The Time Traveling Texan

By Richard C. Pillsbury

Cowboys, passionate romance, and an intriguing twist take you on a thrilling adventure from the new West to the Old.
 
Jake Duncan is a Ranger in the US Army and a grad student struggling with his history class. He’s a regular guy—a former football player who loves beer, takeout—and is on the brink of proposing to his girlfriend. One day, he stumbles on a gravestone with his name and correct birth date on it, and his life is changed forever.
 
Before long, he leaves a suburban neighborhood of Austin in his pickup and finds himself stuck—alone—in the year 1836, when Texas was a deserted war zone and the future was uncertain. Jake bonds with an escaped slave and together they make their way across the wild terrain—encountering Mexican pilgrims, American pioneers, and Native Americans along the way—some of them hostile. His modern weapons help a bit, as does his twenty-first-century medical training. He helps deliver a baby, saves malaria patients, and treats battle wounds. He meets a tough-as-nails widow named Kate, and they begin to fall for each other. After weeks in the past, Jake isn’t sure he wants to return to 2020. Kate has captured his heart.
 
Will he make it back to 2020 without Kate? Or will Jake decide to stay in the 1800s?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Oct 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781954779372

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This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between any person is just coincidental. This book is the sole copyright of the author and can’t be reproduced in any form without the sole permission of the author. To contact the author for these permissions or other engagements write to the publisher:

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BISAC Categories:

FIC028080 FICTION / Science Fiction / Time Travel

FIC032000 FICTION / War & Military

FIC033000 FICTION / Westerns

FIC040000 FICTION / Alternative History

Summary:

Jake Duncan is a Ranger in the U.S. Army. He’s a regular guy whose world is changed when he finds his own gravestone, showing he died in 1878. A time travel adventure in Texas history awaits him.

Copyright © 2020 Richard C. Pillsbury, M.D.

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 9798551690450

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Contents

March 10, 2020

CEMETERY AT COLUMBUS, TEXAS

MENTAL BLOCK

NAGGING FEELINGS ARE THE BANE OF BELIEVERS

BACK TO AUSTIN

JENNY

STUART

JAKE’S APARTMENT

THE DATE

THESIS

TO JENNY’S

GAS STATION IN SEALY, TEXAS

JENNY’S HOUSE

TEXAS TEA HEADACHE

THE LETTER

GOING BACK

THE TEAM

(PRESENT DAY)

BACK IN TIME

GENERAL SAM

THE WOUND

NAME THIS PLACE THE CITY OF HOUSTON

THE TEAM

(PRESENT DAY)

NATE

THE NIGHTMARE

CAMPFIRE

WASHINGTON-ON-THE-BRAZOS

BLACK HAT AND GREEN HAT

NATE’S STORY

THE DEVIL’S WIND

THE TEAM AGAIN (PRESENT DAY)

IT’S CALLED OIL

THE TEJANO FAMILIES

JUAN SEGUIN

GUADELUPE ENCINO

Doctor JAKE

MALARIA

LEAVING

PERSIDIO MISSION DE LA BAHIA, TEXAS

ESCAPE

THE TRUTH

MISS KATE

THE COMANCHES

THE ESCAPE

CAMPSITE

JOSE

INDIANS

COLUMBIA-TO-BE

THE WOUNDS

JENNY’S PLACE (PRESENT DAY)

NATE AND JAKE SAY GOODBYE

THE TRUTH

JEWELL’S PLACE

BEDTIME

WATERLOO (AUSTIN), TEXAS

APPLE PIE

THE O’LEARYS

BACK TOWARD SAM

TO GENERAL SAM

REUNION

WASHINGTON-ON-THE-BRAZOS AND GENERAL SAM

GOODBYES

THE TRIP BACK

THE PINK FOG

ALL IS NOT RIGHT

LITTLE GENERAL SAM

The End

To my wife, Janey, without whom I never could have completed this book

Acknowledgements

I would like to acknowledge the following people who helped shape this book along the way:

Dr. Steve Smart for his encouragement.

