West

Thank you for volunteering. But for what exactly had I volunteered? Time travel? How was that remotely possible?

"What year is it?" I asked cautiously.

The lawman didn't answer for a moment. "You know your name but not the year."

"Rough night," I said in what I hope was a cheerful voice. "Help a girl out?"

"Eighteen forty two."

"Of course." There's no way.

We reached the crest of one of the rolling hills and halted.

The idea Carter had somehow sent me back in time didn't catch footing until I saw the town nestled in the valley below. Lanterns glowed in houses and stores along a main strip while smoke curled out of squat, brick chimneys. The roads were dirt, the buildings wooden, the posts in front of each occupied by horses or wagons.

The tiny town was like something out of an old western movie, only worn, rustic and realistic, designed for function rather than as a tourist destination or movie set.

Authentic.

A stab of pain went through my skull. Carter's warning about having a headache returned. Did he really do brain surgery on me, too? Was that worse than being sent back in time? A vacation I could almost agree with but brain surgery?

Tunnel vision clouded my vision while ringing filled my ears. I slumped against the man in front of me.

"I'm not feeling so well," I murmured. "Might be … a brain … chip … issue …"