This Time for Keeps

by Maureen Child

  "Yes'm," he said and held it up.

  Nora reached for it, but Elizabeth was faster, snatching it out of the man's fingers. "Now, Nora, you know that I always take care of these things." To Mike, she added, “I'll send you a check at the end of the month when I pay the other ranch bills."

  Now how long had that been going on?

  "Actually," Nora said, “I’ll be handling that chore myself from now on.”

  "Oh," Elizabeth drew her head back and looked at her as though she had lost her mind. "Do you think that's at all wise? In your condition…"

  "I don't have a condition," Nora argued, now more determined than ever to get her hands on that bill. It seemed that she still wasn't finished convincing the people around her that she didn't need a keeper. Well, she'd gone through all of this with Seth and Richard. Apparently, it was Elizabeth's turn. Better to have this out here and now, she told herself. Holding out her right hand, she waited silently for the other woman to fork over the slip of paper.

  With a sidelong look at her brother, the blonde finally complied, slapping the handwritten tab into Nora's palm with more gusto than was warranted.

  She could be gracious in victory, Nora thought and gave the woman a polite smile. “Thank you,” she said before looking down at the row of scribbled figures. Her gaze scanned the numbers idly until she hit the total. "Two hundred and fifty dollars?"

  "Well, really!" Elizabeth sniffed haughtily.

  "Now, Nora," Richard soothed.

  "Miz Nora," Mike complained in a whine. "I added them up two, three times. My 'rithmetic's always been good."

  She believed him. His addition was probably just fine, which made the total bill even more horrifying. Groceries in this century simply didn't cost that much.

  Incredible. Shaking her head, she stared at the list of supplies and read them off aloud. "Fifty-pound sack of flour, five dollars. Twenty-pound sack of sugar, two dollars. Ten pounds of coffee, a dollar eighty. Two corsets, one dollar." She paused to shudder. "Two nightgowns, one dollar. One silk walking dress and matching bag, two hundred thirty-nine dollars and twenty cents?”

  Eyes wide, she stared at Elizabeth, who teared up instantly and scrambled in her purse for that hanky again.

  “Are you nuts?” Nora demanded.

  "Nora!" Richard's outraged tone hardly made an impact. Dabbing at her watery eyes. Elizabeth seemed to curl into herself as she leaned against Richard and sobbed daintily.

  "Now, Miz Nora," Mike said calmly.

  "What the hell is a walking dress anyway?" she went on, looking from one to the other of them for an answer. When none came, she muttered, "For two hundred thirty-nine dollars, it better know how to walk all by itself!"

  "There's a matching bag as well, remember," Elizabeth protested.

  "Is it filled with gold?" Nora snapped. Man, she had nothing against shopping, but when you could buy fifty pounds of flour for live bucks, two hundred for one dress seemed just a tad out of line.

  "Oh, Richard," Elizabeth sighed as she sagged against him, "I believe I'm going to faint."

  "See what you've done now," Richard scolded Nora even as he scooped his sister into his arms. "She's a very delicate creature."

  She didn't know about delicate. But greedy was a given. "Is the ranch supposed to be paying for this?”

  "Surely you don't begrudge your late father's fiancée a new dress?” Richard looked appalled.

  "Oh," Elizabeth sighed and shook her head. "Send it back, I could never wear it now.”

  “Good idea,” Nora said.

  "Nora." Richard frowned and patted his sister's back awkwardly.

  "There ain't no use sendin' it back, Miz Nora," Mike told her, scratching his whisker-stubbled cheek with one dirty fingernail. "Them fellas at that dress place in Boston, they done made this stuff up special order."

  "I thought it came from a catalog."

  "The basic design, yes," Elizabeth muttered. "But one always sends one's measurements and the seamstresses make each dress accordingly.”

  So, Elizabeth had known all along that they couldn't return the dress. Why make the offer then? To look like a poor, put-upon female to Nora's Attila the Hun?

  This was crazy, she told herself. Elizabeth drove her nuts. Why didn't she just invite the Bonners to leave the ranch? Tell them their welcome was worn out. Because, a small voice inside her whispered, they're all a part of her new life. To learn her way around, she needed to know everything. The good, the bad— she glanced at Elizabeth— and the annoying.

