Journey to Yesterday

by Madeline Baker

  Sex: F Hair: Brn Eyes: Blu

  HT: 5-05 WT: 130 DOB: 03-19-73

  He grunted softly, wondering what the words and numbers and letters meant. There were more cards made of the strange hard paper and emblazoned with names that, for the most part, meant nothing to him: America OnLine Platinum VISA; Automobile Club of Southern California; Robinsons May; Nordstrom. They all had numbers on them, and the name Shaye Montgomery. Another section held greenbacks of some kind, but they were smaller than any he had ever seen. There were several small photographs encased in some kind of clear… He shrugged, having no name for it.

  He looked through the pictures. One was of the woman, Shaye, holding a child on her lap. One was of Shaye with an older couple. Her parents, he guessed, for there was a remarkable resemblance between the two women. There were other photographs. A little boy holding a baby, a young woman.

  He glanced at the other items, puzzled. Putting them all back inside the pack, he stood up, wondering where the woman had gone. Wondering if he should go look for her. She was obviously a stranger in town. Remembering how she had fainted, not once but twice, he began to worry about her health.

  He glanced at the other bag sitting on the floor near the door, wondering what strange things it might hold, but worry for the woman overrode his curiosity.

  Damn. She hadn’t gone out the front door. He would have seen her. The back door?

  Leaving his room, he went out the back door. Standing on the landing, he glanced up and down the alley that ran behind the hotel. Paddy Sullivan, one of the town’s two blacksmiths, was shoeing a horse across the way.

  “Hey, Paddy,” he called, leaning over the railing, “did you see a woman leave the hotel?”

  Paddy nodded. “About half an hour ago, Rio. Who was she?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Odd attire, she was wearin’. Never seen anything like it.”

  “Which way did she go?”

  Paddy jerked a finger over his shoulder. “That way. And she was in an itching hurry.” Paddy grinned. “Never seen a woman running away from you.”

  Muttering an oath, Rio descended the stairs and made his way around to the front of the building. Which way would she go?

  “Hey, Rio, honey, when are you coming to see me again?”

  He looked up, grinning at the girl hanging over the balcony of the adjoining hotel. Her hair, waist-length and dyed red, fell over her shoulders. “Not right now,” he replied. “I’m looking for someone.”

  She pouted prettily. “Another woman, I’ll bet.”

  He grinned. “She’s not near as pretty as you are, Frenchy.”

  “Then why are you looking for her?”

  “Because she’s lost, darlin’.”

  Frenchy batted her eyelashes at him. “If I was lost, would you come looking for me?”

  “You know I would.”

  “Then maybe I’ll have to get lost,” she replied with a laugh. “So, who’s the lucky girl?”

  “I’m not sure. But you’d know if you’d seen her.”

  “Oh, that one!” Frenchy exclaimed, pointing down the street. “She went that way.”

  “Thanks, Frenchy.” He pulled a silver dollar from his pocket and tossed it to her.

  She caught it and waved her fist in the air. “Thanks, Rio.”

  He winked at her, and continued on down Green Street, making inquiries as he went. Everyone who had seen her remembered her.

  A short time later, he passed the church. Pausing, he glanced around. She was nowhere in sight. He rounded a curve in the road, and then he saw her, standing on the rise at the head of the path that led to Miller’s Stable.

  With a shake of his head, he climbed the hill.

  Shaye blew out a breath as she watched Alejandro Valverde approach. He moved effortlessly, she thought, and was struck again by his rugged good looks, and by his resemblance to Antonio Bandaras a la Desperado. He wasn’t wearing a coat now, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his white shirt emphasized his dark good looks, or the way the material stretched across his broad shoulders.

  “What are you doing up here?” he asked curtly.

  “Looking for a way home.”

  “The stage depot is that way,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “but there aren’t any stages leaving today. Where’s home?”

  “Los Angeles. And I wasn’t planning to take a stagecoach.”

  “No?” He lifted one brow. “You weren’t thinking of walking?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Well, the stable’s at the other end of town.”

  “I don’t need a horse. I’ve got a car.”

  “Car?”

  She shook her head at his look of confusion. “Never mind.” She laughed abruptly. “Doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere.” She stared down at the town. What was she doing here? More importantly, how was she going to get back where she belonged? And where was she going to stay until she figured it out?

  “It’s about time for supper,” Alejandro remarked. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

  She didn’t want to go anywhere with him. He scared her in ways she didn’t want to explore. She was about to say she wasn’t hungry, thank you, when her stomach growled. And as much as she hated to share a meal with him, she didn’t see as how she had much choice. Her money probably wouldn’t be accepted any more than her credit cards.

  “Shaye? That is your name, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, how did you know?”

  He shrugged. “I saw something with your name on it.”

  “Did you go through my things?” she asked indignantly. “You did, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, and maybe after we’ve had something to eat, you will explain them to me.”

