She swiped at the tears on her cheeks and cried. “Yes! I do. You’re the only man who’s ever made me feel this way, but it can’t happen.”
“Give me a reason, dammit.”
“Because I’m not your wife, and you don’t love me.”
His face buried in her hair, he spoke softly in her ear. “You could be my wife. I need proof you’re not. You’re so like her, yet so different.” He yanked her head back and fixed her with a stare. “What does it matter anyhow? In a brothel, one customer is as good as another.”
Blood pounded in her head, and flashes of light danced in front of her eyes. Shrieking like a mad woman, she struck out at him with both hands. Faster this time, he caught both fists and shoved her back, not releasing her hands.
“Stop it. You’re acting like a child.”
She jerked free and batted at the tears on her face. “The only proof I have I’m not your wife or a whore is the fact I’ve never been with a man. I may not be a lady, but I’m a virgin.”
Holding in her sobs, she moved toward the door, and then turned back toward him. “Stay the hell away from me.”
Chapter Eight
Royce sat on the front porch pondering Texanna’s words. Her declaration left him flabbergasted, and he’d been unable to come up with a rebuttal. Was it possible Texanna was a virgin?
He shook his head. No, time-travel wasn’t possible. It had to be a made-up story, fiction like that book by Jules Verne, Journey to the Center of the Earth. That’s what Royce wanted to believe, but doubts worried him. If folks thought he’d even considered her tale, they’d think him crazy as a loon. What scared him the most was her cock and bull story began to make sense.
Ah, hell. Sitting here worrying about it wasn’t going to change things. He stood and started for the door when he noticed the book on the table between the rockers. The title read Early History of Waco, Texas 1837-1955. His eyes must be playing tricks on him. He picked it up and flipped it open to read the publishing date—1962.
Legs feeling like rubber, he eased down into a rocker. The book could be a fake. It wouldn’t take much to put the wrong date in a book. He ran his finger over the dates on the cover, noting the frayed edges of the book.
Heart hammering in his chest, he sat the book in his lap and let it fall open to a place marked with a photograph. He picked it up and immediately noticed it was clearer and sharper than the tintypes he’d seen. A man and woman stood together, his arm around her shoulders. She wore a two-piece suit with the skirt hitting just below her knees. Her hair was short like Texanna’s and curled around her face. A hat with a feather sat cockily on her head. She looked amazingly like Texanna, but with a fuller figure. Even the smile on her face was similar. He turned the picture over. Written in ink were the words—John Thompson and Pearlina Baines Dyson on the courthouse steps on their wedding day, September 21, 1940.
Hands shaking, he turned to another section marked with one more likeness. An older woman, her pink scalp showing through her thin white hair, sat in a high-backed chair in front of a fireplace. Though wrinkled, her pale face had added color with paint on her cheeks and lips. His stomach clenched in alarm. The blue eyes that stared out of the photograph were Pearl’s.
****
With the book tucked under his arm, Royce ambled into the kitchen where Texanna stood looking through a cookbook. Her back was to him, and she didn’t turn. From the square set of her shoulders, he knew she was still upset. He suspected she’d been crying, which made him feel lower than a skunk.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for those things I said. This crazy situation has got me flummoxed.”
She turned and nodded. “I can understand that.”
“I found this on the porch.” Her eyes followed his hand as he laid the book on the table. “Saw the pictures, but I’m not ready to believe my eyes. My mind just can’t grasp it.” He pulled out a chair and sat down.
“I need to tell you something else.”
Royce propped his elbows on the table and clasped his hands. “Oh, Lord. What now?”
Her expression was sympathetic. He saw a glitter of tears in her eyes. “When I returned to my time, Pearl had passed on. We buried her two days later.”
He didn’t know what to say, how to respond, or how to feel. A month ago, before Texanna’s arrival, if Pearl’s body had been found, he’d have known how to grieve. Her death was a fact he’d lived with for four years. But this was different. If the woman in the picture was his wife, how could he deal with it?