  "Fine," Nora said softly, then turned to Mike. "Just load up the wagon, will you, Mike? I'll send you a check at the end of the month.”

  #

  The sun beat down on her back and shoulders. She reached up, wiped her forehead with her sleeve, then pulled at the brim of her bonnet, hoping to keep her already sunburned nose protected. Every bone and muscle in her body ached and still she preferred walking behind the wagon to the horrible ride within it.

  Glancing over to her left, she noted the other women in their small party walking alongside their wagons and wondered if they too, regretted ever setting out on this trek to Oregon territory.

  Turning her face forward, she looked through the wagon in front of her to the broad back of the man sitting on the bench seat. Her Tommy. The man she would soon marry. She shook her head as he shouted and cursed at the oxen in an attempt to get them to move faster. Tommy never had been one for patience, she thought with a smile. Which was why they were in this silly race. One of the other men had argued that he knew a better road and Tommy had shouted him down. Just before they came to blows, the man had issued a challenge. Never one to walk away quietly, Tommy accepted and now his wagon was bouncing and crashing over fist-sized rocks on a trail long unused rather than following behind the other wagons. At least her mother and father were having an easier day of it, she told herself and briefly wished she'd stayed with her family. But she had wanted to show her loyalty to Tommy.

  That temper of his was going to cost him one day, she knew. But for now, she seemed to be paying the price. Alice stepped over a huge stone and told herself again that the road Tommy had chosen was especially rough. The wagon swayed from side to side, its heavy contents shifting each time the wooden wheels encountered another rock or rut.

  Tommy cursed again, threatening to shoot one of the poor beasts hitched to the wagon yoke. Of course he wouldn't, his bark was much worse than his bite. In fact, he wouldn't even have been cursing so fluently if he had any idea that she was walking within earshot. He smacked the whip in the air over the oxen's backs and the sound cracked like a gunshot. The animals lurched forward.

  She looked up in time to see a brand new bolt of calico sliding out of the wagon. She'd purchased the fabric at their last stop to make curtains for their new home. Stepping in close, she grabbed it, saving it from the mud. She smiled to herself. The wagon pitched suddenly to one side. She heard the creak of metal scraping against wood and turned in time to watch Tommy's potbellied stove topple from the wagon. She clutched the fabric tighter and closed her eyes as the heavy iron crashed down on top of her.

  Nora sat straight up. Her long hair, damp with sweat, had coiled around her neck like a noose. She yanked at it, furiously pulling it free. "Damn that man anyway," she muttered. "Didn't he ever pay attention to what was happening with me?”

  With shaking fingers, she reached for the matches, struck one, and lit the oil lamp standing ready and waiting.

  As her breathing began to slow, she looked around the now familiar room, then turned a scowl toward heaven. "What is it with you guys?" she demanded in a harsh whisper. "How am I supposed to live to be ninety-five if you won't let me get any sleep?"

  No answer.

  Not surprised at all, Nora slipped out of bed, snatched a neatly folded blanket from the end of the mattress, and threw it over her shoulders. Damn, it was getting to the point where she was scared to close her eyes.

  Recalling this latest dream, she realized t
hat her death on the Oregon Trail had occurred only thirty-two years before. Had her husband died soon after her? Wasn't Seth only around thirty, now?

  Shivering, she wandered to the front window again and stared out at the night. She hadn't seen her husband's face in this dream. She didn't know if he had the same blue eyes shared by every other man she remembered from her past incarnations. The same blue eyes as Seth had now.

  But she had a feeling that he had.

  Something very weird was going on here. If Seth had been the man who had caused her death in her last eight incarnations, why the devil had the Resettlement Committee put them together yet again?

  Was she supposed to spend eternity as some sort of karmic target?

  Closing her eyes, Nora drew up the images of Tom, Dick, and Harry. Her fingers closed around the heavy gold ring laying in the valley between her breasts. Shutting her mind to everything else, she focused every bit of her concentration on getting some answers.

