The Cowboy from Christmas Past

by The Cowboy from Christmas Past (lit)

  "So I can keep an eye on you."

  She raised her brows. "I don't need an eye kept on me."

  "What if your fiancé shows up?"

  "He won't. Not yet." Auburn shrugged. "And if he does, it'll be messy, but nothing I can't handle."

  "Still." Dillinger gave her a meaningful look. "Surely they have a big room with bunks or something."

  "I'm not sleeping in a bunk!" She pulled out from the gas station and headed to the Hilton. It wasn't far up the road, so by the time she parked the car, Rose was done and in the process of letting out a good, reverberating burp, which made Dillinger laugh, and that made Auburn smile. She loved hearing him laugh. Most of the time he was so stodgy and deep, but the baby could always coax some lightness out of him. "You stay here. I'll go check if there's a vacancy."

  "I'll go with you." Dillinger got out of the car, the baby firmly tucked against his chest.

  Auburn put her hands on her hips. "What is your deal?"

  "What do you mean?" He tried to look innocent, but twenty-four hours with Dillinger had taught Auburn that innocent wasn't his easiest expression.

  "You act like I'm going to disappear on you!"

  He winced. "Look, I hardly think that's likely, since I'm sitting in your car. I'm just interested in how everything works in your world." His square chin jutted out just a bit with resolute firmness. "Is that all right with you?"

  "Something tells me this isn't about curiosity, but whatever…" Auburn walked inside the hotel and headed to the desk. A young girl, maybe twenty-one, stood ready to assist patrons.

  "I'd like a room, please," Auburn said, "if you have one."

  "Certainly. The size you were looking for?" The girl's eyes wandered over Dillinger and the baby.

  "The biggest you have, please," Dillinger said politely. Auburn glared at him.

  "I can handle this!" she said.

  "I know! I'm just trying to be a gentleman."

  The hotel clerk blinked. "If I could get your name—"

  "Mr. and Mrs. Robert Smith," Dillinger said, pulling his wallet from his duster. "Does it have a bathtub or is a bath extra?"

  The girl's eyes went wide. "Yes, sir, there is a bathtub. It comes standard with the room."

  Auburn looked at him. "Robert?"

  "Yes, dear?" He returned her stare.

  "Why do we need a bathtub?" Auburn asked sweetly.

  "Because the baby needs a bath," he pointed out just as sweetly, "and I wouldn't mind one myself."

  Auburn couldn't argue with that logic. Not that he looked particularly like he needed a bath, but she would have banked on him being a shower kind of guy. She wondered if they had showers in 1892—and then caught herself. She was beginning to believe his poppycock! How dumb could she be? This would be even worse than believing Bradley when he'd told her that he was a financier. And that he loved her, when all the while he was ensnaring her family corporation for his own greedy purposes.

  "Maybe I should get a second room so you and the baby can sleep soundly, Robert," she said.

  He put money on the desk, shaking his head. "We sleep like rocks, I promise. You won't bother us a bit." His smile took the counter girl into his confidence. "My wife snores terribly."

  Auburn's jaw dropped. But then her gaze fell on the money he'd left on the counter.

  It was all newly minted, crisp paper. Not money from 1892. Why hadn't she realized that before, when he'd paid for Rose's diapers and things at the Wal-Mart? Auburn marched outside, not even bothering to hear which room would be theirs.

  Dillinger joined her a second later. "Would you mind telling me what you were doing back there?" she demanded.

  "Keeping an eye on you, in case you decided to pack up and leave us in the night."

  "Oh, I see." The thought hadn't occurred to her before, but maybe it should have. "Look, I agreed to help you with the baby—"

  "And I agreed to protect you—"

  She'd forgotten she'd mentioned that to him. It was kind of nice that he'd taken her seriously. All she'd really wanted was to make certain little Rose was in good hands. Now she knew that no matter whose baby she really was, Dillinger was always going to do the best he could by her. Which was kind of sexy, Auburn had to admit, though she didn't allow herself to linger on that thought.

  They reached her car. "Cowboy, you and I should part ways in the morning. I can drop you off wherever you want to be."

  He looked hurt. "Have I offended you in some way?"

  He had, but she didn't really want to go into the details. "I'm just used to taking care of myself."

  "Did I interfere with that?"

  "Paying for the room back there. Giving us a fake name." Auburn shook her head. "You worry me. You're awfully good at telling fibs."

  He laughed. "I'm used to giving aliases. If people knew I was in their town, they'd wonder who I was after. Whoever I was hunting would get a jump on me. What kind of gunslinger would I have been if I didn't know how to sneak up on my target?"

  She didn't know. She didn't care. Couldn't care, anyway, because she was starting to slip under his spell and believe the outrageous stories he spun for her. "Dillinger, if you're from 1892, why is your money the same as mine?"

  He looked perplexed as he pulled Rose's sack of belongings from the car. "My money should be the same as yours. It's marked with Treasury Secretary William Windom's signature, though soon enough I suspect the new guy will get his name put on it."

