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Page 42
It was as though she'd stumbled onto Pittsburgh the way it had actually been over two hundred years ago.
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 . . .
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.
Did people in comas have such authentic, chilling dreams?
''Miss Walker?" A high male voice sounded in her ear.
Someone here knew her!
With a grin of relief, Mariah turnedand felt her smile freeze. Here was yet another man in costume. A stranger.
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.
She swallowed hard at her disappointment. "I'm Marlab Walker," she said. "I'm afraid I don't remember you . . . "
"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."
Pierce! "Where is he?" Mariah demanded. He'd have an explanation, she was sure of it.
"Some distance from here," he said. "He asked my partner and me to take you to him."
"Sure," Mariah said, hope pulsing through her. She'd find out soon what was going on. "Let's go."

Mariah was less enthusiastic when she learned that reaching Pierce would involve a boat trip down the Ohio River.
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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