Page 4 of Borrowed Time

“During her time here in Flagstaff, Deborah’s mother claimed to be a member of the Landon clan from Missouri and called herself Eliza Prewitt,” theprimussaid. “I think it simplest to tell everyone you are also Landons, come in search of her. To that end, it would probably be best if you presented yourselves as ‘Eliza’s’ brother and sister. That way, no one will ask too many questions about your relationship.”

At those words, an immediate protest rose to Seth’s lips. There was no way in the world he wanted to pretend to be Deborah’s brother. His feelings toward her might have become much more complicated over the past couple of days, but he knew they were far from brotherly.

And why had her mother presented herself as a member of a clan not her own?

He shoved that question toward the back of his mind, since he knew Jeremiah wouldn’t answer it anyway. As much as he disliked theprimus’splan, he knew it had its merits. No one would have too many issues with a brother and sister traveling together, and although feature for feature, he and Deborah didn’t look at all alike, they at least had the superficial resemblance of medium brown hair and blue eyes. They’d probably pass…as long as no one looked too closely.

Even though he knew he probably wouldn’t get a straight answer, he went ahead and asked anyway.

“Where did Deborah’s parents go?”

“Home,” Jeremiah said briefly.

No mention of where exactly “home” was, which Seth assumed was nowhere near Missouri…or 1884.

“But enough of that,” theprimuswent on. “I will make sure to secure rooms for you at the Hotel San Francisco, since it would look very strange for me to host a couple of witches from the Landon clan here in my own home.”

Although Seth was certainly glad that he wouldn’t have to stay under Jeremiah’s roof for any longer than was necessary, he couldn’t quite hold back a thrill of alarm on Deborah’s behalf. “Will it be safe to move her?”

“We won’t do so until my sister lets me know she is sufficiently healed,” Jeremiah replied. “In the meantime, though, it can’t hurt to make the arrangements — and to make sure you’re properly outfitted. The clothes you’re wearing aren’t immediately anachronistic, but Deborah’s are another story.”

The man had a point there. Seth guessed that no one would probably give his band-collared shirt and suspenders and heavy canvas pants a second look, even though they probably weren’t quite what men in the 1880s might have had in their wardrobe,but that thin summer frock Deborah had on wouldn’t even be allowed as an undergarment in 1884, let alone something worn on the street.

“Will it be that easy to get us what we need?” he asked.

“We have quite a good general store here,” Jeremiah replied. “But Deborah’s parents also left their things behind when they departed, and I’m hopeful they’ll fit well enough to get you started.”

What in the world had gone on here? Had the couple disappeared into thin air, just like he and Deborah had?

Seth didn’t want to acknowledge the more frightening implications of all this — that Jeremiah obviously expected his and Deborah’s stay here to be one of some duration and that they needed to have both a good cover story and sufficient wardrobes to maintain their false identities. While he wished he could believe all would be remedied as soon as she awoke, he knew that was probably wishful thinking. Whatever force had sent them from their own time to Flagstaff in the 1880s, it had to be something that had happened spontaneously with no real thought. She’d been hanging onto consciousness and certainly in no shape to cast any kind of powerful enchantment.

Which meant that getting out of here was going to be tricky.

“All right,” Seth said, knowing he sounded far too resigned, “let’s see about those hotel rooms.”

2

COMING CLEAN

Devynn Rowe

Flagstaff, 1884

My eyelids fluttered open.The room where I lay was dim, lit only by a single kerosene lamp sitting on a dresser on the other side of the space.

That didn’t feel right. Technology and creature comforts in Jerome in 1926 were a lot more primitive than what I was used to, but at least they had electric lights.

Come to think of it,nothingfelt right. My entire body felt oddly limp, wrung out as a used washcloth. And there was a strange ache in my midsection, although when my searching fingers touched my flesh there as I reached up and under the flannel nightgown I wore, everything felt normal enough, the skin of my stomach smooth against my fingertips.

That wasn’t right, though. Something awful had happened, hadn’t it?

A dim memory of a steep canyon, shadowed by the coming of dusk, flickered at the edges of my mind. Seth and I arguing…his brother appearing out of nowhere…and then that other man.

The one with the gun.

I tried to sit up, and at once, a gentle hand touched my arm. “It’s all right, Deborah. You’ve been asleep for a while.”

Deborah? Who the hell was Deborah?

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