My Heart Will Find Yours

by Linda LaRoque

  He nodded, sobs wracking his body. “I love you, Ma.”

  Texanna’s body started shaking as tears rolled down her cheeks. Her pain-filled eyes found Royce’s.

  “Doc,” Royce bellowed.

  Jason scooped up Garrett and rushed him from the room. Matthew followed leaving Royce alone with his wife. Doc gave Texanna another injection and quietly left.

  “Kiss me, Royce.”

  His lips touched hers and clung. She smiled and closed her eyes. Dropping his head to the bed, he caressed her leg with his hand. He didn’t know if his stroking soothed her, but touching her brought him a small degree of comfort. She curled her fingers in his hair. Voice slurred and raspy, she said, “Nightmare…tell…”bout…it.”

  And he did, slowly at first telling how he’d gotten into the secret service, the lives he felt responsible for, and finally how he’d killed Peters for murdering his folks and making Jason live like an animal for months. When the gates opened, the words came through in a torrent. He held nothing back from her. Guilt ate at his soul for all the lives lost due to his spying.

  Her palm cupped his cheek. “Think…lives saved. War would’ve dragged, more men…both sides…died.”

  Her words of comfort soothed him when others had been unable to do so. He was grateful she didn’t condemn him for his part in the war, but what about his act of revenge? Yes, Peters had falsified records of several people in the area and taken their homes. The man lied, cheated, and stole from innocent folks. He’d murdered four men and one woman, but Royce shot the man twice in the chest and felt no remorse.

  “Peters…rotten skunk…die…defended…family.”

  He raised his head to look at her, watching to see if it was Texanna talking or the drug. Tears pooled in her eyes, and they glistened in the low light of the room. An invisible fist loosened around his heart at her lack of censure. “I feared you’d be repulsed knowing what I’ve done.”

  She shook her head and then groaned, “Ooh wee, room’s spinning.” Her voice shot up in pitch. “Stop world, let me off.” Her outburst ended as quickly as it began. “Proud you…always.” With a grin, she added. “My…macho warrior…love…forever, Royce.” Her hand faltering, she tried to touch his face. He grasped it and brought it to his lips. “Be…happy.” And then she was quiet.

  A knock sounded at the door. Royce dried his eyes and turned to see Judge Stokes.

  “Can I come in a minute, Royce? I wouldn’t bother you if it weren’t important.”

  Royce couldn’t imagine what business the judge had that could be more important than the fact that his wife was dying, but…he nodded.

  The judge pulled a chair close to his and sat down. He took a handkerchief from his coat pocket and unfolded it to reveal Texanna’s locket. Royce took it and closed his fist around it.

  “I’m sorry for all the misery your wife has suffered due to the loss of the heirloom. Danielle’s had it all this time.” Lines of pain etched his face. “I’m afraid I’ve failed at raising my daughter.” He stood and gripped Royce’s shoulder. “I pray your wife gets better, son. Let me know if I can do anything.”

  Royce could only nod and watch as the older man left the room. The locket grew warm against his skin. He opened his fist and studied the stone his father had placed in his care for safekeeping. Turquoise wasn’t a stone natural to this area. It had to have come from far away and if his father was correct, it was ancient.

  His mind made up, Royce kissed Texanna’s still lips. He gently wrapped her in the bed sheets, lifted and carried her from the room.

  ****

  On the morning of August 15, 1880, the day was clear with a few white puffs of clouds scattered across the sky. A light breeze rustled the leaves of the big oak trees lining the Brazos River. Royce walked across scorched grass back to the cemetery to Texanna’s grave. Everyone was headed to his house for the wake to give him time alone. Wildflowers and some of the garden varieties covered the dirt mound. Most common were the roses so many ladies grew in their yards.

  Royce removed his hat and stared down at his wife’s resting place. A sense of peace filled him as if Texanna had reached out and squeezed his hand. He would never forget her—her smile and laughter, her teasing. Their short time together had been packed with more joy than some couples shared in a lifetime. He’d been twice blessed. From now on his life would be filled with raising Garrett and helping Matthew and Molly with their children. One day, Jason and Sally would have a family, and he’d have more nieces and nephews to dote upon. Never again would he marry for love. Later in life he might marry for companionship, but he didn’t ever want to hurt as he had on losing Texanna.

