by Неизвестный
Henry cleared his throat. “It’s the twenty-first century, Sam.”
“Now if that ain’t the tallest tale ever told, I dunno what is.” Sam chuckled and fidgeted with his hat, but that infernal gut instinct he’d always trusted pricked him. “I reckon it’s no more strange than me jumpin’ into Paul’s body back in 1896.”
“That’s for sure.” Henry cleared his throat.
Sam wanted to deny it, but it wasn’t like he had a calendar. “Twenty-first? I reckon you ain’t foolin’.”
Henry’s expression grew solemn. “The new Millennium, Sam.”
“Don’t that beat all?”
“Hard to believe.” Henry opened a large, gilded book and stared at the page. “As I’m sure you recall, your death was pretty … unusual.”
“Bein’ murdered ain’t all that unusual.” Sam quirked one corner of his mouth, remembering the events that followed. “I reckon you mean me borrowin’ Paul’s body to hunt down that no account Buck Landen.”
“Yes. That.” Henry stared at the page in silence. “Not to mention your own descendant being thrown back in time to witness your murder.”
Sam held his breath, hoping what he was about to say wouldn’t land him in more trouble. “I always figured somebody up here was responsible for that.”
Henry blinked, surprised by the remark. After a moment, he nodded. “I see your point.”
“Henry, if you were stabbed by a lowdown sidewinder, then looked up and saw your double, wouldn’t you do the same thing?”
“Well … maybe,” Henry glanced around nervously, “but spirit possession is frowned upon, Sam, no matter the motive.” He returned to the page. “The fact that you eventually let Landen go is the only thing that saved you.”
With a weary sigh, he met Henry’s gaze again. “That’s why I’m stuck here? For borrowin’ Paul’s body and all?”
“I would assume.” Henry closed the book and pressed his palms against its cover. “Sam, I’ll be blunt. This is your second chance — For all I know, maybe your last one.”
“My … ” Sam released a long, low whistle. “Reckon this is some kinda test.”
“Maybe. I’m not sure. I only do what I’m told. Remember, I’m trying to get promoted, too.”
Sam chewed his lower lip. “So they want me to go back down there in the twenty-first century.” He leveled his gaze on Henry. “Why?”
Henry’s expression hardened. “To stop a killer.”
Sam’s gut twisted and he could have sworn his heart slammed against his ribs. Just like in the old days, his hunger for justice niggled him. No, that was too mild. It gnawed at him like a hound after a soup bone. He leaned forward. “Don’t they have marshals in this new Millennium?”
“They didn’t tell me why — only that you’re the man for the job.”
Sam rubbed his clean-shaven jaw. At least a dead man’s whiskers didn’t grow. Still, dead was dead, and Transition was more tedious than a long-winded Baptist preacher. “If I catch this here killer, I get into Heaven?”
“I’d figure that’s the plan.” Henry lifted a shoulder. “Look at it this way — what have you got to lose?”
“That’s a fact.” Sam rose, sliding his Stetson into place and wishing he had his sidearm. “I don’t reckon you got my badge and pistols handy.”
Henry laughed, his jowls jiggling. “They won’t do you any good now. Things are different.”
“Will I get to see Paul and Winnie?”
“I have the map and details where you’re to be sent.” Henry’s expression grew sympathetic. “You’ll have identification and a job. You’re expected by the Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation.” A grin curved his lips. “And what makes you think Paul Weathers will want to see you after you borrowed his body and took him on a mad chase through Indian Territory?”
Sam smiled. “I reckon he will.”
“Like I said, this is the spot you’ll be sent. I don’t know exactly where it is or who you’ll first meet there.”
“Tell me somethin’, Henry.”
“What, Sam?”
“Are the lilacs bloomin’ now?”
“How should I know?”
“Guess I’ll find out soon enough.”
“Well, let’s get started then,” Henry said.
Sam shook his head.
“What now?” Henry heaved a weary sigh and rested both his chins on his fist.
Sam narrowed his eyes. “I have one condition.”
“You’re in no position to be setting conditions, son.”