  What she got was a headache.

  After a few frustrating minutes of silence, she gave it up for the time being. But brother, when she finally did manage to get a hold of those guys, there would be fireworks.

  The distinctive click of a door latch being lifted caught her attention. She swiveled her head in time to see her bedroom door easing open. What the hell?

  Her stomach clenched and her throat closed up in the same kind of feeling she used to get when she went to a horror movie and the heroine did something stupid like go for a midnight stroll through a cemetery.

  Maybe it was a holdover from her dream. Maybe the ragged pounding of her heart had more to do with her past than what was happening in the present.

  It didn't matter that she was no longer living in crimeridden L.A. She was a modern woman, regardless of where she happened to be at the moment. Swallowing back the coppery taste of fear in her mouth, she quickly looked around, searching for some sort of weapon. Whoever was sneaking into her room was going to get just the kind of reception he or she deserved.

  A circle of light from a lit candle preceded the intruder.

  Nora gasped quietly and grabbed the only thing she could find. Hefting the leather-bound first edition of A Tale of Two Cities, she prepared to bean her burglar. Once he was stunned, Nora could move in and try out a few of the moves she had learned in her Street-Smart Self-Defense course.

  With a little luck though, Charles Dickens would knock the guy out and she could run screaming down the hall.

  As the intruder's head came into view. Nora threw the book, hoping her aim was still as good as it used to be.

  It was.

  The heavy book bounced off a blond head.

  A deep voice yelped, more in surprise than pain.

  "Richard?” she demanded.

  "Why did you do that?" he demanded right back.

  Feeling like an idiot for overreacting, Nora stomped across the room, her bare feet slapping against the wood floor. She stopped directly in front of him and tilted her head back to look at him.

  One hand clapped to the side of his head, he stared at her like he'd never seen her before. "You hit me," he accused, apparently astounded.

  "You got off easy," she snapped, briefly thinking about the slick self-defense moves she could have used on him.

  "There was no need to resort to violence," he told her.

  "How was I supposed to know that?" She threw both hands in the air and reminded herself to keep her voice low, otherwise, they'd have the rest of the household cluttering up her room.

  "You might have waited to see who it was before you attacked.”

  "You might have knocked."

  He gave her a sharp nod, smoothed his hair, then let his hand drop to his side. "I'm sorry, but I was concerned."

  “Why?” In the pale, wavering light of the candle, he was even better looking. Why wasn't she interested in him?

  "I heard you cry out," he said quietly. "I thought something was wrong."

  That damn dream again. Pushing her hands through her hair, she told herself that it was perfectly reasonable for Richard to investigate. What she didn't like was that he had simply strolled into her room as if he belonged there. Well, she could fix that. From now on, she'd lock the blasted door.

  He stepped in closer.

  She took one step back. "Thanks, Richard," she said. "I appreciate your concern, but it was only a bad dream.” That had to be the understatement of the century.

  His gaze moved over her face like a touch. He reached up and traced the line of her jaw with his fingertips. “If we were married, I could be here with you," he whispered. 'To comfort you and take care of you.”

  She sucked in a gulp of air. Somehow, she'd hoped that Richard was getting used to the idea that she didn't want to marry him. Apparently not.

  "Richard," she said and ducked from under his touch, "if you don't mind, I'm kind of tired…" That wasn't entirely true. She probably wouldn't be getting back to sleep anytime soon. But he didn't need to know that.

  He smiled and nodded, then retreated toward the doorway. "Before I go," he said, "there is one thing I need to do.”

  "Huh?"

  Richard stepped close to her, hooked his free arm around her waist, and drew her to him. He looked into her eyes for a long minute and Nora tried to think of a graceful way out of the situation. She'd already hit him once. He turned his head slightly to puff out the candle he still held, then he bent to claim a kiss.

  Surprised by the rather slick move, Nora felt his arm tighten around her, holding her body along the length of his. Her eyes slid closed and just for a moment, she gave in to him. This was surely one way to find out if her reaction to Seth had simply been because she'd needed to be kissed— or if it was, as she feared, because it had been Seth doing the kissing.

