Diamond in the Dust (Second Chances Time Travel Romance Book 3)

by Peggy L Henderson

  “Gabe McFarlain, I don’t care what that reverend says, you are certifiably nuts,” she mumbled, and eased her car up alongside him.

  And what does that make you, Morgan?

  Morgan pushed the button to roll the passenger-side window down, nearly choking on the blast of hot air that rushed into her car.

  “Care for a ride, Desperado?” she called, leaning forward to look out the window.

  Gabe turned his head toward her, a dark scowl on his sweat-soaked face.

  “You’re better off to leave me be,” he answered, and kept walking.

  Morgan rolled the car slowly alongside him. Stubborn jerk.

  “You’re going to pass out in another five minutes, Gabe, so unless you have a death wish, please get in the car. If you die, I’ll never forgive you for wasting my time and for making me lose a good night’s sleep.”

  Gabe stopped again, a confused look on his face. He turned toward the car and bent forward to peer into the window.

  “I know that reverend sent you,” he grumbled. “I already told him to mind his own business. He’s done enough meddling with my life.”

  Morgan put the car in park. She reached across the seat and pulled on the door latch, then gave it a push.

  “Get in the car, tough guy. Your reverend left.” She met his dark stare, and smiled. “It’s getting unbearably hot in this car, and my son is going to start screaming in about ten seconds. I’ll even drive you to wherever you want to go, but just please get in.”

  Morgan raised her brows expectantly. She cursed silently. If he didn’t get in the car within the next few seconds, she’d be forced to roll the window up. She wouldn’t subject Logan to this kind of heat for much longer.

  Finally, Gabe frowned. The change in his expression must have meant he’d come to a decision. His hand reached for the door, and he pulled it further open. Hesitating, he lowered himself into the passenger seat, a grimace on his face. His body took up most of the space. He glanced around uneasily, then up at her.

  “Pull the door shut so we can get some cold air back in here,” Morgan urged. If it hadn’t been so hot, she would have left the windows down. Gabe desperately needed a shower. She pushed the button to roll up the window just as Gabe touched the door handle, and he quickly yanked his hand back.

  Morgan giggled. “It’s not going to bite.”

  On impulse, she reached across his lap, intending to pull the door all the way shut. She’d kept one hand on the steering wheel to anchor herself, but her sweaty palm slipped. With a squeal, her upper body landed face-down in his lap before she could brace herself. Her cheek connected with one solid upper thigh. Mortified, Morgan scrambled to right herself just as strong fingers gripped her arm and hauled her upward.

  An involuntary shudder passed through her, and Morgan sucked in a quick gasp of air.

  “I . . . I’m so sorry,” she stammered, heat rushing up her neck into her cheeks. She hastily swiped some wayward strands of hair away from her damp face, then gripped the steering wheel with both hands, staring straight ahead.

  “I ain’t gonna bite, neither,” Gabe drawled slowly, and Morgan’s head snapped in his direction. His mouth curved into, what she could only describe as, a thoroughly wicked grin, and his eyes settled on her heaving chest.

  Morgan glared at him, regaining her composure.

  “Good to know,” she retorted. If he thought to intimidate her with his leer, he could think again. The reverend had assured her that Gabe wasn’t dangerous, and for whatever crazy reason, she believed the old man, at least about that.

  There was no pretense with Gabe. He showed when he was angry and upset, unlike Bryce, who hid his emotions behind a well-controlled façade to the casual friend or observer. On the outside, he was friendly and charming, but he could turn vicious without warning if something or someone upset him or got in his way. When he’d finally showed his true colors and had hit her without provocation, Morgan had blamed herself; not about Bryce hitting her, but for not listening to her inner voice and ending their relationship sooner. There had been no warning bells going off in her head that Gabe posed a threat to Logan or to her.

  Morgan fumbled with the air conditioner adjustments. “Some cool air might do you some good,” she said.

  Speak for yourself, Morgan.

  “You look like you’re about to melt. Not a smart move, Desperado, walking around in one-hundred plus degree heat.”

