The Time Writer and The March: The Time Writer, #2

By Alex R Crawford

Beware of doorways through time… and not minding your business.

 

Author and unwitting time traveler, Amelia Murray, finds herself stumbling back in time to 1755 in Colonial Virginia. The colonies are on the cusp of the French and Indian War, and General Braddock and his troops are sent from England to defeat the French invaders. 

Preventing the war, saving lives, and putting her nose into the middle of war plans is the least of her concerns. She needs to survive the streets of Alexandria with her former captor on the loose, find her betrothed, and try not to get killed in battle. 

 

How will she convince Benjamin Franklin to mind his business and help prevent the march? 
Can her relationship with Henry keep her in 1755 or will she find her way back to modern time?

 

The Time Writer and The March is a Historical Time Travel Adventure exploring 18th Century Colonial America and Braddock's March, through the wit and mindset of a 21st Century woman.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Spilled Red Ink
• Release date: Dec 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9781953485069

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

A pollo, would you mind keeping your tongue out of my mouth? The Irish Wolfhound insisted I crawl out of bed. I wasn’t sure I found his tongue in my mouth as an enticement to get out of bed, but it encouraged me to get out of its wet reach. I’m not that kind of girl. With my elbow firmly planted on the mattress, I sat up. Where’s Artemis? He placed his gray and white head on my lap as I ran my hand over his wiry head. Let’s go find Artemis and Beth, buddy. Tossing back the lightweight blanket, I realized how much appreciation I had for central air conditioning after spending a few months traversing the Colonial Virginia countryside in 1754. I slipped on a tee shirt and a pair of joggers. Comfort over fashion.

Morning, Beth, I called out. My sock-covered feet shuffled into the kitchen, which was hidden under a mountain of moving boxes. Apollo stayed close to my heels. Did you want help to unpack today?

I thought you were heading to the historic district today. I can handle it. Beth sat at the table with a cup of tea next to her. She looked up from her laptop and gave a smile. Artemis, her dark gray and brown Irish Wolfhound, stretched out on the early morning, summer sun-soaked floor next to her. The rectangular wooden table sat next to a large bay window that faced the street.

I grabbed a banana off the counter—stacked with utensils wrapped in the brown moving paper—and a chocolate protein drink out of the fridge. Propping my feet up on the chair next to me, I sat down at the table opposite from Beth. I’ll head down this afternoon. It’s not like I know what I’m looking for, other than just reliving the few memories I have from there.

I had been staying with Beth and Hector in their home in Williamsburg, Virginia, after my reappearance back into my time. Or do I call it current time? I returned after being hurled through time to 1754 and back. I survived as a hostage with the French and escaped to meet with the English. That is when I met Captain Lord Henry Spencer. As a forty-year-old widow with an eighteen-year-old daughter, I had no intention of looking for love, but love found me. Well, it felt like love. Perhaps, it was merely an infatuation with a handsome man that became a partner and friend during a strange event in my life. Now, back in the 21st century, I no longer lived that life.

You need to get back to work before you go crazy, said Beth, as sh looked up from her laptop. I knew she was correct. Instead of reliving the memories of Henry, George Washington, and my time in the past, I could do my job and write about it.

Are you ready for me to move out? I screwed the lid back on the protein drink and sat it on the table. My fingernail found its way to the edge of the bottle. I picked at the label—it wouldn’t budge. I know I’ve been acting weird since I got back a couple of weeks ago, but I feel more lost now than I did when I was traipsing around battlefields with George Washington and Henry. Who knows why I was sent to that time? And now, all I want to do is go back. Does that sound stupid?

No. You really fell hard for him.

The painting of me in the museum said that I was his wife. I know I didn’t marry him before I left. Doesn’t that mean that I need to get back? I just don’t know how that is supposed to happen.

Or, Beth said as she reached across the table and took the bottle away from me. The nervous picking, apparently, irritated her. Maybe he marries someone that looks like you.

I choked down my oversized bite of banana. With the same name?

You had said you saw a younger version of me and Hector—they even had our names. Perhaps, Lord Henry finds your ancestor, and that is who he marries.

I… uh…. My hand ran across my forehead. I hadn’t thought of that possibility. Am I that naïve? I shook my head. Of course, he couldn’t marry me. I’m stuck in the twenty-first century with no way to get back to seventeen-fifty-four. I stood up and tossed my banana peel into the trash. I’m going to get dressed and start unpacking boxes.