My children, Kimberly, Richard, and Megan, and children-in-law Sarah, Ryan, and Nelson for their patience and unwavering support.

Mrs. Janet Steele for her vital information and research into Texas history.

My dear friends Mary Guthrie, Linda Rathbun, Susan Landers, Mike Landers, Paige Davis, and DJ Davis for  reading drafts and giving suggestions and advice.

My editors, Dr. Jessica Hammerman and Dr. Linda Tucker.

Father Charles Chapman who introduced me to Cup and Quill and Emerald Publishing.

PROLOGUE

April 21, 1836

San Jacinto

On April 21, 1836, Houston cut the Mexican Army off and dispatched Deef Smith to destroy the only bridge that the Mexican Army could take to escape. Houston sat on his mighty white steed and gave the order to fire. The men fired their canons and then charged, shouting those immortal words: Remember the Alamo! The battle didn’t take long. Houston and the Texicans, as they called themselves, attacked during the Mexicans’ siesta , or afternoon nap.

It was a happy time for the people of Texas; however, the euphoria did not last long. Marauding Mexican soldiers plundered for food, wealth, and women as they made their way back to the Rio Grande and Mexico. There were hostile Natives, mostly Comanches, who were particularly violent and unmerciful, raiding the defenseless people. Due to their continuous attacks, Stephen Austin, the governor under Santa Anna, had created the Texas Rangers to stop the attacks on individual farms and towns. Because the Texas army had been disbanded after Santa Anna’s surrender, the Rangers represented the only protection that the Texicans had.

Many women fought and died protecting their families and freedom. Santa Anna had captured Emily West and her boy. Santa Anna was preoccupied with Emily. At the Battle of San Jacinto, The Yellow Rose of Texas, as Sam Houston called her, sent the boy to Houston with information of where Santa Anna’s camp was going to be, and she kept him busy at the beginning of the attack. Houston later said, Those few minutes that the Mexican Army had no leadership were critical to the Texas victory. Later, a song was written about her.

The Texicans fought the elements and the land to gain freedom: the Mexicans, Native Americans, the United States, and themselves. It was a difficult task, since two cultures and two different languages had to be integrated into one. Men like Stephen Austin and Sam Houston worked to build the government of the Republic. They drew a flag with a lone star that would become the symbol of Texas. It was the emblem and flag for both the Republic of Texas and the state of Texas—a single star to represent a merging of the two cultures. To this day, it remains a symbol of pride.

On March 6, 2020, the 184th anniversary of the fall of the Alamo, a hooded figure entered a Texas library. The person went to the rare books section and walked up to a stack toward a set of old law books from the Republic of Texas. The person removed two of the three law books from their pouch and placed an old, leather-bound journal in the back of the book slots, and re-placed the law books. The books protruded ever so slightly. The person smiled and said out loud, Well, Great-great-great-great-great Grandfather, I have paid the debt the family owed. So, General Sam, rest in peace. She dutifully completed her task and left.

People like us, who believe in physics, know the distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.

—Albert Einstein

CHAPTER 1:

March 10, 2020

As a master’s student at the University of Texas, Jake Duncan had access to any of the seventeen libraries on campus. Off to work on his thesis documenting the military’s role in the founding of Texas, he went to his computer and confirmed that the library had the rare items he needed. They were in the Perry-Castaneda Library.

Jake was standing in the rare books stacks earmarked for Texas archives from the time of the Republic when he noticed that three books were slightly pushed out. His OCD kicked in, and he had to fix it. He saw that they were old Texas state law books from the time of the Republic. From the look of things, no one had opened them in years. He tried to push them back in, but they would not budge. There seemed to be an obstruction of some sort. He removed two of the books to gain access to whatever was causing the problem. Reaching in, he gently pulled out what looked to be a tattered, leather-bound book that was blocking the law books from the back of the shelf. It was a journal. Wow, Jake whispered, this hasn’t been touched in decades.

