A Time For Love: (A Time Travel Romance) (Dodge City Brides Book 3)

by Julianne MacLean

  “You could say that. It’s one of the few things around here that gets the Front Street rowdies and the finer folks of Dodge all under one roof. You going?”

  “Yes. I might ask Wendy to go with me. And Angus of course.”

  Truman pointed toward the tent. “Normally Wendy would sit on that side with the rowdies, but if she’s with you and Angus, she’ll sit on this side.”

  He faced her again. His eyes were so blue they outshined the sky, and Jessica had to struggle to remember why she had come. “The reason I’m here, Truman, is—”

  “You want your reward money.”

  “Yes. How’d you guess?”

  “It arrived this morning. It’s at the bank.”

  Jessica knew it was time to leave, but her feet were glued to the dirt.

  She stood a moment, fiddling with the heavy cotton fabric of her skirt, then took a deep breath and said, “Would you walk with me?”

  “I’ll get my hat,” he replied, needing no further bidding.

  Truman couldn’t help thinking that Jessica looked different today. She’d pulled her hair up like the other ladies in town. At the same time, there was nothing in her appearance that could compare. Even from a distance, she was a strikingly handsome woman, her chestnut hair contrasting sharply with her creamy white skin. Add to that a pair of full red lips the color of ripe raspberries and those legs he had been fortunate enough to observe through the binocular lenses, and he had to work hard to keep from pulling her behind a monkey cage and behaving quite unlawfully.

  They walked together into town, talking mostly about the weather and other mundane things. It was nice for a change, Truman thought—to be discussing normal everyday things instead of his work, because few folks wanted to talk to him unless they had something to complain about. A broken window. Too much noise on a Sunday morning…

  When they reached the bank, Truman held the door open for Jessica, then accompanied her to the wicket. Mr. Webster, the banker, stood behind the bars. He was a fat, balding man, and his suit bulged at the buttonholes. Truman said a silent prayer that Jessica would keep her mouth closed, not because of what she might say, but in case one of those stressed buttons decided to spring off Webster’s vest.

  “Sheriff Wade,” he said. “You’re here to pay out that reward, I presume?”

  “That’s right. This here’s Miss Jessica Delaney.”

  “Ah, yes, it is an honor indeed,” he said. “I’ll be right with you.” The banker finished writing something on a slip of paper, placed it a drawer, then went hunting through another drawer for the reward information.

  Truman turned his back on Webster, leaned both elbows on the counter and looked out the window. He felt Jessica’s arm next to his, and a sudden ripple of sexual awareness rushed through him, but he did his best to focus on the wagons rolling by in the street.

  “Would you like to open an account, Miss Delaney?” Webster asked.

  “Uh, no. I’d like to have it all in cash.”

  Truman suddenly lost interest in the morning traffic. “You’re not planning to carry that around with you, are you?”

  “No, I’ll keep it at Mr. Maxwell’s.”

  “It would be safer here at the bank.”

  “But I don’t know how long I’m going to be staying in Dodge,” she replied. “I may need to leave town on a moment’s notice.”

  Mr. Webster peered at them over the gold rims of his spectacles. “Perhaps I’ll give you two a moment to discuss it in private while I go fetch the money.” He turned to go into the back room.

  “What’s the hurry?” Truman asked. “Is Dodge not good enough for you?”

  “It’s not that,” she replied. “It’s just not my home, that’s all.”

  “Home.” He studied the green hue of her eyes. “Topeka, right?”

  “That’s right,” she firmly substantiated.

  Truman shook his head. “You oughta’ know I did some checking, and there ain’t no record of any Delaney’s in Topeka. I sure as hell would like to know where you really come from.”

  “Is that why you haven’t talked to me in the past few days? Are you mad about that? And I thought we agreed you’d stop trying to investigate my past.”

  Truman wanted to kick himself for having promised the impossible, and wished he didn’t care either way, but he had no excuse to give. He was a hot-blooded man who hadn’t been with a woman in three long years, and Jessica was a spirited creature with a voluptuous figure and legs like he’d never seen—smooth, contoured and golden from the sun. He wanted to do things to her that he shouldn’t even be thinking about, because he was a lawman who had enough commotion in his life.

  He really needed to stop thinking about her legs.

  And stop checking into her past.

  “I’m not investigating,” he said. “I’m just making conversation.”

  Maybe it was a good thing she wanted to leave town.

  Jessica began to twirl a silver ring around on her middle finger. Truman stared down at her tiny pale hands, then followed the line of her narrow wrists covered by lace cuffs, upward to her arms and gently rounded shoulders, then to her face. His blood grew hot with the shock of wanting her, and it annoyed the hell out of him.

  She sucked in a breath as their eyes met.

  Mr. Webster returned and counted out five hundred dollars. Truman shifted his gaze to the window again.

  Jessica shoved the money into a blue velvet pouch and drew the string. “Thank you, Mr. Webster. Have a very nice day.”

  She turned and walked to the door, leaving Truman in the bank, leaning against the counter. As soon as the door swung shut behind her, he quickly followed.