Deflated, I went to my room and plopped face down on my bed. I wasn’t special after all. The time I spent in 1754 would be a memory that I couldn’t prove happened. I was just a normal person, set to do normal things for the rest of my life.

Four boxes of kitchen utensils, pots, pans, and dishes were emptied by noon. I gathered up the brown packing paper and crammed it into one of the empty boxes. Artemis nudged my hip as I leaned over the boxes, trying to get a few more wads of paper crammed into it. If she nudged any harder, I would have ended up face first in the box of paper. Hey girl, is it time for a walk? I scratched behind her ear.

It was Wednesday, and I had been here for two weeks. My SUV left at Fort Ashby, where I had visited and traveled back in time through the door of a cabin, was returned to me but was at my house in Fredericksburg. Hector had left for work before Apollo had awoken me. Beth left for the university after breakfast. She was teaching two classes on the Effects of pre-War for Independence in Colonial America in the morning and would come home after office hours this afternoon. The summer session was almost over, and she would get ready for the fall term. With her living in Williamsburg and me in Fredericksburg, I felt I would not see my friend as much.

My daughter, Hannah, picked up a waitstaff position at one of the many restaurants that dotted Colonial Williamsburg when she was not in class. I spent the day with Apollo and Artemis, Beth and Hector’s two very large Irish Wolfhounds. Our routine was simple: Apollo would nudge me awake, breakfast, unpacking, and a visit to the historic district—the dogs’ large presence always attracted the attention of the tourists. How could they not? Apollo, the larger of the two, could rest his head on the kitchen counter. Oh, and he must have thought that it was funny when I sat half a smoked turkey and Swiss cheese sandwich on the counter and ran upstairs to grab my phone. Stupid human. Without effort or getting on the counter, he snatched it, and in one swallow, it was down his gullet before I could fuss at him. He just walked by and grabbed it. The nerve! Artemis, on the other hand, was taller than my 5-foot-1-inch when she stood on her hind legs. She would have to make a bit more effort to reach my sandwich by placing her front paws on the counter. Not only did I find paws on the counter or the possibility of dog slobber on my food disgusting, but I also really missed my food options for the four months I was stuck in 1754. I gained a new appreciation for smoked turkey sandwiches and sparkling beverages available with little effort, instead of the squirrel that I trapped when supplies didn’t get to us in a timely manner while at Fort Necessity with Washington, and the boiled water to kill any bacteria that would cause us to get sick.

I would drag the dogs with me, mostly for the security I felt when they were around, but they also seemed to enjoy the activity and attention they would receive from the tourists. However, that meant I couldn’t go into any of the museums. Leaving me to stroll by Henry’s house and stare at it from the outside, like I was some sort of stalker. The thought of going back became an obsession. I would open doors, thinking that one would be the one to send me back to him. I would hold my breath, fling a door open, and found nothing spectacular on the other side. Just another room and occasionally a closet. It had been less than a month and I could remember the taste of his lips and the warmth of his breath as it tickled the little hairs on the back of my neck as we rode together on his horse, Louis.

I asked Henry his choice of horse names. Why not Lightning or Thunder or, even, Buttercup? I thought it odd that he would pick a French name, considering the constant conflict between England and France. Why did he give his horse a French name? I will defeat the French on the back of King Louis. It was a way to jab a finger at the French. I don’t think the French ever knew the name of Henry’s horse. He was quite amused at his choice of horse names. I supposed I should be thankful he didn’t name his horse Amelia. I’m not sure how I would feel about him riding around on my back. It was odd to me. He found it amusing. I suppose it was eighteenth century humor I would never understand.

Leashes on, and we were out the door. The historic district was a short distance from the house. We walked down the quaint street with historical two-storied, Colonial-styled houses built out of brick. The front door centered with symmetrical windows on each side. Some were more modern but kept the same feeling as the older ones. When I traveled through Williamsburg in 1754, most of the houses Apollo, Artemis, and I passed didn’t exist. By now, the dogs knew the route, and what was once a slow and leisure stroll had turned into a sweaty adventure. It was the middle of August on the southern coast of Virginia, and the air was heavy with humidity and heat. We weaved our way through the streets and tourists to Hannah’s restaurant, The Salty Dog, for lunch on the outdoor patio, and a big bowl of water for the pups. During the summer, the wait to get in would be two hours. It pays to be a regular, and the mother of one of the waitstaff. To be fair, I think it was all about the attention the Irish Wolfhounds brought to the restaurant. The dogs loved the attention, and the old tavern loved the attention the dogs would steal from the competitors. That day didn’t differ from the rest. I sat there nibbling on my beer battered fish and potato wedges, while countless people came up to take pictures with the dogs. Apollo was thirty-four inches to the top of his shoulder. He could be an imposing beast if he wasn’t such a big softy. Artemis was not as tall as Apollo, but she was just as gentle as Apollo. As gentle as they were, I knew if I ever was in danger, they would defend me.

