A Time For Love: (A Time Travel Romance) (Dodge City Brides Book 3)

by Julianne MacLean

  “How’s that?” she asked, raising her hands.

  “Fine,” he answered.

  “Fine?” she replied, feeling a bit testy from the after-effects of the moonshine. “That’s all you have to say to me? Can we at least please mention the elephant in the room?”

  He faced her and frowned in confusion. “What elephant?”

  She shook her head in disbelief. “We had sex last night. Seriously dirty sex. Want me to describe it to you?”

  The room went suddenly quiet.

  “No. I remember. Now, come on.” He scooped up her bag and led her out of the room, along the railing toward the stairs.

  Jessica followed him down to the front door and stopped there.

  “Don’t say a word to anyone,” he said. “Just get in the wagon out front. The driver will take you to a safe place.”

  She placed her hand on his forearm. “Are we okay? This feels weird, and I don’t want to leave here if we need to talk about stuff.”

  He looked at her strangely. “If I’m going to protect you, I need to keep my mind on my job, not the dirty sex. And I certainly don’t want to talk about it. Now off you go.”

  He handed her the bag and shuffled her through the swinging doors into the blinding morning sunlight. Stopping on the boardwalk, she squinted and shaded her eyes, feeling more turned on than she’d ever felt in her life.

  A wagon was parked out front. She walked around the back of it, climbed up and sat down. The driver slapped the reins and whistled, the mules began to walk, and the bumpy ride began.

  “Angus?” she whispered. “Is that you?”

  “Just look straight ahead,” he replied, “until we’re out of town.”

  She did as she was told, lowering her chin so no one would see her face beneath the brim of her hat.

  Leaning back and folding her arms, she wondered where in all this expanse of flat windy prairie they were going to go, and how long it would take to get there.

  Outside of town, the golden prairie opened up and the blue sky spanned one horizon to the other. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Why was Truman in such a hurry to get me out of there?”

  Angus glanced over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed. “Lou’s gang’s been asking questions about you. They were searching everywhere last night, and Truman said it was only a matter of time before they got to the whorehouse.”

  “So where are we going?”

  “Truman heard from the Russells that the gang searched their place last night.”

  “Who are the Russells?”

  “They own a claim out that way.” He pointed eastward. “Mr. Russell said the gang searched everywhere—the house, the barn, even the outhouse. All the while, they kept him and his wife at gunpoint.”

  “That’s terrible. Was anyone hurt?”

  “No, but Mrs. Russell insisted they leave and visit relations in Caldwell, so I agreed to milk their cow and feed their chickens for them. The house will be empty for a while, but we’ll sleep in the barn. Truman figures, if the gang was there only last night, they won’t go back again tonight. They’ll be looking elsewhere.”

  “I hope he’s right about that.” A gust of wind blew across the prairie. Jessica placed a hand on top of her hat to keep it from flying off, while the mules shook their harnesses and plodded on.

  “I meant to tell you,” Angus said, “Wendy and I ate dinner together last night.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, and I’m growing quite fond of her.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Jessica replied, touching him affectionately on the shoulder. “Does she feel the same way about you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Jessica watched his profile as he slapped the reins again.

  “How does a man know?” he asked.

  “Does she blush when she sees you?”

  “A little, but it might just be shyness.”

  “Does she smile and giggle a lot?”

  “Wendy’s not much of a giggler.”

  “Have you kissed her?”

  “Heavens no.”

  Jessica removed her hat and held it on her lap. “Maybe you should.”

  “No, I couldn’t possibly. What if she didn’t want me to? It would be very embarrassing.”

  “Sometimes you have to take risks,” she told him, as she gazed across the prairie where meadowlarks sang and swooped low over the grass. “If you really want to love someone, you need to be able to share everything with them.”

  Last night, Truman had made love to her as if in a dream, and this morning, she had felt the raw ache of being torn away from him.

  Yet, he still knew so little about her.

  While she stared down the long road that stretched before them, she knew it was probably time to heed some of her own advice. She was going to have to tell Truman about her time traveling eventually.

  Maybe tonight would be the night.

