Back to Tomorrow

by Back To Tomorrow(Lit)

  "My word," she exclaimed. "Where did all these people come from? Where are they going? I wouldn't think Bisbee had this many residents!"

  "Must be shift change," Zach replied. "The men who just got off work are hungry and ready for some sport before they go to bed. Mining is rough work, and these men like to forget the danger and dark, grim hours underground when they get off. I've learned that from the Tombstone miners. You never know when there will be a cave-in or a blasting accident. Mining is a very hazardous occupation."

  Emily nodded. "I suppose so. I'd never given it much thought."

  Talking, they almost missed the sign over the door that read "Woodbine House-Lodging." The outer door stood open, revealing a small parlor, not as clean and well furnished as Nellie Cashman's, but orderly enough. Behind a short counter, a small woman was perched on a high stool. Her iron-gray hair was gathered back in a severe bun. She looked at them sharply as they came through the door.

  Suspecting she was about to make an announcement similar to that of Mr. Dugan, Zach hastened to divert her attention. "Mr. Dugan at the Castle Rock Cafe suggested we might find a room here. My wife and I made the trip over from Tombstone today and we're weary. If you have a room, we'd like to rent it for the night."

  The woman sniffed. "Wife, huh? What's she doing parading around in that Mexican get-up?"

  "She lost her luggage in a stage robbery..." Zach repeated his earlier tale, unable to think of a better explanation at the moment. Sticking to one story was the best plan, anyway.

  Emily stepped forward, and this time he let her have her say, for the woman still looked doubtful. "Truly," she said, "I am not a fancy woman, although perhaps this costume would lead you to think so. I'm simply exhausted and suffering from the effects of too much sun and some harrowing adventures. I certainly never endured anything like this back in Vermont! Not to be sacrilegious, but I do hope there is room at the inn for us. I'm afraid my sunburn would not tolerate bedding down in the straw beside our horse tonight."

  "You're from Vermont?" The woman's face lit with sudden animation. "Oh my! I left there twenty-nine years ago next month and I have missed it every day. Since I lost my poor John in a cave-in last winter, I've prayed every night that I can soon save enough to go back home. Of course, my dear. I do have a vacant room and you're most welcome to it. And I think I have some vinegar for your sunburn. Poor child, you look baked to a crisp. The Arizona sun is so cruel."

  Within moments, Mrs. Woodbine led them down the hallway to a small but tidy room that held a double bed, a washstand, and two straight chairs. For a mere dollar they could spend the night. Zach sighed as he counted out the last of his cash. He'd have to come up with some more money soon, definitely before heading back to Tombstone. Right now, he could not even afford breakfast.

  Had Emily not been with him, he would have bedded down beside Rusty, saving the cost of the room, but he knew she needed a decent bed and a good night's rest. At least here she'd surely be safe from Jake McEuen.

  Once their hostess left, he turned to Emily. She sank onto one of the chairs, where she slumped, gazing at the floor with a thoroughly dispirited attitude. Even food had done little to revive her. Perhaps their adventures had taken a greater toll on her than he had realized.

  Zach shook his head, still astounded at Emily's surprising ploy. "How in the world did you know the lady was from Vermont? I could hardly believe the change in her demeanor!"

  "Something in the way she talked," Emily said, vaguely. "Merely a guess on my part, but fortunately a good one."

  "I thought sure she was going to refuse us, so thank goodness for your guess."

  Zach paced the small room, not sure how to explain his intentions. Sure she would disapprove, he could not bring himself to tell Emily he intended to get into a poker game. He also suspected she was discomfited by the idea of sharing the bed, which seemed to narrow by the minute. He wanted to set her mind at ease on that issue immediately, in hopes of restoring a bit of her normal cheer and confidence.

  "I believe I'll go back out a while and nose around. Maybe drop word for people to be on the lookout in case Jake makes this his next stop. You stay here, wash up and go on to bed. I'll be back early enough in the morning not to arouse our landlady's suspicions, but I'll allow you to have the room to yourself for the night."