The brown cover had paled and was scratched, rubbed, and stained. Sitting down at one of the long study tables, Jake placed the book in front of him. He gently wiped off the dust, dirt, and grime with the cloth glove he has been issued by the librarian. As he ran his hand across the leather, and he noticed some textured writing. Rubbing a little harder, he saw the name Jake.

He thought it was an elaborate joke. He remembered that Shaun had sent him. The more he thought about it, the more he convinced himself that Shaun had set it up. Hesitating, he thought, Should I open this?

He laughed. Of course, I’m going to open it. He put his finger on the upper edge of the leather and gently opened it. He looked down and saw a folded letter on top of the pages. Running his gloved hand along the front, he opened the top fold of the letter. The corner dissolved into tiny scraps. The top fold of the paper came loose, essentially splitting from the bottom still-folded segments. He laid it flat and turned it so he could read it. The old ink was barley legible.

He could make out part of a line.

If you are not Jake Duncan, please put this journal back. If you are Jake, do what the letter says.

He laughed and whispered, Good one, Shaun. It was written with ink and on thin paper. The paper looked modern but aged. Old paper usually was much thicker. To keep the ink from running, the writers would blot the paper, but this one had not. He looked for the watermark but could not find one.

The next thing he could decipher was the year 1836. Cemetery in Columbus, Texas… Look for Duncan headstone." Unfortunately, the rest of it crumbled to pieces, which were frustratingly illegible. The only thing he saw was at the bottom: Take a stake with a red cloth to mark the spot.

Jake was hooked. When he realized the answers may lie at the cemetery, he thought, To hell with class. He had to know what was going on. But first, he needed to read some of the journal. He opened it, and the first page was blank. The first several or more of the pages had been torn out. The face sheet had been blank, and the next page was numbered 10. He quickly perused the pages. One caught his eye: Washington-on-the-Brazos.

Jake remembered Washington-on-the-Brazos. It was a nice little state park about eighty miles northwest of Houston. It was rebuilt in the period of the Republic that was from 1836 to when Texas became a state in 1845. It was one of the capitols. There were buildings built to scale and genuinely nice guides. They were full of information when he went through on the way to Austin from Ft. Benning, Georgia.

Okay, he thought, what’s happening? What cloud? Who is writing this? Why is it today’s date in an old journal, and what does this mean? He needed answers. They may lie in the cemetery in Columbus. No pun intended. Jake laughed at himself. Packing up his things, he decided to leave and visit the cemetery.

He grabbed his sandwich in a Ziploc out of his backpack, and he removed the sandwich and put it in his mouth. Taking the Ziploc and using his hand, he carefully brushed the pieces of the letter into the bag. He put the baggy in the journal and the journal into his backpack.

The letter told me to go to the cemetery in Columbus, Texas, east of here, where US 71 meets I-10. Let’s investigate this, he said out loud. Looking around he wanted to make sure he had not disturbed anyone with his outburst. Satisfied he was okay, he opened his iPad and found The Columbus City Cemetery. That must be it, he thought.

CHAPTER 2:

CEMETERY AT COLUMBUS, TEXAS

He successfully snuck the book out of the library, hustled to his car, and began his journey. An hour and a half later, he arrived. When he came upon the cemetery on the west side of Columbus just south of Highway 90, he pulled out his iPad and read that it was in use long before the city of Columbus formally purchased it from John and L.H. Toliver on March 15, 1870. He also had noted that the earliest recorded death was 1853 and that there was a flood in 1913 that carried off many of the markers and graves.

He looked at the list of people buried there, specifically for Jake Duncan, and nothing was there. That doesn’t mean anything, he thought. He found the cemetery registry and looked for the name Duncan and found where to go.