  Chapter 18

  It was six o’clock in the evening by the time Truman returned to the jailhouse to check in before leaving for the Russell’s claim. He had spent the entire day searching for the gang while fighting an exhausting need for sleep, which he’d have to continue resisting, at least until he reached Jessica.

  He walked into the law office, where Deputy Dempsey was seated at the desk with his cheek on his hand, reading another dime novel.

  Truman removed his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. “Did you hear anything about the gang?”

  “No, Sheriff.” Dempsey quickly closed the book. “I asked all over town, though. Even went out to the Jones Ranch. They ain’t anywhere.”

  “They have to be somewhere.” Truman’s spurs jingled as he crossed the room and looked over a few new police court dockets on his desk. Seeing nothing unusual, he pressed his palms over his bloodshot eyes and rubbed. Then he blinked a few times.

  Dempsey looked up at him as if waiting for instructions.

  “You’ll need to stay here,” Truman said, heading for the door. “In case anybody comes forward with information about the gang. All of Dodge knows we’re looking for them. I’m sure somebody will see or hear something.”

  “You should get some sleep, Sheriff. You look like you were run over by a cattle drive.”

  “I’ll sleep later.”

  “Where are you going now?” Dempsey asked.

  “I’m gonna get a quick meal at the Dodge House, then head out to watch over Miss Delaney. I won’t tell you where, though. Best to keep that secret.”

  He opened the door and stepped out onto the front porch, feeling more impatient to reach Jessica than he could ever have anticipated.

  After Truman ate a quick supper at the Dodge House, he rode out of town toward the Russells’ claim, checking over his shoulder every so often to make sure he wasn’t being followed. The sun was low in the sky, and since riding into it was hard on his eyes, he kept his head low, shaded by the brim of his hat.

  He was halfway there when he saw an overturned wagon up ahead, and the blurry image of a man. Truman slowed Thunder to a trot and approached.

  The man was waving his arms over his head.

  Truman dismounted. “You all right? Is anyone hurt?”

  “Yes. My wife.” The man stood on the other side of the wagon, looking down.

  Truman walked around the wreckage to help the injured woman, but stopped dead when four Winchesters all cocked at once.

  Staring at the four surviving members of Lou’s gang and kicking himself for being so foolish as to let down his guard, Truman raised his hands in the air.

  “Keep yer hands over yer head, Wade,” Bart said, reaching into Truman’s holster and confiscating his gun. The gang slowly surrounded him, and the wind roared over the wagon, spinning its wheels.

  “Now, you’re go
nna tell us where you been hidin’ that little lady of yours. She has something that belongs to us.” Bart jabbed him in the ribs with the barrel of his rifle, while his forefinger flexed at the trigger.

  “If you wanna see the sun come up tomorrow,” Corey added, “you best tell us where she is.”

  Truman spit off to the side.

  “Where is she?” Bart demanded. “And if you don’t answer me soon, I swear on my mother’s grave, I’ll blow your brains out.”

  Truman glared at Bart, his ugly face not six inches away. “Sounds like things are going to get messy, then,” he replied, “because I ain’t telling you shit.”

  Bart’s eyes clouded over with rage. “You’re gonna be sorry you said that.” Then he swung his Winchester through the air and struck Truman sharply in the head.

  As time ticked by in the Russells’ hayloft, Jessica found it increasingly difficult to ignore the worries that were niggling at her.

  “It’s been dark for at least an hour,” she said to Angus. “He should be here by now.”

  “I’m sure everything’s fine.”

  The remainder of the evening dragged by slowly. Jessica passed the time reading under the lantern while Angus napped. Hours later, the flame flickered and the barn creaked in the wind like an old ship.

  Wondering what time it was and what had become of Truman, she rose to her feet and walked to the other side of the loft. She perked up for a moment when the dog barked. Maybe Truman was coming…

  Hearing only the incessant howl of the wind, she gave up on the notion.

  She returned to where Angus slept and tried not to wake him as she lifted the watch out of his pocket to check the time. Eleven thirty.

  Damn. Truman had said he would be there before dark. Something must have happened.

  Leaning forward on one knee, she shook Angus. He twitched, and then he awakened with a jolt.

  “Angus, wake up. It’s eleven thirty, and Truman’s not here yet.”