  Bull Tate hadn’t died from his gunshot wounds. His brother, Jake, confessed Bull was out to get even with Royce for sending their younger brother to prison. The boy had been in a knife fight in the penitentiary, and died as a result of infection. Bull blamed Royce. Their fight in the street cinched it. The big man was out for blood. Now Bull would go on trial for Texanna’s death.

  Settling his hat back on his head, Royce walked toward the tree where he’d tied Samson. The big horse munched the green grass under the big oak but raised his head when he approached. “You ready to head home, boy?” The last few days, he’d sensed Royce’s mood and acted especially attentive. With a whinny of welcome, he butted Royce in the chest. “Love me, do you?” Royce chuckled as the stallion nibbled on his ear knocking his hat askew. He righted it and stroked his friend’s neck. “I love you too, fella.”

  On the day of the robbery, Pete found Strawberry in a grove of trees just outside of town. He’d continued on to fetch Matthew and on the way back, he’d collected the mare and took her home. Strawberry still looked for Texanna. Every time the back door closed, she ran to the fence in anticipation. She’d been disappointed so many times she was off her feed. Who knew animals could grieve as humans did?

  “We better get home, boy. The house is probably crawling with people waiting to extend their condolences, and there’s enough food to feed an army.”

  The house was full. Aggie and Edna made peace for the day and were busy seeing to it everyone was fed. In their shared grief, it looked as though they might even become friends. He looked around at those who’d come to pay their respects. Their attempts to take care of him and Garrett were a testament to how lucky he and the boy were. They were loved and had folks around them who’d do whatever they could to ease their pain. What a shame they couldn’t return Texanna to them.

  Royce looked toward the fireplace and the two portraits above it. His eyes dropped to his son as he stood, his eyes trained on the painting of Texanna. Royce found it uncovered on the easel yesterday, the paint dry, when he’d returned home. Evidently, Texanna finished it before going into town. Tired and weary hearted, he’d gone to the barn to get the tools needed to make a frame. Having watched Texanna, Garrett was full of advice on the proper technique. Together, they’d built the frame and stained it to match the portrait of the two of them. The two pieces of art fit together perfectly. It was if they’d been designed to hang side-by-side.

  Ross came through the front door, looked around the room, and strode to stand before Royce. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Royce. She was a beautiful woman.” He studied his feet. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse. “I truly regret my crude behavior that day in your office. I hope you can forgive me. I just wish it wasn’t too late to beg her pardon, and for her to know I’m really sorry.”

  Royce clasped the younger man’s shoulder. “I do forgive you, Ross. We’ve all been young and stupid at some time or another. And I think Texanna would have been proud to accept your apology.”

  Eyes full of torment, Ross nodded and turned to leave.

  “Ross?”

  “Sir?”

  “Come by the office Monday morning, and we’ll see if we can’t somehow salvage your job.”

  Ross’s eyes gleamed with hope. “I’ll be there. Thank you.”

  ****


  Texanna woke to see Dr. Richard James mulling over her chart. He’d been very kind and attentive. He called her his mystery patient. Burning with fever, she’d been found at the train depot wrapped in linen sheets, an old carpetbag at her feet, and inside, along with some nineteenth-century clothes, was a note with her name which read, Texanna Baines Keith Dyson.

  Because of her gunshot wound, the police had become involved; they were particularly interested in the bullet removed from her shoulder as it came from an old Colt that could only be found in museums. She wouldn’t be surprised if the Texas Rangers or FBI were called to investigate.

  She needed surgery, but it was important to reduce the amount of infection before Dr. James operated. He’d ordered a powerful antibiotic by IV, and, in the couple of hours she’d been receiving fluids, she felt a little better. She was so groggy and the medicine added to her confusion. One minute she knew where she was—the next she didn’t.

  “Miss Dyson, can you open your eyes for me?” He patted her cheek gently. “Come on, let me see those beautiful blue eyes.”

