Tyra's Gambler

by Velda Brotherton

  “But he was shot. I was too. It was too real to be a dream.”

  Dolores thrust her head back through the doorway. “We prayed for you. You know we pray for lovers at the Altar of the Sun. Now come downstairs before breakfast gets cold. You’ll need to leave, or you’ll be late. They’re waiting for you.”

  “Late for what? Who is waiting?”

  There was no answer. Dolores had already gone downstairs, her footfalls clomping on the treads.

  Heart thudding in her throat, Tyra kicked her way from the bedclothes. This was crazy, unreal. She dressed, looked for her saddlebags but couldn’t find them.

  Because they are out there in the Valley of the Gun, where we were killed.

  She ran downstairs. Zach sat at the table, cup of coffee in his hand, the shirt she remembered so clearly being bloody as clean as if it had just been washed. He rose, set down the cup and reached out toward her. She rushed into his arms. Laid a hand on his chest to feel the beat of his heart. Raised her face so their lips met. Warm and sweet and alive.

  Could we be dead out there and alive here? Did the five Spanish Angels perform a miracle?

  “Sit, sit, child. Eat. Zach is impatient to be on the way. It’s getting late.”

  Late? What’s she talking about? Late. The sun was just rising, sending tendrils of gold through the window. Gold that surrounded the angels who gathered around the table, smiling at the lovers wrapped in each other’s arms.

  Dolores moved away from them, came to touch first Zach, then Tyra. “It’s time for you to leave now. Goodbye.” Each angel echoed the goodbye.

  Tyra took Zach’s offered hand, followed him out the door into a bright, sunlit morning.

  A word about the author…

  Velda Brotherton has been writing western historical romances since the early nineties when she was first published in that genre. Tyra’s Gambler is her 27th book, a collection that includes six non-fiction historical books. She also teaches workshops and is co-chair of a critique group.

  She says that the older she gets the sexier and grittier her writing becomes. She writes from her home in the Arkansas Ozarks when she’s not involved with her daughters, her three grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren.

  You can visit her at:

  http://www.veldabrotherton.com

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