  Emily looked up at him, surprise clear in her expression. "You don't have to do that! I trust you. At this point, I'm really not worried about my reputation. No one here knows me, and as far as local people know, we're married, so they won't think it amiss. You need proper rest as badly as I do."

  "Well then, I'll be back after a while, but don't wait up for me." He started for the door, then hesitated. "Vinegar really is good for sunburn, so if Mrs. Woodbine forgets to bring you some, go back and ask her. Treatment might save you from blistering and will surely ease the sting."

  Emily gazed at him a long moment. "Don't be too long," she said finally. "I-I'll worry, after seeing that poor man..." She shuddered. "What a horrible way to die. I thought Tombstone wild and wooly, but from what I have seen, Bisbee is even worse!"

  "I suspect all mining camps are much the same. I'll be careful, and being sober, I can watch out for myself well enough." Zach patted his sidearm lightly. "Don't lose any sleep on my account."

  He turned quickly and walked out, before Emily's woebegone expression tempted him into something he should not do. How easy it would be, and how very pleasant, to kiss the sadness off her face and go on to more intimate pleasures. He hoped she'd be asleep when he returned and thus not tempt him to forget she was a lady.

  ~*~

  The door had hardly shut behind Zach when a timid knock sounded. "Excuse me, Miz Tremaine, are you there?"

  Struggling to her feet, Emily went to open the door. Mrs. Woodbine stood in the hall, a large jug of vinegar in one hand and an ewer of water in the other.

  "Here you are, dear. I saw your husband, going out to allow you a bit of privacy to clean up. Such a nice young man. Wash off the dust and then pat your skin with this vinegar. It will do wonders for your sunburn."

  Emily took the items, thanking her hostess effusively. After Mrs. Woodbine left, she filled the basin on the washstand, stripped off her bedraggled clothing and proceeded to wash. The dirt from her face clouded the water, and that was before she even got below her neck. Before she had finished, the water looked to be half mud.

  Lord, what I'd give for a shower. For a moment, visions of streaming warm water taunted her. Would she ever enjoy the luxury of a daily bath again? She hadn't felt really clean since she fell into the past. Tears of weariness and frustration flooded her eyes. Darn it, I just want to go home! She shut her eyes and wished with all her might, but nothing happened. Whatever strange phenomenon had brought her here did not seem inclined to send her back.

  With a sigh of weary resignation, she finished her makeshift bath. The sting of her sunburn reminded her to blot the vinegar on her face and arms. Although the sharp odor stung Emily's nose, the liquid did feel surprisingly cool and soothing.

  Lacking anything else to put on, she slipped back into her dingy, ragged petticoat and her bra. It would not do for Zach to return and find her sleeping in the nude. He'd be shocked half to death. Even this was skimpy, but she simply would not sleep in all her clothes for a second night in a row.

  Although the little room was stuffy, even with the window partly open, Emily drew the sheet up over her before she settled down to go to sleep. The bed linens smelled fresh and clean, and the plump pillow cushioned her weary head. With a hint of lavender in her nostrils, Emily drifted off to sleep. Her last thought was a nagging worry about Zach.

  ~*~

  After he left Mrs. Woodbine's, Zach strolled back down Tombstone Canyon and turned left into Brewery Gulch. Keeping a keen eye out for trouble, he walked the length of the street on one side and returned on the other. He stopped to talk to a few people, usually men who stood alone or who looked squarely at him as he passed.
From these conversations, he soon learned which saloons and gambling dens were best avoided and which ones had fair games and made some attempt to keep order.

  "Copper Chance" was one of the latter. Entering the smoky room, Zach made his way to the bar. With two of his last four coins, none of which were larger than a dime, he ordered a beer. Poker games were in progress at two tables in the rear of the room. Taking his beer, he ambled over to the nearest one and observed the action for a while.

  Two of the players seemed surly and a bit desperate, not the sort of men with whom he wanted to play tonight. The dealer also reminded him too strongly of Jake. Intuition told Zach the man was a professional gambler and not an honest one. Since he needed a small stake, not a large chunk of lead, he moved on to the second table.

