And now, feeling that pulse-pounding, heart-racing surge of fury storming through him was almost as shocking as the fact that it had been brought on by Nora, of all people.
"What's the matter, Hopalong? Nothing to say in your own defense?" Her voice dug at him, her tone saying even more clearly than her words what she thought of him.
Seth's big hands curled into fists at his sides. For ten years, he had lived at the Wilding ranch. He had watched Nora grow up, worried over her near constant bouts with illness, and in general looked after her like he would a sister. Never once in all that time had he even been tempted to throw her across his lap and give her a good old-fashioned spanking.
Until now.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Nora?" he ground out through clenched teeth.
"Wrong with me?" she repeated with a scoffing laugh. “You've got a nerve, mister. You tell me that you're disappointed I lived and you want to know what's wrong with me?"
He took a step closer to her, unable to help himself. Staring into her eyes, so familiar and yet so different, he said, his voice rough and grating even to his own ears, "Yeah, I was disappointed. Goddammit, that doctor promised me that this time would be the last time."
"What?"
"You've had pneumonia three times just this year, Nora. How could you forget that?"
She didn't say anything and he didn't give her a chance anyway.
"Every time you get sick, we take turns, Hannah and me. We sit by your bed in shifts. Hours at a time, Nora. It's just Hannah and me. Listening to you gasp every breath. Hearing every whispered moan and drying the tears that roll down your cheeks even when you're unconscious."
She licked her lips nervously. “That doesn't give you the right to wish me dead.”
"Doesn't it?" he asked, backing her up against the stall wall. He set his hands at either side of her head, his fingers curling into the old wood. “I don't even remember how many nights I've spent sitting in the dark, holding your hand, whispering to you, bargaining with the Almighty to try and win you a little peace. Hell, Hannah's about cried herself dry over you! Were we supposed to hope that you'd live another twenty-seven years in pain and misery? Were we supposed to pray that God would let you live long enough to suffer more?"
Instantly, memories washed over him. Visions of him in the darkness at her bedside, the flame of a single candle waving and dancing in the blackness. In memory, he heard the terrible rattling of her breath as it struggled in and out of her belabored lungs. He heard her sighs and the rustle of the sheets as she shifted, searching even in her sleep for comfort.
And those memories brought back the most recent one. The sudden, awful silence that had told him she was dead. He remembered too the sting of pain at her loss and the overwhelming sense of relief that her misery was at last finished.
Abruptly, he shoved the recollections aside. Staring down into her eyes, he shook his head slowly. "Yeah, I was disappointed that you didn't die. If that makes me a bastard… well, I've been called worse."
She stared at him as though she could see into his soul. That thought made him look away just as she said softly, "In a sick kind of way, that's almost sweet."
Remembering something else she had said earlier, he brushed her comment aside. “As for me inheriting your damn ranch, no. There's no will leaving me this place, so you can rest easy on that one, Nora. Your pa left this ranch to you and you can go on ahead and hand it over to your pretty eastern boy."
“Huh?"
"You're so damn fond of that son of a bitch, you can't even see him for what he is."
"Which is?" she demanded.
"A lazy, no-account with more fancy words than guts."
"That's your considered opinion?"
He stared at her and noticed that the splotches of angry color on her cheeks were darkening. Too bad. "Yeah, that's it.”
Nora felt anger pulsing in her, but before she gave into it, she took an extra minute to think. After all, she didn't know much about the people here on this isolated ranch. Seth had known the old Nora a long time. And if his story was true, then he’d cared about her and for her a lot over the years.
Shouldn't she at least listen to his opinion and give it some thought before she dismissed it?
Slowly, she nodded. "Okay. I'll think about what you said," she told him.
The surprise on his face was almost worth tamping her temper down.
He tipped the brim of his hat back. "Glad to see you've finally come to your senses.”
She should have known her generosity would end up biting her in the butt. "What's that supposed to mean?” she asked.
"It means, I'm glad you're willing to listen to somebody who knows a sight more than you do about this.”
She shoved him.
The action caught Seth so much off his guard that he staggered backward. Who would have guessed that a frail thing like Nora would have so much strength? Especially just up from her sickbed.
"Now you listen, pardner."
His teeth ground together.
"You had your say and maybe I even understand some of it.” She straightened up from the wall and swung her hair back out of her way. "I said I'd think about it. But that doesn't mean that I agree with you about anything or that I want your blasted opinion on anything else.”
"You asked for it," he reminded her and folded his arms over his chest.
"Yeah, I did. But now that I have it, I don't want to hear it again, understood?" Hands at her hips, she leaned toward him, her gaze shooting bullets into his. "What's between me and Richard— or me and anyone else for that matter— is none of your business.”
“Is that right?"
“Damn straight."
His gaze narrowed.
"Your job is to take care of the stinking cows, not me. Get it?"
"I take care of what needs taking care of," he warned her, still battling the surge of anger crushing his chest and squeezing his heart. "And lately Nora, that means you."
"Things've changed, cowboy." she said sharply. "I can take care of myself."
"That's to be seen."
