He pulled her roughly, almost violently to him.
“But what are we going to do about Virgil’s murder? What if the judge sentences me to hang?”
“We’ll leave Dodge.”
She swallowed, nervously. “We’d be outlaws.”
“Yeah, but we’d be alive—and together.”
Jessica considered that, hesitating before she made any suggestions that could change the course of their future.
“Wouldn’t it be better,” she asked, “to locate Angus and get him to defend me and try to find the real killer? I didn’t do anything wrong. There’s no real evidence against me, other than that newspaper article which is all lies. It’s just because I have a reputation. That’s why people believe I did it, but that won’t hold up in court.”
Truman ran a hand over her shoulder and down the length of her arm. “We need to find out who provided the information for the articles.”
Jessica nodded. “Yes, but I asked Mr. Gordon about it when the first article came out. He said he wouldn’t reveal his sources.”
Truman kissed the hollow at the base of her throat. “I’ll ask him about it in the morning.”
She squirmed with pleasure and moaned softly with ecstasy as he rolled on top of her and began to lay scintillating kisses down the side of her neck. “And what makes you think he’ll tell you?”
“What makes me think that?” Truman’s head drew back with surprise, then he smiled a wicked grin. “How about the overwhelming size and thrust of my six-shooter?”
It was enough to bring a swift end to the discussion.
The morning sun poured through the jailhouse window, landing a decorative square of light on Truman’s paper-strewn desk. Outside, a small herd of cows was driving by, their clamoring hooves and constant moo’s a distraction for Jessica, who was walking into the jail cell again. Truman guided her in, then swung the cell door shut on its squeaky hinges until it came to a final, clanging close.
“If anyone comes in here today,” he said, “tell them I guarded you all night. Act like you know nothing about the hanging.” He turned the key, and it clicked. “I’m sorry to have to do this.”
“It’s necessary. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll bring you some breakfast, then I’ll try to find Angus. I’ll also head over to the newspaper office to talk to Gordon. If I can’t learn anything or get a retraction, we’ll leave here tonight.”
She reached through the bars to take hold of his hands. “I trust you.”
“I’ll be back soon.” He kissed her one more time, and left.
When the door closed behind him, Jessica sank onto the crackly straw mattress on the cot, tipped her head back against the wall, and stared at the cobwebs near the ceiling.
A short while later, the front door opened, and Jessica leapt to her feet.
Angus, appearing out of breath, walked straight in. “Jessica?”
She hurried to the bars. “Oh, thank God! Angus! Where were you? I’m so glad you’re back. You wouldn’t believe what’s happened.”
“I know all about it,” he said. “Where’s Sheriff Wade?”
“He’s gone for breakfast. What have you been doing? You look like you know something.”
He crossed the room and stopped in front of the bars. His brown eyes sparkled with excitement. “I have wonderful news. I’ve figured out how to get home.”
Jessica took an abrupt step back. “What do you mean?”
Angus reached into his pocket, searching for something. “It’s this. It’s as good as any plane or train ticket.”
Jessica stood staring, her heart racing like a runaway wagon. With trembling fingers, she reached out to touch the shiny object in his hand. “You found my watch,” she said.
“Yes. Isn’t it amazing?”
To see this golden object that had once been a part of her old life, sent a prickle up her spine. “But what does this have to do with anything?”
“I’ll tell you.” He reached into his pocket and dug around some more. “I finally found my belongings from the twenty-first century, and I remembered my watch was missing, too, just like yours had been. So I went to the place on the prairie, where I traveled through time, and searched for a while, and there it was—in the grass.” He held out his own watch. “I searched further, and I found yours, too, only a few feet away.”
“Mine is still ticking,” she said, holding it up to her ear.
“Yes, but look at the date.”
“July 19th, 2011. That’s a month after the day of my accident.”
“Yes. It’s incredible isn’t it? It’s a piece of the future, the only thing we have that connects us to it. According to this, time in the future is still rolling along, parallel to our existence here.”
“But how will this get me back?” she asked.
“This may sound far-fetched to you—”
“Believe me, nothing at this point will sound far-fetched.”
He nodded knowingly. “After I found our watches, I walked around on the prairie for a while until I stepped on a piece of ground that looked like it was wet, but it wasn’t wet at all. There was a glimmer on the grass, almost like dew, and when I stood on it, I felt a tingling sensation all over.”
Jessica felt her eyes widen. “What happened? Did you pass through a tunnel or something? Is that where you were? Did you go home and come back for me?”
“No, nothing quite so dramatic as that. It was nothing more than the tingling. So I marked the spot and went home to think about everything. I tried to remember what happened when I passed through the tunnel the first time ten years ago.”
“And?”
