The Cherry-Red Stanley Motorcar (Ch6)
Chapter 6 in THEDA'S TIME MACHINE
Theda shook. They found me. She thought she would be safe on the train, chugging west while all of the trouble remained east in Philadelphia, but here it was. Trouble. The only thing that she ever managed to accomplish. Outside, men’s voices shouted. Inside, passengers grumbled at the stopped train interfering with tight schedules.
She slowly raised her eyes and peered into the soldier’s dark blue eyes, that did not have the hard countenance that most blue-eyed stares emitted. He cocked his head to one side.
“Miss Evora,” the soldier tried again. He slowly removed his finger from the magazine and Theda dropped it to the ground. “You are Miss Theodora Evora, correct? I’m not mixing up sisters now, am I?”
“What do you want?” She mimicked the haughty tone her mother used when confronted with aggression, but at the last word her voice faltered. Damn! Her back stiffened and she lifted her chin. Unfazed, scrutinizing her with a wry smile.
“What if I wanted to pick you up and throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here?” Despite her terror, she noticed his white, even teeth.
“What if I kicked you in the place that cuts a branch off your family tree?” The buzz of conversation began to fade as the other passengers noticed them, leaning in to hear. She glanced quickly at the door, but no Mother. Violet had walked away right before this man arrived, leaving her to fend for herself.
He laughed. “Then I believe we should move to a better plan. One should avoid the elimination of future progeny at all cost,” he said, rolling up the WANTED sign. He paused for a split second, then tucked the sign in the inner pocket of his over coat and said, “and we’ve been all over this dang train and come up with a fist full of nothing. At least apprehending a criminal isn’t in the works for today.”
Strange. He delivered his first sentence in the educated speech of the private school boys she had grown up with. In the next sentence, the words were subtly accented, like the accent she associated with the middle western states. Last year, Dr. Evora had been asked to lecture on respiratory illness at the University of Colorado and he took his family along. While her father was busy at the school, the daughter of one of the local doctors asked if Theda and Violet would like to visit their family ranch. “You’ll get to see some real men. A lot different from those East Coast gents,” she winked.
And they were different. Rough guys in cowhide pants and jackets who spent the day rounding cattle on horseback. They were as polite as any of those private schoolboys to her face, but she heard one of them remark when they thought the girls were out of earshot, “I’d like to have a hog-killing time with that Violet.” She assumed he didn’t mean the actual killing of hogs. The cowboys spoke in a free and unaffected way, and their vocabularies didn’t consist of words such as “progeny.”
“What do you want with me?” Her instincts were a jumble. Who is he? Not police. The cops had a certain stiff way about them that made them easy to spot even if they were in plainclothes. He isn’t one of them, either. Had he been one of the anarchists, he would have been invisible to her, seamlessly blended into the crowd, pretending to read a newspaper, waiting for the opportunity to grab her.
“The Major sent the posse to search the train for this guy, figuring we’d nab him before he even gets to Riley. Your father got wind of it and asked that we escort you from the train straight to the house where you’ll be staying. Guess he didn’t like having his wife and kids in the middle of a manhunt.” He offered a gloved hand, and before Theda could stop herself, she placed hers in it and stood. She rose, grateful to be holding onto him, afraid her legs might not be up to the task of holding her.
“I don’t know where my mother and sister are,” Theda began, and he was gently pulled her into the aisle. He let go of her hand and stood to the side, allowing her to go first.
“It’s fine, we’ll meet them outside. Come now.” He gestured for her to lead the way.
Theda hesitated, a fissure of nervousness halting her feet. She fought the instinct to glue herself to the wall, daring him to physically move her.
“Come on,” he said quietly, winking. “Everyone is staring.”
Her head snapped to the right. Numerous sets of eyes like nocturnal forest animals peered over the backs of the seats and around feathered hats. If she caused a scene, the entire train would be humming with the gossip and her mother, who lately was always angry with her, would have a conniption. And it wasn’t as if Margaret Evora were making up reasons to be cross with Theda. No, Theda gave her more than enough reasons to make her clench her jaw by her many daily rebellions of what society expected of her, like dating the ‘right’ boys and being friends with the ‘right’ girls. The Evoras probably thought that the worst of it was Theda getting thrown out of school this past year, but they didn’t know the half of it. Had her parents known of her involvement with an anarchist group, they would have boarded her up in her bedroom.
Still, what was worse? Leaving the train with a strange soldier or causing a little bit of gossip?
She opened her mouth, the beginnings of a statement like I’m not leaving until I’m ready! forming when, to her relief, the door of the car opened and her scowling mother pushed through, followed Violet, whose power to draw eyes away from her sister was a welcomed magic.
“Theda!” Margaret Evora said from the entranceway to the train car. She straightened her back and lifted her chin in a mirror gesture of her daughter moments before. “What are you still doing here? We’re being summoned outside the train. Come.” She turned abruptly on her delicate traveling boot heels and the porter who was on her tail jumped backward with a hhhhrrumph!
“You heard your mama,” the soldier said. “I’ve seen drill sergeants with less gumption.”
Theda followed her mother and Violet, turning a sharp right out of the car and onto the steps. After the stifling heat of the first-class car, the cold air was welcomed, despite her lack of coat.
The train stretched into the bleak landscape like a snake halted in a field, curving along the tracks. By the engine was a large army Packard truck. About a half mile parallel to the tracks was a road, and the only way that Theda was able to know that it was a road was by a lone black Model T, puttering along like a beetle on a twig.
Directly in front of them was a Stanley Touring Car painted a deep, cherry red. Parked alongside of it was a motorcycle. For a moment, Theda’s heart stopped. Maxim had a motorcycle similar to it. A flash of memory of Maxim teaching her to drive the motorcycle in an empty field outside of Philadelphia, kicking up a flock of migrating blackbirds that spotted the blue sky like negated stars.
