Falling into Your Arms (Love in the Old West Book 3)

by Bess McBride

  “Not so much the location of Virginia as much as I do the year.”

  “2020, you say.”

  “I do say, Jeremiah. Thank you for at least remembering the year.”

  “If the year was 2020, would you ever consider living in Arizona? In Benson perhaps?”

  Sarah reared her head. “I hadn’t even thought of it...other than the obvious that I might be trapped here. I’ve been in Virginia for a while, but I’m not really from there. It’s very green there though. It’s very brown here.”

  “We have cottonwood trees. They can be very green.”

  “I haven’t seen any. I actually haven’t seen one green leaf since I’ve been here or for the last few hundred miles on the train. Lots and lots of brown across Texas and southern New Mexico.”

  “I would show you some, but again, there is no time.”

  Sarah shook her head in regret. “No, I don’t think so. I hope you understand, Jeremiah. I have to go. It won’t do me any good to hang around here. What if I delay trying to get back to my time and find myself—” She searched for a word that didn’t offend.

  “Trapped,” he offered dryly. “You described it as such only a moment ago.”

  “Trapped,” she repeated with a wince. “Come on, Jeremiah. Wouldn’t you feel trapped if you found yourself dropped into the middle ages, into the year 1410 or something?”

  Jeremiah tsked. “I imagine Benson was quite different then.”

  “Or how about we drop you in Timbuktu?”

  “I think I might like to be dropped in Timbuktu in its heyday in the thirteenth century,” he said. “That sounds very adventurous.”

  Sarah quirked an eyebrow. “Really,” she said in a skeptical voice.

  “Yes, really. I have always wanted to travel, but since my father’s death, I have been...trapped, as you say, here at the hotel.”

  Sarah searched Jeremiah’s face. “I’m sorry! I just assumed you were happy here. Can’t you find someone to run it for you while you travel?”

  He shook his head. “I do not think so, but then I have never really looked. This is my hotel and my responsibility. My legacy.”

  “Your burden?” Sarah asked tentatively.

  “I had not thought of it as such, but I suppose it is. I would certainly worry about it if I were dropped into Timbuktu in 1210.”

  Sarah chuckled. “Touché.”

  They finished eating, and Sarah returned to her room while Jeremiah stopped by tables at the behest of the guests. She lit her oil lamps with the matches provided and grabbed up the linen nightgown Faith had left on her bed. Selecting one of the linen towels from her bureau, she went down to the bathroom to manage a tub bath with real running water.

  She slipped into the ankle-length nightgown, bundled up her clothing and shoes and hurried back to her room, without being seen by other guests. Shaking out the skirt and blouse, she laid her clothing over the end of the bed, extinguished her lamps and crawled underneath the covers.

  She closed her eyes and instantly fell asleep, though dreams of Jeremiah, abandoned hotels and tripping over long skirts seemed to keep her subconscious active. At one point, she heard what she thought was a massive boom. With a gasp, she sat up in bed and listened. Was it thunder? Moonlight filtered in through the open curtains. No further rumbles occurred, and the moonlight indicated storm clouds were unlikely. She didn’t hear rain on the window, and she dropped back down to the pillow with a vague longing for her phone, on which she would have checked the weather. She fell not only asleep but off the boardwalk again in her dreams.

  She awoke early and rose to look out the window. Hardly the earliest person to awaken, she saw wagons lumbering up and down the road—some loaded with goods, some empty. Benson was on the move. The road looked as dusty as ever, further verifying that there had been no rain in the night. The mountains north of the train station, far beyond Benson, glowed lavender in the morning sun.

  She opened her door and looked out into the hallway. All clear. She trotted down to the bathroom in her nightgown once again, used the facility, washed her hands and face and tiptoed back toward her room.

  Just as Sarah reached her door, another opened and Jeremiah stepped out into the hallway, fully dressed, shaved, groomed and as handsome as ever in a charcoal-gray suit with a harvest-gold vest. He quirked an eyebrow at her nightgown, and she grabbed her doorknob and jumped inside her room.

  “Sarah,” he called out in a hushed voice. She peeked out. He approached her door and paused outside.