“I was driving, just like you, and lightning struck the car as I drove over that spot on the highway. Time seemed to stand still for that instant while the car was sizzling with light. Then I began to spin through the tunnel. At the far end, I could see brown prairie grass, and I felt like I was going to crash into it. But before I came out of the tunnel, my watch came off. It didn’t rip off either. It just came unclasped, almost gracefully. I watched it float along beside me, and then I thought: ‘I can’t lose my watch. I have an appointment.’ But then I fell out of the tunnel and landed on the prairie—in 1878.”
Jessica shook her head skeptically. “I still don’t understand how this can get us home.”
“I’m not finished explaining. As I said, I went home to think about everything and wondered what would happen if I stood in that spot again, dressed as I was ten years ago—with everything I had in my possession when I traveled through time. I put on my suit—and believe me, it wasn’t easy to get into. I’ve put on a few pounds.”
Jessica waved her hand. “Continue…”
“Yes, yes… So I put everything on and went and stood in that spot, but again, nothing happened, except for the tingling sensation, until I looked at my watch and realized it had stopped ticking years ago. The battery had run out. So I reset it for the correct date, ten years later, which took a few tries. I wasn’t sure exactly what the date would be—but when I found it, I was sucked up into some kind of vortex.”
“You’re full of it!”
“No.”
“But why are you still here? Didn’t it work?”
Angus sighed heavily. “It would have, I believe, if I’d let it. But I panicked. All I could think about was Wendy.”
Jessica paused. “You changed your mind?”
“Yes. I ripped the watch off and flung it away, and the next thing I knew, I was lying on the prairie again, staring up at the sky. Here in 1881, feeling very relieved.”
Jessica squeezed the bars. “I have to sit down.” She moved to the cot and sank onto the mattress.
“Are you all right?” Angus asked.
“I’m fine.”
But that was a lie. Until this moment, she felt she had no
choice about remaining here in the nineteenth century. It was easy to choose Truman. The fact that she loved him made it simple.
But suddenly it wasn’t so simple anymore. She did have a choice. Did she want her old life back? To see her parents again? Her friends, her dog? To have indoor plumbing and cell phones and the miracles of modern medicine?
Or did she want Truman, and life as a renegade outlaw?
“Will you go back?” Angus asked.
Jessica thought about it. “What if I try, and I end up in the wrong time? There would be no point to that. No point at all.”
“I’m sure your date of arrival is right here.” He pointed at the watch.
Jessica stared at it, ticking away as if it really were July 19, 2011.
“Jessica....”
She looked up.
“Do you know what might happen to you if you stay here?”
She gazed back down at the watch. Her stomach began to lurch and roll. “Yes, but we could defend me in court. You’re a lawyer.”
“But things are different here. There’s a reason they call it the Wild West. There’s a lawlessness here that you just don’t understand. I really think you should leave. As soon as possible.”
“What if I don’t want to go back?”
He shook his head at her. “But it was all you ever talked about. What about your family?”
God, she felt so disloyal to them right now. “Angus, I’ve found something here that I just can’t leave behind.”
He breathed deeply. “I see, and I understand.”
“I can’t leave him.”
“Does he know where you come from?”
She nodded.
“Did you tell him about me, too?”
“No.”
The door opened just then. Truman walked in with breakfast, but stopped abruptly when he saw Angus. “Morning. Good to see you back.”
Jessica took one look at him—so darkly handsome in the doorway, with his black hat and long slicker, his steel badge and leather gun belt. Sensual memories of the night before flooded her mind and body, and she wondered how it was possible to desire someone as much as she desired Truman. What in the world was she going to do?
“I brought breakfast,” Truman announced. He noticed Jessica’s panicked expression and knew immediately that something was afoot. “Care to join us, Angus?”
Jessica gave Angus a pleading look that seemed almost desperate.
“That would be delightful,” he replied.
Truman set the crate on the desk and removed a pot of hot coffee, a bowl of eggs, and some cornbread. “Compliments of Dodge House.”
He served Jessica first, and took her plate into the jail cell. She gave him a polite, yet distracted smile that didn’t help to ease his suspicions that something was amiss.
The three of them ate and made small talk. When they finished, Jessica brought up the subject of her arrest.
“Is there any way you can help us, Angus?” she asked. “You know I didn’t kill Virgil. There’s no concrete evidence.”
He wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin. “What have you found out about it, Truman?”
“To be quite honest, sir, it doesn’t look good.”
“Why is that?”
“Virgil was shot between the eyes, just like Lou. And after that article in the paper about Jessica, and the fact that she accepted the reward for Lou’s death—”
“But I didn’t kill him. We all know that. Someone else did. I assumed they’d come forward for the money, but they didn’t. I only took it because I had none. And then, when Lou’s gang showed up, I was too busy worrying about what it was that they wanted.”
“Which was?” Angus asked.
“They wanted the combination to the bank safe, which I knew nothing about.” She took another sip of coffee.
Truman leaned back in his chair. “Jessica and I think there might be something to those articles in the paper. Henry Gordon was pretty secretive about it.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Angus said. “I’ll pay Jessica’s bail today to get her out of here. Then you two can see what you can find out.”