Violet caught Theda by the arm, shaking her from her memory. “Did you see him?” She whispered.
“See who? The criminal?”
“No, silly. Him. He’s so handsome he makes Valentino look like a bum.” Over Violet’s head, the soldier whom Theda had met descended the stairs, followed by a much shorter, smiling young soldier with robin’s egg blue eyes. Theda elbowed Violet into silence. Violet turned the full power of her smile onto the shorter soldier and the effect was obvious.
“This is highly unusual,” Margaret Evora said, directing the comment to the men. “I can’t imagine why we would be stopped before we got to the station! What is the meaning of this?”
The shorter soldier removed his hat and said, “Ma’am, I know this must seem odd, but we’re just following orders. But please, allow me to introduce ourselves. I’m Private First-Class William Rankin, and this is PFC Asa Jackson.” Asa Jackson removed his hat, showing brown hair that was longer than Private Rankin’s blond buzz cut. He’s been here for more time, Theda thought. Over his left ear, the hair was thinner, and the tell-tale whiteness of scar tissue sewed a ragged path from just over the middle of his earlobe to just about the back of his head. He replaced his hat and smiled, but the smile was mere formality. His eyes darted over their heads, searching the road.
“Dr. Evora was just being overly cautious, but I can see why he’d want to make sure such a beautiful family is safe,” Rankin continued, and a quick glance at Theda’s frowning face made him hurry on. “Your luggage is being taken now and loaded onto the truck.” He pointed in the direction of the Packard. “But I know you’d rather come with us in a much better ride. You know, every morning either me or Jackson drive Dr. Evora to his work at the General Building and we don’t allow our doctors to ride in anything less than style.” He winked at Violet.
She had to agree with her sister that Private Rankin was a good-looking man, but it was obvious that he knew it. Rankin eyed Violet with that side-eyed, coveting stare that Theda had seen countless times aimed at her sister. Dislike rose in her, yet she tried to tamp it down.
“Then I suppose we must drive with you, then,” Margaret resigned, sighing. “But I need my purse and our coats. We exited the train so fast we didn’t have time to gather what we need.”
“I’ll grab them for you,” Rankin said. “But I don’t know where they are. Would you mind showing me, Miss Evora?” He asked Violet.
“Of course, Private. I’d be happy to.” Violet followed him into the train.
“Ma’am, if you’d like to wait in the car and out of the chill, please feel free,” Asa Jackson said, moving past Theda to open the door.
“I’ll do that, thank you, Private. Theda?”
“I’ll wait for Violet, Mother.”
“If you want.” And she headed for the red car and climbed into the passenger’s seat. Jackson closed the door with a chunk.
Jackson removed his overcoat. “You’re shivering. May I?”
“No, I’ll be fine. It’s only a few minutes,” Theda said, feeling her teeth beginning to chatter.
“Interesting to see a woman take the cold,” Jackson shrugged and pushed his arms into the overcoat. He began to button it up when the rolled up wanted poster fell from the interior pocket. He picked it up.
“Why, Private Jackson? You think I’ve never lived through a winter before?”
“I think you’ve lived through at least a few, Miss Evora. But not Kansas-cold.”
“Are there different types of cold per state? How interesting. Funny how scientists haven’t spelled that out yet.”
“It’s a cold that creeps. It creeps into you and stays in your bones. You’re not safe from it.”
“I’m sure I’ll survive. Had my father thought I’d perish from exposure I’m sure he wouldn’t have sent for me.”
“Smart man, your father. He knows much about lung sickness, I know.”
“He’s an expert in respiratory illnesses. The army wants him to try and find a way to treat men who have been in gas attacks.”
“Gas. Something I want nothing to do with over there.” He leaned on the last two words sarcastically, a difference from the casual use of the words over there when discussing the war.
To Theda’s relief, Billy and Violet appeared with the coats and bags. “It’s a little ways to the house and it’s going to be awful cramped in that car,” Jackson said. “Why don’t you come with me? There’s room on the back.” He jerked a thumb toward the motorcycle.
Theda laughed. “You must be joking!”
“I’m sure you’ve never even seen a motorcycle before…”
“That’s a 1915 Harley-Davidson Cannonball.” Violet handed Theda her coat and kept walking to the Stanley with Private Rankin.
Jackson startled. “So it is. Why don’t you prove a guy like me wrong and come for a ride?”
The thought of going with him was enticing, so much so that she took a small step in his direction. He had the same dangerous air that Maxim did, the same wry smile. He correctly read her hesitancy and said, “A girl like you doesn’t ride the backseat of cars.”
“Theda?” Margaret called from the open door of the car. “Please come now!”
That broke the spell. She hadn’t set foot on Kansas land for more than ten minutes and starting off this trip with a row with her mother wasn’t what she wanted. She had promised herself, over and over on the train ride, that she would behave herself. Trouble needed to be left in the past. And this guy was trouble.
“I don’t have to prove anything, Private Jackson,” she folded her coat over her arm, still shivering. “I believe I’ll ride in the Stanley afterall.”
“Suit yourself, Miss Evora. I have a feeling I’ll see you before your visit is up.” He tipped his hat and started toward the motorcycle.
“And I have a feeling this is our first and last meeting!” She called after him, hating her babyish tone and losing her composure.
“Then a good day to you!” He called over his shoulder. He mounted the motorcycle and stomped it into life. Theda stood and watched, despite the three people waiting for her in the cherry red Stanley. Jackson revved the engine and headed toward the road. He raised one hand in a final good-bye and sped away.
READ CHAPTER 7 HERE:
Travel back to the beginning, chapter 1:
“lone black Model T, puttering along like a beetle on a twig.”
Wonderful!