This Time for Keeps

by Maureen Child

  "Don't listen to him," Richard told her. "You've been doing that for centuries and it's always cost you your life."

  “What?” Seth shouted in disbelief. He should have known. All along, there'd been something about the man that had bothered Seth. Apparently, that something had been bothering him for centuries. "It's you, Bonner. You who brought all the trouble down on us. You who could never understand that she loved me."

  "You bastard," Richard turned on him like a snake. "For centuries, I've lost her to you only to watch her die. Well, not this time. Do you hear me? Not again.”

  "Richard," Elizabeth grabbed for him. "What are you saying?”

  He ignored her and made a grab for Nora. She quickly sidestepped and Seth's temper soared.

  "I loved you," Richard said, his features darkening, seeming to shift in the firelight. "Through time, I've loved you."

  She shook her head and risked a glance at Seth. He was moving, coming closer. If they fought, she'd die. She just knew it. It had all happened before. It would happen again.

  "When he ran you down in the forest that night," Richard went on, his voice tight with strain, "I killed him and then held your broken body in my arms and wept for the loss of you.”

  There was a visual.

  "I didn't know you were on board his ship, my love," Richard told her. “If I had, I never would have fired."

  Well, that made her feel better.

  "Richard," Elizabeth's voice was frantic, wild. "Stop this. Stop it now!”

  "Boss?” Red sounded scared. Nora couldn't blame him.

  "Nora," Seth whispered urgently, "come to me. Move this way."

  She tried, but Richard cut her off.

  "No," he said, pleading now, “I have to make you see. Make you understand. It wasn't my fault. None of it was. That fight in steerage?” His words came faster, more desperately. "He should have been paying attention to you. I would have. But you weren't as important to him as you were to me. You never were."

  It wasn't true. None of what he was saying was true. Nora felt it in her soul. Through time, she and Seth had been destined for each other. It was Richard, in one guise or another, who had spoiled it for them all. Time after time.

  But would he do it this time as well?

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Seth preparing to rush the other man.

  "You're mine now," Richard said, his eyes wide, desperate.

  "No, she's not," Seth growled the words. "She never was.”

  "Nora," Richard said, and he actually sounded confused now, as though he couldn't understand why she wasn't leaping into his arms. "Nora, I love you."

  "NO!"

  The outraged scream was followed by a gunshot that stopped all of them in their tracks. As if in slow motion, all of them turned startled gazes on Elizabeth.

  She looked wild. All semblance of her usual quiet elegance was gone. Her features twisted into a mask of stunned grief, her bottom lip quivered even as tears rolled unheeded down her cheeks.

  Red must have set his rifle down at some point, because Elizabeth held it now in extremely unsteady hands. The cold black mouth of the barrel wavered as she pointed it first at Nora, then at Richard, and back again.

  Wouldn't you know it? Nora thought. Now she doesn't faint.

  “Elizabeth," Seth said and took a hesitant step toward her. "Put the gun down before someone gets hurt."

  She pointed it at him and Nora just kept herself from screaming, “Duck!”

  "You be quiet," Elizabeth said, struggling to keep the long barrel up and pointed. As her arms tired, the gun began dipping and swaying.

  “Elizabeth," Richard tried next.

  "No," she spat at him, aiming the barrel in his general direction. "You said you loved her," she whined piteously. "You're not supposed to love her. You're just supposed to marry her so we can have the money.”

  "Lizzie…" Richard said in a soothing tone.

  Lizzie? Nora shook her head.

  "You're supposed to love me," the blond woman told him furiously. "You can't love her."

  "Oh," Nora said, her lip curling in disgust, "this is getting a little too weird, even for me."

  "Shut up!" Elizabeth screeched, then made a wild half turn and brought the gun to bear on Nora. “This is your fault!"

  "Naturally," she commented, keeping one wary eye on the black, empty hole of the barrel as it waved at her in the darkness. Absently, she started making up the list of complaints she would soon be firing at the Resettlement Committee. In person. She didn't have a single doubt that good ol' Lizzie was about to blow her away.

