by Amii Lorin
A fine tremor rippled Jake’s flesh beneath her palm, giving evidence that he was also experiencing a heightened sensual awareness. He sliced a glance to her hand resting against his, then as quickly shifted a piercing stare to her, probing the depths of her eyes.
“Don’t waste your pity on me,” he said, his rough-edged voice betraying his reaction to their physical contact. ‘Turned out I got off lucky. Less than a year after she married the dry-goods clerk, she ran off to California with a gambler headed for the gold fields.”
“And you never married?” For a reason Laura refused to explore, she held her breath waiting for his answer.
“No.” He gave a brief, decisive shake of his head. “There aren’t many marriageable females out here and, what with taking care of Ma, and running the ranch, I didn’t have time to waste looking for a bride in Virginia City.” He heaved a sigh. “Ma died just two years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again, and would have continued with more questions, but he beat her to it.
“Thanks, but it was for the best,” he said, accepting and dismissing her sympathy at the same time. “What about you? You married or anything?”
“No.” Laura managed a weak smile as she carefully lifted her tingling hand from his. “I was too busy with my college and postgraduate studies even to consider marriage.”
“But there must have been men in your life,” he insisted.
“Well...” She hesitated, then, because he had been so forthright with her, went on. “I did have a brief, very brief, affair with an associate, a professor of literature.”
“You went to bed with him?” Jake demanded, sounding positively Victorian in his shock.
“Once.” Laura, who considered herself a self-confident, independent woman, had to swallow to moisten her suddenly dry throat. “Just once,” she repeated. “He was a very nice man, a genuine gentleman, but there simply were no sparks, no sparks at all,” she explained, annoyed at defending herself. “Going to bed with a man before marriage is common practice in 2014, you know.”
“I told you before that I don’t know,” he growled. “I don’t like it a damn sight, either.”
Laura was well grounded in the precepts of equality, and could have retaliated with a crushing argument. But she didn’t, wanting to maintain the fragile truce between them. She tried another topic, opting to dazzle him with her expertise in the field of botany.
Fortunately, Jake allowed himself to be distracted from the thorny topic of male-female relationships in the early years of a new century.
Had Laura believed herself less than a sensuous woman? After almost a week of experiencing the tingles evoked by the mere sound of Jake’s rough velvet voice, and enduring the flames of desire set ablaze inside her by the lightest of Jake’s touches, she was forced to revise her self-evaluation.
By the end of that week, Laura concluded that she was either intensely sensuous, completely bananas, or falling in love.
Seeking distraction from her disturbing thoughts, she came up with a positively brilliant idea, one that would serve her in several ways. Besides appealing to her interest in the Old West, it could prove especially useful when she returned home. That is, if she could get Jake to agree to it.
Chapter 6
“You want me to do what?” Jake asked, although he had heard her perfectly well.
‘Teach me to shoot,” she repeated.
“That’s what I thought you said.” Suspicion sharpened his mind, tightened his muscles. “Why?”
Laura lifted her slim shoulders in a light shrug. “Well, I’ve been thinking for some time now about getting instruction on the proper handling of a handgun, because of the prevailing conditions today, you know.”
Jake refrained from reminding her that he did not, in fact, know. Instead, frowning, he asked, “The streets back East are dangerous for a woman?”
“Not just for women, but for men, too, and even children.” She grimaced. “Come to think of it, I could probably make good use of the proper handling of a weapon out here.”
“How?” he demanded, his suspicion growing. “In what way?”
“Self-protection,” Laura said. “I get nervous every time I step outside the door.” She gave him a self-deprecating look. “Though I know it’s irrational, and I hate to admit it, I’m afraid of snakes.”
Snakes! Jake resisted an urge to laugh, and gave her request serious consideration. He didn’t’ trust her, though he strongly wished he could. Damn. Why did she have to be so innocent-looking, so pretty, so appealing?