“Angus, would you really do that for us?”
He leaned forward and placed his hand on hers. “Of course. If things don’t go well, I don’t want you to be locked up in here.”
Jessica shook her head at him. Truman caught the exchange, witnessed the torn expression on her face, but said nothing. In light of what she told him last night, he thought it best to wait until he could talk to her alone.
Finally, Angus made a move to leave. “Truman, you should come with me. We’ll head over to see the judge right now. He’s a reasonable fellow, and he respects me. I’ll tell him Jessica will be staying at my house. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”
Truman rose and shook Angus’s hand. “Thank you, sir.”
“My pleasure.” He turned and kissed Jessica on the forehead, then left the office to wait for Truman outside.
Truman turned to face Jessica. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she replied too quickly. “Everything’s fine.”
Truman hooked a thumb through his gun belt. It wasn’t his style to feel this uncertain. Hell, it wasn’t his style to feel much of anything at all. “You’ll be here when I get back?”
“Of course. We’ll talk then.”
“It sounds important.”
“It is, but Angus is waiting. You should go.”
He stared at those moist ruby lips and wondered what she wanted to discuss, and hoped it wasn’t going to be something he didn’t want to hear.
He stroked a loose tendril of hair away from her face. “I have a bad feeling today.”
“What kind of bad feeling?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I can’t explain it. I just feel like things are going to take a turn, and not for the better.”
She backed away from him. “Are you afraid I’ll hang?”
He gazed into her eyes for a long moment, then shook his head. “I can’t say for sure. I don’t know why, but I feel like we’re going to be separated.”
Jessica rested her palms on his chest. “I don’t ever want to be separated from you,” she told him. “I promised I’d stay here, and that’s what I intend to do.”
Her words should have eased his mind, but for some reason he couldn’t explain, every muscle in his body tightened with apprehension.
Chapter 24
Truman agreed to meet Angus at the county courthouse immediately after he had a word with Henry Gordon, the newspaper editor—but when he reached The Chronicle office, the front door was locked. Wrestling with his growing impatience, he faced the street, thumbed his hat back off his head, leaned a shoulder against a post, and waited.
He thought about Jessica and what she’d told him last night. Perhaps the strangest thing about it was that he believed her, even though it was the most outrageous tale he’d ever heard.
But when he remembered how she was dressed the first time he saw her—with her hair long and loose about her shoulders, wearing red shoes and britches that looked like they were designed to fit a woman’s shapely hips, and that bizarre zipper contraption—it all made a strange sort of sense.
Truman shifted his weight to the other foot and glanced up and down the street. Five minutes passed and still no one showed up to open the newspaper office. Unusual for a Tuesday, he thought, as he pushed away from the post. He might as well go and meet Angus, then he’d try Henry Gordon at home.
His spurs chinked as he headed down the boardwalk toward the courthouse.
“Truman!”
He turned to see Angus waving from across the street. Truman waited for a wagon to pass, then headed in that direction.
“I paid the bail,” Angus said when the met. “You can let Jess
ica out, but Judge Whittier wants her to stay in Dodge.”
“What if she doesn’t stay?” It was half question, half warning. “You’ll lose your money.”
Angus shrugged. “I won’t miss it.”
Truman nodded and gave Angus a light slap on the shoulder. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Here you go.” He handed over the bail certificate and leaned in to speak quietly. “I presume you’ll take her away?”
Glancing around to make sure no one was listening, Truman nodded.
“Where will you go?” Angus asked.
“Don’t rightly know. Somewhere they won’t find us. Maybe north. Maybe even as far as Canada.”
Angus considered this, then relaxed his shoulders. “With any luck, you won’t have to leave town at all. Did you talk to Henry Gordon?”
“Not yet. The newspaper office was locked up tight.”
“Did you try his house?”
“That’s where I’m heading now.”
Angus and Truman walked down First Avenue to the corner, then stepped onto the boardwalk in front of Kelley’s Opera House. A pack of hounds tore by, barking all the way, stirring up a cloud of dust.
“How well do you know Jessica?” Truman asked, wondering how much Angus knew about what was really going on.
“Quite well,” he replied. “Why do you ask?”
Truman paused. “Do you know where she comes from?”
Angus stopped on the boardwalk. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.” He lowered his voice. “I understand she told you.”
Two ladies carrying parasols walked by, and Truman tipped his hat at them. “Nice morning,” he said casually.
As soon as they passed, he continued. “She told me everything. Kind of hard to believe, don’t you think?”
“Yes, it most certainly is.”
“Do you believe her?”
Angus hesitated. “Do you?”
Truman hesitated for a moment as he thought about it. “I love her, Angus. So I guess that means I’ll believe just about anything she tells me.”
Angus smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Good. Because it’s true. Every last word.”
A Time For Love: (A Time Travel Romance) (Dodge City Brides Book 3) Page 19