Amber leaned into him, gripping his upper arm for support as his lips gently assaulted hers. All too soon, he pulled back, leaving her breathless for the second time in less than a minute.
“I think I need to go outside to cool off,” she rasped, meeting his satisfied smile with one of her own. “You sure know how to keep a girl from dying of hypothermia.”
Mercifully, he moved his hand away from her waist and brought it up to touch her cheek, his thumb caressing along her chin.
“I think the rain stopped sometime in the middle of the night.” Scott shifted his arm out from under her head, and moved to stand. He reached for his pants that lay by the hearth, and slipped them on.
Amber bit down on the inside of her lip to keep from blurting out that she’d much rather cuddle in his arms a little while longer.
“Clothes are dry, too.” He tossed her shirt at her. It fluttered on top of her, blocking her view of him. When she lifted it aside, he hovered over her, his face inches from hers. The glow of the coals reflected in his dark eyes as he stared down at her.
“You’d better get dressed or I might be tempted to claim squatter’s rights on this cabin and keep you here.”
Amber resisted the urge to run her fingers along the depressions in his cheeks, but Scott was already gone before she had the chance to raise her arm and wrap it around his neck and urge him to kiss her again. She sat up and shook her head to clear her mind. This wasn’t happening. She was falling in love with Scott, and it was time to come back to reality.
She pushed her arms through the sleeves of the shirt and worked the buttons. “You’re coming around to the idea of leading a pioneer lifestyle?” she teased. “You’d certainly do well at it, like you do everything so well.”
Scott raised his head while kneeling over his backpack. He flashed another wide smile, his eyes locked on hers. He came back to where she still sat on the ground and lowered himself next to her. His hand reached for her cheek again and beckoned her to him.
Amber met his gentle kiss, closing her eyes and savoring every second. Here, in this secluded cabin out in the middle of nowhere, it was easy to forget reality. Scott made it easy to forget. She braced her hand against his chest, and drew back. This was crazy. They couldn’t stay here. The real world was waiting outside, even if it was the wrong century.
Scott’s eyes narrowed for a split-second, studying her with slight puzzlement, but the look was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
“Thank you, Scott, for opening my eyes to the beauty of the world around us,” she whispered. “And for teaching me to have the courage to continue.”
His smile was back instantly. “You have so much to live for. You didn’t give up yesterday, even though it was hard. You’ve always had courage. Maybe in some small way, I helped you find it.”
She laughed softly, and stared at the dirt on the ground. Scott held something under her nose. Her eyes instantly widened.
“A granola bar?”
Amber’s stomach growled as if it had recognized the plastic wrapper before her brain did. She snatched the food from his hand, savoring the feel of the familiar packaging, the first modern item, other than Scott’s backpack, she’d laid eyes on in a week.
“You’ve been holding out on me.” Her eyes lifted to his smiling face, narrowing in a fake glare. “What else are you hiding in that backpack?”
“I was saving this for a special occasion. I think today qualifies.”
Amber ripped the packaging open and sunk her teeth into the crunchy goodness. A drawn-out moan escaped her lips.
“What’s the special occasion?” she mumbled while chewing.
“You saying you found the courage to continue.” He sat beside her and broke off a small piece from the bar she clutched in her hand as if it were the most precious possession she owned, and stuck it in his mouth. “You can have the rest.”
Amber stared from him to the granola bar. She’d never had one that tasted this good. A rush of fear sliced through her. It came on out of nowhere, making her heart race in her chest. What if they never made it back to town, and home? What if they did?
“I’m scared, Scott.”
He reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He leaned over and kissed her lips. Time stood still in that precious second, like it had done last night, and earlier when she’d woken in his arms. The real world was outside these four walls. Did she want to return to that? Right here, it was easy to forget everything.
“We’re going to get home, Amber,” he said as if reading her thoughts. “I meant what I said about asking you on a date after we’re back in the twenty-first century. I think we may have skipped a step or two, so we have to make up for it when we get home.”