Texanna asked. “Did you look through the book and find the pictures of you and Garrett?”
“No.” He stood shoving his chair back. “I didn’t get past the pictures of Pearl…the pictures of the woman.” He couldn’t deal with anymore right now. He wasn’t sure which was worse, accepting Texanna’s story of time-travel or thinking the woman in those pictures might be Pearl.
Grasping to change the subject, he muttered. “You want to take those guns out back and give ‘um a try? See if you’re as good a shot as you claim?”
“Really?” Her eyes rounded with hope.
“Sure, why not?”
“What about lunch? You need to eat before you leave.”
“I’ll help you throw something together when we finish, then you can ride into town with me.”
“You mean it?”
“Of course I mean it. Find a hat and some gloves while I fetch the guns.” He looked at her skirt. “And put on your riding skirt and a chemise. You can’t go into town with nothing under that blouse.”
Her chin raised an inch, and for a minute he thought she’d decline his invitation. Then she turned and walked ahead of him to the stairs.
“If you don’t want to have chapped legs, you better put on those bloomers.”
At his statement, her step faltered, but she continued up the stairs. His eyes locked on the movement of her hips and rounded butt, and he couldn’t keep from noticing she had a fine-looking rear end.
He stood at the back door with the Remington and the Colt, cartridges for each in his pockets. A feed sack filled with empty cans sat by his feet. Since he and Garrett had been alone, many of their meals came from tin cans. They’d stacked them in a box on the porch.
Texanna flew into the kitchen in a whirl of red hair, gloves and hat in her hand. Her face was rosy from rushing, and her blue eyes danced with excitement. She was so naturally beautiful, and her cocky attitude enhanced it. He could only stare and soak up the warmth she radiated.
Her smile faded. “What’s wrong? I put on that tacky underwear if that’s what’s bothering you.”
“Just lost in thought there a minute. Let’s go.”
Royce made sure the horses and the cow weren’t in the line of fire and set five cans in a row about twenty-five yards from where he and Texanna took up position. He handed her the Colt and six cartridges and watched her load the Peacemaker.
“Alright, let’s see if you can hit one of those cans. Remember, it’s gonna have a hearty kick.”
She nodded and took aim using her left arm for a brace. When she fired, the can popped into the air, and she stumbled back several steps. He reached out to catch her before she fell.
Laughing, she grinned. “Wow! That was awesome.”
“You did good.”
“Thanks. Piece of cake.”
“You want cake?”
She chuckled. “Uh, no, that’s just an expression. It means that was easy. You know, a piece of cake.”
“Uh, huh.” No, he didn’t understand, but decided to drop the subject. “You want to shoot the rest of those cans or move on to the Winchester?”
“I think once is enough with the Colt.” She removed the remaining cartridges and dropped them in his hand before handing him the firearm.
He took the Colt and handed her the Remington Repeating Rifle. She loaded the rifle with ease and sat it on her hip, barrel facing skyward until he returned from moving the cans farther back. When he returned, s
he lifted the rifle to her shoulder and fired. From fifty yards, she hit all five cans and immediately turned the barrel skyward. Someone had taught her well. Not only was she a good shot, she was careful.
“Who taught you to shoot like that?”
“I learned in the 4-H club. By the time I entered high school, I was competing across the state with other kids my age.”
“Hmm. What is this 4-H?”
“It’s a club where kids learn all sorts of important skills like shooting, judging animals for competition, cooking, sewing, and archery to name a few.”
“Guess you didn’t take to the cooking and sewing part, huh?”
She shrugged and blushed. “Didn’t interest me.”
“Why don’t you take the guns up to the house while I saddle the horses? Put some ham on those leftover biscuits. We’ll eat along the way.” For once she didn’t argue. “And bring my jacket and shotgun on your way out.”