  There, most of the players were clearly at least foremen or shift bosses rather than common miners. They played with the casual air of men who simply amused themselves and could afford to lose. Zach decided this was the game to buy into. Lacking sufficient cash, he pulled out his gold pocket watch and its heavy chain, also gold. With studied casualness, he laid it on the table at the dealer's side.

  "If this game is open," he said, "deal me in."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The dealer glanced up at Zach, picked up the watch, and hefted it. Setting the heavy timepiece aside, he nodded and indicated a vacant chair. Without further ado, he handed Zach a stack of chips, dealt him in and the game continued.

  At first, luck seemed not to favor Zach. His pile of chips diminished at an alarming rate. On what he decided would have to be his last hand, costing him at least his chain if not the watch, he won.

  After that, fortune smiled. He soon had enough to retrieve his watch and his pile continued to grow. He made the one beer last for two hours, unwilling to fog his mind with alcohol when so much was at stake.

  At the end of two hours, Zach had enough money to see Emily safely settled for at least a week and perhaps even to purchase a dress of a style deemed more appropriate by the Bisbee ladies. As for himself, he could ride back to Tombstone in a day and collect the money he had left in his room, so he did not need much more.

  With a polite nod and a word of farewell to the other players, he cashed in his chips and left the saloon. Keeping alert for possible pickpockets or strong arm robbers, he made his way back to Mrs. Woodbine's, feeling well satisfied with his evening's work.

  ~*~

  May 18, 1889

  For the second morning in a row, Emily awoke at Zach's side, but today he slept, giving her the chance to watch him. He lay atop the counterpane, still fully dressed except for his boots and the now rather battered hat, which hung on the back of one of the chairs.

  She had partly awakened, dimly recognizing when he entered the room, though she knew not whether it had been early or late. Her exhaustion had been too great to come fully awake. He'd been quiet, she recalled, and she'd fallen back asleep even before he lay down at her side.

  From the quality of the light that seeped into the room around the drawn curtains, Emily deduced the day was still new.

  Moving carefully so as not to jostle the bed, she levered up on one elbow and looked down at Zach. He lay on his back, one arm flung up over his head. Sweat-stiffened twigs of hair stuck out this way and that, giving him a boyish, innocent look. Even two days worth of dusky stubble on his cheeks and chin did not age him much past youth.

  Emily wondered suddenly just how old he was. Not that it mattered-in 2000, she was twenty-six, but what was she here? Eighty-four years short of being born? Her mind simply refused to try to deal with it. She shoved the thought ruthlessly aside and concentrated on watching Zach sleep.

  He didn't seem to snore, and he kept his lips together. As her gaze centered on them, the memory of their kisses rushed to the forefront of her thoughts. Would-could-something similar take place today, soon, when he awoke?

  At that moment, a fly buzzed at the window beneath the curtain, which rippled slightly, catching a bit of morning up-canyon breeze. The sound triggered irresistible mischief in Emily's mind. Extending one finger, she trailed the tip of it across Zach's nose, down over his mouth, and back around his nose once more.

  Wrinkling his nose, he shook his head fretfully, as if to dislodge a pesky fly. She waited a moment, while he settled into quiet once more, before she repeated the action. This time, his eyes flew open. He caught her with her hand not quite back at her side.

  "You little imp! That was you," he sputtered. "I thought it was a fly..."

  Emily fell back on her pillow, giggling helplessly at his indignant expression. "I just couldn't resist," she managed between spasms. "When I heard a fly in the window, the devil made me do it."

  For a moment, weak with laughter, she forgot the sheet had slipped to her waist. Zach had already started moving, grabbing for her shoulders in preparation to inflict his own tickling form of revenge, when he realized the degree of her dishabille.

  The widening of his eyes and his sudden intake of breath alerted Emily to the picture she made. Since all she wore was her bra, which left a great deal of skin exposed and showed off her feminine curves to the best advantage, she certainly would appear a "fancy woman." But they were both already moving, coming together, too late to change course.