Sam stifled a growl. “Fine. Then call it a polite request.”
Henry straightened. “What is that?”
Bracing his hands on the golden desk, Sam locked his elbows, and leaned very close. “What good is a marshal without his horse?”
# #
Paul Weathers was the luckiest man in the world. Steam from the shower and the aftermath of intense lovemaking billowed around them as he cradled his wife against him, their breathing gradually slowing to normal. “I love you, Winnie.”
“Mmm.” She nuzzled the side of his neck and slid her hands down his slick back. “And I adore you.”
Excited pounding at their bedroom door provoked simultaneous laughter. “Vacation’s over,” Winnie said. “We’ve been discovered.”
“Our children have many talents.” Paul turned off the water, disappointed that the two weeks he’d spent alone with his wife of nine years was about to come to an end. “I don’t know about you, but I think second honeymoons might be even better than first ones.”
Winnie rolled her eyes as she slipped into a terry robe. “Odd, but I don’t remember our first honeymoon. Who did you spend yours with?”
“Heh. Technically, I guess we had our first honeymoon before the wedding.”
“Oh, that’s right. I do recall something about a houseboat on Lake Oologah,” she teased in a sultry voice, then dashed away giggling.
Paul groaned. “You’re a wicked, heartless wench, Winnie Weathers.” He drew a shaky breath and pulled on his robe, then glanced down to make sure his rowdy anatomy wasn’t on display before going to greet their children.
Winnie had her arms around both six-year-old Amanda and eight-year-old Sonny by the time Paul entered the master bedroom. “I missed you so much,” she said, hugging and kissing both children.
“I think you both grew a foot while we were gone,” Paul said. The kids broke away from Winnie and he enveloped them both in a bear hug.
“Did you bring presents?” Amanda bounced onto the rumpled bed.
Winnie laughed and tousled their daughter’s red curls, so much like her own. “Of course, silly.”
“Dad, why didn’t you tell us about the new stallion?” Sonny’s blue-gray eyes danced with excitement. “He’s humongous.”
“He’s scary,” Amanda corrected.
“Stallion?” Paul rubbed his whiskers and glanced at Winnie. “We’ve never kept stallions on the place. They’re too wild, son.”
Winnie arched a brow. “That’s for sure.”
If they were alone, he’d show her wild. “Someone made a mistake. I’ll get dressed and we’ll have a look.”
He headed for the walk-in closet and the section where his jeans were. The suits would wait until Monday morning. He had a few more days to enjoy his family before he had to play district attorney again.
This vacation with Winnie had been a hiatus from the business of putting bad guys behind bars. One bad guy in particular … Acid hit Paul’s gut and churned into nuclear mode.
He didn’t want to think about work yet, but now that the thought had crept into his gray matter, there was no dislodging it. Come Monday morning, he’d have to deal.
Absently, he listened to his wife chat with their son and daughter while Paul tugged on a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans. He pulled a leather belt through the loops, then rested his forehead against the doorjamb.
He couldn’t ignore it any longer. Now they were home — less t
han thirty miles from Tulsa — where the most vicious and prolific murderer in the region’s history terrorized the innocent. Maybe the evil bastard had been captured while Paul and Winnie were in Hawaii. Maybe he’d been hit by a truck. Or, more likely, maybe he’d struck again.
Paul hadn’t turned on a radio, a television, looked at Internet news blogs, or picked up a newspaper in two full weeks. He shoved himself away from the wall and grabbed his boots and hat.
Monday. He had until Monday …
Sonny appeared in the closet doorway. “Dad, let’s go see the stallion before breakfast.”
“Sure.” Paul could use some fresh air. He gathered himself and rested his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I think you really did grow while we were gone.”
Sonny beamed, the freckles on his nose shining through a slight sunburn. “C’mon! Frank says the stallion is prime. You gotta see him, Dad.”
“All right.” Paul chuckled and followed his son into the bedroom, where Winnie and Amanda were going through the suitcases and unwrapping presents. “Meet us at the stable?”
“Sure.” Winnie smiled and tucked a flaming curl behind her ear. “Give us a few minutes to get dressed. I want to see this mysterious stallion, too.”
