I shifted in the straw to get more comfortable. I wanted to take the baby from Hudson’s arms and feed him myself, but at the same time, I was afraid to. He was so small, and I didn’t know how. What had Chrissy been thinking to entrust me with a miniature, breakable person?

“What are you going to name him?” Hudson asked.

“In the future? I have no idea.”

“I meant now. We have to call him something.” 276/356

I stroked the baby’s tuft of wavy brown hair. He looked over at me, two large brown eyes taking me in. Then he stopped drinking and smiled. The sight of his grin sent my heart skittering. I felt like I’d won a prize.

He made a happy-sounding umm, umm noise and went back to drinking.

“How old do you think he is?” I asked.

“Old enough that he eats baby food, because Chrissy packed some of that too.” Hudson tilted his head and regarded the baby. “I think he looks like a … Remington. Maybe a Colt.”

“Aren’t those gun names?”

“He’s a manly baby. He needs a manly name. How about Stetson?”

“Are you picking names or describing how the West was won?” Hudson laughed and looked all the more gorgeous for it. His smile lightened his features, made him look approachable, touchable.

“You don’t have to keep the name in the future, but people will think it’s strange if your son doesn’t have a name now.” I ran a finger over the baby’s hand where tiny dimples puckered his knuckles. “If I call him Stetson now, then I’ll start thinking of him as Stetson and when I have him in the future I won’t be able to call him anything else.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

The baby finished his bottle, and Hudson set him upright. He gurgled and reached for me with waving hands. I took him in my arms, not even caring that he spit up a little of the formula. It ran down his chin, reminding me that you were supposed to burp babies after they ate. There were probably dozens more details I didn’t know. I pulled a washcloth out of the diaper bag and wiped his face. “How about we call him Junior? After my husband. Whoever that is.” 277/356

Junior reached up and tried to grab my bottom lip.

“It’s not Robin Hood,” Hudson said.

I pulled Junior’s hand away from my mouth. “I never said it would be.”

Hudson leaned back against the straw. “I just mean, you’re blond and Robin Hood’s blond, so you’d have blond children. Apparently you marry a brunet guy.”

“Well, I’ve always liked brunets.” My gaze went to Hudson’s brown hair, then quickly fell away. I didn’t need to announce, more than I already had, that I found him attractive. After all, I had practically thrown myself at him last night at the campfire. I’d taken his hand, then put my arms around him, and when he hugged me back, I’d tilted my face up to his so he could kiss me.

He hadn’t kissed me. Maybe he would have if Chrissy hadn’t popped in, but then again, maybe he wouldn’t have. He hadn’t done anything since then to indicate he wanted to be more than friends.

Which made me feel all the more awkward about the way I’d draped myself around him last night.

Thankfully, Hudson didn’t seem to notice my furtive hair glancing. He took the Gilead out of his pouch to check on it, then slipped it back.

I patted the baby’s back. “What will happen to Junior when we go to our time period?” I asked.

“We’ll take him with us.”

“But he hasn’t been born yet.”

“Neither have we, and we’re doing fine in this time period. We don’t have any other choice.”

He was right, I supposed, but it was hard to imagine how that would work out.

278/356

In my lap, Junior grabbed at the beads on my dress. When he couldn’t move them, he twisted in my arms and reached his arms out to Hudson.

“He likes you,” I said in surprise. I had taken his friendliness toward me as proof that he recognized me, but perhaps he was just a happy baby.

Hudson shrugged and took Junior from me. “That’s because I fed him. Babies are like stray cats that way.”

“Babies are not like stray cats,” I said.

Hudson ignored my protest. “Watch. He loves this.” He held Junior up above his head, then brought the baby down and blew raspber-ries on his neck.

Junior’s cheeks bunched up into a smile, and he laughed a deep belly laugh that wobbled through his whole body. I watched the two of them, wishing I had a camera. I wanted to keep the moment.

The barn door opened with a creak, and through the halo of the daylight, a man walked inside. I had expected Bartimaeus to be eld-erly, with a long white beard and a flowing robe. Instead he was clean shaven with black hair that only brushed his shoulders. He was dressed like most of the men I’d seen in the Middle Ages with the exception that his tunic was cleaner and he wore an embroidered belt around his waist. His eyes had a lofty look to them, and his large, hooked nose gave him an imperial air. Hudson had referred to him as

“Bartimaeus the Proud,” and I could see why he had the name.

He strolled over to us, unsmiling. “You say you have the Gilead?”

“I left it with friends.” Hudson handed me the baby and walked over to the wizard. “But things have changed since we made our agreement. A few more of us need to go to the future. We can pay whatever price you’d like in gold.”

279/356

Bartimaeus tucked his hands behind his back. “Where are these friends?”

“A day’s ride if we travel on the main road by carriage.” Hudson gestured toward the far corner of the barn, and it was only then that I noticed a carriage standing there. “Two days if we travel on horseback through the back trails. But either way, we need to avoid King John’s men.”

The wizard looked at me for the first time, regarding me sourly.

“Ah yes, they’re out searching for a young woman. Tall, blond, and pretty.” He said these things like I’d chosen to be tall, blond, and pretty instead of being useful and productive.

Bartimaeus turned his attention back to Hudson. “Why can’t you bring the Gilead here?”

Hudson folded his arms. “Unfortunately, circumstances don’t per-mit it.”

The wizard continued to look over us with a deepening scowl. “I have no intention of traveling around the countryside for four days.

I’m accustomed to sleeping in my own bed and there’s hardly a decent inn from here to Derby.” He paced in front of us, the sound of straw crunching beneath his feet.

“My apologies,” Hudson said. “Do you still want the Gilead?” Bartimaeus stopped his pacing. “Oh, very well. I’ll have the stable boy hitch up the carriage, and we’ll find you some less conspicuous clothes.” He shot me one last withering glance. “Something that flaunts fewer jewels than the queen of Sheba would wear.” Technically, the beading on my dress wasn’t made of jewels, and I had planned on wearing my cloak over the dress, but I didn’t turn down the offer. It would be nice to change into something that didn’t look like it had come from the evening-gown portion of the Miss America pageant.

280/356

“Be ready when the carriage is,” he added. “I don’t want to waste any more time on you than I have to.” With that, Bartimaeus turned on his heel and left the barn.

I rubbed Junior’s back through his fuzzy sleeper. “I’ve thought of a new moral for the story: ‘Wizards are a bunch of grumpy old men.’ ”

“Maybe,” Hudson said. “But if he can send us home, I’d vote for naming your baby after him.” He reached out and tweaked the baby’s chin. “Right, little Bart?”

• • •

An hour later, the carriage was packed, the horses were ready, and I was wearing a worn brown dress that smelled of onions and gar-lic—one of the servant’s gowns. The wizard had also given me a head-covering wimple to hide my blond hair. “If we see anyone, shrink down so as not to appear so tall,” Bartimaeus had told me. I wasn’t that tall, but the Middle Ages was populated by short people. Then Bartimaeus had grumbled disapprovingly. “And for mercy’s sake, do something so you don’t look so pretty.” Personally, I thought the ugly brown dress and wimple did a suffi-cient enough job of that. The wizard also gave me an outfit for the baby—a beige shirt that was so long it looked like a shapeless dress.