  Her eyes rolled behind closed lids and finally opened. “Royce?” She licked her dry cracked lips. “Thirsty.”

  The doctor held the straw to her mouth. “Here you go, take a couple of sips.”

  She did and sighed with pleasure. “It’s cold.”

  He smiled. “Yes, the nurse just brought fresh ice water. I want you to drink as much as possible.”

  She nodded and then looked around the room. When her eyes lit on the IV tube and monitor, she panicked. “Royce. Where’s my husband?” She tried to push up and screamed with pain.

  Dr. James hit the call button. The nurse’s station immediately answered. “Miss Dyson needs her pain medication.”

  With his hand on her chest, he gently held her against the bed. She was gasping with the pain, and tears trickled down her cheeks.

  “It’s Mrs. Dyson, not Miss.” She watched the nurse inject the medicine into the IV catheter hub, dispose of the syringe, and leave the room.

  The doctor chuckled. “I stand corrected. Darn. And here I thought I’d found my future wife, but I see you’re already taken.”

  Ah, his remark had brought a twitch to her lips. “So, Mrs. Dyson, how can we reach your husband?”

  Her lips quivered. “You can’t. He’s the Marshal of Waco in 1880.” She whimpered. “He brought me forward to 2008 so I could be treated with modern medicine. I’d have died if I stayed. He didn’t give me a choice.”

  He squeezed her hand. She couldn’t tell if he believed or not. Even men of science knew some things were unexplainable. Maybe he was one. “Your husband must love you very much.”

  The same nurse popped her head in the door. “Doctor, her parents are here.” Her father pushed his way past the nurse, her mom on his coattail. “Texanna, baby,” he gasped as he rushed to the bed. “Who did this to you?”

  “Daddy!” Sobs racked her body as she tried to explain.

  Her mother hurried to her other side. “Don’t try to talk right now, honey. Just rest. We’re here, and no one else will hurt you.” Her mother stroked her hair. Her movements were awkward. This was an unfamiliar side to the woman who’d raised her. She wasn’t used to giving comfort, but there was no denying the pain and panic etched on her face.

  Dr. James spoke, “She just received pain medication. As soon as she’s asleep, I’d like to talk with you. I’ll be at the nurse’s station.”

  Three days later, Texanna’s bone infection had lessened, and she was cleared for surgery. Her heart was heavy as she rolled through the double doors. Today Dr. James would scrape away any damaged bone tissue, and if grafting were needed, coral would be used to repair the small chip in her clavicle.

  She didn’t fear the operation. Her fear revolved around having to remain in this time. Royce needed the locket to return to Garrett, so she was stuck here forever—without him. In truth, Royce was dead now. If she died in surgery, she’d be able to join him in heaven. But as much as she loved him and Garrett, she felt a pull from somewhere to stay alive. Maybe God was speaking to her. She didn’t know. Unable to do anything else, she would respond to that pull and do her best to get well.

  When she woke in recovery, Dr. James clasped her hand. “It went well, Texanna. Though there was damage to the deltoid, after some therapy, I think your arm will be as good as new. The chip to the clavicle was minimal, no need for a transplant. In all, the damage wasn’t as bad as I’d first thought.”

  “Thank you, Dr. James.” Personable as well as an excellent doctor, he could easily become a good friend. The fact he didn’t pooh-pooh her story of traveling back in time endeared him to her, but he was also good company. He patted her hand. “You’re welcome. Now, your folks are anxious to see you.”

  They stayed until the pain medicine took over, and she drifted off to sleep again. Her last thought was her mother had changed—she’d never seen her so upset.

  The second time Texanna woke, she was back in her room. The only light came from a wall lamp behind her head and from the slightly cracked door. She lay still and watched the slow drip of the fluids in her IV tube. She moved her head and heard the creak of a chair, the rustle of clothes, and smelled the tangy scent of aftershave. A handsome man walked out of the shadows and moved to her side.

  “Hello, Texanna.”

  Texanna gasped at the sound of his deep voice and the blueness of his eyes. Probably in his thirties, he was tall with dark hair and wore khakis and a white shirt. Pinned to his chest was a circular badge with a star suspended inside—a Texas Ranger’s Star.