  She shook her head. "Can I see some of your money?"

  "Sure." He pulled out a wad of cash, handed it to her.

  "There has to be a thousand dollars here," she said, startled. "All new."

  "It's not that new," he stated. "Like I said, the new treasury secretary will have his name put on it just as soon as Mr. Cleveland chooses him."

  "No, see, it doesn't say 1892, or any time of any other century. All the bills are clearly freshly minted from the twenty-first century."

  He shook his head. "No, every bill I've got clearly says William Windom, who is the current treasury secretary. I've been saving my money for about a year, hoping that Polly and I…"

  His voice drifted off. He seemed so sad that Auburn wished she hadn't argued over the money. Yet it was important. "Why do you have so much money on you? No one usually keeps that much. It was much safer and efficient to use plastic."

  "Don't trust banks much. You wouldn't, either, after Reconstruction. Kept my money in gold and other such things. Then I was planning to buy some more land. We were also wanting to have a child. This isn't all I have, but it's all that was in my pocket when I—" His face turned strange, almost an ashen color as he reached to put the money roll back under his duster. Auburn watched, stunned, as he pulled a golden earring from his pocket.

  "How the hell—" He broke off, staring at it.

  "What? What?" she asked. He didn't seem at all happy to see the jewelry. Quickly, he felt inside his pocket, even handing her Rose so he could check everywhere on his person. "What is it?"

  "It's Polly's earring," he murmured. "I'm sure I put them back on the desk. But I must have had one in my hand when I went to answer the door."

  "Who was at the door?" Auburn asked softly, holding the baby close. The look in Dillinger's eyes was scaring her. He seemed sad, maybe even anguished.

  "I told you. It was Rose," he said. "She was on the porch in a basket. If I hadn't gone to the door, she would have died. The snow was coming down fast. I was worried about my cattle." He stared at the earring, clearly remembering something painful.

  "May I see it?" she asked.

  "No!" he snapped, so harshly that she jumped.

  He sighed, recognizing his rudeness. "I'm sorry. It's just a bauble. Of course you may see it." He gave it to her, his gaze on her face as she inspected it.

  "It's lovely, Dillinger. It's your wife's, isn't it?"

  "It was." He took back the baby. "Let's go to the room. If you still want to leave me behind in the morning, I completely understand.
We've taken up enough of your time with looking for a town that obviously doesn't exist anymore."

  As his fingers brushed hers, he reached to take the earring. And suddenly Auburn saw it. She saw the ranch and the animals and his wife sitting by the fire smiling at him, ready to read him a book. She saw the plates on the table and the old-fashioned candles illuminating the room. Though it was cold outside, it was cozy and warm where they sat. Dillinger had an expression of happiness she'd never seen on his face, completely unlike the worried frown that had creased his brow since she'd met him.

  "I see it," she gasped. "I saw your house! And Polly!"

  He gave her an odd look. "How can you?"

  "I don't know! It was brief, and it's gone now. But I saw it!"

  He shook his head. "I don't believe in visions. On the other hand, if you're the instrument to my being here, please send Rose and me back."

  "It wasn't a vision! Well, maybe it was," Auburn said. "I never had one before so I wouldn't know. But your wife was beautiful. She wore a long green dress. You had white plates on the table. There was a round rag rug in front of a stone fireplace, and two candlesticks on the table. She held a book—"

  "Stop!" He glared at her. "Don't say another word."

  Chapter Six

  There was so much Auburn couldn't explain about the cowboy, but she knew with total acceptance of what she'd seen that Dillinger was telling the truth. He was from another place and time. He didn't know how he'd gotten here. There was no other way to explain his sudden levitation—he still didn't want to admit it had happened—or the fact that she and everyone else saw his money as completely normal for this time, when he saw it as paper from his own time. His dress, his manners—he wasn't faking any of it. His knowledge of the time period was something he was completely comfortable with.

  "It's the baby," Auburn said breathlessly. "She brought you here."

  "Witch," Dillinger murmured. "I'm beginning to think you are a witch. How can you blame a small and helpless baby? She can't even feed herself, much less do what you're suggesting."

  They walked inside their hotel room, keeping distance between them. A roll-away bed had been placed in the unit, which was large and spacious. The baby could sleep surrounded by pillows for safety if she protested being in her carrier. Dillinger locked the door behind them, and Auburn turned to look at him.

  "I saw you," she said. "I know you're telling the truth."

  "How?" he asked, taking off his duster.

  "Because you were happy," she said softly.

  He laughed. Took off his blue work shirt to reveal a broad, masculine chest. "I was happy," he said, "and now I don't want to talk about this anymore. I'm going to take a bath."

  "A shower," Auburn murmured. "You'll probably want a shower." She should have offered him one at her penthouse, but hadn't trusted him enough to do so. Had been too stunned when he'd flown into the air. What was that all about?

  "I'll figure it out."