  "He's my husband," Elizabeth yelled. "You can't have him."

  "I don't want him," Nora shot back, then paused and asked, "Husband?"

  It was all the distraction Seth needed. He threw himself at Elizabeth, knocking the gun barrel down into the ground. Her finger jerked on the trigger and the ensuing explosion of sound echoed for what seemed forever.

  The woman lay in a miserable heap, curled into herself and crying hard enough to win even Nora's sympathies. Seth picked up the gun and stepped back as Richard, with a last, lingering look at Nora, went to his wife.

  "Well how d'ya like that?" Hannah asked no one in particular.

  "Dangdest thing ever," Red said.

  Seth walked to Nora's side, draped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. Together, they stood looking down at the man who had cheated them of love for centuries.

  #

  It was a quiet wedding. Just a handful of guests in the tiny church in Red Deer. Richard and Elizabeth were on their way to Helena, where they would catch a train that would take them back east.

  Richard, whining incessantly that he'd no idea what came over him, had spent the twenty-four hours before their departure abjectly begging his wife's forgiveness. Nora had visions of trunkloads of new gowns heading Elizabeth's way.

  Nora had decided not to try to press charges. After all, they weren't murderers or anything. It was enough for her to know that this time, Richard hadn't succeeded in his attempt to keep them apart.

  This time, there really would be a happily ever after.

  “Do you have the ring?” the preacher asked.

  "Rings, Reverend," Nora corrected quietly and lifted the gold chain from around her neck. Smiling down at the ring the Committee had given her so long ago, she carefully took it from its chain and slid it onto Seth's hand. As she had suspected. A perfect fit.

  Shifting her gaze to meet his, she grinned at him as he examined his brand new wedding ring. But her smile slowly dissolved as he took her left hand in his and eased a matching ring onto her finger.

  Stunned, Nora looked down at the golden leaves etched into the ring. Identical to the one the Committee had given her, only it fit her as if it had been made especially for her. Eyes wide, she looked up at her new husband. "I don't understand. Where'd you get it?"

  Seth smiled. "Mike Dunn's. It was just sittin' there in his little ring tray like it had been waitin' for me to show up and claim it."

  Amazing. Nora lifted her hand slightly to let the sunshine sparkle off the burnished gold.

  "I now pronounce you man and wife," the reverend announced. "Son, you can kiss your bride."

  "Thanks, Reverend," Seth told the man. "I plan to. Often.”

  Red laughed from the front pew and Hannah sniffed into her hanky.

  Nora gazed up into the pale blue eyes that had followed her through time. Seth took her left hand in his, brought it to his lips, and kissed the gold band he'd just given her.

  "This time we made it, cowboy," she said, leaning toward him.

  "This time for keeps," Seth told her just before his lips claimed hers.

  #

  In the middle of the night, an insistent voice woke Nora from a sound sleep. She shifted slightly, reluctantly easing away from her husband's side.

  "Miss Hill," the voice demanded.

  "That's Mrs. Murdoch to you," Nora thought, her mind instantly filling
with the images of Tom, Dick, and Harry.

  Harry smiled benevolently, but it was Tom doing the talking.

  "This will be your final communication with us," he said.

  "That's the best news I've had all week," she muttered.

  “Then I take it you are satisfied with your new life?” Tom asked stiffly.

  "Yeah," Nora said and hid a smile, remembering just how she and Seth had celebrated the wedding of the century. Oh, yeah, she was satisfied.

  "Excuse me for interrupting, Mrs. Murdoch," Tom cut into her thoughts. "If we could just finish…"

  “Sure," she thought. "But you know there is one thing."

  He sighed, she was sure of it. "What would that be?"

  "It was plenty sneaky of you guys to plant Richard here too and not warn me about it.”

  "Now, Nora," Harry intoned. "In order to find your way to happiness, you also had to resolve your problems with Richard.”

  "Hmm… I suppose so."

  "And everything worked out splendidly, didn't it?"

  “True,” she thought with another satisfied smile.

  "Then we're finished here?” Tom asked.