  “I didn’t want to get locked into all that clothing just to run down to the bathroom,” she hurried to explain. “Besides, this nightgown covers a lot.”

  “Does it?” he asked, his cheeks bronzed. “However, that is not why I called out to you.”

  “It isn’t?”

  “No, of course not. How you dress is not my concern.”

  “It isn’t?” she repeated dumbly.

  “I have bad news for you,” he said.

  Sarah’s heart automatically dropped to her stomach. What could be worse than being thrown back in time? Could something be worse?

  “You need the room? No problem. I totally understand. It won’t take me long to get dressed and get out of here.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Is that it? That you need this room? I understand. I’ve been staying for free. I really appreciate it.”

  She had no idea what she was going to do, but she wasn’t going to make things more difficult for him. He had already been generous enough. The lines on his forehead and gravity in his dark eyes showed he was troubled.

  “No, that is not it at all. You may keep this room for as long as you need.”

  “Aww, thank you, Jeremiah! I won’t need it after this morning, but that is so kind of you.”

  “That is the reason I wished to speak to you this morning.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said with a shake of her head.

  “There was an explosion on the train track last night between Tucson and Benson. The train cannot run for some time. I heard it will take at least a day or two to repair.”

  “What?” she screeched. “What? Noooooooo...”

  “I am sorry.”

  “What happened? A day or two? Are you sure?”

  “All I know is that there was an explosion. I heard it in the night and thought it was thunder.”

  “I heard that!” she exclaimed. “I thought it was thunder too.”

  “When I went outside, I saw the sky to the east lit up. I thought it might have been a brush fire. An hour later, I heard from the sheriff that the locomotive exploded, destroying the track.”

  “I hope no one was hurt,” Sarah said without hope.

  “I believe the engineer was seriously injured.”

  “How awful!”

  “Yes. Again, I am sorry. Will you mind delaying your plans very much?”

  “There’s not much I can do about it, right? I can’t very well walk.” She looked up into Jeremiah’s sympathetic eyes. His combed dark hair fell in thick waves from a center part. She had wondered if it was as silky as it looked. She gave herself a shake. She couldn’t leave that day. She had to stay for a few more days. What to do? Secure shelter!

  “Can I stay here? Is there something I could do to earn my keep? Does Nancy need a dishwasher?”

  Jeremiah grinned almost lightheartedly. “She does not. You do not need to ‘earn your keep.’”

  “Well, I really think I should. Anything? Anything at all? Dusting?”

  “We have two maids for that.”

  “Vacuuming?”

  “I don’t know what that is, but I doubt it.”

  “No, no, of course not.” She wracked her brain to think of anything she could do, not only to repay Jeremiah but to keep herself occupied. She wasn’t sure how many times she could saunter up and down the street, even if she could negotiate the uneven boardwalks in an upright fashion.

  Did anyone need a business license? S
he could issue one of those.

  Jeremiah pulled out a pocket watch from his vest. “Again, I’m sorry, Sarah,” he said. “I have to go downstairs. Will you eat in the dining room, or would you like a tray in your room? I wish I could join you, but Eric doesn’t come on until noon, so I am behind the counter this morning. I really should hire someone else. I have far too much paperwork to lounge behind a counter, but I haven’t had the time.” He turned away.

  “Wait! Jeremiah!” Sarah called out, trying to keep her voice low.

  Jeremiah returned to the door.

  “What about me?” Sarah asked. “Can I help? I could hang out behind the counter and toss out a key or two. Surely I can manage that! It would give me something to do.”

  Jeremiah tilted his head. “Are you certain you will be comfortable? If, as you say...” He paused. “You will meet many people from this era.”

  “I can wing it,” she said. “As long as they don’t ask me for directions.”

  Jeremiah smiled. “I will be in the office right behind the desk. You can ask me. I would be happy to have your assistance. Take your time.”

  “I’ll be ready in a jiff.”

  “Do have breakfast first.”

  “I’ll just grab something, a piece of toast and some coffee.”