“Will you teach me, Jake?” she said with quiet, beguiling entreaty. “Please?”
Jake fought the plea on her full, moist lips, in her soft eyes. Then he gave in, simply because he wanted to. The mere prospect of being close to Laura, touching her satiny flesh while he instructed her in the correct handling of the Peacemaker, sent a lightning bolt of excitement streaking through him.
“Okay, I’ll teach you.” His voice was rough-edged and abrupt in response to the conflict churning inside him.
“When?” Her voice was eager, her smile devastating.
Jake swallowed a sigh of surrender. “Tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” Laura’s smile challenged the summer sunlight for brilliance. “What time?”
“Right after I finish the morning chores.”
Which, Jake silently acknowledged, had been requiring less and less time as his herd had dwindled. The need to sell off two more horses had sent him to Virginia City the previous week. He only hoped he could hang on until the gold petered out in the hills around Sage Flats and the shanty town’s ruffians drifted away in search of greener pastures. If he couldn’t mine that rich vein of gold on his own property, and soon, Jake knew he would not only lose the few remaining horses, but his land as well.
* * * *
Jake didn’t dawdle with his chores the next day, or bide his time and struggle against temptation, as he had ever since Laura’s arrival.
“We can begin your lessons as soon as you’re done there,” he said, ambling across the yard to her.
Laura looked up from the laundry she was pegging to the wash line strung close to the back of the house, and her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re finished ... already?”
“Yeah,” he said, not about to offer an explanation. “You almost done there?”
“This is the last of it,” she said, bending to pull two flimsy pieces of underwear—just two of the temptations tormenting Jake—from the wicker basket at her feet. “I’ll be ready in a minute.”
“I’ll get the Colts,” he said raggedly, turning his back to her.
“Colts?” Her voice stopped him in mid-stride. “As in more than one gun?”
“Yes.” He shot her a wry look over his shoulder. “I’m not letting you play around with my special issue. I have an old Navy Peacemaker you can practice with.”
That afternoon Laura proved to be a fast learner—much to Jake’s disappointment. The first hour of her lesson had been sheer bliss ... and pure physical torture.
Standing behind her, his body molded to hers, his right arm stretched alongside hers, his hand curled around hers as she gripped the smooth gun handle, had created a riot of sensations inside Jake’s body the likes of which he had never before experienced.
It was both thrilling and disheartening. Thrilling, because he could feel Laura’s involuntary response to his nearness, the fine tremor that quivered down her spine, her derriere, her long legs. And disheartening because he still couldn’t trust her, couldn’t accept the truth of her incredible claim of coming from the twenty first century.
Even so, Jake felt sharp disappointment when he moved away from her sweetly curved body to allow her to practice aiming and firing on her own.
When he called a halt after two hours, Jake was surprised at how well Laura had done. In all truth, he was amazed at her accuracy in hitting most of the targets he had set up.
“Well done,” he praised her. “But that
’s enough for one day. Your arm’s gotta be getting tired.”
“A little,” she admitted, turning the pistol to hand it to him handle first. “It was fun. Can you believe I hit almost all of those targets?”
“I suppose I must believe what I see with my own eyes,” he said teasingly, suddenly feeling light-hearted, and more relaxed than he had in years. “I’d better be careful. A little more practice and you’ll outshoot me.”
Laura laughed in delight, sending his spirits soaring. She was so darned pretty. Swallowing with difficulty, he turned back to the house.
“Jake, wait,” she said, reaching out to grasp his arm, causing the skin beneath his shirt to quiver and prickle, exactly as it had the evening she had reached across the supper table to cover his hand with hers. “There’s a cluster of plants I’d like to examine near the far end of the corral...” She paused, then rushed on, sounding both breathless and anxious. ‘‘Will you walk over there with me?”
Jake hesitated, fighting his raging desire to be with her, and his nagging fear of the impact on his already diminishing self-control.
