all that’s holy…” she mumbled, moving closer. “I wanted to believe my great niece, even if I couldn’t really imagine what she was telling me could possibly be true.” Her eyes moved from his cowboy boots to the top of his head. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”
Reno didn’t flinch at the close examination. “Yes, ma’am. It’s me. Reno Black. Quartermaster Sergeant, Cumberland Guard, Eastern Unit of the 9th Cavalry from the state of Tennessee. Half Cherokee and an adequate ranch hand. Born May 3rd, 1843. Vanished April 19th, 1869.”
The way he identified himself sent chills all over Journey. “It’s him, Aunt Myra. Our Reno.”
The older woman surveyed him with a solemn expression until her countenance softened into a smile of welcome and she wrapped her arms around him. “If you’re an actor, you’re a damn good one. And a helluva looker too.”
Journey shook her head. “Aunt Myra, you’re incorrigible.”
She waved her hand. “No, I’m convinced. What he told me about the Bixby letter sealed the deal. Myles said there was no way anyone living could’ve known those details. That secret has been passed down and protected from generation to generation.” She patted Reno on the shoulder. “I told him the truth about you. Don’t worry, he won’t tell a soul. He would’ve come with me to see you for himself, if he’d been able. He did send a list of questions for me to ask you. He said he wants the answers pronto, he’s afraid he’ll die before he gets them.”
“I’ll answer anything he wants to know. Gladly.” Reno took the picnic basket to the counter and began to unpack the leftovers.
Myra noticed what he was doing and elbowed Journey. “You didn’t tell me he was housebroken.”
At her odd comment, Lou and Journey both giggled. Reno gave all three women a narrowed, suspicious gaze. “I’m not certain a man should be housebroken.”
“No, it’s a good thing. As long as you’re good in bed.” Myra picked up one of the bottles of wine and poured herself a glass. “Join me, Lou?”
“Yes ma’am.” A stunned Lou came forward to accept a drink.
Journey hid her eyes and shook her head. Reno didn’t make a comment either. However, he couldn’t hide his amused smile.
“Mr. Weiss was housebroken.” Myra smiled as she filled a glass to hand it to the lady scientist. “He wasn’t shabby in other departments either.”
As the other three stood waiting for the awkwardness to pass, Myra snapped her fingers. “Almost forgot.” She went over to rummage in her oversize bag. After peering into the unfathomable depths, she pulled out a yellow envelope. “Myles sent this to the two of you, something he thinks you’ll want to see.”
“What is it?” Journey asked, coming forward to accept whatever Myra held in her hand.
“I’m not sure. He said that he apologized if sending you this was in poor taste, but he hoped it might help. Truthfully, I think this whole thing pulled him back from the brink. When I left, he was sorting through a whole pile of stuff, said he planned to have it all scanned and uploaded…whatever that means. In the past, he always kept these documents in a fireproof vault. I always thought that was an extravagance for a pile of old papers and pictures, but now that I know the value of the Bixby letter, I understand.”
Moving to stand by Reno, Journey began to tear the envelope open. Lou watched from the bar, her face an unreadable mask.
“Oh, God. Reno!” Journey couldn’t believe what she was seeing. In her hand she held an albumen-coated, card mounted photograph.
Reno leaned in closer, realized what he was looking at, then pulled it from Journey’s grasp. “Give me that.”
“What’s wrong?” Lou asked, recognizing the look of upset on her friend’s face.
Journey couldn’t speak. She’d turned white as a sheet.
Reno handed the photo to Lou as Myra crowded in to see what was causing her great niece such distress.
What they discovered was a cabinet card depicting a grave next to a stone strewn path. The headstone was engraved with a name and two dates.
RENO BLACK
1843 – 1869
Journey doubled over, pain shooting through her like arrows.
Placing his arm around her, Reno gathered her close. “It’s okay, honey. I’m still here.”
“You can’t go back,” she gasped. “Something bad is going to happen.”
“Knowing my friends, they probably put this up as a memorial for me. Doesn’t mean I’m buried there.” He looked to Lou for support. “I’m not dead. I’m here.”