  Jeremiah nodded and left, and Sarah dressed as fast as she could in too many pieces of clothing. She pulled up her hair and tidied it, then hurried downstairs, skirts hitched as far as was legal. She reached the lobby in one piece to find Jeremiah behind the counter, waiting on two gentlemen. She stepped in behind the counter with the intention of observing Jeremiah and how he handled the guests.

  Two cups of coffee, one of them half empty, and a plate of toast with marmalade sat on the desk behind the counter. She smiled and waited until the gentlemen, both checking out, had gone.

  Jeremiah turned to her.

  “Good morning again. I procured you a cup of coffee, some toast and Nancy’s famous orange marmalade. Why don’t you sit down and eat?”

  “Okay, thanks!” Sarah said, settling on the stool. “Can you show me what to do while I eat? I know there’s a guest book because I signed it yesterday.”

  “Yes indeed. This book here.” Jeremiah pointed to the ledger on the counter.

  “And then what?” Sarah asked, spreading marmalade on the toast.

  “You give them a key.” He indicated a well-varnished board with skeleton keys on it.

  “Just like that? How do I know which room to give them?”

  “They are the same. If the key is here on the board, the room is vacant.”

  “How about that? And you’ll be in the office? You know, in case someone wants to pay. Because I won’t know how long they’ve stayed, will I?”

  “You can tell by when they signed the ledger and how many days they were to stay, but of course, you can call on me. I will come and see how you are doing frequently. Again, Sarah, you do not have to do this. I am perfectly fine here. I have had my coffee. Are you enjoying Nancy’s marmalade? It’s quite fine, isn’t it?”

  “It’s delicious,” she said with a mouthful of food. “Nancy is a wonderful cook.”

  “She is. She may be very formal, but her warmth is in her cooking.”

  “Faith and Agnes told me about her troubles,” Sarah said. “I’m so sorry for her.”

  “The man was a monster. It was the best thing that could have happened to Nancy and Eric.”

  Sarah nodded. She wiped her hands on the linen napkin Jeremiah had brought and stood. “Okay, I’m ready!”

  “You do not need to stand at the counter. You can sit.”

  “Nope, I’m ready,” she said again with a smile. “Go to your office.”

  Jeremiah smiled. “I will leave the door open.”

  “If you like,” Sarah said.

  Jeremiah smiled broadly and went into the office, leaving the door open. No sooner had he disappeared than Samuel and his daughters entered the hotel.

  Chapter Ten

  Jeremiah heard a familiar voice in the lobby, and with a silent curse, he rose from his desk chair.

  “Sarah?” Samuel called out. “What are you doing back there? Has Jeremiah put you to work?”

  “I’m just helping out,” Sarah said. She turned to look at Jeremiah as he emerged.

  “Not at all,” Jeremiah said, feeling the need to defend himself. “Miss Chilton wished for something to do.” He withheld a smile of greeting as he eyed Samuel.

  “Jeremiah,” Serena chided. “Has the hotel now become one of those hostels where everyone must pitch in to help?”

  “Where is Eric?” Tabitha asked. As blonde as Eric, she’d always had eyes for him. Jeremiah didn’t think that Eric noticed.

  “No, Serena, the hotel is fully staffed. Thank you. As I explained, Miss Chilton wished to busy herself during her stay here.” He turned his eyes on Tabitha. “Eric does not come on duty until noon.”

  “Oh! We are early then, Papa!” she exclaimed.

  “Nonsense, Tabitha. I did not come here to ogle a young man.” He looked at Sara, who blushed.

  Jeremiah shifted restlessly from one foot to the other, annoyed at Samuel’s blatant leering of Sarah. “The girls came to town with me this morning to do some shopping, and we came to have breakfast. I was hoping that Sarah would like to join us.”

  “I already ate, thank you,” she said, to Jeremiah’s delight.

  “A pity. Perhaps you could join us for a cup of tea or coffee?”

  “I volunteered to work here, so I think I’ll stay here,” Sarah said with a friendly smile.

  Jeremiah approved of her answer.

  Samuel eyed him narrowly. “That is too bad. We will see you for dinner though? The carriage will pick you up at six.”

  Sarah visibly blanched, though Jeremiah didn’t think Samuel had noticed. He recalled that she had intended to leave on the train that afternoon. Had she hoped to cancel Samuel’s invitation to dinner?