Lunch and rest completed, we headed towards Henry’s house. It had been a couple of weeks, but every time I walked the streets of Colonial Williamsburg, it felt like I was back there and any moment I would turn the corner to see Henry. The tourists that ran around snapping pictures, staring at their cell phones, and wearing tee shirts and shorts brought me abruptly back to reality. None of it was truly the same, not even Henry’s garden was the same as I had remembered it.

We approached the front of the red bricked, two-story house, where I would often stand and stare, thinking I might catch a glimpse of Henry through the window. Or perhaps Millie, the young indentured servant that worked for Henry, would open the curtains and window to air out my room and let the sun warm the floor. Ha! My room. I hadn’t stayed more than a couple of days, and to claim it as my room, I just shook my head. If I should claim anything as my room, it would be a tent in the middle of a field in the mountains of Pennsylvania. That is where I spent most of my time when I was pulled back to 1754. But the life with Henry in Williamsburg, that was the life I longed for in my dreams.

Apollo slowed down as we walked down the paved road that led to the Governor’s palace at the end of the loop. Historic homes and buildings lined the outer part of the loop. Trees lined both sides of the narrow road. Twisted and contorted trunks, too wide for me to throw my arms around, led to green, leafy canopies. In the middle of the loop, sat a long and wide grassy area. Families sat in the middle or under the trees. Squirrels skittered across from one tree to another. People in historical costumes went about their day, walking up and down the streets and in and out of buildings. A woman in a blue striped petticoat, with matching coat, a white apron, and a bonnet and straw hat, to protect her from the sun, sat on a bench and embroidered a square of white cloth. An older, gray-haired man, in an indigo coat and breeches, tipped his cocked, or tricorn, hat as he walked past me. It almost felt as though I could see Henry leaving the Governor’s palace and head towards me. The palace was a large, bricked building, flanked by outbuildings on either side. A white metal gate sat in the middle, closing off the front of the house and requiring visitors to enter through a controlled side. I was not looking to enter; only reminisce of my last night and the people I met in 1754. Artemis pulled me in the opposite direction, back towards Henry’s house and the street that would lead us home. A yellow wagon, pulled by two horses, clomped past us. An older man and woman sat in the back and listened to the carriage driver tell them of the history of the buildings they passed. I must not have been paying attention to what was going on around me, as Artemis continued to pull me away from the palace. It was more than the wagon that set her nerves ablaze and raised the hair on her back.

What’s up guys? I said to my furry guardians, as if they would return my question with an answer. I nearly crashed into the dogs when they did a full stop in front of me. Apollo haunched into a protective stance and a deep, guttural growl came thundering out of him. Something—or someone—was scaring the hell out of these two dogs. Whatever it was, if it scared them, then I wanted nothing to do with it. My stomach tightened as I looked around for the source of terror. My eyes locked on to what the dogs had sensed as dangerous. Out from behind one of the many trees which lined the street, a tall man with dark hair and eyes, dressed like any other tourist, emerged and stood about twenty feet in front of me. Without hesitation, I turned around and readied to run. Kyle, shifted his stare from Henry’s house and back towards me. What in the hell is he doing there? They had banned him from the museum months earlier when he they arrested him for nearly destroying the portrait of the woman that hung in the library. The woman who looked just like me, if I had lived in the mid-seventeen hundreds, and had the same name. She was the wife of Henry. My Henry. But it couldn’t have been me. We were to be married, but I was thrust back to the 21st century before that could happen.

That had to be some sort of odd coincidence. Right? There was something that drew me to Henry’s house, but I had been there with him. It would have been my house as well, and I felt as though I had a duty to protect it, but there was nothing I could do about it now. Self-preservation was more important. I shook my head to shove the confusing thoughts away. What did Kyle have to do with any of this?

Amelia! Kyle yelled from behind me. Stop. I need to talk to you.

