A Chance In Time

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  A Chance in Time

  A novella based on the characters in

  Meant to Be and Restoring Hope

  Ruth Ann Nordin

  A Chance In Time - Smashwords Edition

  Second version

  Published by Ruth Ann Nordin at Smashwords

  Copyright © 2010 by Ruth Ann Nordin

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover Photo © Copyright Shutterstock Images LLC. All rights reserved – Used with permission.

  Dedicated to Danielle Watson, Cyn Goustin, Tiffany Davis, and Bonnie Steffens whose input while I wrote this is greatly appreciated.

  Other books written by Ruth Ann Nordin

  A Bride for Tom (novella)

  A Husband for Margaret (novella)

  Eye of the Beholder

  The Wrong Husband

  His Redeeming Bride

  Loving Eliza

  An Unlikely Place for Love

  The Cold Wife

  An Inconvenient Marriage

  Romancing Adrienne

  Meant To Be

  Restoring Hope

  With This Ring, I Thee Dread

  What Nathan Wants

  The Keeping of Greg Wilson (novella)

  Chapter One

  Late spring 1898

  Loneliness. It was a constant companion out in the middle of a vacant North Dakota prairie. Vacant, that is, except for a woman. A woman who ventured out west as a mail-order bride only to have her husband die shortly after they built their home. A woman who spent a year alone with nothing for company except two horses and the howls of coyotes in the middle of the night. Their howls echoed the resounding emptiness in her heart and in her life.

  Penelope Jordan packed her things. Today she’d return to civilization. She had enough of being isolated from other people. God, after all, did not create man to be alone, and after spending endless hours by herself, she learned how true that lesson was.

  Loading her belongings into the wagon didn’t take long. The two geldings obeyed her command to move forward. At long last, she was leaving. She didn’t look back at the one room cabin. It was a cruel reminder of all that she’d hoped for but lost. A lifetime with someone who was to be her lover and friend.

  But she wouldn’t dwell on the past. Things that could have been were better left untended to. And so she guided the geldings northeast where the nearest town was. She’d take a job. She didn’t care what that job was as long as it involved being near other people.

  Twenty minutes passed before she found him. He was lying down, on his stomach, in the tall grass. She pulled the horses to a stop and set the brake before she stepped down from the wagon. She rushed over to him. He was badly burned from spending a good length of time in the sun. Blisters had formed on his hands and face. How lucky he was that his clothes covered the rest of him.

  “Mister?” she called.

  No response.

  She tucked a rebellious strand of hair back under her bonnet and knelt beside him. “Mister.” She nudged him in the arm.

  Still, no response. His blond hair ruffled from the wind’s activity, and thankfully, his beard had protected most of his face. The poor man. What he must have gone through to end up like this.

  She took a deep breath to settle her sudden anxiety. What if he was dead? She glanced at the miles of grass that spanned in all directions. If he was dead, should she carry his corpse to town? He should have a proper burial, shouldn’t he? Or should she leave him to the elements and let nature take care of him?

  He groaned.

  Startled, she turned her attention back to him. “Mister?” She shook his shoulder. “Can you hear me?”

  Instead of giving her any answers, he grew silent.

  She touched his face and realized his skin was hot. Maybe it was from the sunburn...or maybe it was a fever. He really didn’t look well. She stood up and ran to her wagon where she picked up the canteen that had been resting next to her seat.

  When she returned to him, she realized he was having trouble breathing. She turned him over, hoping the change in position would help.

  He moved his lips as if to speak but no sound came out. She gently lifted his head and tucked it into the crook of her arm before letting the cool liquid seep into his mouth. She watched him swallow. His eyelids fluttered until they opened. He had light blue eyes, but they were unfocused. He most likely didn’t even see her.

  “Can you hear me?” she asked.

  He gave a slight nod, winced and then closed his eyes again.

  She couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. She’d never seen a man who looked worse off than he did, except for her husband as he struggled for his last breath through fluid-filled lungs. The reminder struck a cord of panic through her. Not this time. She wasn’t going to let another man die if she could help it!

  She let him sip on the water until he passed out. Setting the canteen by his side, she felt his forehead again. It was too hot. There was no way she could blame this on his sunburn, even if it was severe. How many days had he been wandering through the vast wilderness? What was he doing out here? He didn’t even have a horse...or if he did, the horse was long gone. She shook her head. Such things didn’t matter right now. She needed to get him to the cabin where he could rest.

  The task of bringing one of the geldings to him and pulling his dead weight onto it was daunting, to say the least. He must have been a head taller than her. But she managed it. The journey back to her solitary home took longer than normal, but she wanted to be careful so she didn’t cause the stranger more damage than he’d already endured. By the time she dragged him onto her bed, she was out of breath and sweating so badly that her clothes stuck to her like a second layer of skin. Still, she ignored her aching back and arms and checked his pulse. His breathing was shallow but steady. He was still alive. That’s what mattered.