Amber rolled her eyes. Despite a renewed wave of fear, she couldn’t hold back her smile. “You’re crazy, Scott Kincaid.”
“No crazier than you, Amber Milligan.” His face turned serious. He closed the distance between them and pulled her onto his lap. His fingers worked magic along her shoulders and back, kneading the tension from the muscles along her neck. “When we get home, I’m going to get you the treatment you need, the best oncologist I can find.”
Amber’s eyes narrowed. A tiny spark of hope ignited in her. Scott hadn’t lied to her yet. Except for getting them back to town, he’d done everything he’d said he’d do. Fear of the treatment itself wasn’t so great at the moment. What if it didn’t work? She laughed to cover up her apprehension.
“I already said you’re crazy, Scott. How are you going to do that?”
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. Amber’s spine tingled in response.
“Entitled rich boy here, remember?” he murmured against her ear. “I believe in you. I think you’re a brave woman, you just don’t know it. I want to thank you for picking me up off the side of the road, and for showing me the adventure of a lifetime.”
Amber turned her head slightly to catch his grin. “You truly are insane, Scott Kincaid.”
“Yeah, maybe, but you’re the one who had a death wish.” His face sobered. “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll slow down and take things a bit more serious, if you meet me in the middle and enjoy life once we get home, like you’ve been doing since we came to this time.”
Amber stuffed the final piece of the granola bar in her mouth. She extracted herself from Scott’s hold, even though she craved for his hands to continue to work the kinks out of her sore and fatigued muscles. She should be the one giving him a back rub. He’d nearly died yesterday. The gash on his forehead wasn’t as bad as it had appeared when blood was oozing from the cut.
“We should go,” she said, standing and reaching for her pants. Thankfully they were dry.
Scott put out the fire in the hearth, then grabbed his pack. He slung it over his shoulder and headed for the door. He reached for the handle, but froze, and tilted his head, listening.
“I hear something,” he blurted. “A horse.”
Amber rushed up beside him, her heart once again galloping in her chest. Would their ordeal finally be over, or were they in for more unknown trouble? Jeb and the other outlaws came to mind. Maybe they’d finally caught up to them. Scott held out his hand to indicate she should stay back. Obviously, he’d had the same thoughts.
“Stay here. I’m going to see who it is.”
Slowly, he opened the creaky door several inches and peered outside. Amber went to the window, but it was too dirty to see much of anything. More light streamed into the cabin when Scott opened the door wider and stepped outside.
Chapter 15
“Howdy,” someone called. Wheels squeaked, and something jingled, like a metal chain.
“Good morning,” Scott returned the greeting.
It didn’t sound like those outlaws had returned to finish them off. Amber went to the door. She wasn’t going to be left behind. She stepped into the sunshine, squinting and holding her hand to her forehead to shield against the sun’s glare. The sto
rm had definitely passed.
A buggy with a single mule hitched to it had stopped in front of the cabin. A little old man with a white beard covering much of his face sat in the driver’s seat. He smiled, his curious eyes going from Scott to Amber.
“Saw the smoke comin’ from the chimney, so I thought I’d see what’s goin’ on,” he said.
“We took shelter from the storm. If this is your place, I’m sorry for trespassing.” Scott walked up to the buggy, and reached his arm up to shake the older man’s hand.
The man cackled. “This place has stood empty since Wesley Barnes picked up stakes and left about five years ago. The place don’t get used a’tall anymore, ‘cept by folks takin’ shelter like you was doin’.”
His eyes wandered back to Amber, looking at her with a strange expression on his face. No doubt he wondered about her clothes.
“Can you tell us how far we are from Heartsbridge?”
The man sat straighter and raised an eyebrow. He tugged on his beard. “About a couple day’s ride due southwest of here, I reckon.”
Scott glanced over his shoulder at Amber. “We’re almost there.”