Paul paused to pull his wife into his arms for a loud smooch, earning groans from both their children. “I guess our second honeymoon is over.”
“Not in a million years, buster.” Winnie winked and gave a playful shove.
“Yuck.” Sonny opened the bedroom door and thundered down the stairs.
Paul sighed and winked at his giggling daughter, then jogged down the stairs and out the front door after his son.
Summer sunshine bathed the Oklahoma morning in gold. It wasn’t Hawaii, but it sure was home. From the porch of their rambling log home, he saw rolling hills covered with scrub oak, cottonwood, and cedar.
“C’mon, Dad!”
“All right. I’m coming, already.” He shoved his hands into his pockets as he strolled after his son. “Wait for me if Frank isn’t in the stable yet.”
Paul might have grown up in the city, but he’d learned enough about horses in the last nine years to know how dangerous stallions could be. His obstinate son darted into the barn just as Frank’s reassuring figure appeared in the doorway. Paul broke into a jog, relieved to see Frank’s restraining hand on Sonny’s shoulder.
“Welcome home, boss.” Frank accepted Paul’s handshake. “Why didn’t you warn me about this new devil horse of yours?”
“I didn’t buy him.” Paul stepped into the barn. “Let’s have a look at his papers. Who delivered him?”
“Some outfit I never heard of.” Frank nodded his silver head toward Sonny. “Been a chore keepin’ this young’un away from that monster. Lemme tell you.”
“We’ll find out where the horse really belongs.”
Frank nodded and limped toward his office. “Here’s the bill of sale. Oddest thing I ever seen.” He handed the paperwork to Paul.
“Rainbow Bridge Farm?” Paul read aloud. He skimmed only the top of the fancy, gilded paper. “It definitely says the horse was to be delivered here. Where is he now? Let’s have a look.”
“North pasture.” Frank whistled low. “He wasn’t going into a stall without a fight, and I figured I’d lose. You’ll see what I mean.”
They walked through the stables and the paddock to the split rail fence that separated it from the north pasture. Paul heard him before he saw him. The shrill whinny startled birds into flight, followed by the thunder of hooves on Oklahoma red clay.
Sonny climbed onto the bottom rail and rested his elbows on the top. “Isn’t he something?”
Paul stared at the black beast racing toward them and swallowed. The hairs at his nape stood on end and an icy chill shuddered through him, followed almost immediately by a wash of familiar warmth. As the horse drew nearer, he saw the white blaze on his face, roughly the shape of Texas. Just like …
My God. It can’t be.
He drew a deep breath and shook himself. Winnie would get a chuckle out of Paul’s crazy imagination. All their talk of honeymoons and that night on Lake Oologah had brought it all rushing back. He was just imagining.
He sensed Winnie at his side a moment before her arm linked through his, and had a vague inkling of little Amanda joining her brother at the rail with Frank.
The stallion kicked up his heels and trumpeted again, then stopped less than twenty feet away and stood frozen, staring at Paul. He took a tentative step, then another.
Winnie tightened her grip on Paul’s arm. “Oh, Lord,” she whispered. “It’s Lucifer.”
“It can’t be.” He gave a wry chuckle and rested his cheek against the top of Winnie’s head. “You know that.” Do I?
“But … look at the way he’s watching us, Paul.” Winnie leaned over the rail. “He knows us.”
The horse’s head jerked to the left and his nostrils flared. His flanks quivered and he swung toward the road in a smooth motion. With ears pricked forward, he broke into a full gallop, gathered his long legs beneath him and sailed effortlessly over the fence.
They all turned to watch, and Paul prayed the horse wouldn’t run onto the highway. The animal slowed to a walk, then stopped on the lawn in front of the house and waited.
“What in blazes is he doin’ now? Waitin’ for a parade?” Frank asked.
Amanda and Sonny giggled, but Paul and Winnie could only stare at the magnificent beast in stunned silence.
“Look.” Sonny pointed toward the road, where a lone figure walked slowly toward them. “Company.”
