Accidental Traveler: Time Port Santa Fe

By Larry Tyree

Former successful real estate entrepreneur Tyler Farnsworth leaves Phoenix a broken man. His life had been the envy of most men, the ladies always vying for his attention. But a short courtship and an even shorter marriage, followed by a divorce would soon change his life.

Jobless, Tyler longs to start anew. Perhaps he could fulfill his boyhood dream of owning a guest ranch. Arriving in the timeless city of Santa Fe, his troubles have only begun. Disregarding warnings of the occult and unexplained disappearances, he buys the abandoned property named Rancho Santa Cruz. His life is thrown into turmoil with the accidental discovery of a “time port” on his land. Suddenly, he’s flung back to the year 1941 and the onset of World War Two.

Step back through time as Tyler struggles to return to 1991, facing danger, intrigue, and, unexpectedly, love. Will he find his way home? More importantly, does he want too?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Larry Tyree
• Release date: Sep 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370068708

Larry Tyree

Retired hotel executive Larry Tyree has spent most of his life working and living in the great Southwest, from the Superstition Mountains of Arizona to the mystical Sangre de Cristo Mountains of Santa Fe, New Mexico. He has acquired a unique perspective of the many unexplained happenings in the Southwest, from historical to recent events.As a young man, he was a law enforcement officer who met and dealt with many unforgettable characters along the Apache Trail of Arizona and throughout the mysterious Superstitions.Later, his hotel career took him to Santa Fe, New Mexico. Once again, he became intrigued with local accounts of extraordinary and unexplained occurrences. After having interviewed hundreds of people over the years, he has acquired insight into the exciting possibilities of a perhaps not so imaginary world of science fiction.Tyree lives near Phoenix, Arizona, with his wife Mary. Travel is their mutual passion, while the author remains alert for good story possibilities. Look for more adventures to come from Time Port Santa Fe. For further information, contact the author at [e-mail].

Book preview

Accidental Traveler

Time Port Santa Fe

Larry Tyree

The Smashwords Edition

of a Larry Tyree publication

Copyright © 2016 by Larry Tyree

Smashwords License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. It may not be resold or given away. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, please return to the same bookseller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance or similarity to persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Credits

Cover design: @NewGalleryPublishing.com

Cover credits: Courtesy of Shutterstock.com/©sunfun

Formatting: @NewGalleryPublishing.com

All rights and permissions, © 2016 Larry Tyree, Sun Lakes, AZ

Accidental Traveler

Time Port Santa Fe

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Contents

1. Santa Fe, New Mexico ~ 1938

2. Phoenix, Arizona ~ 1991

3. Phoenix, Arizona ~ Summer, 1991

4. Santa Fe, New Mexico ~ September 25, 1938

5. Santa Fe, New Mexico ~ 1991

6. Santa Fe, New Mexico ~ 1968

7. Santa Fe, New Mexico ~ 1991

8. Rancho Santa Cruz ~ 1991

9. Somewhere on Rancho Santa Cruz ~ December 1, 1941

10. Rancho Santa Cruz ~ 1941

11. Sullivan Ranch ~ Santa Fe, New Mexico

12. Sullivan Ranch

13. Tesuque Village, New Mexico ~ 1942

14. Sullivan Ranch ~ Santa Fe, New Mexico

15. Santa Fe, New Mexico

16. Albuquerque, New Mexico

17. Albuquerque, New Mexico

18. Sullivan Ranch

19. Sullivan Ranch, New Mexico

20. Santa Fe, New Mexico

21. Sullivan Ranch

22. New York City

23. Albuquerque and Santa Fe, New Mexico

24. The Carlisle Ballroom ~ Albuquerque, New Mexico

25. Tesuque Village

26. Rancho Santa Cruz

27. Time Port Santa Fe

28. Sullivan Ranch, 1942

29. Sullivan Ranch

30. Near Tesuque, New Mexico

31. Dodger’s Cabin ~ Santa Fe National Forest

32. Santa Fe National Forest

33. Time Port Santa Fe

34. Time Port Santa Fe

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Accidental Traveler

Have certain civilizations refined travel through time, perhaps with pinpoint accuracy? Many believe it is a myth, but evidence to the contrary has been the privilege of a mere few. Have they been chosen—or did they stumble upon the phenomenon? After all, Albert Einstein proposed that space and time were interwoven into a continuum know as space-time.