  Gabe held his palm up against one of the vents, then turned his head to her. “How does it make cold air?” he asked, disbelief in his voice.

  Morgan blinked, mesmerized by the look of wonder on his face. He was either for real, or a very good actor.

  “It’s a little invention called air conditioning. It’s one modern convenience here in the twenty-first century. We have many more.”

  Gabe’s dark eyes traveled up her arms and neck, and settled on her face. “Maybe I’ll like what the future has to offer, after all.”

  Morgan tore her eyes away. For the sulky guy that he was, he sure knew how to flirt. That lazy grin was downright . . . kissable. The image of him in that photo flashed before her.

  Morgan swallowed past the gritty feeling in her dry throat. Time to get back to the house, and a safe distance away from Gabe McFarlain. Sitting so close to him in this car was definitely not a good idea. She’d ended up in his lap once already, and . . .

  “You still think I’m touched in the head?” he asked, the frown back.

  “As touched as I am for even bothering to come looking for you,” she said, copying his choice of words.

  She couldn’t hold back her smile when his frown darkened even more. Did she really have to teach him what it meant to kid around, or making sarcastic remarks? He seemed to take everything she said much too seriously.

  Morgan released the parking brake, then looked at him. “Where to?” Her eyebrows rose.

  Gabe held her gaze for a moment.

  “Where would you like me to drive you?” she asked, clarifying her question, in case he hadn’t understood what she’d meant.

  “Unless this,” he glanced around the car, “wagon can take me back to where I come from, I ain’t got no place to go.”

  Morgan studied his face. His features were as hard as ever, but her heart went out to him. If he was from another time, even though she still didn’t buy into the idea, everything would be foreign to him. He reacted to everyday things in a weird way.

  What would it be like to time travel? It was one thing to be stranded in a foreign country, not knowing the language or the customs, but to be tossed into a completely different century . . .

  “I’ll try and help you figure it out,” she said quietly, offering a smile. “I couldn’t imagine being thrown into the past.” She laughed. For now, until she could figure out what his real story was, she’d simply have to play along. “I don’t think I could cope without modern conveniences. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I think camping would be fun, but even campgrounds have bathrooms.”

  Morgan reached out and touched his arm, looking up into those haunted eyes. His muscles tensed beneath her touch.

  “This must all be incredible scary for you. I don’t know your particular circumstances, but that clergyman said you’re misguided and have a lot of anger built up inside you. What did you do that they were going to hang you?” The question was out before she could stop herself.

  Geez, Morgan. Since when do you have diarrhea of the mouth?

  “I killed a dozen or so horses.” He stared at her, his expression hard.

  Morgan swallowed, letting his words sink in. He’d killed horses? She mentally shook her head. She couldn’t let herself jump to conclusions. As sure as she breathed, she was absolutely convinced that Gabe McFarlain wasn’t a bad man.

  “Da-da-da-da. Hoss-ee-hoss-ee,” Logan screeched loudly in the backseat at that moment.

  His sippy cup fell to the floor of the car with a dull thud, and he tossed his stuffed horse toward the front. It
bounced off the center console and landed in Gabe’s lap. He hesitated before reaching for the toy, and held it up.

  “What’s he sayin’?” Gabe turned slightly to look back at Logan.

  “I think he just wanted to show you his horse.” Morgan smiled at the perplexed look on Gabe’s face. The guy squirmed in his seat, looking downright uncomfortable. Clearly, he hadn’t been around babies much.

  Logan bounced and squealed in his car seat, his little arms reaching forward.

  “You’d better give it back to him before he starts to have a meltdown.” Morgan pointed at the stuffed toy in this rough-looking man’s hand. Gabe tentatively reached toward the back seat as if he expected Logan to snatch off his arm.

  “He most definitely doesn’t bite, either.” Morgan grinned at the guy, who acted as if he’d never seen a baby before.

  Gabe yanked his hand away the moment Logan grasped the toy, and straightened in his seat. Laughing, Morgan shifted the car into drive, and made a quick, sharp U-turn. Gabe gripped the center console, his jaw clenched tight. She’d bring up the subject of wearing a seatbelt some other time. It was only a couple of blocks back to the house.