Uncertainty and trepidation were new and unwelcome emotions for him. His impatience with his apparent weakness settled the issue.
“Okay,” he drawled. He gave her a crooked smile as he turned to walk beside her to the corner corral post. “Let’s have a look.”
By the time they returned to the house hours later, Jake was struggling with an even larger inner battle. He and Laura had laughed and talked together as if they had known each other for years... forever. He had even agreed to her last request to teach her to ride. But what bothered him most was the realization that Laura actually did know about plants, in many instances more than he himself knew, and he had spent his entire life on the ranch. The fact that she was so knowledgeable caused him to question his doubts concerning her explanation as to how and why she had fallen into his mine shaft.
Chapter 7
If she had thought that learning to shoot and to ride, and doing the household chores, would ease her feelings toward Jake, Laura was very much mistaken. Being with him was enough to drive her to the point of rebellion. Telling herself her growing attraction to Jake was simply the result of proximity, and certainly not love, Laura was determined during the following week to prove her assertiveness by distancing herself from Jake’s immediate presence... by getting to Sage Flats and her Jeep.
She was beginning to feel desperate, especially since she had demanded several times that he take her to the ghost town and he had put her off with one lame excuse after another. During supper on the last evening of their second week together, she decided on a little casual probing so that she could plan her escape.
“Ah … How far did you say it was to Sage Flats?” she asked offhandedly, pretending to be preoccupied sopping up her gravy with a slice of bread.
“Four, five miles or so,” Jake said every bit as offhandedly, studying her over the rim of his coffee mug. “Why?”
“Just curious,” she said, raising innocent eyes to his. “Due west, did you say?”
“Mm-hmm.” He nodded and narrowed his gaze. “As the crow flies.”
“You don’t go there often, do you?” She kept her tone neutral.
“Not if I can help it.”
“After what you told me about the place, I can’t say I blame you.” She raised her mug to her mouth to conceal the smile of satisfaction on her lips. “You did say you were going to take me in a week’s time, but you haven’t, even though I keep asking you to.” She watched him carefully Jake didn’t answer. She had not expected him to. If he thought she was in cahoots with someone in Sage Flats, he wouldn’t want to give her a chance to meet her accomplice. Well, she’d make it to town on her own. Before first light, when Jake always left his bedroll, she would sneak from the house and head out—as the crow flies.
* * * *
Laura didn’t sleep a wink, and faking it wasn’t easy—not with Jake asleep on the floor at the other end of the room. Listening to his slow, even breathing and an occasional gentle snore didn’t make it any easier.
Then, at last, when her eyelids were beginning to droop, the faint pearl-gray of predawn smeared the eastern horizon. Stifling a yawn, afraid to breathe, Laura crept from the narrow bed and stealthily pulled on her clothes. With her eyes fastened on Jake’s sleep-sprawled form, she clutched her hiking boots in one hand and her backpack in the other, poised for a tiptoeing flight. Still, she hesitated, her gaze resting on his sleep-softened face.
She wanted his mouth. The realization brought an ache to the pit of her stomach, and to other places as well.
Shaken by the depth and intensity of her feelings, she hastened to the door. It creaked. She froze. Jake slept on. She stepped into the other room, drew a deep breath, and quietly shut the door. She entered the kitchen, took the canteen from her pack, and allowed water to dribble into it. God, she hoped Jake wouldn’t wake up!
She eased out the back door and, dropping to the hard ground, quickly pulled on her boots. She scrambled up, walked to the front of the house, and set off at a brisk pace, knowing she had to put as much distance as possible between herself and the ranch before Jake awoke and found her missing. Fortune must have been smiling on her, for luckily she happened upon rutted tracks leading west at the far end of the ranch yard.
Praying the parallel tracks would lead her to town, she followed them.
Although Laura stumbled occasionally on the uneven ground, the going wasn’t too bad until the sun cleared the horizon behind her. Then it was just plain hot.