  When Richard parted her lips with the tip of his tongue, she opened for him. The room was shadowy, romantic. The night was silent. His breath puffed her cheek. His body was hard and strong against hers. Everything was perfect. Except that there was no sizzle of awareness rushing through her. Frowning inwardly, she told herself to try harder. To give it everything she could.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled his mouth down harder on hers. She heard his quiet groan of satisfaction as his arms tightened around her middle. Nora concentrated on the moment. She gave herself up to the deepening kiss.

  And she felt nothing.

  No wild twist of excitement.

  No shimmering sense of expectation. No electricity at all.

  Another perfectly good theory shot down the tubes.

  Apparently, what she felt in Seth's arms went far beyond your basic need for closeness. How far beyond, she didn't want to think about at the moment.

  Disgusted with herself, she broke the kiss abruptly and took a hasty step back.

  He reached for her and she shook her head. Nope. She wouldn't be kissing him again. What would be the point? "I don't think so, Richard. You'd better go."

  "Nora." he said, his voice tight with strain. "Don't send me away now. Not after-"

  Footsteps sounded in the hall. She heard Hannah's and Elizabeth's voices. Great. Just what she needed.

  "Nora?" Elizabeth called from the hall. "Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine." she said with a sigh. "Go back to bed."

  "What in tarnation is going on in there?" Hannah demanded and shoved the door open at the same time. She came to an abrupt stop when faced with the sight of Nora in her nightgown alone with a man. "What are you doing in Nora's room, Mister Richard?”

  "Oh heavens," Elizabeth moaned softly from just behind Hannah.

  "Don't faint." Nora glanced up and ordered. "There's no one to catch you.”

  Elizabeth shot her a quick, venomous look, then seemed to control her vaporous condition.

  "I'm afraid we've been caught, my dear," Richard said softly, his gaze never leaving Nora's.

  "Caught at what, is what I want to know." Hannah stepped further into the room and cr
ossed her arms over the bosom barely restrained by the worn linen wrapper tied over her nightgown.

  Nora kept her gaze locked with Richard's as she seriously began to reconsider hitting him with something a bit heavier than a book. "Nothing happened," she said firmly.

  "My dear," Richard countered. "We are alone together in your bedroom in the middle of the night. And there is the kiss to be considered, as well."

  "Kiss?" Hannah let her gaze slide to Nora.

  "One little kiss," Nora grumbled. "Nothing to get in an uproar over."

  "An assignation?" Elizabeth accused, apparently in case anyone had missed the implication. "Oh, Richard. How could you compromise dear Nora?"

  Hannah's brows drew together as she shot Nora a worried look.

  “Compromise?” another, deeper voice echoed.

  Nora stared past the housekeeper and wasn't surprised in the least to see Seth enter the room, stepping between Hannah and Elizabeth. What did surprise her was the quick flutter of pleasure that rose up inside her at the sound of his voice.

  Despite the situation, she found herself staring at Seth's bare, muscled chest. Her gaze followed the slight sprinkling of dark hair that wandered down his flesh to disappear beneath the waistband of his jeans. Desire whispered through her and she told herself she was in deep trouble to react so thoroughly to one man while kissing another didn't do a damn thing to her.

  "Saw the lights," Seth said. "Came to see what was going on." He glanced at Richard's tight features for a long moment, then looked at Nora, as if for an explanation.

  She shrugged off her fascination for his bare-chested glory and shook her head. "Nothing's going on now, Seth. I woke up, saw somebody sneaking into my room, and threw a book at him.”

  Nodding thoughtfully, Seth looked around on the floor, spied the book, and bent to pick it up. Glancing at Nora again, he asked, "Did you hit him?”

  "That's hardly the point," Richard snapped.

  "Yes," Nora said.

  Pursing his lips for a silent whistle, Seth hefted the book as if testing its weight, then tossed it onto the bed. "You're a dangerous woman, aren't you?" he whispered, then shifted his steely gaze to the man beside him. “But she's not nearly as dangerous as I am. What the hell were you doing sneaking into her room?"