He had Samson and Josie saddled by the time Texanna returned, her stride long and purposeful as she walked to the barn. The gun belt, holding the Colt, riding her shapely hips was hard to miss. She’d tied their lunch in a dishcloth. Reins in his hand, he met her halfway.
She handed him his jacket and waited until he had it on before turning over the shotgun. When he had it securely in his scabbard, he turned and looked down at the belt riding low on her hips, a tad too low. It needed more holes punched. He’d add them for her another time, find her a more suitable pistol, and she could wear it when she rode out to see Matthew.
“You are not wearing that gun to town.” He saw that mulish look on her face.
“Why not? You’re loaded down with them. And don’t think I didn’t notice that .32 revolver in your boot, either.”
“How observant of you. Did you notice the Bowie knife in my other boot?” Aha, he’d gotten her there. “I am the Marshal of Waco, you know. I’m expected to be armed.”
“Yeah, well, I know that, but there might be a time when I need to protect your back. I want to be prepared.”
“Thunderation! I’m the protector here. There will never come a time when you need to watch my back. That’s what my deputies are for. Give me that damn gun belt or get in the house.” His wife or not, she wasn’t going into town looking like a gunfighter.
She started to argue, then bit her lip and removed the belt. On his way back from the house, two canteens slung over his shoulder, his step faltered as realization hit him. He’d never used foul language around Pearl, but in the past three days, Texanna had him spouting all sorts of obscenities—hell, damnation, and no telling what else. That had to stop. Though she irritated the hell out of him at times, she was a woman and deserved his respect.
They rode at a leisurely pace, munching on their biscuit sandwiches. Texanna’s eyes were alert as she took note of her surroundings, seemingly seeing it for the first time. They passed Aggie’s house, sitting a half-mile off the road. Her dog, Pepper, came down the lane at a run. Royce tossed him a bite of ham.
“How far are we from town?”
“About two miles from the court house. Actually, we’re on the outskirts. I wouldn’t be surprised if in a year or two more houses spring up around us. Town keeps spreading in all four directions.” He’d already begun to wonder if he’d bought too close in. At least he’d had the foresight to buy fifty acres.
Texanna continued to watch the passing countryside but from time to time would cast sideways glances his way. The third time, he muttered. “What is it? What’da you want to ask?”
“Why do you wear a coat everyday? It’s hot out here. And what about those white shirts? You don’t expect me to wash and iron them, do you?”
“I wear a coat because it’s expected of me.”
“By who?”
“The city council. And don’t worry about the shirts. I take them to the Chinese laundry in town.”
“Whew! What a relief. I was afraid you’d expect me to wash and iron them. I’d hate for you to have to wear scorched shirts.”
Yeah, well, he’d hate it too. So, ironing was something else she didn’t remember how to do, or maybe he should say hadn’t learned. Hell, these were skills all young girls in this neck of the woods were taught early in life. How could she have grown up without learning how to do home chores?
“You do have to wash the sheets and the rest of our clothes.”
“They may not look good the first time or two until I get the hang of it.” He’d never expect perfection, and he bet she’d do just fine.
“Royce, how can you afford a house like yours on a marshal’s pay?”
His house did look better than most with its wide porch and second story. He’d built it, with the help of Matthew and Jason, during his spare time, often working past dark. It had been a labor of love for his soon-to-be wife, Pearl.
Before this morning he’d have wanted her to say our house, but after seeing the pictures, he felt pretty sure she wasn’t Pearl. Until he figured out what to do, they’d have to keep up the pretense.
“Jason and I own part of the farm. Matthew pays us a small percentage of what the farm produces in return for using our sections. My pay as marshal is more than enough for us to live on.” And what they didn’t need they banked for hard times. He wanted Garrett to get a college education if the boy wanted one.
“And from time to time you sell a painting.”
“Really?” She looked surprised.
“Folks around here love your portraits. They press you to do a painting of their kids or their families.”
