Talk Like a Pirate by Suzanne D. Williams

Author:Suzanne D. Williams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: alternate history, time travel, romance, historical fiction, romantic comedy, Christian fiction, short stories, clean & wholesome, contemporary romance, action & adventure
Publisher: Suzanne D. Williams
Published: 2017-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

APRIL 18, 21st Century, Outside Boston

Dr. Jasmine Cushman fled her vehicle, her quick footsteps aimed for the man lying crumpled on the pavement. The horse he’d been riding snorted, rolling its eyes wild and pawing the ground. She skirted wide, holding her palms outward and keeping her voice low. “Easy ... I just want to check on your friend here.” Her soothing did little to calm the frightened beast, which whinnied and danced in reverse.

One eye in that direction, she crept forward and knelt at the man’s side. His hands curled awkwardly, his legs akimbo, he laid eerily still, his eyes closed beneath the midnight sky. She bent over his mouth, relieved to hear him breathe and mashed two fingers at the base of his neck, feeling for a pulse.

“You’re alive, just out cold,” she said.

Out cold and dressed like ... like a man taken straight through time. Brown knee breeches, a linen shirt, and a thick woolen surcoat.

She rifled in his pockets, for any ID, and pulled out a small canvas bag, heavy with what sounded like coins. Lifting her hand into the golden glow of her headlights, she dumped them in her palm and flipped them over. There was no mistaking the marking. “Paul Revere?” She was no expert, but those looked real, he looked real, and, if she was right, this had happened once before.

Making a quick check of his head for injuries, Jasmine glanced in the direction he’d come from. The remains of a thick fog held in the trees. Fog like they’d seen the night the Frenchman, Yves and the two Spaniards had returned back in time. Of course, it could be she was wrong, but her gut said she wasn’t. And if she wasn’t, she needed to take him somewhere out of public view before anyone else happened by.

She looked toward the horse again. There might be something in the saddlebags to confirm it, something that, given he was from the past needed to be protected. She stood and dried her palms on her skirt. Speaking softly, she edged toward the horse. “I mean no harm.”

From somewhere in her childhood rose memories of her father. He’d been a trained horseman, riding as often as his spare time would allow. She’d accompanied him now and then, and always admired his rapport with the animals. Taking light footsteps, she crooned low, in the manner he used to do, and, upon time, grasped the reins, able to stroke the horse’s neck. Quivering fear held in its gaze.

“Unfortunately, I’ll have to call someone to deal with you,” she said. “I’ve nowhere to keep a horse. But I need to check these saddlebags, so ...”

Rifling through the bags, she pulled out a cylinder tied with a leather thong. The soldier stirred behind her, and briefly panicked, she tucked the roll to her side and rushed to her car. She tossed it in her backseat, leaving the passenger door open, and returned to his side.

He was sure to wake up, and when he did he’d be confused and upset.

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