Hot Springs Meadow: A Thunder Mountain Novella: Thunder Mountain, #13

By Dean Wesley Smith

Jenny Lind, a traveler from the institute, found a hidden hot springs back in 1902 near the boomtown of Roosevelt.

In 2018, traveler Kathryn "Flag" Sinclair found an article that Jenny wrote for a local paper in 1903 about the hidden hot springs. And went in search of the hot springs.

Neither woman knew the other, or knew the other was a traveler from the institute back in time.

What happens next spans more than a century and might prove one of the more twisted Thunder Mountain adventures yet.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WMG Publishing
• Release date: Oct 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201009083

Dean Wesley Smith

Considered one of the most prolific writers working in modern fiction, USA TODAY bestselling writer, Dean Wesley Smith published far over a hundred novels in forty years, and hundreds of short stories across many genres. He currently produces novels in four major series, including the time travel Thunder Mountain novels set in the old west, the galaxy-spanning Seeders Universe series, the urban fantasy Ghost of a Chance series, and the superhero series staring Poker Boy. During his career he also wrote a couple dozen Star Trek novels, the only two original Men in Black novels, Spider-Man and X-Men novels, plus novels set in gaming and television worlds.

Book preview

Hot Springs Meadow

A Thunder Mountain Short Novel

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Dean Wesley Smith

Part One

A Meet Naked

Chapter One

June 26th, 1902

Monumental Creek, Central Idaho

Jenny Linde let the hot sun that hit the bottom of the deep canyon warm her like a soft blanket, but only a moment. Sun in these mountains was to be treasured. Then she nudged her horse Constance into the shade of the pine trees towering around her and started up the narrow side canyon. It felt like it had been days since she had actually been warm through and through.

The Idaho wilderness in early summer had temperatures that could vary from bitterly cold at night to dry and hot during the day. But in June in the steep canyons of the Monumental Creek drainage, the sun seldom got to the canyon floor and the air rarely warmed up. However in July and August that was another story. Those were the hot months at this high altitude.

The smell of warm pine needles filled the thin air as she started to climb up the narrow canyon. To her, that smell promised summer and reminded her of all the camping trips with her parents. Fun memories, even though now they seemed very distant through the hundreds of years she had already lived.

Patches of snow, some white, some dirty brown, still covered the ground under trees and along the stream. Most of the run-off from the snow melt in this area had subsided, leaving this stream running just slightly higher than normal and a few degrees louder as well. If it hadn’t subsided, she never would have been able to get into this narrow canyon at all.

After just a few minutes, she dismounted because the climb was too steep and rough, with too much brush and overhanging branches. Then for the next thirty minutes, like working her way up a never-ending flight of stairs, she led her gray and white mare along the very narrow, steep-walled side canyon, the entire time wondering why in the world she was spending the time on such a crazy idea.

She had to carefully pick her way over the rocks and through the brush. She finally gave up trying to stay dry and led Constance slowly up the middle of the stream. After thirty minutes, that exercise alone had her too warm while her legs were numb from the cold water. Climbing against rushing water was never easy.

She stopped and just stood in the middle of the rushing stream, the cold water swirling around her boots made her lower legs almost feel like stumps. She let Constance drink, watching her for a moment. Jenny didn’t dare spend much more time in the water before taking a break.

She splashed her face with the cold creek water. That felt heavenly, like a great shot of tequila. Quality tequila. She seldom drank anything while living back in the past. Nothing here worth drinking to be honest.

But when home in 2021, a great shot of tequila sometimes was just what the doctor ordered. And since she had a couple doctorates in history and journalism, she figured she could prescribe any thing she wanted for herself.

Let’s test this again," she said aloud to Constance. Her voice didn’t make it past the rushing water sounds of the stream around her as it echoed off the steep rocks and pines towering over her.

Constance just ignored her and kept drinking.

Jenny moved to a hidden pocket in her saddlebag and pulled out a thin instrument that looked exactly like an old slide rule of this time period, but was actually something far more sophisticated. She had brought it with her from 2021. She knew that such things, by Institute rules, weren’t allowed in the past, but she had promised Director Parks to be careful with it and he had surprisingly agreed. He had laughed and said he liked her reasons for wanting to take it.

She used the instrument to take a quick sample of the water and could see that the sulfur content was actually slightly higher than it had been near where this stream flowed into Monumental Creek. The device also tested for a dozen other minerals and contaminates and clearly this water had a decent concentration of minerals.

She hadn’t been able to taste the sulfur at all in the water. It just tasted pure and cold and clear.

She put the instrument back and patted Constance. We haven’t passed the hot springs yet.

She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. She just really wanted to find a hot springs that she could soak in for a time. Traveling in the Idaho wilderness was never an easy thing, so finding hot springs had been her hobby the last five or six times back into the past.

And this stream was the only one along Monumental Creek, from where it ran into Big Creek, that had shown any signs at all of a possible hot springs. But looking ahead, the climb up this canyon clearly wasn’t going to get easier.

She eased Constance forward and for the next twenty minutes they carefully worked their way over the rocks and through the water, mostly just using the stream bed as a trail, since there was no room on the canyon walls on either side. She had been in wider hallways at Stanford than the bottom of this canyon.

Finally, the rock walls opened slightly. It didn’t take much to feel open compared to what felt like a narrow flight of stairs they had been going up.

The watermarks on the rocks around her showed that this area at the peak time for the snow melt would fill with water. The hallway-sized area they had just come through clearly worked as a choke point.

Luckily, at the moment, the area had drained and was wide enough and with no brush so that it would be possible to ride again.

Jenny led Constance out of the water and mounted up, moving slowly forward along the scoured rock next to the stream.

Only twice in the next ten minutes did they have to go back into the water.

Then, almost like a curtain parting, they came through a small stand of pine trees and into a fairly flat and large meadow, bathed in sunlight and covered in bright green grass.

Wow, Jenny said, stopping and just staring at the sight in front of her.

The rock mountain walls went up into the blue sky on all sides of the meadow, making it feel like she was in a protected bottom of a beautiful brown bowl.

The sun filled the entire small valley, making everything seem brighter.

The stream sort of meandered through the meadow, like a painting you might see on a hotel room wall. And the colors were so bright, they felt almost artificial. The greens of the fresh grass, the blues of the bright sky, the browns of the rock walls, the dark shapes of the pine trees against the rocks. Everything was so bright and stark, it was difficult to take in.

We may have just climbed up into heaven, Jenny said, patting Constance on the neck.

And then Jenny laughed and the sound carried