Smith's Monthly #63: Smith's Monthly, #63

By Dean Wesley Smith

This 63rd issue of Smith's Monthly contains more than eighty-five thousand words of fiction from USA Today bestselling writer Dean Wesley Smith, including Melody Ridge, a Thunder Mountain novel, in which two scientists try to discover how it was possible to have sound travel through time. The novel describes the origin of the Jukebox, so also included is a collection of Dean's time-travel Jukebox stories, Through the Jukebox.

There's more! Four new short stories from some of Dean's most popular series: "Will You Still Love Me in Five Minutes" a Marble Grant story, "Lost Canyon Cave" a Thunder Mountain story and a sequel to "Lost Canyon" from Smith's Monthly #62, "A Marble from Sherry" a Skip Keeper story, and a Sky Tate story, "Cold Case Future."

Tons to enjoy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: WMG Publishing
• Release date: Jul 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201529796

Dean Wesley Smith

Dean Wesley Smith is the bestselling author of over ninety novels under many names. He has written books and comics for Marvel, DC Comics, and Dark Horse, as well as scripts for Hollywood. Over his career, he also worked as an editor and publisher for Pulphouse Publishing and Pocket Books. Currently, he writes thrillers and mysteries under one of his many pseudonyms.

Book preview

Smith’s Monthly Issue #63

SMITH’S MONTHLY ISSUE #63

DEAN WESLEY SMITH

WMG Publishing, Inc.

CONTENTS

Introduction

Lost Canyon Cave

Introduction

Lost Canyon Cave

A Marble From Sherry

Introduction

A Marble From Sherry

Through the Jukebox

Foreword

Introduction

Jukebox Gifts

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

The Songs Of Memory

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

The Wages of the Moment

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Our Slaying Song Tonight

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Black Betsy

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

A Cold Case Future

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Will You Still Love Me in Five Minutes?

Introduction

Will You Still Love Me in Five Minutes?

Melody Ridge

Author’s Note

I. The Gift of Music

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

II. Lost and Found

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

III. The Power of Music

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

IV. The Failure of Music

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

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About the Author

INTRODUCTION

Jukebox Stories and Origin Novel

---

I used to write a fair number of jukebox stories. Seemed for a time that every third or fourth story I wrote was a jukebox story.

What I mean by a jukebox story is a story based in the Garden Lounge, with the cast of characters who are there, and an old Wurlitzer Jukebox sitting in the corner that takes a person physically back to their memory of a song.

I have written jukebox stories since before I was writing full time, over forty years ago. My first jukebox story that was ever published I sold to The Twilight Zone Magazine. (It came out in the fall of 1987 in The Twilight Zone’s sister magazine, Night Cry, and I have never reprinted it. Might do that in a future issue.)

Over all the years, I had no idea where the jukebox had come from and who built it. But for some reason, I just never much worried about it. I sort of knew I would get to it. When other writers worry about that sort of thing, I tell them to just trust the process, and that was what I did over decades of time. In fact, over forty years from the first jukebox story to the last one.

About a decade ago, I started writing Thunder Mountain time travel stories back into the Old West. But those trips into the past were in other timelines. The trips into the past through the jukebox were into the same timeline and could change the past.

Two very different forms of time travel.

But then, about four years ago, I started writing a Thunder Mountain novel called Melody Ridge, which is in this issue.

On the shores of Lake Roosevelt deep in the Idaho Wilderness, you can see the remains of the mining town of Roosevelt that had been there, flooded and destroyed in 1909. That town of Roosevelt that existed in the very steep valley had six saloons, all with pianos, and all spring and summer and fall the pianos battled each other, filling the valley with sound and music.

The modern rumors are that if you sit on the edge of the lake early in the evening, you can still hear the pianos playing. I’ve been to that lake and I believe it.

So I decided in the book that two scientists should try to discover how that was possible to have sound travel through time.

And that research led to the jukebox.

So I used a number of the short stories I had already written, broken into chapters, to be the jukebox side of the novel and it came out as my favorite Thunder Mountain novel so far.

Melody Ridge answered the question of who invented the jukebox and then put the entire jukebox into retirement. I have never had a desire to write another jukebox story since.

Probably never will.

So to get a true feeling of the jukebox stories, I am also including a collection of five of the jukebox stories, Through the Jukebox, in this issue. Some of the stories are part of the novel, some are not.

And for writers, you can see how short stories can stand completely alone, and yet with a different structure, can work great as parts of a full novel.

Of course, there are four original stories as well, seeing print in these pages for the first time. I hope you enjoy all the stories and the Thunder Mountain novel.

---

—Dean Wesley Smith

June 2022

INTRODUCTION

In the Thunder Mountain story Lost Canyon, published in Smith’s Monthly #62, two travelers meet in a lost canyon and fall in love.