  “Yes, thank you. Six o’clock,” she said.

  “How delightful,” Serena said in a calm way that evoked her name. “Will you be joining us, Jeremiah?”

  “Yes!” he said immediately. “Yes, I would love to. Thank you!”

  The only face that wasn’t startled belonged to Serena. Samuel looked as if he wished to protest, but he pressed his lips together and inclined his head in that regal fashion he tried to effect.

  “Good,” Serena said. “Shall we, Father?” She linked her arm in his. Tabitha threw one last longing look around the lobby, in search of Eric, no doubt, before Samuel moved off into the dining room.

  Sarah turned to Jeremiah.

  “Shoot,” she said. “I forgot about Samuel’s invitation to dinner. No way to get out of it, I guess. I thought you said you couldn’t go?”

  “Samuel said that, not I. I had not been invited.”

  Sarah tilted her head questioningly.

  “Do you have a thing for one of the Misses Treadwell? Maybe Serena?”

  Jeremiah’s cheeks bronzed. “Nonsense.”

  “Hmmm, well, hopefully not Tabitha because she has eyes only for Eric.”

  “That has been the case for some time. He has not noticed.”

  “That’s too bad. They look like they’d make a cute couple.”

  “They are both fair haired.”

  “They’d make pretty babies, wouldn’t they?”

  “Sarah!” he exclaimed. “What an extraordinary thing to say!”

  She seemed not at all chastened.

  “Do you pay Eric enough for him to support a wife?”

  Jeremiah’s lips twitched as he stifled a laugh. What a nosy question!

  “I would give him a raise if he were to marry and needed to support a wife and household. Right now, he lives with his mother.”

  “That’s nice of you.”

  “Not at all.”

  The door opened, and Jeremiah looked up. Elias Marchant, a grizzled old gold miner, stuck his head inside the door. He g
ave Jeremiah a hopeful look.

  “Got anything?” he called out in a gravelly voice.

  “Come in, Elias,” Jeremiah called out. Emaciated, bent over and worn down by years of prospecting and malnutrition, Elias hobbled into the lobby on painful knees.

  “Sarah, this is Mr. Elias Marchant. He comes to stay with us occasionally and take a meal.”

  Sarah’s eyebrows lifted slightly and reasonably so. Elias’s clothes were dirty, dusty and bedraggled. He probably hadn’t bathed in weeks, and he looked and smelled it. Elias did not pay to stay at the hotel. He did not pay for his food. He was not particularly successful at prospecting, and any specks of silver or gold he found he sold to buy hay for his two beloved mules, no doubt boarded at the stables.

  When he’d asked if Jeremiah had anything at the door, he was asking if Jeremiah had a spare room. If the hotel was full, Jeremiah could not accommodate him, and Elias understood that.

  “Howdy, miss,” Elias said. As he approached the counter, he offered Sarah his hand for a shake. To her credit, she put her hand in his.

  “Hello, Mr. Marchant.”

  “Don’t know who that is. Elias,” he grizzled.

  “Elias then,” Sarah said. She looked at the register, then at Jeremiah. “Do you have a room preference?”

  “Jeremiah always gives me number 3 if it’s open. That’s my lucky number.”

  Sarah checked the register. “It is available. Could you sign the book?”

  Jeremiah held his breath, hoping that Sarah would not embarrass the old man as he made his X.

  “Right here,” she said, leaving her finger on the spot where he should sign. Elias picked up the pen and scratched out something resembling an X.

  “Can’t write,” he mumbled.

  “Thank you,” she said in a businesslike voice. She turned and pulled a key from the board and handed it to him.

  “Grateful,” he said to both Sarah and Jeremiah. “Bath, then some breakfast.”

  “Then some sleep?” Jeremiah asked with a smile. Elias did the same thing every single time. He bathed, dressed in clean clothes that Jeremiah had the maids leave for him in room 3 before he ate breakfast and returned to his room to sleep for two straight days.

  “Then sleep,” he said. “Nice meeting you,” he said to Sarah, tipping his dusty worn hat with its sagging brims. He crossed the lobby and climbed the stairs to the second floor.