  He took her to the U.S. Hotel on Main Street for dinner. It was a large two-story building with a peaked roof and a railed balcony upstairs. Shaye was acutely conscious of the stares she received as they entered the dining room and took a table near the window. Every table was occupied, most with red-shirted miners discussing the day’s events, speculating on the new mine that had just opened, the new mill being built.

  Alejandro leaned back in his chair. “So, how long are you planing to stay in Bodie?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He grunted softly. “You don’t know much, do you?”

  “I used to,” Shaye muttered.

  “You’re welcome to stay in my room at the hotel.” He grinned at her. “Unless you’d rather stay at the saloon.”

  “No, thank you, I’ll find a place of my own.”

  “Use my room at the hotel,” he said. “I’ll stay over at the Queen.”

  She wanted to refuse, but she needed a place to stay and she wasn’t likely to find another. “Thank you.”

  A waitress came to take their order. There were two choices: steak and potatoes or chicken and dumplings. Alejandro ordered steak, Shaye opted for chicken.

  She tried not to stare at him, but her gaze was drawn to his face again and again. He was quite a handsome man. Not smooth and pretty like so many of the men of her day, but rugged. Wild and untamed. And utterly male. She pushed such thoughts from her mind. She didn’t want a man in her life again. Didn’t need a man in her life. A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle. She had read that somewhere and used it as a mantra whenever she was tempted. She been had badly burned once; she didn’t intend to subject herself to that kind of agony again. But she couldn’t stop looking at Alejandro, couldn’t deny the attraction she felt for him. Couldn’t keep from wondering…

  Alejandro returned her gaze, one black brow arched. “Something wrong?”

  “No. Why?”

  “You look at me as if you’ve never seen a man before.”

  A faint smile tugged at Shaye’s lips. “Well, I’ve never seen one like you, that’s for certain.”

  “Like me? What the hell does th
at mean, like me? A man’s a man.”

  She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You’d be surprised.”

  “What’s that mean?” he asked, pointing at her shirt. “Jekyll and Hyde.”

  “It’s the name of a play. You know, a theatrical production.”

  Their food came then. Shaye turned her attention to the meal, glad to have something else to focus on besides Alejandro Valverde.

  When dinner was over, Alejandro paid the check and they left the restaurant. The streets were as crowded at night as they had been during the day.

  “Nice night for a walk,” Alejandro said.

  “Yes.” It was warm and clear. A million stars twinkled against the dark blanket of the sky.

  They passed a casino at the corner of Main and Green Street. Music and laughter poured out of the swinging doors. It seemed every other building was a saloon, and they were all running at full steam.

  “It’s a hell of a town,” Alejandro remarked.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “A year, more or less.”

  “How long are you going to stay?” she asked, then bit down on her lower lip. She knew how long he would be here. Knew he would never leave.

  Alejandro shrugged. “Until the mines play out, I guess. Must be close to thirty mining properties here, and new ones opening every day. Men getting rich practically overnight.”

  “But you’re a gambler, not a miner.”

  He laughed softly. “Mining is hard work. Those men work twelve-hour shifts six days a week. And for what? Four bucks a day. Hell, the chief engineer only gets six dollars.” He shook his head. “It’s a hell of a lot easier to take the gold after it’s been dug out of the ground.”

  “Yes, I guess so.”

  “You don’t approve?”

  “It’s none of my business.”

  “Here we are,” he said.

  Shaye stopped beside him. A large sign proclaimed they were at the Palace Hotel. “Ah,” she murmured. “Home sweet home.”

  “I’ll walk you up,” he said.

  She was going to tell him there was no need, but it was, after all, his room. Without his generosity, she would have had no place to spend the night.

  Alejandro held the door for her and they crossed the lobby to the staircase. When they reached his room, he pulled a key from his pocket. Unlocking the door, he opened it for her, then handed her the key.

  His fingers brushed hers, sending a little frisson of heated awareness skittering up her arm. Her gaze flew to his, and he grinned at her.

  “Why do you look so surprised, darlin’?” he asked.

  His question, and her unexpected response to his touch, left her speechless.

  Not knowing what to say, she slipped the key into her pocket, turned, and went into the room, felt her heart skip a beat when he followed her.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “I told you,” he said, gesturing at her backpack, “I want to know what those things in your pack are.”

  “I don’t have to tell you anything,” she retorted.

  “I reckon not, but you will.”

  She started to protest, then shrugged. She couldn’t blame him for being curious. Sitting down on the bed, she reached into her backpack and withdrew the first thing her hand touched. “This is a lipstick.” Opening it, she applied it to her lips, then dropped it on the bed. “This is a hair brush.” She held it up, then dropped it beside the lipstick. “This is my wallet. This is bottled water…”

  He reached out and tapped the bottle. “It doesn’t feel like any bottle I’ve ever seen.”

  “It’s made out of plastic.” She put it aside and picked up the small gray container. “This is an extra roll of film.” She put it down, pointing at other items as she identified them. “This is sunscreen. This is a cell phone, like a telephone, only portable.” She stared at it a minute, wondering if anyone would answer if she dialed the operator. She swallowed the bubble of hysterical laughter that rose in her throat as she imagined dialing 9-1-1 and asking for directions back to the twentieth century. “Anything else you want to know?”