  "You did lie about love, you know," she told him, just as a matter of principle. "You promised I wouldn't be bothered with it this time around." Not that she minded, but it was fun to call Tom on it.

  "Yes," he said. "We did. Would you like us to change that for you? I'm sure we could arrange to remove the love if it's inconvenient."

  “No, no," she said hurriedly, not really sure if he was kidding or not. "I'm happy."

  "Thank Heaven," he said huffily.

  "But," she added, "do I still get those seventy years?"

  "Yes, my dear," Harry put in. "Certainly."

  "How about Seth?" she asked, turning to look at the sleeping man beside her. If he wasn't going to be around for those full seventy years, she'd rather just go when he did, if the trio could arrange that. "How long does he have?"

  It was Harry who answered. “The same. One morning, years from now, neither of you will wake up."

  She smiled, relieved. Then something else occurred to her.

  “Could you tell me exactly when that's going to be so I could dress appropriately?"

  The connection was severed immediately. A low, humming dial tone filled her mind.

  Grinning to herself, Nora cuddled in close to Seth and sighed as his arm closed around her, holding her tightly to his chest. No problem, she thought. At about the age of ninety, she'd simply start wearing red silk jammies to bed.

  Seth would like that, anyway.

  EPILOGUE

  18 YEARS LATER, RED DEER, MONTANA, 1893

  "Here she comes again!" Texas Jack shouted and made a flying, if inelegant leap at the boardwalk, landing with a solid thump.

  "It ain't right, I tell you." Birdie Johnson's voice was as sharp as her nose was long. "Somebody should do something."

  “Ah," Mike Dunn sighed and leaned forward in his chair to get a better view of the spectacle. "Leave off, Birdie. She's not doin' any harm."

  "No harm?" Birdie countered, waving one arm at the horses tethered to the hitching posts. At least six of the huge beasts were tugging fruitlessly at their reins looped around the wooden rail. The animals shifted sideways and back as if trying desperately to escape. "She's frightening these poor horses half to death."

  “Scaring animals ain't a crime," someone else observed and Birdie fixed the man with a nasty glare.

  Mike Dunn ignored the nosy old cat. Ever since she moved to Red Deer five years ago, she had made it her life's work to comment on everything Nora Wilding Murdoch did. Not that Nora cared a whit, of course. But Birdie could get downright tiresome for everybody else.

  A lone cowboy strode out of the store, stepped off the boardwalk into the sunshine, and pulled his horse's reins free of the rail. Immediately, the animal snorted and sidestepped, leaving the cowboy hopping up and down on his right foot while his left was stuck in the stirrup.

  "Look out there," someone shouted from down the street.

  Mike grinned and turned toward the god-awful sound and clatter approaching. Clouds of dust rose up at the end of the street. A screech of metal on metal tore through the air of laziness hovering over the town.

  "I still say it's a disgrace," Birdie sniffed again. "Her husband should take her in hand!”

  Mike guffawed and slapped his knee. "Hell, Birdie," he crowed, "Who do ya think's drivin'?"

  A strange little contraption appeared, weaving drunkenly from side to side across the main street. It surged past the store, ending conversation as everyone watched, fascinated.

  Seth Murdoch, gripping the steering wheel with one hand, waved his hat in the air with the other like he was riding a bull in a rodeo. Laughing delightedly, her short, curly hair twisting in the wind, Nora sat beside him with three of their six kids hanging like grinning monkeys onto the sides of the Murdoch's new motorcar.

  Proud as a peacock, Nora told anyone who would listen that it was Henry Ford's very first automobile and that it would soon put horses out of business.

  As the noisy machine sputtered its way out of town, Mike shook his head and leaned back in his chair. Their Nora was a caution, he allowed. Even had her a newfangled tellyphone. Said she was gonna build the ground floor of something called AT&T, whatever that was.

  He sighed and shook his head, looking around the town as it settled back into laziness. Now, as much as he liked Nora and enjoyed all of her wild stories about tellyvision and airoplanes and whatnot, a man just had to draw the line somewhere.

  Put horses out of business? Silly woman.