Are many of the unexplained disappearances of our time actually accidental travel? Were these individuals in the wrong place at the wrong time, never to be seen again? People simply disappear without a trace. Call it what you will, but indications are that it’s out there and it’s real.

Here is one man’s story….

1

Santa Fe, New Mexico ~ 1938

No one ever learned what happened to the little boy. It was a clear, beautiful Sunday morning, on September 25, 1938, when Juan Pedro Padilla was only eight years old. He simply vanished.

The Padilla family had returned to the ranch around noon from the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Santa Fe where they attended Mass on Sundays. Juan jumped from his father’s battered Ford pickup and charged into the house and to his bedroom and changed clothes. He grabbed his wide-brimmed hat and the Daisy Red Ryder BB gun that his father had given him for his last birthday and headed for the barn where his dog Diego was waiting for him. The two started down the winding trail that led to the arroyo behind a stand of tall pine trees.

Diego was a four-year-old border collie, the little boy’s constant companion who never left his side. Once Juan was old enough, he and his dog would roam the ranch together. Ever since his father, Señor Gabriel Padilla, determined that it was safe to let the boy and his dog go out alone, his son and Diego had wandered the ranch for most of the past year, enjoying carefree times together throughout the seasons. Although he was small for his age, Juan was bright, trustworthy, and highly inquisitive.

As he slammed the screen door, his mother Maria called after to him. Remember, Juancito. She always used her pet name for him. You must be home by four o’clock. She glanced up at the sun as a reminder.

Juan Pedro smiled, waved, and continued walking. How he loved to explore his family’s homestead—there were nearly two hundred acres. Brandishing the BB gun, he would remain vigilant for outlaws and Indians.

Their ranch consisted of low hills carved with arroyos and dotted with New Mexico scrub pine. It was home to his family’s growing herd of range cattle. There were also Maria’s chickens, and she would sell their eggs at the general store in Tesuque.

The Padilla family had purchased the ranch before Juan Pedro was born. Then, their niño had been christened at Our Lady of Guadalupe in Santa Fe where the family attended Mass on Sunday and on Holy Days.

Over the next eight years, the Padilla family had constructed a modest adobe ranch house. Later, they built a corral and, after a few years, finally a barn. Señor Gabriel Padilla was the hardworking and proud owner of what he and Maria would call Rancho Santa Cruz, named for the region in Mexico where their ancestors had lived for five generations.

At five feet seven, Juan’s father Gabriel Padilla was not a tall man. His enthusiasm and drive always made up for any lack of wealth, because he was a hard worker, having learned about raising cattle from his father and grandfather. Like many fathers, he dreamed of a better life for his son, and he had visions of some day having a much larger herd for Juan to manage.

Maria was preparing dinner; the green chilies for her special enchiladas were roasting on the fire. She glanced up at the wall clock in the kitchen. Dío! she exclaimed. It’s already four thirty!

Juan Pedro had not come running up to the house, bursting through the kitchen door as he usually would. When five thirty passed and then six thirty came, Maria became worried. Their son Juan never disobeyed and always respected his parents. He would never stray too far from the house, and she was certain that the faithful Diego would protect him no matter the cost.

Her husband returned to the house from the barn and took one look at her face. What is it, Maria? What’s happened?

She told him.

Now they were both concerned, but Gabriel Padilla hid his anxiety better than his wife. An hour later, Diego wandered back to the house, alone. He had never before left Juan’s side.

Gabriel Padilla spoke. Maria, look at the dog. He’s nervous.

"Sí," she said. He keeps pacing back and forth. It’s as if he wants us to do something—or tell us something important.

"My stomach—it is telling me something, Juan’s father said. Like a sinking—a knot of fear in the pit of my stomach. He hesitated but a moment. Maria, take the truck and go to the Sullivan Ranch. Get help!"