  The sunlight drifting through the small window hit something shiny in his shirt pocket. She squinted and took the object. She stood and examined it. Cool, metal, silver. A thin line traced it’s sides, so she dug a fingernail into it and it opened. At least, she assumed it opened. She saw numbers and months and symbols she didn’t recognize. What in the world was this thing? A small blue pulsing light startled her.

  She quickly shut the thing and threw it in the small dresser drawer by the bed. Rubbing her hands on her dress, she wondered what that thing was. She glanced at the man who lay silent on her bed. Who are you? Maybe he was dangerous. Maybe she shouldn’t have brought him here.

  As soon as the thought came to mind, she dismissed it. He was in no shape to harm her. But...just in case. She searched his clothes and found a wallet in his back pocket. It had some money, though not much. He didn’t have any weapons on him. She had a gun. Her husband had taught her how to shoot. She had a knife she used
for skinning rabbits and deer. She decided she’d hide her gun and knife. If she needed to, she could defend herself.

  Finding comfort in the reminder, she decided to turn her attention to putting her things away so she could tend to the ill man.

  Chapter Two

  Cole Hunter drifted in and out of awareness. At moments, he thought he was running. Then at other times, he knew it was an illusion. He hadn’t moved at all. Instead, he was lying on his back somewhere. Images of a man pursuing him haunted him. He knew the man, but for some reason, he couldn’t recall the name. He moved his legs. At least he tried to. Was he running or not? Was the man still chasing him? What did the man want?

  He gulped. His mouth felt dry. Hot. Hot like fire. Wincing, he tried to touch his face, but his arms wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t be on fire, and yet, that’s what the heat reminded him of.

  He took a deep breath. The air around him was warm. But there was no smoke. Relief set his mind at ease. Still, there was a question lingering in his mind. Where in the world was he? He struggled to open his eyes, and for a moment, he thought he did. A light struck his vision. He wanted to turn his head but couldn’t. It was as if he were paralyzed.

  His heart sped up. He could feel the frantic beating of it. He didn’t like being helpless.

  Relax, Cole. The sooner you relax, the sooner you can figure out what’s going on.

  He inhaled and exhaled, counting to ten each time. It worked. His heart slowed. Good. Now he could focus. Since all he managed to catch were glimpses of light, he decided to let his other senses give him clues.

  The place was silent. No. That wasn’t exactly true. There was a faint humming. It faded in and out like a radio station that wouldn’t give him a clear signal. He ordered his fingers to move and they finally inched forward. Paper. What was he doing on paper? His head was inclined on something soft. A pillow? Then what was he on? A bed made of paper? That didn’t make sense. Ignoring the oddity of it, he turned his attention to the smell. He already knew there was no smoke. The last thing he remembered, he was walking along an endless stretch of flat land that never seemed to end. But he didn’t smell the tall grass or the fresh air as the wind refreshed him from the sun’s intense heat.

  The sun. That could be the source of light. It also explained the heat. But no. That couldn’t be right. He knew it wasn’t right. He wasn’t walking. He couldn’t even move his legs though he tried. He groaned in aggravation.

  “You’ll be alright,” someone said in a soft tone. “Here.”

  Whatever he was lying on shifted and something cool and damp covered his forehead. It reminded him of cold water. He had been swimming. The man swam after him. Why?

  “Try to drink,” the voice instructed.

  Whoever tended to him pressed a wet cloth to his lips. He tried to suck the water out of it but his mouth wouldn’t comply, so he allowed the water to trickle on his tongue.

  He had gulped water during that cold moonlight swim. He recalled the splashing, the man shouting at him to return...something. What was it? Then he remembered what he had been holding in one hand, making sure it didn’t get wet. Time travel. He had stolen a time machine the size of a cell phone, and the man was trying to get it back. Blake. The man’s name was Blake.

  But Cole had escaped. Or was he still in the water? No. He wasn’t. His mind became jumbled as he tried to focus on the water someone was giving him. Tall grass. Sun. Heat. Unbearable heat.

  “Cole, come back!”

  Cole knew the voice was in his mind. It was Blake calling out to him, still pursuing him. He knew he wasn’t really out in the prairie, but he ran anyway. His feet were sore, his chest hurting from the exertion of the chase, and his hand clenching the time travel device.

  The chase seemed so real. The further the soft voice drifted, the deeper he fell back into his mind and before long, he lost consciousness.

  ***

  Penelope checked her food supply in the underground cellar. She could probably make it another two months before she needed to go to town for more. At that time, the man she’d brought home would either be well enough to travel with her or dead. She sighed as she gathered some potatoes into her arms. She hoped he’d make it. She didn’t ever want to watch another man die. Once was bad enough.