"You either do things my way or you can get off this ranch right now," she said stiffly and lifted her chin defiantly to punctuate the words.
"You already tried to fire me once. Nora. Remember?" He widened his stance into a deliberately challenging pose. "It didn't work then, and it won't work now."
A long moment passed and he watched her take several slow, deep breaths. Finally, when she spoke again, her voice was calmer, missing the thread of fight. "Listen, cowboy, things are going to be different around here.” She shifted her gaze briefly heavenward before looking back at him. "At least, for a while. You better decide to roll with whatever comes, or you and me are gonna have to go a few rounds.”
"What?" Jesus, the things she said made no sense. Was it possible that during her latest illness, she'd thrashed around on the bed so much that she had slammed her head into the bed frame?
"Just lighten up, Roy," she said and turned away. She walked briskly to the open barn door, where she stopped and looked at him over her shoulder. "And fasten your seat belt. It's going to be a bumpy ride." She grinned suddenly and said to herself, "Jeezz, I always wanted to say that line."
In a moment, she was gone. He stared after her for several heartbeats before looking at the stallion beside him. The big animal's deep brown eyes met his and Seth muttered. "What the hell is a seat belt?"
#
Okay, enough is enough, Nora told herself as she stomped past the main ranch house, headed for the line of pines that ringed the ranch yard. Her boots slammed against the dirt and rocks, reminding her with each step that she wasn't in the city. That she wasn't even in the right century. Someone had really screwed up this time, and it wasn't her.
Morning sunlight filtered through the pines and the budding cottonwoods, outlining their branches and splintering the light into dozens of flashes of brightness. A cool wind slipped past her, tossing her butt-leng
th hair into a frenzy of movement.
Grumbling, Nora reached back, grabbed the mass and tugged it across one shoulder where she quickly and efficiently wove it into one long braid. It probably wouldn't hold for long, since she had nothing to tie the end with, but at least it was out of her way for now.
As she neared the trees, the strong, clean scent of pine reached out to her, drawing her in. She inhaled deeply, a smile on her face. Until recently, the only time she caught a whiff of pine was when she was spraying cleaning solution in her bathroom.
But just because the air smelled better than L.A.'s didn't mean she was happy about her situation.
Her foot came down on a stone and she winced at the accompanying stab of pain. Blasted shoes. What she wouldn't give to be able to wear her sneakers right now. That thought brought her mind right back to the problem at hand. Why had Tom. Dick, and Harry plopped her down into the middle of a mess on an isolated ranch in nineteenth century Montana? Hell, they had had an entire world full of people to choose from in her time. They could have sent her to Paris, or London, or New York. Yes, her mind echoed. And they could have sent her to the North Pole.
Why here? she wondered. Why now? And why stick her with someone like Seth Murdoch? Instantly, she recalled looking up into his eyes and seeing his anger flash at her. She shivered and rubbed both hands up and down her arms. It wasn't his temper that bothered her. Heck, when you've dealt with advertising executives, you're used to dealing with men's temper tantrums. No, it was something else entirely.
A weird sense of déjà vu had enveloped her as she had watched Seth's fury mount. Not that she had been scared. No, it was as if she had seen his temper before and known that she didn't have to fear him. But there was something more, too. Not only did she somehow know about his temper, she had also felt a terrible sinking sensation— as if she knew that his volatility would only bring trouble. To both of them.
She inhaled sharply, blew it out in a rush and quickened her pace toward the trees. She needed to talk to her heavenly trio, and this time, she wasn't going to take a busy signal for an answer.
Nora entered the stand of forest and kept walking until she'd reached a sun-splashed clearing. There she stopped and looked back toward the house, smiling to herself when she couldn't see the ranch buildings. If they were hidden from her, then she was hidden from whomever might go looking for her.
Reaching into her shirt, she pulled out the gold chain and ring. She held them tightly, tilted her face up to the sky, closed her eyes, and imagined the faces of Tom, Dick, and Harry.
Several long moments passed in silence. The sun lay warm across her face. The quiet rustle of small creatures moving through the woods came to her along with a sudden burst of bird song. If she wasn't so angry, she might even be able to enjoy the beauty of this place.
“All right, you guys," she said aloud, giving up on the mental telepathy. "I know you're there and I know you can hear me."
Nothing.
Exasperated, she looked down at the ring in her hand and after a thoughtful pause, rubbed it as though it was Aladdin's lamp. All she got for her trouble was a bruised palm.
Scowling disgustedly, Nora shoved the too big ring onto her thumb and tapped the toe of one shoe against the forest floor. “I'm not going to just accept this quietly like a good girl. We had a deal."
"Your conditions were met." A deep voice with a touch of arrogance rang in her mind.
Tom. Damn, she had been hoping to speak to Harry.
"No, they weren't,” she countered, eager to have this out, no matter if it was with the stuffed shirt. "I did not request a cattle ranch in the eighteen hundreds.”
“You requested wealth and health," the voice answered slowly. "You didn't specify when you wanted to live."
A nit-picking spirit. "I assumed that when you're reincarnated, you go forward, not back."
She thought she heard a faint snicker, but she couldn't be sure.