Of course he would be optimistic about being almost there. Clearly, they’d gotten lost, or directions mixed up. They’d been wandering for nearly a week, when they should have been only a couple of days from town after Vin Kincaid had cut them loose. Most likely that outlaw had given them wrong directions in the first place to lead them on a wild goose chase.
“You on foot?” The old man’s eyes widened.
“Yeah, we lost our ride to some outlaws and then got turned around trying to find our way to Heartsbridge.”
The old man’s bushy brows rose again. He shook his head. “Can’t trust no one these days. Ya do look a little haggard and ya sure are wearin’ some odd clothes.” He waved his hand in front of his face as if it didn’t matter, then leaned forward. “Ya look like ya could use a good meal. I’ll take ya back ta my place, if ya’d like. The missus would be happy ta fix ya some warm vittles.”
Scott grinned, looking at Amber again for a second. “Can’t pass up when someone offers us a ride.”
Scott motioned for Amber to come closer. He helped her climb up on the wagon seat, then hopped up beside her. The old man glanced sideways at her pants, and chortled, shaking his head.
“Don’t reckon I ever seen a woman in britches before. Don’t know what the missus’ll say ta that.” He slapped the reins against the mule’s back, and the wagon lurched forward.
“We really appreciate the lift, and your hospitality. The name’s Scott Kincaid, and this is Amber.”
Amber shot a quick glance at him. Her forehead scrunched. Why hadn’t he given her last name?
The old man leaned forward to stare at Scott. “Kincaid? Any relation to Jack Kincaid?” He shook his head as if answering his own question. “Ya don’t look like a Kincaid.”
“Distant relative, maybe. I’m not sure. Does he live in these parts?”
“Owns a large cattle spread in the next county. Hard man, from what I’m told. Heard he was movin’ his business ta Montana. Cain’t say most folks are upset about it.”
“I don’t know him,” Scott said.
“Probably jest as well. Homer Sutterman. My wife and I homestead a few miles from here. That was quite a gullywasher we got yesterday. Good thing ya found the old cabin rather than bein’ out in it.”
Time ticked by as Amber sat quietly between the two men while they carried on a lively conversation. Several hours must have passed since they’d left the cabin. Scott had the kind of personality that made him immediately likable. He could talk to anyone, and make conversation with ease.
For someone who had no interest working in the family business, he sounded as if he knew a lot about horses and cattle. It seemed to be a safe topic of conversation with the old man.
The springs in the old wagon seat were a little better than what she’d endured during her last wagon ride. Her back remained stiff, bracing against each bump. Scott’s hand rested against her lower back, and she leaned against his arm. When they came over the crest of a small hill, a structure that looked like a house came into view, along with some other buildings nearby.
The men were silent for a moment, and Amber seized her chance. “Do you know Chris Hawley?” she blurted.
“Hawley?” Homer glanced at her. “Sure do. Moved to the area some months back. Married that poor Widow Eaton. Best thing that coulda happened to her. He’s making quite a name for hisself trainin’ horses.”
Scott laughed. “Chris was always good with horses. I was surprised when I heard he’d gone to medical school.”
Amber’s heart sped up with excitement. Finally, someone knew Chris. It looked as if their luck was about to change for the better. “Can you tell us where he lives? We’ve come a long way to see him.”
“He’s closer ta Heartsbridge than I am. I can give ya a ride ta his place tomorrow, if ya’d like. Figure it’ll be a bit late today.”
The wagon came to a stop in the yard a short distance from the house. An old woman who was probably Homer Sutterman’s wife paused from digging up the soil with some kind of rake in what looked like a vegetable garden.
“Brought ya some company, Mabel,” the old man called to his wife.
He groaned as he climbed down from the wagon, holding his hand to his back. The woman looked in their direction and waited with her rake until they approached.
