Dumped in my lap a few minutes before five o'clock on Friday… The deputy dropped off a confused wanderer at our social services office. We aren't equipped to handle a tall, rustic cowboy who looks like he just stepped out of a movie Western, dust included. But the deputy's gone and the cowboy is suddenly my responsibility. Or is it the other way around? Hunt Weston announces he's come here to protect me! From what or whom, he doesn't know. But he's come a long way… in both distance and time. Yeah, this Weston character claims that when he went to sleep last night, it was 1885. That's a hundred years ago. No ID, no proof of his claims - unless you count the authentic vintage clothing and that original Colt Peacemaker strapped to his hip. Other than his gun and a rugged Bowie knife, this cowboy's only possessions are 32 silver dollars… all minted before 1885. And the only documentation he possesses is a torn half of a playing card where someone has scribbled my name, this town and county, and the date October 6 - two days from now. Weston can't explain anything… he doesn't understand it himself. But here he is, sent by a mysterious stranger to protect me, Elvira Rose Roamer. Why?