  Her heart beat so hard she feared she was experiencing a heart attack. Her voice came out a squeak. “Royce?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  His smile, so like Royce’s, twisted her heart. “No, ma’am. I’m told I favor him, but I’m Garth Dyson, your stepson Garrett’s great-great-grandson.”

  Texanna started shaking. “Oh, my God. Garrett’s great-great-grandson?” She covered her mouth to still the trembling of her lips. Now she knew Pearl’s son lived to adulthood, fathered children.

  “That’s right, ma’am.” He reached out and patted her good shoulder. “No tears now. Everything will be all right.”

  Tears flooded her eyes and she sniffled. “I can’t get back to Royce and Garrett. What am I going to do? I don’t think I can live without them.”

  Garth looked disconcerted. “Please don’t cry. You’re going to hurt your arm, and the nurse will kick us out of here. Hold on a minute. I’ve got someone with me who can make you feel better.”

  He turned and held out his hand to someone sitting in a chair in the shadows. An older woman, probably in her sixties, drew closer to the bed and smiled down at her.

  “This is my grandmother Lucia Dyson McFee. She’s Garrett’s youngest and only surviving grandchild.”

  That would make Lucia Texanna’s great-grandchild. This was unreal. Panicking, her eyes flew around the room for a clue that would help her make sense of this situation.

  Lucia touched her hand. “Don’t fret, Texanna. You’ve been through a lot.” Her eyes were Garrett’s, as was her smile. Texanna tried to stifle her sobs, but at the compassion on the woman’s face, she wept with abandon.

  Lucia brushed the hair from her forehead, and whispered words of comfort. “Shhhh, child. It’s going to be all right, you’re not crazy. You left a journal with all the details of your time-travel. Everything has been kept safe for just this day. We’ve known for years you were going to show up and need our help, we just didn’t know exactly when.” She chuckled. “As a matter of fact, we thought it would be last year. The ink got wet and smeared so we couldn’t read the exact year. Garth and I will get you back to your Royce.” She turned to the young man. “Won’t we, Son?”

  Garth put his arm around the older woman’s shoulders. “Yes, Grammy, we will.” He reached down and squeezed Texanna’s hand. “We’ll get everything sorted out. Leave it to us.”

  Lips trem
bling, she nodded. “Thank you. I didn’t think I’d see Royce again, or Garrett.”

  Garth laughed. “You’ll do more than see him. You’re going to have three children within the next ten years.”

  Lucia swatted at her grandson. “Shame on you, that’s personal business.” But she laughed and winked at Texanna.

  The San Antonio police visited her the next day and pounded her with questions. They’d contacted Waco to see if they knew of a Texanna Keith Dyson and how she had come to be shot in their area between August eighth and ninth. They had no record of such an incident, so the Texas Rangers were called to investigate.

  Garth’s home base with the Rangers was in Waco, so when the call came in, he was immediately dispatched to San Antonio. Little did they know he’d already visited Texanna. Not content with the information he’d obtained, his superiors visited her several times asking more questions. She always gave the same answer—she’d been in Waco but had no recall of what happened to her. Because the trail was one-hundred-twenty-eight years old, they found nothing.

  She worried about Garth’s job and if he’d have to falsify records or something worse.

  He reassured her. “As soon as you travel back to 1880, the entire case file will evaporate, and no one will remember you showing up here. If not, the case will be buried in mountains of other unsolved cases.”

  ****

  Royce strode from his office buckling on his gun belt as he walked. “Pete, I’m headed down to where Tehuacana Creek meets the Brazos. Heard that’s where the two Meade brothers are holed up with those cattle they stole from over in Navarro County.” He stuffed extra shotgun shells and cartridges for his Colt and Winchester in a saddlebag and headed for the door.

  Pete stood. “You ain’t going by yourself, are you?” He rushed around the desk. “Let me get Jason to come in early, and I’ll go with you.”

  Royce turned back. “No need for that. Don’t expect those two to be much trouble. They’re not smart enough to try to escape and not quite dumb enough to fire on me.”