Three miles and minutes later, Maria arrived at the Sullivans’ where she bolted from the truck almost before it rolled to a stop. Help! she called out. "Help us! Por favor!"

2

Phoenix, Arizona ~ 1991

It was just another hot Fourth of July, and Tyler Farnsworth couldn’t remember one that had been much different. He stood at his bedroom window dressed in shabby jeans and a dirty tee-shirt watching the fireworks. The less than elegant, cramped, third-floor apartment in southeast Phoenix was where he’d landed after his divorce from Gwenn.

As the distant rockets burst one after another in an array of brilliant colors, Tyler was sipping his third martini and considering just how crappy his life had turned out. He didn’t have the desire or the energy to attend any of the parties his friends were throwing to celebrate the Fourth. It was already eight o’clock and still 106˚.

Being around people seemed to make matters worse. Consequently, Tyler had grown accustomed to drinking martinis alone. Besides, who cared if he hadn’t shaved in almost a week? He certainly didn’t. He was his own best company these days. The shabby, cramped apartment hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. The bed was unmade; dishes were piled high in the sink. Empty green liquor bottles were scattered about the tiny kitchen table jammed into one corner. As long as he had the money for gin and vermouth, he was happy, relatively happy. It used to be important that his martini was straight up with a single olive, but now olives didn’t matter. They just took up space. Glancing at his reflection in the glass door of a cupboard, Tyler could see only a faint resemblance of his former self. What had happened to him?

At age thirty, Tyler Farnsworth, known as Ty to his friends, had once been a successful real estate agent in the East Valley. He had always dressed to the nines, as the cliché went, and had worn expensive tailored suits and custom dress shirts with his initials embroidered on the sleeve.

Six foot even and weighing a trim 175 pounds, Ty was frequently the center of attention at parties and around the office. Coworkers would solicit his advice. Single friends sought his companionship sometimes because of his good looks and confident demeanor—he was handy to be around at a singles bar when they were trying to pick up a date.

His life had been the envy of most of the men he knew, and the ladies always seemed to be jockeying for his attention. Never in his wildest dreams could Tyler have thought he would end up where he was now. But a brief, disastrous marriage to Gwenn, followed by a quick divorce had changed all that.

Before he did any more damage to his liver and his life in general, Tyler decided it was time to turn his life around and get away from Phoenix, his ex-wife, and all the emotions and memories of his past.

It wasn’t as though he had much of an estate to liquidate. In addition to a modest wardrobe of casual clothes, his worldly possessions consisted of a 14-inch Emerson TV with a broken remote, an old Minolta camera, and a 1987 Honda Passport 4WD. The collection of empty green bottles occupying his kitchen would not be making the trip with him. Actually, Tyler decided, they would never again appear in the future. From this point on, his course of action would be to take life one day at a time—without the martinis.

Tyler recalled a former client from Santa Fe, New Mexico, who had described the city’s rich history and culture. That might be a good place to start. It seemed as good as any place to take a chance with life.

3

Phoenix, Arizona ~ Summer, 1991

Since desert temperatures in mid-August often reached 115˚, Tyler decided to start early. The Honda was packed with his worldly possessions: clothes, a couple of pairs of sneakers, boots, and the ancient 14-inch Emerson TV. The five-hundred-mile trip to Santa Fe would take all day, and he wanted to get there before dark.

By late afternoon, he’d arrived pretty much as expected, shortly after four. Leaving Interstate 25, Tyler followed old US 66 into downtown Santa Fe where he spotted the El Diablo Hotel on San Francisco Street. It seemed like a good place to stay a few nights while he had a chance to look around.

The hotel was located half a block from the historic Santa Fe Plaza, close to restaurants and points of historical interest. After he parked on a side street, he strolled into the hotel, thinking it would be as good a place as any to start.

He stepped up to the front desk and introduced himself. Hi. I’m Tyler Farnsworth. For a moment his old swagger and self-confidence had returned. Do you have a room available for a few days—perhaps a little longer? I’m not certain about my plans.