I didn’t turn around. There was nothing he could say to me that would make me stop. I didn’t trust him, and I would not stick around for him to prove why I had that distrust. Artemis changed directions back towards Kyle. The leash yanked from my hand. I should have kept a better grip on it, but the force of a protective wolfhound proved to be stronger than me. The other leash cut into my hand as Apollo continued to pull me away from Kyle. I turned to look back towards Artemis, Apollo continued to pull me. As much as I wanted her to protect me, I didn’t want someone to think she was a danger to anyone other than Kyle. I looked over my shoulder, Artemis. Come. Heavy feet pounded away from me. The sound of paws hitting the pavement approached and slowed down next to Apollo. The dogs slowed down as we approached the walking district full of tourists. I picked up the leash that trailed behind Artemis. Out of breath from our trot and the adrenaline that coursed through my veins, we headed back to the house at a quicker pace than our leisure stroll that brought us to the historic district.

When we moved out of the district of shoulder-to-shoulder, sweaty tourists aiming for a photo in front of every building, I pulled out my phone to send a text to the group chat of Hannah, Beth, and Hector. If Kyle was in the area, he might know where I stayed, which could put everyone in danger. I needed to keep everyone safe, including myself.

Me

Kyle here dogs chased

Hannah

Call cops

I stopped dead in my tracks. I couldn’t text with both hands holding leashes. My hands trembled as I pushed and missed the letters I typed.

Me

No cops. I don’t think. keep an eye out

Beth

No office hours. Heading home now

Hector

Agree w H Call cops

Me

omw house

I couldn’t prove that Kyle was stalking me. I felt uncomfortable around him and couldn’t explain why. He had the uncanny knack of showing up… well… everywhere. I didn’t want to accuse him of anything that I couldn’t prove. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. But this wasn’t a court of law. This was the court of Amelia Murray, and Apollo and Artemis clearly agreed with me.

When we arrived at the house in record time, I checked the doors and windows to make sure they were locked. We went in through the back door, where I unclipped the leashes. Apollo and Artemis entered before me. I was hardheaded, but I was not that brave or stupid to go bounding inside without precautions. The possibility of Kyle or an accomplice’s arrival before us lingered in my mind, and the dogs would surely find them. I stood at the backdoor, holding their leashes while they patrolled. No growling. No barking. They came back and looked at me like they couldn’t understand why I was still standing outside. Of course! They wanted treats. Thank you for protecting me today. I rubbed their big, furry heads. Who are the good babies that get a treat? The dogs danced around me and stared at the cabinet that housed their treats. Well deserved today, you two.

I pulled a cold bottle of water out of the refrigerator and took a few sips. The water in the dogs’ water bowl made a splash over the edge as I tossed a handful of ice cubes in the bowl. Overheated and adrenaline pumping through me, I needed to cool and calm down, and so did they. The sound of the mechanical garage door opening was followed by two Irish Wolfhounds prancing around the door that led to the garage, howling for the return of Beth.

CHAPTER TWO

A melia, Beth shouted as she made her way through 300 pounds of dog. Are you okay? What happened? Are you safe? I leaned with my back against the counter, sweat trickled down my spine. Is he here? Why didn’t you let me know you were here?

In two steps, I was in front of Beth, hugging her. I’m okay. We just got home. Apollo and Artemis checked out the house before I came in. Artemis wagged her tail and nudged my hand, asking for a rub behind her ear. I just walked in and grabbed the water. I was about to send a text.

I grabbed my phone out of my back pocket. Some habits are hard to break—and a phone in my back pocket was one of them. I waved my new cell phone in my hand. I had lost my last one somewhere under a tree root in modern-day West Virginia, in 1754, when the French military unit, led by Ensign Jumonville, captured me. Considering the way modern women’s clothes are made, I was lucky that I had pockets, and that the back pocket was big enough to hold my phone. I missed the giant pockets of the 18th century–large enough to fit a bottle of wine. I need to text Hannah and Hector and let them know I am safe, and you’re with me.

You should have sent a text minutes ago. I damn near had a heart attack. Beth stepped out of the hug to grab treats for Apollo and Artemis. I had given them a treat only moments before she walked in, but those two deserved all the treats they could get. Why is it, lately, that you are always in the middle of some sort of crisis? Which gods did you piss off? Artemis caught the small dog biscuit Beth tossed in the air. Apollo stared at it as it flew next to his head and cracked into five pieces on the ground. No effort to catch, but he leaned his head down to pick up the pieces scattered around his front paws.

