart contract. If she started thinking too much about everything in this overwhelming new place, her throat would start to close, a hand of panic squeezing off the air like she was being choked.

The light on the bedside table flashed on, then off, on, off, blinking a pattern that matched the rapid pounding of Morgan's heart in her chest.

She took a deep breath, forcing it past the tightness in her throat and chest. She tried to will her heart to beat normally. Instead, as she fought the panic it just grew. She heard clattering start out in the other room.

"Stop it!" she whispered fiercely, not sure if she was ordering herself to calm down or the lights and furniture to stop moving. The lights burned brighter as her panic grew. The noise on the other side of the door grew.

Morgan clenched her hands, her nails digging into her palms, trying to focus on the pain and not the whirlwind of light and noise growing around her. There was a crash from the kitchen. The lamp next to the bed shook until it fell to the ground with another crash.

"Morgan?" she heard Chris call through the door.

She wasn't alone here.

The reminder sank through her fear.

"I'm—" she fought for a steady voice. She drew another breath and thought of Chris. Buck, Ezra, they were all in this strange place with her. They were together.

The light flickered once more, then turned off. Silence rang in the absence of the rattling furniture.

"I'm fine," Morgan called through the door, pleased her voice sounded like she hadn't been in here fighting for control.

Like she wasn't starting to fear that she was the one making the lights flash and breaking everything around her. She was somehow creating chaos all around them.

She pressed a hand to her mouth to hold back a cry that wanted to escape. The lamp that was lying on the floor turned back on, the pictures on top of the dresser started to shake.

Morgan quickly turned her mind back to the clothing in the bag. Not her fears. Not her rapidly multiplying guilt.

Anything but what she was destroying.

#

"What was that?" Casey asked.

"Morgan?" Chris called.

Buck let out a sigh of relief when Morgan answered Chris' call, then looked over at the fresh faced girl who was willing to help them. She was gripping JD's arm, eyes wide as she stared at the kitchen chairs in the aftermath of the recurring storm of movement and demolition. JD was alert, ready to defend the girl from whatever the hell kept swirling around them.

"What was that?" Casey asked again when none of the men answered.

"We don't know, Miss," Buck finally answered her. He didn't like admitting they had no idea what was happening. That nothing had made much sense since the lightning and the earthquake and them landing in the field where Cheyenne found them.

He saw Ezra's lips draw into a thin line, the way his eyes narrowed in thought. Ezra had an idea of what was happening. Buck started toward Ezra, but Ezra saw him and the expression on his face quickly smoothed as if there was nothing between his temples but a blank slate. He easily bypassed Buck, heading to the kitchen to right the chairs.

Buck gave Ezra his space. He'd find out later what Ezra was thinking. He went to get the pictures that had flown across the room the night before. He and the other men did what they could to right Cheyenne's home.

The door to Cheyenne's room opened and the men around him froze. Buck heard a strangled sound come from Vin.

Buck turned.

"No," he said. "There is no way on this green earth you are wearing that—that—whatever that is," he informed his sister.

Morgan stood in the door of the room in a tight pair of pants. They were flared out at the bottom. She was wearing a sleeveless shirt like Cheyenne had left the house in. It was cut lower than the blouses Morgan owned back home.

Too late, Buck realized his mistake. Morgan had looked uncertain at first. But when she heard Buck's hard line, any uncertainty left and she tilted her head to the side.

"This is what Casey and Cheyenne wear," she said.

Buck could read the challenge in her eyes. Daring him to say something in front of Casey about the men's pants and lack of fabric in the modern shirts that she and Cheyenne seemed to favor.

Buck grimaced and Morgan gave him a look that said she knew she had won. She turned her attention from him to Casey.

"Do you know where Cheyenne works?" Morgan asked her.

Buck sighed. There was no way Morgan was asking out of curiosity. And from what he had overheard between Cheyenne and her brother last night, he didn't want Morgan anywhere near Cheyenne's brother. He didn't want Cheyenne near her brother, either, but there wasn't anything he could do about that right now.

Morgan got the answer she was looking for and gave Buck the same look she had been giving him for the past six years, ever since she had decided she was plenty old enough to know her own mind at thirteen years old.

"I'll escort Miss Wilmington there," Ezra said.

Casey frowned. "In that? With those?" she asked, nodding toward his red suit coat, brocade vest, and then at his holster.

Ezra looked down at his clothing, flashy enough in their hometown, but Buck could only imagine how much attention it would draw where they were now.

"Come on, Ezra," Morgan said with a teasing smile. "You have to play the part here." A shadow flitted across her face as soon as she said the words.

The newly hung pictures rattled on their hooks.

"I'll change my attire first," Ezra said, drawing Morgan's attention back to him. He gave her a reassuring look. "We'll be completely mundane together."

Morgan managed a smile at his words.

Everything in Buck wished he could trust Ezra and Morgan to be mundane.

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