The desk clerk, a tall thin young man in his early twenties, greeted him with a warm smile. Nice to meet you, Mr. Farnsworth. My name’s Robert. I’ll check and see what’s available. He studied the guest register. I have a second-floor room with a king bed. Will that work?

Works for me, Robert. Thank you.

The friendly clerk gestured toward the hotel’s restaurant, the lobby bar, and several other amenities as he continued completing Tyler’s registration.

The hotel was designed in a rustic style with high arches and heavy exposed wooden beams. A collection of impressive paintings decorated the walls. In the lobby, there was Indian pottery, some of it quite massive; the pieces appeared well preserved from the past. A bronze plaque, listing famous movie actors who had once been guests of the hotel, was displayed among the gilt-framed paintings. Tyler admired the style. It was exactly what he hoped for and would try to recreate in the décor of his ranch, when he had found a ranch.

He spent the next several days strolling around the plaza. The sky was an unbelievable shade of blue, providing a stunning contrast to the old adobe buildings. The weather was pleasant, a welcome change after the baking heat of the summer sun in Phoenix. He planned to talk to people as well as try to absorb the beauty of the local architecture, culture, art, and history. He felt that this place was exactly what he’d been searching for.

There were many residents from the surrounding pueblos on the sidewalk; they were grouped, all sitting, on the south side of the Palace of the Governors directly across the plaza. Wandering over, he observed tourists bargaining for jewelry, turquoise, pottery, and other Native American crafts that were displayed for sale. He had always admired the local culture and the talent of the local Native Americans.

He noticed with some amusement that hardly any conversation was involved in the transactions on the sidewalk. Business was conducted by a nod for yes or a slow shake of the head for no. As he wandered through the crowd, examining the wares, Tyler was already feeling at home in Santa Fe. Across the street in the plaza, a small group of Hispanic children were playing on the bandstand. The group dispersed when their parents called them away.

He had already heard the local stories of the supernatural, ghosts, and unexplained happenings in and around Santa Fe and found them intriguing. There were even walking tours around town that visited haunted old churches, stores, and hotels. Tyler wasn’t superstitious and had never believed in ghosts, but the tales added greatly to the mystique of the area.

Some of the people he met in the plaza said the area around Santa Fe had special healing powers, while others told of a darker side. Someone else mentioned a vortex. He had heard that term before, but had never given it much thought. He vowed to check into it later.

After spending most of the day in downtown Santa Fe, Tyler returned to El Diablo Hotel. Passing the front desk, he greeted Robert. Hey, Robert! How’s it going today?

Great, Mr. Farnsworth. Are you enjoying Santa Fe?

Very much so. I’m thinking of moving here in fact. I’ll chat with you later. I have a lot of questions.

Robert tilted his head, curious.

Mainly some of the stories I’ve heard about Santa Fe.

Robert smiled. Anytime.

Tyler continued toward the stairs. The desk clerk Robert seemed like he enjoyed making guests happy. Perhaps he’d be a valuable resource for information too.

When Tyler returned to his room to change and wash before dinner, he chatted with the housekeeper who was still there cleaning. She was a short, sturdily built Hispanic woman whom he guessed was probably in her sixties. A cheerful person, she was singing as she continued to work.

Tyler greeted her warmly with the smile that had once been his trademark, a sure winner with women of all ages. He knew some Spanish. Hola, Señora.

The housekeeper smiled broadly, showing a missing lower tooth. Hola, Señor.

Have you lived in Santa Fe long? Tyler asked.

"I have been here all my life, Señor, and mi familia as well. Tambien mi abuelo y su abuelo."

I’m sorry? Does that mean grandfather?

"Sí."

Slightly confused, Tyler dismissed his misunderstanding of the phrase. What is it about the ghost stories and strange happenings in town? Is it mainly for the tourists?

The jovial little woman abruptly grew serious and her demeanor changed. "This is Santa Fe. They aren’t stories, Señor. They are true, and you should not be so disrespectful." She abruptly finished her work and left the room.

Tyler was stunned by her reaction, but he was also aware the Hispanic culture had some devout believers of the occult, unexplained, and strange phenomena.

He never saw the cleaning lady again, but he must have offended her. He would ask Robert later.