Good question, I said as I put the phone away after sending the text. I’m guessing I’ve irritated at least six different gods, and that was just in the last three minutes. My head shook at my unfortunate situations. I don’t know how I got wrapped up in this madness, but I think my quiet days at home are about to be on a hiatus.

Beth walked over to the cabinet next to the refrigerator and pulled out three wine glasses and placed them on the counter. She rummaged around in the drawer until she found the wine bottle opener. I was serious about you getting back to work. It should help focus you. You should probably see a therapist while you’re at it.

I was thinking about that, actually. I sat down at the kitchen table and propped my feet up on the chair next to me. Not the therapist part. What can I tell them? Oh, I’m jumpy and might have PTSD from being held captive by a French military unit, where I was regularly beaten until I escaped. Then I went to a battle, was almost assaulted, and then witnessed people dying. And, by the way, this all happened in 1754. I let out a small laugh. No, I can’t speak to anyone. I picked at an imaginary spot on the table. What I was thinking about was the fact that I spend my days unpacking your boxes. Not that I mind, it’s the least I can do for you and Hector. Then the dogs and I go for a walk. We have lunch. We come back. You come home. Then the day is done.

I moved from picking at the imaginary spot on the table to playing with the placemat. My wedding ring, that I would twist around my finger when my anxiety raised, was absent from my finger. I had lost 22 pounds by the time I got back to the 21st century. My ring was loose, and my clothes hung from my body. The constant traveling, hiking through the Allegheny Mountains, and the lack of a consistent meal, was the weight loss plan that I had no control over. I had to admit that I liked the overall results, but I was comfortable in my skin before the weight loss. I had to get comfortable with my new normal. Whatever that meant for me. With everyone’s schedule and my car being in Fredericksburg, I’ve only been around here. I waved my hand around and Beth placed a glass of wine in it. I haven’t finished the research for the book.

Are you still going to write it? I wasn’t sure if you were ever going to do it. You basically lived it. What more research do you need? Maybe you can work through some of your issues if you will not speak to a therapist.

I prefer to pretend everything is fine and I’m coping. It’s the world around me that isn’t coping with the past. To avoid eye contact, I spun the placemat around in circles. I could feel the heavy, disappointed stare from Beth. I don’t know. Maybe I need to take a different direction. I’m thinking….

Apollo’s ears perked up. Artemis raised her head and tilted it to the side. Something—or someone—had sparked their attention. I sat straight in my chair and gulped down. Beth pulled out her phone and followed the dogs to the front door. Hector would have come in through the garage. I took a deep breath, grabbed my phone, slid over to the counter, and drew a knife from the block that sat on the kitchen counter. Kyle had found where I was staying. My heart was going to thump out of my chest. I followed Beth, ready to back her up, if it came to it.

Hannah, Beth sighed with relief as she flung the door open. You nearly gave us a heart attack.

I nearly gave you one? She gave Beth a quick hug, pushed her way past the overly excited dogs, rubbing their heads along the way, and threw her arms around me. I was so worried about you.

I can’t breathe, I gasped out. I held the knife out of the way and held on to her with the other arm. Really, I’m fine. Apollo and Artemis took good care of me until Beth showed up. Did you leave work early to be here? I pulled out of her tight embrace before I passed out from lack of oxygen.

No, Hannah said as she shook her head. We followed Beth into the kitchen. I shoved the knife back into the knife block and grabbed my glass of wine before sitting down at the table. Apollo and Artemis plopped in the middle of the kitchen floor. My shift finished when you sent the last text. I wanted to see with my own eyes that you were okay.

You sound like me, now. I snorted out the reply and took a sip of the white wine Beth had poured for me.

I thought I had lost you forever. She took my glass out of my hand, took a sip, and slid into a chair at the round kitchen table. I scrunched my nose and took it back. I might not drink it all, but she was eighteen, and I refused to let her down my glass of wine. You were gone for months and didn’t let me know you were safe. Hannah played with the placemat. We hadn’t only our looks, but the same nervous habits in common. I just needed to know that you didn’t disappear again.

You know, I didn’t disappear on purpose. I reached over and grabbed her hand. I wouldn’t do that to you.

I still have doubts about the whole time travel thing. She said, flailing her arms about in a grand gesture. "And