Now I am in Columbus, which is ninety or so miles east of Austin, looking at a headstone with my name on it and my original birthdate in 1989, he thought. But there is a date of death in 1878. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble or I am going crazy. He finished with a sarcastic laugh, fearing the latter.

He couldn’t seem to concentrate; his mind was racing. He stood and feeling better decided to walk. Back at his Chevy Silverado, he was thinking of the letter that he found. Was it a practical joke? If correct, then this was a real good one. If incorrect, then someone wrote this in 1836 and was traipsing around in the time of Sam Houston. But that’s absurd, he thought.

How did the journal get to the library where I found it? His training taught him to tackle a problem by stating what was known and starting at the beginning to work it out. What he needed was to start at step one. He decided to go back to the truck and think some more. He started toward his Silverado but stopped. Then he started walking again. He stopped again.

He was sweating, so before he got into his truck, he removed his army fatigue jacket and threw it into the passenger seat. The ranger patch was sewn onto the shoulder and the captain bars insignia caught on the steering wheel, so he had to throw his jacket again which made him say a four-letter expletive.

He looked down at the gravesite and turned pale. His mouth went dry. He could not swallow. In front of him was a headstone. The bottom was covered with green algae and mosses. The right front edge was missing. Etched into the old gray rough granite were these words: Here lies Ranger Jake Duncan, born Aug. 10, 1989, died Nov. 12, 1878.

That’s the right date for my birthday, he thought out loud. This can’t be real. It must be a mistake. Or a joke. But something was telling him that it was not a joke at all.

Jake sat down to think. The questions started to pop up in his mind again. It looked real. Were the dates wrong? I must be seeing things. He got up and rubbed the gray granite. The edge was broken off, a sign of age. It was real. So, it must be a mistake, he thought.

Your training, Jake, was designed to teach you to think and solve problems, he said out loud. Now, let’s solve this problem. Deep in thought, he sat in front of the headstone on a grassy knoll and leaned back against a pin oak. When I turned thirty, I knew I was old, but I didn’t think I would be so clumsy or old enough to have dementia, he said. As a physician, Jake knew some dementias could strike early but this would be ridiculous. I also thought I knew who I was and what I was doing. Now I am not sure of anything.

He looked back to the grave one more time to see if he was dreaming, but he was not. It still said, Died in 1878. The journal in his hand looked authentic. The headstone looked too old to have been faked. He doubted it had been put there by Shaun. But he did suggest that I go to the library…

A seed of doubt crept into his mind. The seed became a thought, then a whispered question. Why would Shaun run such an elaborate ruse? He was thinking of Shaun O’Malley, his best friend and also a student like him at UT in Austin.

CHAPTER 3:

MENTAL BLOCK

Jake looked across the knoll and, in the distance, he saw an office building. A starting point, he murmured. The drive to the building was quick. The office was a square. In the front there were window boxes with petunias and bluebonnets on each side of a single nondescript door. They made the building look comfortable and lived in. He opened the door and walked into a cluttered office. There was a desk and two hardwood chairs. A matronly woman in her sixties was just hanging up the phone. Her desk was stacked with papers. The placard on the desk said Doris Patterson . Can I help you? He could see she was packing to leave for the day.

I came to visit the grave of one of my relatives and had a question concerning the headstone. He did not wait for her to answer. The name was Jake Duncan, and—

Before he could finish, Doris said, Yes, there is a discrepancy between the birth date and the date of his death.

I guess from your answer that I’m not the first person to ask that question, he said sheepishly.

Nor will you be the last, she quipped. Look, young man, we have investigated this time and again. The family was very explicit about what they wanted when they ordered it many years ago, and the exact dates were underlined in the original order.

Could I possibly see the order? he asked.

She reached into a drawer and retrieved a folder. Opening it, she removed a single laminated page. She handed it to him, and he took it and gazed at the handwriting which looked strangely familiar. The order read:

One headstone to be placed over Jake Duncan’s grave. Please have it engraved with ‘Here lies Ranger Jake Duncan, born Aug. 10, 1989, died Nov. 12, 1878. (Make sure it says Aug. 10, 1989).