Everyone shook hands while the introductions were made. Mabel was a short, plump woman, her kerchief covering most of her silver-white hair. She wore a wide smile, clearly pleased to have company.
“I’ve already got a ham in the oven for supper. Just need to peel some more taters and wash extra greens. You’re welcome to use the water pump at the back of the house to wash up.” She eyed Scott, then looked with disguised curiosity at Amber’s clothes.
“I might be able to find something you can wear. Those britches look like they belonged to a young boy. How’d you ever get them on?”
“Thank you for your hospitality.” Amber smiled at the old woman, holding her gnarled and deformed hand between both of hers. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine until we get to town.” To steer the conversation away from her clothes, she added, “I would be happy to help with cooking or anything else.”
As if on cue, Scott chimed in. “Homer, if you tell me what to do with the mule, I’ll get him unhitched and put away for you.”
“Well, that’s right kind of ya, son.”
Mabel led Amber into the house, protesting the offer of help, but Amber insisted. “If you’re going to invite us into your home, the least we can do is help a little.”
She glanced around the small kitchen, marveling at the cast-iron stove. There was a water pump leading to a sink without a drain. A metal pan served to collect the water. Everything else about this house was of the barest essentials.
Amber peeled and rinsed potatoes and diced them into smaller pieces. Thankfully, Mabel didn’t ask her to use some of the strange tools that sat on the counter. She wouldn’t have had the first clue on how to use any of them. One looked like some sort of grinding tool, similar to what she’d seen in her grandmother’s house for grinding coffee, but it had been an antique.
She took the dirty water outside and poured it over some greens in the vegetable garden, as Mabel instructed. The old woman shuffled along and groaned, her arthritic hands clearly giving her trouble.
Cooking was an all-day affair. Scott helped Homer with some repairs on the place in exchange for the meal while Amber had worked with Mabel in the house. A new respect welled up in her for these old people. They were happy despite the hardships of the life they led in this simple time without modern comforts and medicines.
Something as simple as washing up properly required a trip outside to the water pump, which was difficult even for her to prime. If she wanted warm water, she had to heat it on the stove. What exactly did she have to complain a
bout?
Amber pressed her lips together. She’d wanted to die for months, and why? She was fortunate to live in a time where her ailment was treatable. It might be too late since she’d waited so long, but it was at least worth a try so that she could live. Scott had been right. Life was worth fighting for.
“You and Amber are welcome to the spare room for tonight,” Mabel said once the supper dishes were cleared. “I can see you two are still newlyweds, the way you’re always glancing at each other. You two make a wonderful couple.”
She smiled brightly, and looked at her husband. “It’s been a long time since we were as young as you, but my Homer still looks at me the same way as he did when I was a young bride. You two have a full life ahead of you yet.”
“And we plan to make the most of it,” Scott had said quickly, flashing that grin Amber had come to love and find annoying at the same time. She’d almost opened her mouth to say that she and Scott weren’t married, but that probably wasn’t the appropriate thing to say in this time.
Although a twinge of guilt passed through her for lying to this nice old couple, it would avoid unnecessary questions. They’d already told a white lie that Amber had lost her dress when she’d been abducted by the outlaws, and she had to wear a man’s britches.
Once all the dishes had been cleared and put away, Amber stepped outside onto the porch for some fresh air. Scott had gone to the water pump at the back of the house to clean up.
She sat on the porch steps, staring off into the darkness and listening to the crickets. It was a warm evening, quite in contrast to the weather from yesterday. Tomorrow she’d see Chris, and then she and Scott could go home . . . hopefully.
Amber reached into her back pocket and pulled out her plastic bag with the pills. She stared at them, rolling them around between her fingers. The answer to all her problems was in the palm of her hand.
She shook her head. That was before she’d met Scott. She smiled. She hadn’t felt about anyone the way she felt about him, not even Chris. Despite all her self-talk, warning her not to get involved with another guy, she couldn’t help it. She’d fallen in love with him.
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