  Morgan stopped at the intersection when her cell phone buzzed in one of the cupholders. A quick glance down, and she reached for it.

  “Hey, Ashley,” she greeted, and stepped on the gas.

  “Why on earth haven’t you answered your phone?” Ashley screeched on the other end. “I’ve been calling you all day.”

  Morgan glanced side-ways at Gabe, who looked at her with that blank expression on his face.

  “I’m still alive, Ash. I haven’t been murdered, yet.”

  “Then you should have called me back. I’ve wanted to call the cops all day,” her friend said, sounding much calmer. “How are . . . things?”

  Morgan chuckled. “Interesting,” she answered. “Gabe and I are getting along like a couple of old friends.”

  He shot her a dark look.

  “Gabe?”

  “Yes, he has a name, Ashley, but I think I’ll call him Desperado.”

  Morgan smiled. She locked her gaze on his in a silent teasing challenge. His tense body spoke volumes that he didn’t appreciate being talked about as if he wasn’t even there. There was also that perplexed look, like he thought she was nuts for talking into her phone.

  “I was asked to work a double tonight, so I won’t be home until midnight or so,” Ashley continued. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

  “One hundred percent,” Morgan answered.

  Morgan pulled into the driveway of Ashley’s house, and said her goodbyes with another reassurance that she was in no danger of being assaulted or murdered.

  “Well, here we are again.” Morgan turned to Gabe. “It’s almost dinner time. I’ll throw something together, if you’d like to take a shower and clean up.”

  She shot him a meaningful stare. Although his face was no longer blood-streaked since she’d washed the grime away last night, walking in the heat had definitely made him all sweaty again. His puffy eye had already improved, but it might be a few more days before the swelling was completely gone. The bruise might take a while longer.

  “You certainly need one, and I bet you’ll feel much better. I can get your clothes washed, too. It won’t take long for them to dry. Tomorrow, we can see about getting you something different to wear, if you want.”

  Morgan got out of the car while she talked, and pulled Logan from his car seat. She didn’t wait to see if Gabe followed when she walked up the three steps to the front door. He wouldn’t appreciate constant hand-holding. Before she could open the door herself, a calloused hand reached around her from behind, and twisted the knob. Gabe pushed the door open.

  Morgan’s head shot up and back. He stood right behind her, a wide grin on his face.

  “Ladies first,” he said, and tipped his hat with his other hand.

  Chapter Seven

  Gabe removed his hat and followed Morgan into the house, which was noticeably cooler than the outside. Must be more of that air conditioning that had cooled off the inside of the wagon. Without such an invention, it would be downright unbearable living in this desert town. From what he’d seen, it wasn’t a place he’d want to stay. Somehow, he’d have to figure out how to make a new life somewhere here, in this time.

  It had become clear that the reverend wouldn’t send him back to where he belonged. Gabe fisted his hands at his side. He’d wanted to beat the old man into submission, but if the reverend was dead, Gabe would be no better off than he was now. He shook his head. No matter what life had tossed his way, he’d never had the desire to kill anyone.

  He cursed under his breath. For now, he’d have to bide his time. Something would come to him. He’d always managed before. Even as a young boy, he’d learned to scrape together food and whatever else he needed to survive. Cora had done her best to provide for him, but in her profession, being saddled with a child was not an easy thing. Everyone knew he was the bastard son of a whore, and no one batted an eyelash when he got into fights with other town kids because of it. It hadn’t mattered whether he was taunted relentlessly to throw the first punch, or if another boy had tried to prove himself by taking Gabe on. The blame always fell on him.

  Gabe ran a hand through his damp hair in an effort to erase the memories. Morgan moved past him into the parlor, her boy straddling the side of her hip. The soft scent of her hair and skin lingered in the air, and the enticing view of her bare arms and legs left him longing for a dip in a cold creek. Where was her son’s father?