Only problem with the canyon; five dead bodies in a cave.

In this story, the two travelers get back together and find out who the bodies belong to. You do not have to have read the first story to enjoy this one, I promise.

LOST CANYON CAVE

A Thunder Mountain Story

Randal Martin had to finish his book Lost Places of Idaho and get it out to readers through a small historical press in Idaho, otherwise he would never meet another traveler, Patricia Freed. It was her reading his book in February of 2024 that took her to find the Lost Canyon he wrote about in the book and then to find the cave behind the waterfall with the five bodies.

And also meet him.

Very convoluted, he knew, but when it concerned travel into other timelines through crystals, he had gotten used to that sort of weirdness. Especially since he could travel for fifty years in another timeline, die of old age, and be back in this present timeline in August of 2023 with only just over two minutes passing.

So when he got back to the Institute in 1903 with Freed, he kissed her one more time and unplugged his crystal and ended up in August 2023, two minutes and fifteen seconds after he had originally left.

She was going to go down the hall in the Institute in 1903, unplug her crystal that had taken her into that same timeline, and she would end up on March 19 th, 2024.

So he had seven months to wait for her. But he just wouldn’t be waiting. In those seven months he had to get his book done and out so she could find it and read it and they could meet.

No pressure.

So he made that the priority and by October he had the book finished and it was out to the public two months later.

Then, and only then, did he tell Director Park about the five bodies in the cave that he and Freed had found in a place called Lost Canyon.

Director Parks was surprised, to say the least.

Martin and Freed had found no names on the bodies, even though they spent a gruesome few hours looking through the layers of clothes and saddlebags each one had. No clues at all of who they were or where they had come from when they froze to death in the 1880s or so.

Other than a few trappers and some Native Americans, no people were known to have been in that Monumental Valley at that time.

Actually the two women and one man froze to death, two killed themselves with shots to the head.

And he and Freed hoped to rescue them, go back and stop them from going up into that hidden valley and getting snowed in.

But first Martin had to find out just who they were, so that they could make sure that saving them would not cause problems in an infinite number of timelines.

One of the issues about traveling in other timelines.

And Director Parks said he would get the Institute major computers four hundred years in the future working on it as well. Martin couldn’t even imagine the math that would take.

For the next month clear up to the end of November, Martin had no luck at all. He was a fantastic researcher, but there was not a hint of five people just vanishing into the Idaho wilderness in that time period.

There should have been a trace of them. A mention. Something.

Nothing. Total blank.

The Institute computers had the exact same luck. And the computers had a lot more capability to compile missing person’s reports, old newspaper notices from all over the country.

Nothing.

Just nothing. Those five were ghosts before they died in that cave.

So on March 19 th, 2024, around two in the afternoon, Martin was in the big cavern underneath the Institute in Boise, Idaho, behind the large lunch counter cooking Freed a light lunch of grilled cheese, which she had told him she loved, plus some chicken soup.

He was just about finished when she came up the stairs from the crystal caverns, smiling and carrying a change of clothes. They were now officially matched up in their origin times, which meant they could travel into the past together and he was so, so looking forward to that.

She came over and kissed him hard and he kissed her back. For her, it had only been a few minutes since she kissed him last in 1903, but for him it had been a long and frustrating seven months. So he really loved the kiss.

Clearly, she must have been worried that he wouldn’t wait for her. How could he not as beautiful and smart as she was? She was his height at five-ten, long brown hair pulled back, and striking green eyes that felt like they could see his every secret.

And even though they had only known each other for a little over a week in the past, he felt like she had always been with him. And now that she was here, he felt whole again.

He loved that feeling.

That smells wonderful, she said, indicating the grilled cheese and soup. But I really need a shower.

I’ll eat that sandwich, he said and have a fresh one waiting for you.

You are a doll," she said and headed into the back behind the counter with her change of clothes.

Ten minutes later she came back out in a modern blouse and jeans and running shoes, still drying her hair. Looking at her he realized she was even more beautiful than he saw in the past.

He was only half done with his sandwich and he gave her the new hot one, and a bowl of soup, and sat next to her at the counter. The big chamber was behind them and the only sound the faint crackling of the fire in the fireplace.

She took a bite, then said, Cut to the chase. Any luck figuring out who those five are?

None, he said. Even the Institute computers from four hundred years in the future could find no sign of them at all.

She just stared at him with those large green eyes, clearly shocked.

Exactly the same way he felt. Shocked.

So we have no idea who they were or what they were doing there? she asked, shaking her head.

Well, we might, a voice said from behind them.

Both turned around to see Duster Kendal and Director Parks striding toward them across the cavern.

Martin was stunned to see Duster Kendal. He was one of the founders and a legendary mathematician. He wore a cowboy hat, a long oilcloth duster, and cowboy boots. He and Director Parks both stood well over six feet tall and were imposing figures.