  In that instant, Emily knew she wanted this, had wanted it from the moment she awoke and realized Zach lay beside her. Zach's warm hands settled on her shoulders only to slide quickly down to her elbows, release, and move around her body to draw her close to him.

  Emily moved willingly into his embrace and tipped her face up to meet his. His flannel shirt felt soft and warm on her skin as she pressed against his chest, his arms enfolding her. The stubble of his beard prickled her cheeks, but caused no pain. The slight abrasion simply heightened the contrast of his smooth, soft lips. He certainly knew how to kiss...whatever his age might be.

  This time there was no horse to interrupt, no urgency to rise and flee from potential danger. Emily stored those thoughts in the back of her mind as she gave herself completely to the moment.

  ~*~

  Zach went from aggravation to arousal in a heartbeat. Tickling forgotten, he gazed at Emily's lovely body, barely concealed by the wisps of lacy fabric cupping her breasts. Surely no angel could be more beautiful, no courtesan more tempting.

  His hands scooted down her arms, stopping at her elbows. Looking at her made him dizzy with temptation, but looking alone was not enough. Could her skin be as silkily enticing as it looked? He had to find out.

  The momentum of their bodies seemed to continue without either of them willing it. His arms moved to enfold her, bringing her close against him, his hands spreading to savor the smooth texture of her warm back. She smelled of cider and lavender, a sweet-tart mixture that seemed to embody perfectly the person she was.

  This, their third kiss, seemed to begin exactly where the last one had ended, in the midst of a demanding urgency, a hunger, thirst and need too great to be denied. As if the past twenty-four hours had simply not existed, Zach took Emily's mouth, ravishing and cherishing it with his.

  He explored the curves of her lips, the fine edges of her teeth and the moist heat inside with his tongue, tasting and savoring the textures and flavor of her. Every direction their mouths could fit together demanded to be tried, every inch of her skin required touching and tasting.

  She clutched at his shirt, tugging it free from his belt to slide one hand up inside. The touch sent fire and ice careening through his blood. Her small hand, with surprising strength, shaped around his side and traced the curves of his ribs above his waist. Exerting no effort at all, she seemed to be welding them together with the heat and power of her touch.

  Reaching between their bodies with her other hand, she attacked the buttons of his shirt. "Please," she cried, "It's not fair. I want to feel you, not this flannel."

  He eased his hold to allow her to access the buttons. Once they were all undone, he drew one arm at a time from the sle
eves, keeping her close with the other all the while. When she put both hands on him, moving them over the planes of his chest and back, he thought he would explode, as if his skin could no longer contain him.

  "Do you know what you are doing to me, Em?" He almost groaned aloud at the sheer pleasure. Driven to offer the same sort of delight to her, he shifted his hand first to the curve of her waist and then slowly up to cup her breast. Shaken by the urgent rhythm of her heartbeat, the soft flesh quivered beneath his hand. The nipple hardened, thrusting against its lace covering.

  He eased her onto her back and rolled to lean over her, raining kisses on her shoulders, her throat and down to the darker centers of her breasts, shadowed through the lace.

  "You have to be a fairy or an angel," he said, between those kisses. "Something magical and not of this world. Whether you truly came from the future, I don't know, but you're surely not part of this mundane place in time."

  She pushed on his shoulders, forcing him back so she could look into his face. "No! I'm flesh and blood, as human as you are. A very ordinary person, really, just one who's having an extraordinary adventure. Don't try to make of me something other than that, please."

  Torn by reluctance, Zach released her, rolling away. He struggled to control his breathing and slow his racing heartbeat. That was twice, two times too many, and each time it got harder to call the halt that he knew he must.

  "I'd be the worst sort of cad to take advantage of the circumstances that have thrown us together." He spoke from a seat on the edge of the bed, looking not at Emily but at the floor. "As much as I desire you, I have nothing to offer, not even a home. I'm barely able to support myself for now and I have to keep my promise to save Mary Ann. But I have to keep reminding myself...you're enough to tempt a saint!"

  He glanced back at her, unable to deny himself that much. The stricken expression on her face nearly undid his resolve. He heaved himself off the bed, turning his back to the enticing sight she presented.