After hours that seemed more like days, her face and neck slick with sweat, her damp shirt plastered to her body, beads of salty moisture trickling between her breasts, Laura was on the point of admitting defeat. Her canteen was more than half empty, and she reasoned that if she turned back now, she might just make it back to the ranch.
Relief shivered through her, banishing all thought of giving up as, reaching the crest of a slight incline, she discerned a cluster of buildings in the distance.
Sage Flats!
Her purpose and energy renewed, she proceeded once more, only to come to an abrupt halt as she recalled the old Indian’s advice to wear the bracelet for protection. Telling herself she was being foolish, she nevertheless dug the velvet pouch from her pack and clamped the cuff to her wrist. Then, allowing herself a sip of precious water, she strode forward again.
Her steps faltered as she drew nearer to town.
Finally she came to a complete stop, her eyes wide in disbelief at the sight that lay before her.
Sage Flats, the same town that just two weeks ago had been a ramshackle, rundown skeleton, a ghost town, now showed distinct signs of activity.
A queasy, sinking sensation overcame her as Laura stared in confusion and amazement at the obviously occupied community. The buildings now appeared more substantial, if not permanent. People, primarily men, roughly attired in the garb of a bygone era, moved along the dusty street, walking close to the buildings to avoid the traffic of horsemen and horse-drawn vehicles, mostly buckboards.
How could this be? Laura’s rattled, mind demanded, when just two weeks ago .,. Was it possible that Jake was right, and it really was 1860? But then, that would mean ... time travel!
Feeling sick, Laura shook her head in denial of the proof before her eyes. Traveling through time was simply not possible, she assured herself.
Her Cherokee! She had parked the Jeep a little way outside of town. All she had to do was find it, her solid assurance of the twenty first century.
Swallowing the coppery taste of fear, she took off at a trot, skirting the town and heading for the spot where she had parked the Jeep. But when she arrived where she was sure she’d left the vehicle, there was no sign of it.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Laura sent up a fervent prayer for deliverance, then pried her eyes open again. Her prayer went unanswered. She saw only the nineteenth-century town and its scruffy residents.
D
azed and shaken, seriously beginning to question her grip on reality, Laura forced herself to walk on trembling legs into Sage Flats for a closer look at the town and its inhabitants. It was not a pretty or encouraging sight. In fact, it was plain god-awful.
The men and two women were even more disheveled than they had appeared from a distance.
Stunned, she stood to one side of the saloon, staring, staring. A sharp tug on her backpack shattered her reverie.
“Hey, little gal, what ya got in that pack?”
The sneering voice, definitely male, outraged Laura. She did not need some hick Casanova accosting her.
“None of your damned business!” she said icily, yanking the pack away as she spun to face the man. He looked every bit as oily as he sounded.
Medium in height, he was thin, bordering on skinny. His long, narrow face was pockmarked, and his hair hung lank and greasy to his shoulders. His worn, dirty clothes seemed to have been of good quality at one time. A black string tie was crumpled against his shirt. But what caught Laura’s gaze was the lethal-looking pistol holstered in the well-worn gunbelt around his waist.
“Now’s that any way for a pretty little gal to talk?”
Panic-stricken at the threat underlying his jeering voice, she glanced around, hoping to find a champion, but the few people who were within view took no notice of her predicament.
“Ain’t ya the prettiest piece I ever did see,” her tormentor said.
“Go away and leave me alone,” Laura said in a hard-won tone of authority, taking a cautious step back.
“Cain’t do that, pretty lady.” The man smiled suggestively. “I’m plannin’ on you and me havin’ some real fun.”
Fun! Certain she knew the manner of fun he meant, Laura nearly gagged. Terrified, and only vaguely aware of a tingling warmth encircling her wrist beneath the bracelet, she shook her head, clutched the pack to her chest, and took several more steps back into a narrow alley separating the saloon from the next building.