  Jessica stood on the boardwalk, waiting for him. “Truman, I know you don’t believe a word I’ve told you about anything, but the truth is, I have secrets, and it’s going to have to stay that way.”

  He chuckled with disbelief. “That was about the worst thing you could have said to me. Now I’m obsessed.”

  She stared at him for a moment while her skirt billowed and flapped in the wind. “Please trust me,” she continued. “I’ve never done anything dishonest or illegal, but there’s a reason why I can’t tell you these things, at least not yet. I wish you could just leave it be until I’m ready to tell you.”

  “Sorry darlin’,” he said.

  Jessica tucked her upswept hair behind her ear. “Why not?”

  “Because.” What a damned stupid answer. In a moment of weakness, he said, “Why won’t you just tell me where you’re going after you leave Dodge? In case I want to find you.”

  She scoffed. “Because you wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Then tell me why it’s so important for you to leave.”

  For a long time, she struggled with that question, then said simply, “You’d think I was insane.” She turned and hurried down the street.

  “But I already think that!” he shouted after her.

  Truman moved to follow, but thank God, he was able to restrain himself. He removed his hat and combed his fingers through his hair.

  “Jessica!” Wendy greeted her at the door of her boardinghouse room. “What are you doing here?”

  “I went shopping.” Jessica held up a large box on a string. “I like to shop when I’m confused.”

  Wendy stepped aside, and Jessica entered the sunny room.

  “I got my reward money and bought a ready-made dress,” she explained. “Why I bought it, I have no idea. With any luck I’m leaving town soon, and where I’m going, this is very passé.” Jessica set the box down on the bed.

  “Can I look at it?”

  “Of course. I’m going to wear it to the circus tonight.”

  “You’re going?”

  “Yes,” Jessica replied, “and that’s why I’m here. I would love for you to join Mr. Maxwell an
d me.”

  Wendy sat down on the bed. “Mr. Maxwell, the solicitor? Goodness, I don’t know about that.”

  “Oh, please come. I need some female companionship. There’s way too much testosterone in this town.”

  “Testos...”

  Jessica sat down, too. “It means there are too many men waving their pistols around.”

  Wendy nodded gamely. “I think I know exactly what you mean.”

  Jessica smiled. “So will you come with us?”

  Wendy crinkled her nose. “I don’t think it would be right. You two will be sitting on the west side. Those folks up there on the hill...they think I’m... Well, you must understand.”

  “Oh, that’s a load of bull,” Jessica said, waving a hand through the air. “I’ve told Angus you’re a fine, upstanding young lady. And you know, where Angus and I come from, just about every girl has waited on tables at some point in her life. Half the waitresses in the summertime are college students.”

  “Really?” She frowned skeptically. “That seems odd. Waitresses are going to college?”

  “Yes!”

  Wendy glanced down at the dress folded in the box. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  There was a pause. “Well… I suppose,” she reluctantly replied.

  Jessica flopped down onto her back next to Wendy. “Great. Now I need to ask you a favor.”

  “What is it?”

  She leaned up on an elbow. “Could you come over to Angus’s house early and help me get ready? I haven’t got a clue how to fasten this corset by myself.”

  Wendy laughed, looking curiously at Jessica. “You don’t know how to fasten a corset?”

  Jessica tried to backtrack. “Well, this particular one is complicated. I’ve never worn one quite like it.”

  Wendy sat back. “Sounds interesting. I’ll come over to help.”

  “Five o’clock?”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  That evening, Wendy helped Jessica dress in her new gown. It was dark red plush velvet, trimmed with satin pleats along the bottom. More satin was draped across the front—from hip to hip—and it cascaded down the back, over a small bustle. The fitted bodice had long sleeves and a buttoned front opening with a high neck. It was like nothing Jessica had ever worn in her life.

  Wendy stood behind her, straightening the pleats and drapery. “He’s clever, isn’t he?” she asked.

  Jessica presumed she was referring to Mr. Maxwell. “Very.”

  Wendy stood behind her, fluffing and poofing. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked to anyone as clever as him. I’m not sure what to say. What if I bore him?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Jessica replied. “He’s very knowledgeable when it comes to legal matters, but other than that, he’s just a regular man. I don’t know anything about the law, but we hardly ever talk about that. There are so many other things to talk about.”

  “Such as?”

  Jessica hesitated, wondering how, if ever, she would explain the conversations they’d had about daytime talk shows, processed foods, and all the other things Angus missed about the twenty-first century, like airplanes and toilet paper.

  “We talk about the weather,” she said ridiculously. “What goes on in town, who’s on the front page of The Times and what they did.”

  “I can talk about that,” Wendy said. “I read the paper today.”

  “So did Angus. There you go. You’re all set.”

  After fixing each other’s hair, Jessica and Wendy left the house and walked down the hill toward the circus grounds. They met Angus outside the main entrance to the tent.

  “Angus, may I present Wendy Burchell?” Jessica said, introducing them formally.

  “It’s a pleasure Miss Burchell,” Angus replied.

  They smiled warmly at each other, so Jessica decided to enter the tent first and let them get acquainted.

