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“We have two primary objectives, and we have to accomplish both before returning to current time,” she said, standing to gaze out the window where a couple of hawks circled in the sky.

“One: We make sure everyone has an excellent trip. They have to have the time of their lives.” Nicole’s reflection in the glass betrayed no emotional context. “Two: We find the saboteur.”

Jackson leaned back in his chair and put a spurred boot up on the wooden table. “Too bad we don’t have a guide in 1888 that can sneak people in and out. I like the idea of actually getting out there like planned, but I also don’t believe for a second it won’t end in disaster. And then there’s the Watcher—”

“The Watcher can be distracted. Doctor Doyle, who had the access and expertise to cause this damage?” She waved a hand out toward the cloaking device.

“I’ll compile a list,” Doyle said, scratching his head. “It’s not long. Me, Jones, Doctor Meadows here, Carla Sawyer, who’s on the bridge with McGovern, and I suppose anyone from maintenance that has engineering knowledge.”

“Send me the names. Then I want you to go back out there and scout a fun, yet relatively benign, adventure for our guests to participate in that will give them an authentic taste of the old west without risking too much.”

“Oh, that’s an easy task,” Meadows said, sarcasm dripping from the words. “Why not have him bring back a dinosaur while you’re at it?”

“I need to fix the cloaking device—” Doyle said. But Nicole cut him off with a raised finger.

“Is what I ask doable, Doctor Doyle?” Nicole’s cerulean eyes bored into him. They reminded him more of the hawks than the sky behind her.

Doyle thought for a moment. If he went back out, he could get the information from Sadie without telling her everything, and he’d be able to see her and Teddy again. No harm in that, right? He’d already done that damage.

“I think I can do it. But I’ll need the scouting trip you suggest.”

A huge grin beamed across Nicole’s face at that response. “Excellent. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need you to both fix the cloak and continue to be our eyes out there since you’ve had a successful experience already. Prepare whatever you need and be back in twelve hours to work so we can start the excursions within twenty-four. We need to get people in and out before the Watcher notices, if possible. That makes it priority number one. Out in the middle of the desert, there’s less of a need for the cloak than we anticipated.”

Standing, Doyle tipped his hat to the couple before heading back to his own room. It wasn’t as lavish as the Presidential suite, but all rooms in the luxury resort embodied the epitome of comfort. And though it felt realistic enough, he supposed, with the rustic four-poster and carved furniture, nothing felt as real as the dust and dry heat of the world beyond the glass now that he’d had a taste.

He packed a leather messenger bag that would blend in well enough with equipment. Once finished, he sat on the edge of the mattress and opened his holopad. “Computer, find history of Sadie Rogers circa Devil’s Creek, Arizona, late 1800s.”

“No information located,” the computer said in a matter of seconds.

It was what he’d hoped for, but a brick settled in his chest where his heart should have been. Nothing meant less of a risk of contamination to the timeline, but a woman like Sadie disappearing into history? It was a travesty.

“Try Theodore Rogers,” Doyle said.

“There is a record of three different Theodore Rogers in the late 1800’s. The first is author Theodore R. Rogers of New Orleans, who died of influenza in 1899. The second is Theodore Rogers of New York, born in 1892 to Sam and Elizabeth Rogers, who later worked on Ellis Island. The third is Theodore Rogers of Arizona, orphan who died in 1888 of a slit throat. It was the brutal murder of Theodore and an unidentified woman that sent Eli Wheeler to the gallows and began the decline in population of the up-and-coming mining town, Devil’s Creek, Arizona.”

Mouth gone dry, Doyle froze, staring at the screen as the world around him spun.

Eli was supposed to have murdered Sadie and her son. The entire town disappeared to history after Eli hanged for murder.

Unidentified woman. What had he done that made her unidentifiable? Doyle shuddered. The delicious breakfast Sadie had cooked churned in his stomach with the realization of what would have happened mere hours ago—had happened—if they hadn’t been knocked off course.

But Eli never committed those murders because Doyle’s invention had decapitated him before he’d gotten a chance. Another realization hit. The timeline had already been seriously altered before Doyle ever stepped foot on Sadie’s land.

Smiling, Doyle set down the holopad and grabbed his bag. Damn the repercussions, it happened, and he was glad.