  He left her alone in the room with the baby, his back so broad and muscled that she instantly longed to place her cheek against it, wrap her arms around his waist—

  Am I nuts? He didn't trust her in the least. Telling him that she'd seen him and his wife in his home had only put a big red flag in his mind that she wasn't honest. He thought she was toying with him.

  She picked Rose up for comfort, staring into her face. "Is it you?" she asked. "Did you bring your cowboy here to keep him safe?"

  Was he here to stay?

  Suddenly, Auburn hoped so.

  * * *

  DILLINGER FIGURED OUT the shower knobs easily, turned on the hot water and stood under it, letting the tears flow down his cheeks. Auburn had described Polly and their home perfectly—and it had hurt. The memories were painful, like a burn from a branding iron.

  He pulled his head from under the water, turned to let it run over his back. If he'd been dragged to this time, could Polly be nearby? It was a tantalizing fantasy, even as he knew it wasn't possible. He was still alive; Rose was living. Polly had died. She was nowhere but in heaven. Yet he wanted so much to think that somehow she had brought him forward in time to be with her.

  What about Auburn? How could she have seen everything so clearly, even to the color of Polly's favorite dress? Lucky guess?

  No. Unless he'd talked in his sleep, or she'd tricked it out of him somehow, Auburn had perfectly described his and Polly's favorite place to sit at the end of the day. Together.

  A knock on the door made him jump. "What?"

  "You're not the only one who needs to use the lavatory!"

  He sighed. A gentleman would have allowed the lady to go first. She could hardly take the baby down to the lobby and perform her necessary functions. And he knew Auburn would never leave Rose. In his haste to withdraw from her, he'd forgotten all about her needs.

  Very unlike him to be that much of an ass. She would very likely give him what-for about it.

  Toweling off quickly, he threw open the door. "Sorry," he said, "I wasn't—what?"

  Auburn stared at the glory of the man naked. She'd never seen a male quite like this. Oh, he had a towel around his waist, but that hid very little. Amazing muscles and sinew and a trim, hard waist, shoulders that were strong from labor…Her mouth dried out, her knees buckled slightly.

  "I need to wash my clothes," he said, his tone apologetic. "I don't mean to offend you."

  She blinked, hardly offended.

  "I do beg your pardon," he said, "but if you would just turn around, I could grab a blanket off the bed and wrap up—"

  She flew into the bathroom and slammed the door, unable to speak. Holy cow, I've got the hots for a ghost! How creepy is that?

  She'd never seen any man who looked like Dillinger did, all dark and bad boy and yet curiously genteel. Sexy and forbidding and somehow sensitive…She was going to lose her mind sleeping in the same room with him.

  "Maybe he doesn't look so great in the morning," she muttered, feeling hopeless because if anyone had a rough morning appearance, it was going to be her and not him.

  She could sleep with her makeup on.

  "Forget that," she said, turning on the shower. "He doesn't trust me, anyway. Makeup won't help."

  "Are you okay in there?"

  She stiffened. "Yes! Why?"

  "Because I hear you talking to someone."

  She blushed. "Um, no. Must have been in the next room."

  "You're not stirring up any spells in there, are you?"

  She wrapped a towel tightly around herself—forget the modesty—and jerked open the door. "Look, cowboy. You have to get one thing straight—I don't do spells. I don't do anything at all. I found you when you suddenly appeared in the middle of our stage show, and rescued you from bumbling around in the twenty-first century. I'm not the one who flails around in the air, either. Okay? No more of that witch talk."

  He was staring at her legs below the white towel. Well, surely he'd seen a female leg before! She began to wonder if he was counting her freckles, of which she had plenty. "Is there something wrong?"

  "I—No."

  He averted his gaze. She watched as his eyes seemed to slowly move of their own accord to her shoulders, taking a slow journey from one to the other. What if he were to run his hands along her shoulders in the same manner, slow and mesmerized? She grew soft and dreamy just imagining his touch on her skin.

  "If you're finished staring at me, can we get back to the problem at hand?" she demanded.

  "Problem?" He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.

  "I don't like you calling me a witch or a sorceress, or thinking I had anything to do with your being here. Got that?" She raised her chin, meeting his gaze.

  "How could you possibly describe my home and my wife if you aren't—"

  "Believe me, I'm not happy about it," she snapped. "Let's get over it and move on. You don't call me a witch and I don't call you a…a thief."

  "Thief!"

  "Of that baby."

 
Rose began wailing and the argument died instantly. Dillinger hurried to her, talking softly and sweetly, completely unlike how he spoke to Auburn. She wrinkled her nose, her feelings a bit hurt, decided the fact that they were both wearing nothing but towels wasn't a sign of good things to come, since they barely got along. She went to take a long shower.

  * * *

  WHEN SHE FINISHED blow-drying her hair, Auburn stepped into the room to find the cowboy and the baby gone. Her keys were still there, as was her purse, so she knew he hadn't swiped her car. Not that he would swipe a rose-colored convertible, but with them having harsh words for each other, her first thought was that he'd decided to follow through on his promise to get out of her hair.