A smile hung on the edges of her mouth. He wondered what was going on in that head of hers.
“How about Aggie? How does she manage?”
“She has her house and a garden in the summer. It always produces well, so she puts up vegetables, pickles, fruit, and chow-chow for the winter. And folks around here help her out. We take turns making sure she has firewood and help with any repairs needing done.”
“That’s good. I’m glad. You’re a nice man, Royce Dyson.”
He couldn’t respond. What could he say? What kind of man wouldn’t help out a widow in need? People took care of each other when times were hard. But her comment touched him and pierced the sturdy shield around his heart.
He coughed to clear the emotion that had a hold on his throat. “For the rest of the summer, I’d like for Garrett to visit Aggie from time to time. That way she won’t feel like she’s accepting charity when I pay her what she’s been used to making.”
She nodded.
“It’ll give you time to paint and learn how to cook and do laundry.
Her snort made him grin.
They rode quietly for a while. She watched him from the corner of her eye and appeared to be mulling something else over in her mind. Why couldn’t she just spit it out? Before he could ask, she pulled Josie to a stop. He paused beside her, curious at the concern in her eyes.
“Ah, I…I heard you last night.”
His jaw clenched. “Just what did you hear?” His nightmares were private and none of her business.
She studied her hands on the pommel. “I just heard a bunch of muttering and then you yelling, ‘No,” real loud.” Her eyes lifted to his face. “Then Garrett woke you. I’m sorry, Royce. Were you in the war? Does it still haunt you?”
He couldn’t keep the anger from his voice. “It’s none of your concern, so forget it.”
Her hurt expression shamed him, but he wouldn’t go baring his soul to this woman. “Anything else you want to know?”
Shoulders rigid, she spat. “No, nothing that’s any of my business, that is.” She kicked Josie into a trot, and he stayed behind and let her lead.
When they neared town, he drew up alongside of her. “I’m sorry for being surly.”
“No problem. I assume I’ll adjust.”
Damn, she wouldn’t let him off the hook easily. Fine with him. He sure as hell wasn’t going to walk on eggshells around her. He’d say his mind like he’d always done,
and she’d better get used to it.
As soon as they reached the center of town, the sidewalks began to fill. Hats were lifted, hands waved, and greetings shouted.
Sam Howard left his barbershop and headed for the hardware store across the street. “Howdy, Marshal. Ma’am. I’m needin’ to buy a new broom today.”
Royce shook his head as folks poured from the hardware store, the feed store, and Maybell’s to greet Texanna. As gracious as a queen, she replied to their many questions. Her responses were perfect and left them smiling.
****
Texanna felt like she’d been plunged into a history book. Dirt streets, false front buildings, and the clothes. When she’d stepped off the train, she’d been too shocked to take in much of the surroundings. Now she couldn’t wait to see every inch of the town. Then the people filed out to greet her, and the buildings and landmarks faded into the background. Tears pricked her eyes at the warmth of these nice people. Oh, how Pearl would have loved this welcome.
Then the First National Bank of Waco loomed before them. The bank was a two-story building. It sat on a corner, and the street that ran alongside was narrow. She reached out and touched Royce’s leg. He looked at her in response.
“I’d like to see the First National Bank of Waco.”
“We just passed it.”
“I know, but I’d like to go inside and look around.”
“We don’t bank there, Texanna. Why would you want to go inside?”
Good question. Why did she want to when the shoot-out after the bank robbery would take place on the side street by the bank? It was important to check all angles and positions. “I’m interested in the architecture. I might want to do a painting with it in the background.”
He gave her an odd look but didn’t ask questions. “Maybe Jason can take you over to look around.”
“That’d be great. I’d like to see the store, too. And the library.”
“Do you need something at the store? Charge anything you need.”
Yes, she needed some things, but she didn’t think the store carried the items. Underwear would be nice. She’d buy “grannie panties” and not complain.
My Heart Will Find Yours Page 9