  She stopped just inside to look up at the tall peaks of white canvas. Bleachers lined both sides of the three hundred foot long ring, and both sections were filling quickly. The other side was glutted with cowboys, bartenders, and colorfully dressed women who made their presence known with whoops and hollers.

  Jessica led the way to their seats, high at the top. Looking across the ring, she scanned the crowd for Truman. Her stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation at the mere thought of seeing him, and for the first time she was thankful for the distraction—for if there truly was no way home, letting loose with a man like Truman Wade would be a fine consolation indeed.

  Maybe that’s why she was here, she thought suddenly. Maybe he was her true soul mate, and there were other cosmic forces at work....

  At that moment she spotted him. At the far corner of the tent, he stood leaning against the side of the wooden stands, watching everyone enter and cross in front of him. Jessica grew suddenly warm under her tight corset, flustered by her body’s intense reaction to one man in a room full of hundreds.

  Could this possibly be her destiny? she wondered with unquenchable desire. Maybe Angus was right. Maybe all she needed to do was simply surrender to it and accept that this was where she was meant to be.

  Chapter 12

  From the far corner of the tent, the ringmaster entered and turned a slow circle until the audience hushed. “Welcome! To Ed Roper’s Strictly Moral Circus!”

  On the west side the crowd cheered, whistled and whooped. On the east side, they applauded politely.

  The entertainment began with elephants circling the ring, followed by giraffes. A woman named Marla Peru walked blindfolded on a tight wire, one hundred feet above the ground. Another was hurled three hundred feet across the tent by what they called Ancient Rome’s War Engine Catapult. She emerged unharmed, and the crowd cheered, but Jessica couldn’t have been more preoccupied than she was by Truman’s presence on the other side of the tent.

  Later, after the circus performers took their bows, Jessica, Wendy and Angus followed the parade down Front Street, where a crowd gathered around a crackling bonfire. A young cowboy filled the night with music from a fiddle, and another cupped his hands around a harmonica and joined in. Soon everyone was dancing and Jessica was interlocking arms with strangers, twirling around, and kicking up her heels.

  Perhaps she could live this life. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad.

  A short while later she stepped up onto the boardwalk under an overhang to watch Wendy and Angus, who were holding hands as they danced a jig. Jessica smiled and clapped her hands.

  “Enjoying yourself, Junebug?”

  Jessica started at the sound of Truman’s quiet, sultry voice behind her. He was leaning against a wall in the shadows with a thumb hooked into his gun belt, his black hat dipped low over his forehead.

  “Hi,” she casually said, while her body erupted with heat. She wondered how long he had been standing there and if he had been watching her the entire time.

  Truman’s spurs clinked softly as he moved to stand beside her. “You look pretty tonight.”

  His gaze slid down the length of her body, and she felt it like a soft caress over her skin.

  “Thank you.”

  “Is that a new dress?”

  “Yes, I bought it with some of the reward money.”

  He glanced at her approvingly. “I’d call that money well spent.”

  She warmed at the compliment. Then a waltz began.

  While cowboys took partners and the merchants danced with their wives, she gazed up at the full moon against the black velvet sky.

  “Will you dance with me?” Truman asked, his voice close to her ear.

  Gooseflesh tingled deliciously over her body. “I’d love to.”

  Did he know what she was feeling? Could he see what he did to her?

  His hand came to rest on the small of her back, and a pleasurable shiver o
f awareness rippled up and down her spine as he escorted her off the boardwalk to the center of the crowd.

  He placed one hand on her waist and held the other out to the side. She stepped into the waltz and was careful to keep her elbows high, which helped to maintain a safe and proper distance between them, while their eyes remained locked tightly together.

  Jessica was vaguely aware of the townsfolk taking notice—for Truman was their trusted, single sheriff, and she was a single woman, a stranger in town, not to mention a possible outlaw.

  None of that mattered, however, for her body was reeling from the rapture of being held in his arms and losing herself in his eyes.

  Slowly, inch by inch, he closed the distance between them until their bodies touched and their hearts throbbed together. The sensation ignited something desperate within her, and she longed for so much more. She wanted to dash off into the shadows and kiss him passionately until he whisked her back to his bed and made love to her until dawn.

  When the waltz ended, they did not let go until a polka began.

  Truman let go first, and Jessica stepped back, feeling half-dazed with giddy, overpowering desire. They faced each other without speaking a word, while the townsfolk danced around them. Someone bumped Jessica’s shoulder.

  “Come and sit with me,” Truman said.

  He closed his hand over hers and led her toward a long wooden bench on the boardwalk. People wandered past them, laughing and talking, some staggering, but Jessica was aware of little else but Truman’s sleekly muscled leg touching hers in the most innocent way.

  “I take it you haven’t heard from Lou’s gang,” he said.

  “No,” she replied. “Do you think I will?”

  “Hard to say.”

  “It’s been four days.”

  “Yeah, but don’t get too comfortable, Jessica. Men like them are hard to predict.”

  A lot of things in her life were hard to predict these days.

  “Don’t look so discouraged,” he said, meeting her eyes. “If they come around again, I’ll be here.”