Martin glanced at Freed beside him and she had her mouth open. Clearly she wasn’t used to being around them either.

So I thought the computers didn’t find anything? Martin asked as the two both went around behind the counter and got cold bottles of water out of the fridge.

They didn’t, Parks said.

That’s because they were our people, Duster said.

Travelers? Freed said.

No, not travelers, so when they died, they died, Parks said. We think they were initially part of the work crew that built this place for us in 1880 here in Boise.

He took five pictures out of his coat of two women and three men and put them on the bar between Martin and Freed.

The coat, Martin said, pointing to one man’s coat. It was very distinctive and had some special sewing around the collar.

Freed nodded. That coat was on one of the bodies."

Duster and Parks both nodded.

I am betting they ran into trouble and vanished on the way to another project we were doing in 1880, Duster said. But if they are these five, we need to find out how much change in the timeline saving them might be.

At that point Martin and Freed watched as Duster took out his phone and hit a key. After a moment he said without even saying hello, Did you have five of your crew not show up, go missing around 1880?

Duster nodded. Yeah, we found them in a cave in a hidden valley. They clearly got snowed in by a snowstorm and froze.

Duster listened and nodded, then asked, How much change in your operation would there be if they showed up for work that fall?

Duster nodded. We’ll do a timeline search to see if them living has any major repercussions down through time and I’ll let you know if we decide to go back and save them.

With that Duster hung up the phone and looked at Martin and Freed. Give us a couple of days to do the computer research. We might have to just leave them there, or maybe we can rescue them.

Both Martin and Freed nodded.

Martin looked down at the pictures of the five workers as Parks scooped them back up. There was just so much he didn’t know about the Institute.

So for the next few days, Martin and Freed just enjoyed their time together, sleeping in her condo and eating out at the best restaurants. Martin brainstormed his new book idea with Freed, and she talked about how much she had been learning about women in that time period for her new book.

It was wonderful. And he knew that without a doubt he was going to have fun traveling with her in the past.

On the third morning, they got a call from Director Parks. Afraid we have to leave them right where they are at.

Too much timeline interruptions? Martin asked.

Far, far too much, Parks said. The computers in 2450 can’t even calculate it.

We understand, director, Martin said.

Can we ask a favor, though, director? Freed asked. In June, could we have the helicopter take us into that valley and we give those five a real burial. Maybe in the cave, and then close it up so no one discovers their bodies?

Martin really liked that idea.

Parks just laughed and said, I’ll see what I can do.

Two days later in the 2024 time, Martin and Freed headed back into the past, traveling as a rich married couple and doing their research.

In the next three months of 2024 time, they spent sixteen hundred years together in over sixty-four trips into the past.

So when Director Parks got in touch with them in early June 2024, it took Martin a little bit to remember what Parks was talking about when he said they would be going the next morning to bury the five.

They left Boise at sunrise in a large helicopter with Director Parks and Duster Kendal and two pilots and stopped at the Monumental Summit Lodge for breakfast. The lodge was one of Martin and Freed’s favorite places, both in the past and in their present time.

The pilots left them in the valley with a promise from Duster that he would call them in about an hour.

It was an amazingly beautiful little valley with the high peaks around them still covered in white, but the valley itself was bright green with grass. And from everything they could see, it didn’t appear that the valley had been used at all by anyone.

Even Martin and Freed’s old campsite was long, long gone. The waterfall was on full, so they all got a little wet going back into the cave.

And most of the clothing from the five bodies had vanished over the hundred and twenty years, with just scraps left on skeletons.

Wow, this is something, Parks said. Must have been a terrifying way to die.

Dying in the Old West is never easy, Duster said. And seldom fast.

Martin had no doubt that came from experience. Lots and lots of experience.

Duster moved over to one of the skeletons who had killed himself and pushed the skeleton to one side, knocking it apart slightly. Then he pulled a leather satchel out from under the skeleton.

Martin didn’t know what he felt standing in that dark, damp cave with the waterfall roaring behind him. But clearly Duster had something he was looking for.

Duster moved over to Parks and opened the bag and Parks just nodded.

Finally we can account for that one. Finally, Parks said.

Duster showed what was in the bag to Martin and Freed.

It was a crystal.

A glowing representation of another timeline. Martin was used to them, but in pockets in stone walls in the Institute.

They stole it from the Institute, Parks said. We always suspected it was them, but when they vanished we could never track them or the crystal down and prove it.

So they found this hidden valley to hide the crystal before going on to work, Freed said, and just got trapped by snow before they could get out.

Sounds logical, Parks said. And that was why we dared not rescue them.

Martin understood finally.

Duster closed up the heavy leather bag, then took another heavy leather bag from his pocket and wrapped it again. Martin had always been warned to never touch a crystal. The energy was just too much and Duster was being very cautious.

