West

Fighting Badger … but he collected bodies in his cave. He didn't throw them in wells.

A message popped up on my screen.

My god. You need to work fast. We sent you all back to John, because he is in the right location, senile and would accept you without question. I don't know how someone figured out what we were doing. If you can get DNA, we'll confirm if those three are your predecessors. Any idea where the fourth is? She wasn't like you all.

"Really, Carter? DNA?" I replied.

How did he not think that sending back four girls to the same old man wouldn't raise suspicion? That cousin Philip and nanny Nell weren't going to notice when someone unrelated to the family like the sheriff had figured it out?

Um, I'm not crawling down there for DNA samples. I replied. There's a lightening storm tonight. If I can talk Running Bear out of starting a war, can you bring me home tonight?

I pushed myself away from the wall. I trotted around the side of the barn, no longer caring how nice John was or how bad the storm was going to get. The Native Americans had said their lands were towards the west, along with the location where I had arrived. I was going to tell their chief about the rampage and then go back to the moldavite and wait for Carter to get me.

Entering the warm barn, I saddled the horse I had borrowed a few days ago and led him out of the barn, mounting after I closed the door. The gown in all its layers was uncomfortable and bulky but thick enough to protect me from the wind.

I oriented myself then urged the horse to go west, towards the road that ran towards town, between John's lands and that of the natives. It was the same direction as Fighting Badger's cave. Though I didn't recall anything in his mind about his village being close, the frequency of his brothers' visits made me think that this general direction was a smart place to start.

I can't do this anymore. It took effort to suppress my growing panic.

The charged wind was growing stiffer, the rumbling thunder closer. I glanced up nervously. If my choice was to brave a storm and be home in my time by morning or stay inside where it was safe until someone threw me in a well, I would brave the storm without question.

But John … I ached knowing he was dying. Confusion and fear sent my thoughts spiraling down scary paths, and I pushed them away. John was one man. I cared for him, but I needed to fix things. I wasn't going to be the fourth body in the bottom of a well!