  Morgan couldn’t be widowed. The reverend had referred to her as Miss. Had a former beau forsaken her when she was with child? Gabe frowned. Renouncing the child of a whore was one thing, but what fool would leave a woman like Morgan? Regardless, it was none of his concern. She seemed to be a doting mother, even if the boy’s father didn’t do right by her.

  “Is there a necessary here somewhere?” Gabe called out when Morgan stepped from the parlor into the kitchen.

  “A what?” She turned under the doorframe, her forehead wrinkled.

  “A necessary . . . privy.” What the hell was the right word to use in this time? Gabe gritted his teeth.

  Her eyes brightened with comprehension, and she gave a quick laugh.

  “A bathroom? The guest bath is down the hall, first door on the left. Let me put Logan in his high chair, and I’ll bring you some fresh towels so you can clean up.”

  She turned, and disappeared back into the kitchen. Gabe stared after her. Down the hall? The outhouse was inside the house? He shook his head, and made his way down the narrow hall. Morgan’s bedroom was the first door to the right. He stopped in front of the one on the left. Slowly, he twisted the shiny round doorknob, and peered inside a dim room. Faint light drifted in from, what appeared to be, a small window high up above a frosted, glass-fronted closet.

  Gabe ran his hand along the smooth, white counter to his right. A bowl-shaped depression was molded into the counter, and a silver fixture, similar to the one he’d seen in the kitchen that served as the water pump, protruded over it.

  Gabe pushed one of the two levers at either side of the spigot, but it wouldn’t budge, so he pulled it toward him. Water instantly poured from the tip, and he quickly pushed it back the other way. Lifting his head, Gabe stared at his own reflection in the large mirror that ran the length of the counter.

  “You might see better if you had some light.” Morgan’s soft voice drifted from behind him, and not a second later, the room illuminated.

  Gabe startled. Three bright, round bulbs lit up like the sun from a fixture mounted into the mirror.

  He turned to stare at her. Fool was too mild a term to describe him at present. He’d never felt so daft.

  “The light switch is right here,” Morgan said slowly, pointing at a lever smaller than the nail of his little finger in the wall next to the door. Her brows rose.

  Gabe gritted his teeth. Anger coursed throug
h him again, and he silently cursed the revered to hell and back for putting him in this predicament.

  “Where I come from, we ain’t got things like this,” he said slowly, sounding like the blockhead he was in this future time. How the hell was he going to learn about all the things he had never seen or done before?

  Morgan’s eyes narrowed for a split second, and settled on him. She still didn’t believe him that he’d come from the past. It was written all over her face as plain as the daylight shining from those orbs. Hell. He couldn’t blame her. Who in their right mind would believe something as outlandish as time travel, anyhow? It had taken him a while to convince himself that Tyler’s wife had come from the future, and even when he confronted her about it and gambled with the notion that it was true, he still hadn’t quite believed it.

  “Well, here are some clean towels.” Morgan held out, what looked like, some folded-up, blue bolts of fabric.. “I suppose you don’t know what a shower is, either?”

  Without waiting for a reply, she inched past him in the narrow space of the room, and pushed open what, moments ago, he’d assumed was a closet. White tile lined the floor and walls. Gabe eyed the small round hole covered by a silver grid in the middle of the closet floor.

  “There’s soap and shampoo.” She leaned forward into the closet, then peered over her shoulder at him.

  Gabe’s eyes traveled from the soft curves of her backside to her face.

  “Ashley’s boyfriend stays over sometimes. I don’t think he’ll mind if you use some of his shampoo and body wash. I’m pretty sure you don’t want to use mine.” She pointed at a black container on the floor in the far corner of the closet. “I also found a pair of his P.J. pants in her room. I think they might fit you. You can wear those while I wash your clothes.”

  “What exactly are you asking me to do?” Gabe asked, his annoyance curbed by visions of Morgan standing bent over so close in front of him.

  She straightened, and studied his face. Her soft doe-eyes held a hint of pity, and Gabe cursed again. He didn’t want anyone’s pity, dammit. He’d wanted to hang, to end his miserable life. Even making good on his plans to ruin Tyler hadn’t brought the peace and salvation he’d always hoped for.