The Talisman - Crisscross
Page 26
Trish wondered if her embarrassment of the previous evening would ever fade. She couldn't remember the nineteen-twenties ditty that she'd made up the words for and hadn't repeated it again. Apparently, the cowboys didn't mind the same three songs sung repeatedly offkey, but she did, especially when she was the one offkey.
She swung her leg over Yedi's back, intent on leaving the saloon, its foul odors and vividly crass memories behind her for as long as possible. She had to find a better solution if she was going to stay here a whole week.
She turned Yedi toward the river at an easy walk. The sun felt pleasantly warm, the air fresh and clean. She pulled him up long enough to let her hair down, wanting to feel it move in the light breeze. The ride along the riverbank relaxed her. Birds lectured her as she disturbed their solitude. A Killdeer flopped to and fro, its warble that of a dying bird, trying to draw her away from the nest. She paid it no mind.
The swimming hole greeted her, just as it would over one hundred years in the future. Its surroundings existed in pristine order, immune to the changes history might hurl at it. The swinging tree was probably one of the young seedlings so it lacked its modern throng of boys with their daring feats. Some trees offered more shade and others less but the bushes remained undamaged by the traffic of careless youth. She smiled at the memories that danced there amongst the greenery and running water. Listening closely, she thought she could hear the laughter of young girls from the flat sun rock that already lay in its place.
Trish left Yedi ground tied, going to the flat rock first. From there she could see the entire swimming hole. She noticed the changes of current as indicated by the sand bar. Removing her blouse and skirt, she settled herself to contemplate her past, today's future and her current adventure.
She longed for home, for the familiar comforts that she had always taken for granted— running hot and cold water, a seemingly unlimited supply of a variety of foods, paved roads and cars to traverse them. It surprised her that she didn't miss her cell phone. She realized that habits of a workaholic had crept into her life. She truly missed the demands of school and the office even if she liked the quiet of this time.
Splashing from the swimming hole below broke into her thoughts. Curious, she scooted to where she could see the surface of the pond. A man swam the length of the swimming hole. His strokes were not schooled but they were smooth. She stared. Was he dressed? Why on earth would someone swim fully clothed? He swam to the downstream end of the pond and stood to wade to shallower water. He pushed his hair away from his face and pulled off his shirt, throwing it to the lower branches of a bush.
As he turned, her breath caught. If she hadn't been drawn to Quinn before, she certainly was now. Every inch of him, at least the part she clearly viewed, echoed the man of her dreams. Unlike the man of her dreams, this man stood very real and not that far away. Quinn's hair appeared longer and almost black. She smiled, appreciating the solidness of his build, and shimmied back from the edge of the rock, not wanting to be seen.
Trish rolled to her belly and snaked forward to where she could see him again. He had apparently left the water and was now returning, his pants in hand. Once in the water, he retrieved his shirt and moved more directly under her perch on the rock. She inched forward, straining to peer over the edge and watch him. Below her, Quinn scrubbed at his clothing, plunging it into the water to rinse, inspecting it and repeating the actions. His scrubbing grew more vicious, his plunging of it into the water seeming almost desperate. She couldn't help herself from becoming increasingly mesmerized by the rippling of shoulder muscles as he scrubbed, plunged and scrubbed again.
The horses whinnied at each other a short distance away. Trish froze, as did Quinn. Fearing that he might catch her watching him, she scooted back away from the edge. Hearing more splashing, she dared to crane her neck to see his actions. While she had retreated, he had advanced toward the horses. Instead of watching him creep out of the water to see who was about to invade the swimming hole, she took advantage of the distraction to gather her clothes, put on her boots and flee.
Two yards from the rock, leaving by way of what was known in the future as the 'escape route', Trish discovered that she was cutting a new trail. Trish bit her tongue to keep her expletives of frustration at bay as current bushes and brambles snagged at her arms and legs. Once, the thicket won, clutching at the fragile cloth. She twisted and pulled herself free, effectively shredding the left leg of her borrowed underclothing and tearing the sleeve from her shoulder. Free of the current bushes, she whistled quietly, hoping Yedi would respond. He didn't disappoint her. By the time she had her blouse and skirt on, he was standing nearby, waiting for her.
She mounted and heaved a sigh of relief, believing she had escaped without Quinn finding her. Riding in the speckling of sun and leaves, Trish relaxed and let her mind wander. The image of Quinn's bare flesh drew her thoughts back to him.
Sure, Quinn was a nineteenth century Adonis, but did her feelings for him run so deep? She didn't think it at all unusual that she appreciated his muscular physique and even his rescuing her. It even seemed acceptable that she admired his strength, but to be attracted to him? That might prove a bit extreme. It couldn't be any more than a physical attraction. Of course, his touch engendered a tingling excitement that left its effects in her belly as well as on her skin. Her body had reacted to his touch, even through her clothing.
A relationship with Quinn couldn't possibly evolve. If it did, by some small miracle, where would they live? Here? She wouldn't survive much longer, and there? She couldn't even fathom him there. She chastised herself.
She hadn't had a decent date in her recent past, but did she find him irresistible because he seemed unattainable? Maybe the lure of the impossible made rejection less painful. Surely fate would not let her love a man in this time and place. She debated with herself, knowing that her feelings felt real. Though innocent now, what if somehow he reciprocated them? She shook her head. It would never happen. She must focus on her dilemma, not her dream.
The sun warmed her and she drank in the fragrances of the wildflowers along her way. The sounds of nature surrounded her, soothing her troubled mind. She'd gone to the swimming hole to solve her problem of how to survive without being thrown out of Pierre's saloon and instead been chased out of the area. Maybe she could find an alternative to singing at the saloon. She didn't dare try to cook over an ancient cook stove. It might as well be an open campfire. The food could burn just as fast.