  He stared at the small purple contraption in her hand. He knew what a telephone was. He had seen one back east, but it hadn’t looked anything like what she was holding. The one he had seen had been big and made of wood and hung on the wall. With a shake of his head, he picked up her wallet and removed her driver’s license and her credit cards.

  “What are these?”

  She plucked her driver’s license out of his hand. “This says I can drive a car.” She took her credit cards from him, one by one. “These say that my credit is good.”

  He shook his head, clearly not understanding.

  “A car is an automobile. A…a horseless carriage. Well, anyway, it’s something you drive, and you need a license to do it. And credit cards can be used instead of cash to buy clothes and food and anything else you can think of.”

  She blew out a sigh of exasperation. From his expression, she knew he was more convinced than ever that she was crazy.

  He gestured at the credit cards. “What kind of paper is that?”

  “It’s plastic.”

  “Plastic?” He glanced at the bottle of Evian. She could almost see his mind working, trying to figure out how two such diverse things could be made of the same material.

  “Think of it as hard paper.” She withdrew the last item from her pack. “And this is my camera.”

  Alejandro laughed at that. He knew what cameras looked like. They were large bulky black boxes made of wood that sometimes took two men to carry and operate, not little things like the one in her hand.

  She lifted the camera in front of her face and said, “Smile.”

  He jumped as a burst of light exploded in his face. “What the hell?”

  “It’s just the flash.”

  He frowned. There had been no little poof of smoke. He glowered at her when she laughed.

  Shaye put the camera on the bed, wondering if a twentieth-century camera could capture the image of a nineteenth-century chauvinist.

  “Why are you dressed like that?” he asked. “Is that how women dress in Los Angeles?”

  “Yes, and it’s not considered immodest by any means.”

  He ran a hand across his jaw. “Well, it’s down right scandalous here in Bodie. No lady would dream of showing off her arms and legs in such a brazen manner.”

  “Maybe I’m not a lady,” Shaye retorted.

  Arching a brow, he glanced at the bed. It wasn’t difficult to guess what he was thinking. There were only two kinds of women in Bodie. If she wasn’t a lady, then she must be a whore. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if she would have to fight him off, although she knew instinctively that he would never force a woman. With that face, that lazy velvet voice, he wouldn’t have to.

  He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Tell me who you are.”

  “You know who I am. Shaye Montgomery.”

  He studied her face intently, his probing gaze making her uncomfortable. Why on earth was he looking at her like that?

  “Have we met?” he asked. “You look familiar.”

  She felt her heart skip a beat. “Do I?” Was it possible he really had seen her that night at the jail?

  He nodded slowly. “I’d bet my last dollar that I’ve seen you before.”

  Shaye shook her head. “That’s impossible. I’ve never been here before. Never.”

  At least not in this century, she added silently.

  “Yeah, well, I never forget a face.” His gaze moved over her again, a long, slow look that made her blood flow hot in her veins even as it made her heart beat faster. He had beautiful eyes, deep dark brown eyes that seemed to penetrate her very soul.

  He lifted one hand and cupped her cheek, his thumb making lazy circles on her skin. “Especially a face as beautiful as this.”

  It felt as if all the air had been suddenly sucked out of the room. She felt
a rush of heat climb her neck and suffuse her cheeks and she looked away, overcome by the fluttery feeling in her stomach. She had never been one to melt at the sight of a handsome man, never turned to mush over a few meaningless compliments.

  She had been flattered before, by sweet-talking playboys and an occasional celebrity, but none of them had ever had such an effect on her. She had always laughed such praises off, knowing they were just empty words. She wasn’t beautiful, and she knew it. But when Alejandro Valverde said it, she almost believed it was true.

  For one brief, crazy moment she thought he was going to kiss her. And what was even crazier, she wanted him to. She looked up at him, waiting, wondering…and then, with a shake of her head, she turned away. What was she thinking? Instead of mooning over some nineteenth-century gambling man, she should be trying to figure out how to get back to the twentieth century, where she belonged.

  Alejandro grunted softly and then, without a word, he left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

  Chapter Seven

  Alejandro stood in the corridor a moment; then, with a shake of his head, he left the hotel. Strange woman, he mused as he crossed the street and headed for the Queen of Bodie. Mighty strange, with her water in a… He frowned, what was the word? Plastic. A plastic bottle. Plastic paper. Carriages without horses. He swore under his breath, wondering if she had escaped from a lunatic asylum somewhere. But even if that were true, it didn’t explain the peculiar things in her peculiar bag.

  He grinned, wondering if everything was made of plastic where she came from, and then shook his head. He had been to Los Angeles last year, and he hadn’t seen any horseless carriages, or plastic bottles of water. Los Angeles. Was that where he had seen her? Dammit, why couldn’t he remember?