"But this isn't really a new incarnation, is it?" Tom asked.
Hmmm. He might have her on a technicality. To be reincarnated, she would have had to be born again. And she wouldn't be able to remember all of her other lives. Whatever memories she would have been born with would have faded until they were nothing more than an inherent appeal for a certain time period. She never would have been able to recall her life in the twentieth century, or any of the other times she'd wandered this planet.
Opening her eyes, she stared determinedly at the swiftly moving clouds overhead— as if she could see past them to the chamber where her nemesis was no doubt thoroughly enjoying himself at her expense.
Her mind moved at breakneck speed. She had to think of something. Some way to get herself out of 1875 and into the lap of her requested luxury.
"Okay, fine. It's not really a new incarnation." She would give him that much. “But,” she said before he could cut her off, "there's something going on around here that I didn't bargain for."
"Hmmm? What's that?"
"There's some big dumb cowboy who wants me dead!"
"Now really, Miss Hill."
"He already said as much. You can't leave me down here, as Nora Wilding, if this bozo is just going to try to kill me again." Okay, so that wasn't entirely accurate. But desperate situations called for desperate measures.
"And this bozo's name?"
"Murdoch. Seth Murdoch." She frowned thoughtfully. "The strong, definitely not silent type. I don't know how the old Nora felt about him, but I can tell you, I don't like him." That was certainly true enough.
"I see."
"Look., this guy's got a mean temper and he was disappointed that I didn't die. What does that tell you?"
"I'll see what I can discover," Tom said shortly.
"There's something else too, buddy," she told him.
He sighed heavily.
"I told you I didn't want to be hassled by love this time around.”
"I remember."
"Well, there's a fiancé staying at my ranch with the idea that he's going to marry me."
"Do you love this Murdoch person?"
"No way!" Unwillingly, Seth's dark eyed image popped into her mind. Good-looking sure. If you went for the tortured hero type. "But I already told you. I don't even like him.”
"Then I am afraid I don't see the problem. You didn't want love… you're not in love."
"Just how long has it been since you were alive, anyway?" she demanded.
"That is immaterial," he argued. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I do have important matters to see to.”
"Hey, you can't just leave me here," she snapped, afraid that their connection was already broken.
"You agreed to this incarnation, Miss Hill. We can't simply drop you in and pull you out of bodies willy-nilly. There are rules, you know.”
Willy-nilly? She shook her head.
"Rules?" she countered aloud. “I'm talking about a guy who wanted me I mean the other Nora— to die. And another guy expecting her— me— to be a blushing bride, for God's sake. And you want to talk about rules?”
“Excuse me, Miss Hill," Tom said. “Something's come up, could you wait one moment, please?"
"What?"
Instantly, before she could protest, Nora heard the unmistakable sound of harp music drifting through her head. Stunned, she plopped down onto the rocky ground.
He had put her on hold.
#
“Nora,” Richard nearly shouted as he hurried to meet her. "Where were you?"
Scowling, Nora tossed a look over her shoulder at the tree line behind her. Good old Tom had never come back to finish their conversation. No doubt, he was somewhere right now, telling his cohorts all about her list of complaints. And laughing.
"I went for a walk, Richard," she said, shifting her gaze to meet his concerned eyes. His blond hair neatly brushed, he wore a dark suit with narrow lapels, a snowy white shirt, and a vest with a gold watch chain strung across the front. If possible, he looked more out of place on this ranch tha
n she felt.
Shaking her head, she kept walking as Richard fell in alongside her.
"Do you really think you should be taking so much air so soon after your illness, my dear?"
"I feel fine, Richard. Relax."
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and saw the frown lines form between his truly incredible eyes.
"Humor me, love," he said and took her arm, drawing her to a stop. “The next time you feel like taking a walk,” he said, "allow me to escort you. You shouldn't get over-tired. Especially in your weakened condition."
A sharp, icy wind slapped at them and Nora shivered.
"You are cold," Richard said and immediately removed his suit jacket to drape over her shoulders.
In spite of herself, Nora had to admit that she was happy for the coat. Next time she went out, she'd remember to dress warmer. What the heck kind of spring was this anyway?
But no matter what Richard Bonner, or anyone else for that matter, thought of her, she was no hothouse flower. She didn't have to be coddled and looked after and hunted down when she wandered off. And maybe it would be best if they got that straight right away.
Before she could say anything, though, he lifted one hand and stroked her cheek with his fingertips. "It's good to see you up and about, Nora," he said. “I just don't want you to do too much too soon.”
Hard to be mad at a man for that.
Especially one as gorgeous as Richard Bonner.
She looked up into his whiskey-colored eyes, softened with concern for her. Gorgeous, yes, though his shoulders weren't nearly as broad as Seth's. But then, she thought, Murdoch had shoulders and pecs that would make a weight lifter weep with envy. Then there was that truly great butt.
Not that she cared, of course.
Besides, muscles weren't everything.
“Richard," she started.
"Yes, love?"
She winced. "I think you should stop calling me that," she said.
"What, dearest?"
Good Lord, had the old Nora really enjoyed all of his flowery talk?
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