The signature was S. It was dated December 1878. He gulped and handed it back to her.

Thank you, ma’am. I just wanted to know if this was a practical joke? he said with a smile.

Why would you think this was a joke?

He had turned toward the door as she spoke. He opened the door and said, "Because my name is Jake Duncan, I am a ranger, and I was born August 10, 1989.

CHAPTER 4:

NAGGING FEELINGS ARE THE BANE OF BELIEVERS

Sitting in his truck outside the cemetery, Jake’s mind was churning. It looks real. Are the dates wrong? I must be seeing things. He hopped out of his truck and ran back to the headstone. He rubbed the gray granite. The edge was broken off—a sign of age. It was real. So, it must be a mistake , he thought. Boy , wonder what Mom and Dad would think about their son dying in 1878.

He looked back to the grave to see it one more time. It still read 1878. The journal he was holding looked authentic. The headstone looked way too old to have been faked. He doubted it had been put there by Shaun.

On his way back to his truck, he started to think he was going crazy. You know, I could be dreaming. He pinched his arm and it hurt. Well, not dreaming, he said out loud. How could this be? How did the journal get to the library? Okay, he said, that’s too many questions. His old training kicked back in. He started to tackle the problem.

What was it that Sherlock Holmes would say? When you have eliminated the possible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. I must eliminate the possible. If the book was right, then I must explain how it got to the library and who was responsible. He started to walk. What the hell was going on? He sat down on the grass again and tried to orient himself. Again, he thought back to when this started.

He was still convinced it was a prank. The paper was old, but the ink could be modern. The letter was old enough to crumble. Nagging feelings are the bane of believers, he thought as he turned the journal over in his hands.

His phone rang—Shaun’s ring. He needed a second to gather himself. Hey, man. What’s up? Hold on, I’m getting into my truck. He put the phone on speaker and set it down on the console. Putting his pack with the journal on the passenger’s seat, he swung into place. There, he said, what’s going on?

I asked you first.

What, is this high school? laughed Jake.

No, I wish. I wouldn’t be paying alimony. You should have talked me out of marriage, Shaun exclaimed.

Listen, O’Malley, you were in love. No one could’ve talked you out of it.

"I know, I know, but you were my best man, and it was your duty to talk me out of it. Jake sighed. Well. Guess that’s my Irish temper and stubbornness," Shaun said.

Well, ginger, Jake smiled, I’m glad you’re divorced, because now I can get along with you.

Yes, you’re right. Listen speaking of women, guess who called today? Shaun asked, but he did not wait for response. Your ex, Jenny, and she wants to talk to you. Before you say no, I think you should at least listen to what she has to say.

"Why didn’t she call me herself? What, is she also back in high school? He thought for a second and quickly said, Not today, maybe tomorrow. I’m too busy today to bother with it."

I think you’ll be surprised, Shaun said.

I thought you said she was crazy? Jake replied. In fact, your exact words were ‘bat-shit crazy.’

Can’t a fellow change his mind? Shaun asked. I had a long talk with her, and she is still beautiful. You’ve been single for months, and that’s not your usual pattern. And don’t forget that six pack and those dreamy brown eyes, he joked.

Why, thank you, sir, what time do you want to pick me up for our date? Jake retorted.

Pleading, Shaun repeated, Please, call her.

Okay, okay, I’ll talk to her. Jake caved but was already regretting it. Oh, by the way, you really got me with that old letter and book. I’m heading back from the cemetery to prove you’re playing a joke on me.

What are you talking about? Shaun asked.

Don’t play stupid. You know damn well what I am talking about. The letter in the journal in the library that you sent me to. That’s what, Jake exclaimed.

Have you been smoking something? Shaun asked. Because I sent you to the library for research, dumbass. I wouldn’t pull a joke on you.

"How about that time in Nuevo