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It was as though she'd stumbled onto Pittsburgh the way it had actually been over two hundred years ago. |
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Her vision blurred, and not just from the tears that filled her eyes. Her dizziness nearly overwhelming, she swayed against a building. Could she be dreaming? But dreams didn't last this long. Unless . . . |
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She'd already worried whether a mini-stroke might have affected her memory. Maybe that was it. Or maybe she'd hit her head when she'd fallen near the Blockhouse and was lying in a hospital somewhere unconscious. |
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Did people in comas have such authentic, chilling dreams? |
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''Miss Walker?" A high male voice sounded in her ear. |
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With a grin of relief, Mariah turnedand felt her smile freeze. Here was yet another man in costume. A stranger. |
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This guy wore the cleanest, neatest period clothes she'd seen yet: a brocade vest over a white woven shirt, knee britches with buckles, dark stockings and buckled shoes. He even wore a white wig pulled back into a pony tail at the nape of his neck. Very dressy, very presentableand still very disturbing to Mariah. She hadn't any idea who he was. |
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She swallowed hard at her disappointment. "I'm Marlab Walker," she said. "I'm afraid I don't remember you . . . " |
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"My name is John Brant," he said. He was only slightly taller than she, and his accent was cultured British. He seemed barely out of his teens, and he had a ready smile. "Pierce sent me." |
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Pierce! "Where is he?" Mariah demanded. He'd have an explanation, she was sure of it. |
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"Some distance from here," he said. "He asked my partner and me to take you to him." |
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"Sure," Mariah said, hope pulsing through her. She'd find out soon what was going on. "Let's go." |
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Mariah was less enthusiastic when she learned that reaching Pierce would involve a boat trip down the Ohio River. |
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John's partner Samuel, though rather stout, was dressed just as smartly, with an even more intricately brocaded vest. He waited for them near the water. |
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