  She walked up the steps and shut the door, making sure it was secure. Her husband had built everything, but working with his hands wasn’t his gift. Still, she felt a smile tug at her lips as she recalled how proud he’d been to make the buildings on their property. He was a good man. Sometimes she missed him. A part of her would always love him. She glanced up at the clear sky wondering if he could look down at her. What he must think of her bringing a stranger home!

  She shrugged off the thought and turned to the cabin. As soon as she crossed the threshold, she saw that the stranger had finally woken up. He tried to sit up but fell back onto the thin mattress which squeaked in protest. Quickly putting the potatoes on the table, she rushed over to him.

  “You mustn’t get up before you’re ready,” she softly warned him.

  She picked up the towel on the dresser. and dipped it into the bowl of water and pressed it to his forehead. Sitting beside him on the bed, she pressed her hand against his cheek. Good. His skin felt cool. When she realized he was studying her, she grinned. Naturally, he was wondering where he was.

  “You’ve been unconscious for four days,” she informed him.

  “Four days?” He gasped and tried to sit up but groaned and laid back down.

  She wished he wouldn’t press himself so hard. He wasn’t ready to get up yet. She forced aside the admonition and said, “I found you in the fields up north that way.” She pointed out the small window. “I feared you wouldn’t survive.”

  “Four days?” he asked, looking bewildered. Then his eyes drifted down the length of his naked body. “Where are my pants? Where’s my…?” He hesitated. “Where’s the thing I had in my pocket?”

  “Everything you had is in the dresser drawer.” She wanted to ask him what that odd silver thing was but refrained. Maybe she didn’t want to know. Maybe he was an outlaw or something. Maybe the less she knew, the better. She cleared her throat and continued to smile at him. “You have no need to worry. I had a husband. I know what a man looks like when he doesn’t have clothes on.”

  “You had a husband?”

  “He passed away a year ago. We came out here to build a home and to farm, but he got sick our first winter here.” It had been a long time since she said those words aloud. The last time she said them, it was to the preacher who buried him. She shoved the memory back into the corner of her mind where it belonged. “It wasn’t meant to be, I guess.”

  “Then what are you doing here? Don’t you have relatives to go to?”

  “No. I didn’t have any family. I was a mail-order bride, and he lived out here, far from anywhere.”

  “So how have you managed all by yourself?”

  “I learned to grow a good-sized garden. I make it to town a couple times a year and I have a cellar to keep foods from rotting. It’s nothing fancy, mind you, but it works.”

  “You came from back east?”

  “Rhode Island.”

  “That’s a lot different from here.”

  She laughed. Was it ever! But in a way, being out here made her self-sufficient, and she liked that. “It’s another world out there.”

  His gaze fell to his body. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “Do you make it a habit of taking men into your home and undressing them?”

  She found his humor appealing. Things had a tendency to be too serious with no one to talk to. “Believe it or not, you’re the first person I’ve come across in eight months. I found you lying face down in the fields.”

  “And you carried me here?”

  Still grinning, she shook her head. “You are an odd man. How do you think I’d manage a feat like that when you’re a foot taller than me? I put you on my steed and brought you here. I was on my way to town
. I’ll make another attempt when you’re well enough.”

  He finally smiled. A gorgeous smile. “You still haven’t explained why I’m naked.”

  “That’s simple. You had a fever, so I had to keep you cool. Your fever broke last night. I hoped it meant you would wake up today.” She removed the cloth from his forehead. His color had returned. Yes, he looked much better. Now she could stop worrying that she’d have to arrange for his funeral. Turning her attention to more practical matters, she asked, “Do you need to use the privy?”

  His eyebrows furrowed. “The what?”

  “Do you need to urinate? If you are too ill, you may use this container.” She picked up an empty jug by the bed.

  “No. I can go outside.”

  She nodded and stood up to help him, but he shooed her away and eased himself up from the bed. When he stumbled forward, she dropped the empty jug and caught him. Placing his arm around her shoulders, she said, “I can help you. I might be a woman, but I’m not useless.”

  He glanced at her. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

  He meant that, and she appreciated the compliment. Back in Rhode Island, she’d been a helpless creature. Out here, such was not the case, and it was nice to have that acknowledged by someone who didn’t know her past. She helped him to the front door and out of the house.

  She pointed to the small wood barn, the well, and the cellar. If he was going to stay here to heal, then he’d need to know where everything was. The cabin itself was self-explanatory. A couple of chairs, a table, a cook stove, a bed and a dresser. It didn’t get any fancier than that. She hoped he wouldn’t mind the meager accommodations. If he was used to what she had in Rhode Island, he was bound to be eager to return to civilization. But he didn’t show any outward signs of disgust or dismay, so that was a good sign.