Freed took Martin’s hand and squeezed it. Sad, just very sad.

Martin nodded. But their tragic deaths got us together and I have to thank them for that.

She kissed him on the cheek. I think it was your wonderful writing in your book about this Lost Canyon.

Martin just laughed and squeezed her hand again.

Let’s get out of here, Duster said.

Martin and Freed stayed side-by-side as they dodged the waterfall and got into the sunlight and the green grass.

Parks was close behind, but Duster took a little time and was the last one out. On the way out he set some explosives around the entrance inside the tunnel leading into the bigger cave. The explosives would be enough that it would shut down that tunnel and allow the five to rest in peace.

After they all got back away from the waterfall, Duster set off the explosives.

It sounded hollow and dust shot out of the tunnel only to be caught instantly by the waterfall.

And then everything in the lost valley was again normal.

I wonder in how many other timelines we just did that, Freed asked.

All of them, Duster said. All of them. We just had no choice.

He patted the crystal now hanging in a leather pack on his side, then he took out a satellite phone and called the helicopter to come pick them up.

Two days later, Martin and Freed were heading back into the past one more time, destination 1918. On this trip they had decided they wanted to spend some time in New York. Maybe live there for some years. So they planned on traveling until maybe one of them died of old age.

But just for two minutes and fifteen seconds of June 2024.

Traveling into other timelines through crystals was very strange that way. But Martin loved every minute of it.

INTRODUCTION

Some marbles hold fantastic value for their beauty, their age, their condition. But Skip Keepers looks for very special marbles, powerful marbles that only he sees.

The first story about Skip Keepers on his first days in Las Vegas. And his lucky find, before he even meets Poker Boy and the rest of the team.

A MARBLE FROM SHERRY

A Skip Keepers Story

My name is Skip Keepers. I am a superhero in the world of marbles and this is the story about finding a very rare Onion Skin handmade marble from Atlantis in mint condition. I think it is kind of a happy story for Sherry, actually. Sure was for me.

And if you are expecting a story with bad guys and gun fights, this is not the story. This is more like a treasure hunt.

With treasure at the end.

The story started one warm afternoon in Las Vegas, Nevada. I was standing on the paved small parking lot beside my rented Lexus SUV and just staring at the home in front of me. It must have been something, actually cute in its day before the road behind me had become a busy five-lane with every type of business cramming every inch of both sides.

And the road was loud. Wow. I mean, I can focus pretty good if I need to, but just standing there the constant noise of all the traffic flashing past kept breaking my thinking about the building in front of me.

To me, the home now looked just lost, tucked back off the street with a hedge between it and the gas station and food mart on the right. A fairly tall wooden-slat and wire fence between the home and the tire shop on the left tried to keep that business noise out, but I could hear the pounding and screeching of tires being worked on, so the fence clearly didn’t work.

And that noise just added to the road noise behind me. Amazed the little house just didn’t float away on the sound.

More than likely where I had parked had once been a slightly sloping front yard and the entire home had been surrounded by tall oak, now long gone. I even bet back in the day the home had a view of the desert valley and the mountains to the east of Las Vegas.

Wow, that would have been nice to sit on the front porch of the little home and just enjoy the desert and the view.

It is flat tragic what progress does to some places.

The home now was an antique shop on the main floor, and the owner of the small shop lived above it. Tucked back the way it was, I doubted it got much business, except for those who knew where it was. I had an address and I still had trouble finding it.

Like the house was almost ashamed of what it had become and didn’t want to be found. I knew of other shops around the country that were like that.

I could tell the cute old house was well-maintained, had new paint, and the roof on the steep peaks that gave the place a cottage feel had new shingles. That was good. That kind of care on the outside would mean the antiques and treasures on the inside would be in good shape as well.

I climbed up on the front porch and turned to look, trying to imagine the old view, but the fences, gas station, and five lanes of cars just wouldn’t let my imagine make the leap.

Too bad.

A bell jingled as I pushed open the wide and old wooden front door, clearly original with the home and painted a fresh coat of white. The smell of old stuff hit me instantly, combined with the faint aroma of a vanilla-scented candle or spray.

I closed the door and let the cool air wash over me. Seemed it was warmer outside than I had realized.

But now I was at home among treasures of furniture spanning a century, stacked housewares mostly from the forties and fifties, and kids toys and games from early 1900 until the 1950s.

Everything was well dusted and cleaned, but not cleaned to a damage point. The owner of these things in this shop understood that normal wear on antiques added value.

The room I was in had been a small living room, now so packed with stuff that it made it feel even smaller. To the right of the front door was what looked to be a den, jammed full, and then under an arch going deeper into the building was more than likely the old dining room, now totally filled with more antiques, many of which were in glass display cases that functioned as a front counter for the business.

A woman with bright