  AUTHOR'S NOTE

  In 1893, after six long, hard years of research and development, Henry Ford did build his very first working car.

  Why Mr. Ford decided to sell that car to Nora Wilding Murdoch is beyond me. All I can say is that she no doubt arrived on his doorstep, checkbook in hand, and made him an offer he couldn't refuse.

  If you loved This Time for Keeps, enjoy this sneak peek from A Soul Collector…

  Prologue

  NEVADA, JUNE 1875

  "It's a miracle!" The young mother pushed her way past the dumbfounded doctor, still standing over her infant son's crib.

  The baby, deadly silent a moment before, wailed again and his mother laughed her delight. Bending down, she scooped him up into her arms and held him close. He continued to scream and she treasured each shriek, blessed each hiccoughing breath he drew. She grinned when he kicked his plump little legs furiously against her rib cage. Turning to face her husband and the doctor, she said it again, more firmly this time. "It's a miracle, I tell you."

  "Doc?" Her husband moved hesitantly across the floor to gingerly cup the back of his son's head in the palm of his large, calloused palm. "What happened?"

  The doctor winced as his patient screeched again, then the old man's face split into a wondering smile. "If I had to hazard a guess," he said, "I believe I'd have to side with your wife. It's a miracle."

  "I don't understand," the young father whispered and looked into his wife's teary, triumphant eyes.

  "Me neither, boy," the doctor said and began to pack up his medical bag. "That baby was as near death as any I've seen. In fact, I would have bet money I don't even have that the child had actually stopped breathing." He shook his head and shrugged. According to everything I've learned over the last sixty or so years, that boy ought to be dead."

  The mother hugged her son even tighter as if afraid that the man's words would bring about a change in the tiny, warm body wriggling against her.

  "Then how…"

  The doctor interrupted the young father's anxious question with a simple statement. "I've lived long enough to know not to question some things." He removed his glasses and looked at the couple in front of him. "And you two shouldn't either. You've suffered enough."

  She paled slightly at the mention of the two children they'd already lost, now lying beneath tiny white crosses in the tow
n cemetery.

  The tired doctor noticed her reaction, reached out and patted her hand. "Enjoy this gift you've been granted. Don't ask questions none of us can answer."

  She nodded and leaned into her husband's broad chest, their son cradled between them. The man wrapped his brawny arms around the two most important people in his life, and promised never to ask the Lord for another thing.

  #

  "I could explain it for them." Another voice spoke up, but none of the mortals in the room could hear him.

  "Blast it!" Zacariah jumped, startled, and spun around to glare at the newcomer.

  A tall figure stepped from the shadows in a corner of the room. Clothed in soft, shimmering gray the same color the sky took on just before dawn, the being frowned at his friend and asked, "You did it again, didn’t you, Zacariah?"

  "God’s Blood, Mordecai. Must you sneak up on me like that?"

  "I didn’t sneak. You weren’t paying attention. Just as you neglected to pay attention to your collection."

  Zacariah scowled at him and shoved one hand through his thick, black hair. "I don't need a sermon. As for paying attention… I’m here, aren't I?"

  "Late."

  "Only a few moments."

  "You were already warned about this. When you’re sent to collect someone, you're supposed to collect them."

  "I was detained," he protested. "By the Path, am I allowed no recreation?"

  "Recreation?" his friend echoed solemnly. "Exactly where were you?"

  "Hmmm…" Zacariah shifted his gaze away, only to find himself staring at the happy little family. He frowned slightly and shuddered.

  "You were in England again, weren't you? I simply don't understand the fascination you have for Parliament."

  "For your information, I was not attending a session of Parliament," Zacariah said. "In fact, I was here. In this Path-forsaken town at my appointed time."

  Mordecai took a step closer. "If that's true, why weren't you here to collect the child?"

  "There was a minor delay." He frowned again and straightened the fall of his robe.

  "And did your horse win?"

  Zacariah flinched and glanced at his oldest friend. Rubbing his jaw with one hand, he replied stiffly, "What makes you assume that I was attending a horse race?"