The stallion reared up on its hind legs and trumpeted again, then galloped toward the approaching man.
“He thinks he’s a watchdog instead of a horse,” Amanda teased.
Paul couldn’t drag his gaze from the man and horse. They definitely knew each other. The man stroked the stallion’s neck and buried his face in its mane.
Winnie tightened her grip on Paul’s hand. “Oh … ”
He knew his wife’s thoughts mirrored his own impossible ones. She didn’t need to put them into words. What the hell was going on here?
The man swung himself onto the stallion’s bare back and rode him easily toward the house. In less than a minute, the newcomer brought the stallion to a stop in front of them and leapt to the ground.
His smile crinkled the corners of familiar gray eyes. “I never thought I’d be seeing the pair of you again.”
“Sam!” Winnie threw herself into the man’s waiting arms. “Oh, Sam! You’re alive. Sam, you’re alive!”
“Holy shit.” Paul’s whispered oath floated away on the morning breeze as he stared at their impossible visitor. He had to be an imposter. People didn’t come back from the dead. He swallowed the lump in his throat and a fine film of sweat coated his brow.
He’d give almost anything if this man could really be Sam Weathers, but it was impossible. He looked at the horse again. Someone had gone to a great deal of trouble.
“Dad, who is he?” Sonny tugged on his father’s shirt and Amanda moved close to his side. “Is the stallion his?”
Paul glanced down at his son and daughter and gave them both reassuring pats on their shoulders. “I’m sure both questions will be answered in no time.”
“Daddy?” Amanda began in her most solemn tone, glancing every moment or two toward her mother chatting away with the man masquerading as Sam. “He looks like you.”
Paul forced himself to look at the imposter again. “He looks like I used to.” Like I did when I last saw Sam.
He squeezed his eyes closed, remembering the way US Marshal Sam Weathers had looked lying on the bank of the Verdigris River with a gaping knife wound in his chest. Paul’s gut twisted and he bent down to meet his son’s gaze.
“Sonny, take Amanda to the house.”
“But — ”
“Now, Sonny. Please.” Paul didn’t like being stern with his children, but he also didn’t want them to overhear what he ha
d to say to their uninvited guest. “Ask Consuela to make your favorite waffles for breakfast.”
“All right.” Sonny took Amanda’s hand and trudged toward the house. Both children glanced back several times before they finally disappeared through the front door.
Frank rested his hand on Paul’s shoulder. “I reckon you want me to make myself scarce too, boss.”
Paul shot his trusted employee and friend a tight smile. “Take the day off.”
“Thanks, boss. Don’t mind if I do.” Frank limped off toward the stable.
Paul reached out and placed a firm hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Winnie.”
Her green eyes were wide with concern. “He can’t be Sam.” Her lower lip trembled and she stepped away from their uninvited guest. “Can he?”
“Of course not.” Paul drew a slow breath. This wouldn’t be easy. He pulled his wife close to his side.
“Well, now that you’ve sent everybody away, you gonna talk to me?” the imposter asked.
Paul looked up sharply. Even the voice was right. How the hell could anyone have researched that? “You better answer me one question.”
The man narrowed his gray eyes while he stood there absently stroking Lucifer’s neck. “I’m listenin’.”
“Who the hell are you?”
# #
Sam drew a long, slow breath and released it. No lilacs. He looked beyond the paddock toward the Osage Hills. “Countryside hasn’t changed much, except … ” he said, finally returning his gaze to his great-great-grandson, “the damned river wasn’t that wide last time I seen it.”
“It’s a lake.” Winnie’s voice was barely above a whisper now.
“A lake?” Sam frowned and looked back over his shoulder, then shook his head. “How many years has it been since … ?”
Paul narrowed his eyes and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “Since what?” He shook his head and chuckled without a trace of humor. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Lucifer nuzzled Sam’s shoulder and he stroked the stallion’s sleek neck absently. His horse’s presence was comforting, but Paul’s refusal to accept him smarted. Then again, who the hell could blame him?
“I remember when you told me who you were, and where — when — you was from.” Sam laughed quietly. “I didn’t believe you either.”