  Angus sat up. He rubbed his head and smoothed his thinning hair. “Maybe he’s at the house watching from there.”

  “I need you to go check.”

  “Of course. You stay here.”

  He made his way down the ladder.

  A few minutes later, the barn door squeaked open, and Jessica rose to her feet. “Did you find him?” she asked.

  Angus shook his head.

  Jessica pounded a fist against the post. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it. We have to go look for him.”

  Angus hesitated. “We can’t do that. I promised to keep you here. And what if he arrives, and we’re gone?”

  She considered it a moment. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll stay here while you head back into town. Find Dempsey, and tell him that Truman never arrived. Learn whatever you can.”

  “The sheriff’s probably locking that gang up right now,” Angus replied, as he gathered up his coat.

  An hour later, Jessica was just drifting off to sleep for the briefest of moments, when a bandanna was shoved into her mouth, and ropes snaked around her wrists and ankles. Flinging her arms about, thrashing on the blanket like a caged animal, she fought the waves of fury that slammed over her.

  Someone tied her wrists behind her back while another roped her ankles together. When she tried to scream, she inhaled the sour tasting, sweat-drenched essence of the soiled fabric that filled her mouth, and her enraged plea was reduced to a pitiful moan.

  “Your lawyer friend led us right to you,” Bart said, smiling diabolically at her. “He came rolling in off the east road, and there are only so many ranches in this direction.”

  One of the others laughed. “And they say lawyers are supposed to be smart.”

  “Get her up, boys.”

  Jessica grunted when Corey lifted her like a sack of grain and flung her over his shoulder. Her hair fell forward over her face.

  “How am I gonna get down from here?” Corey complained, standing at the edge of the loft.

  Jessica heard Bart’s deep, sardonic voice behind them and saw the glare of the lantern he held. It swung dangerously close to her face, and she shrank back defensively.

  “Throw her down, Corey,” Bart commanded. “Throw her into that haystack.”

  “What if I miss?”

  “You won’t miss.”

  “I’m not a very good thrower.”

  “Just do it, ya sissy.”

  He paused there, looking down.

  “Do it, Corey!”

  The third voice came from below, and the encouragement was all he needed. Jessica struggled and fought right up until the last second. Then Corey threw her over the side.

  She hit the hay, and the wind blew out of her lungs.

  Before she had a chance to suck in a breath, she was picked up and hurled over someone else’s shoulder, her head bobbing up and down as she was carried outside.

  She was thrown like an old blanket onto a horse, her hands still tied behind her back. Corey mounted behind her and held her firmly, so she wouldn’t fall off.

  As soon as they gained some distance from the Russells’ farm, Bart trotted up next to Jessica. Her position made it impossible to see his face, but she could hear him laughing.

  “Don’t fret, little Missy,” he said. “There ain’t no Junebugs where you’re goin’, so you won’t be tempted to shoot anyone by mistake.”

  “I highly doubt it,” she mumbled through the dirty bandanna, wishing she had a gun right now.

  Chapter 19

  Jessica lay on the damp dirt floor of a root cellar, struggling with the prickly bonds at her hands and feet. Her wrists burned under the coarse rope hair; the corners of her mouth stung against the bandanna’s gritty abrasion. A few times on horseback she had gagged, but that was only when she stretched her body and arched her back to see the sky. By finding the North Star, she had established that they were heading west across the prairie.

  She could only hope the information would prove useful.

  Directly above her, a kerosene lamp hung from a hook on a beam. She squinted into the light. Then she looked all around, considering a possible way out.

  The cellar foundation was constructed of stones. There were no windows. To the right, wooden barrels lined the wall. The steps were steep like a ladder, and she was grateful Corey hadn’t simply tossed her down like he’d done at the Russells’ barn.

  Closing her eyes, she searched her mind for a plan, but a brilliant escape strategy failed to materialize.

  Jessica strained to listen for anything that might give her some ideas. Above her, the lantern hissed and sputtered.

  And someone on the other side of the cellar was breathing.

  She struggled in a panic to comprehend the possibilities—perhaps this anonymous breather was one of the gang members guarding her. Or maybe it was the owner of the house, the poor soul. Or a huge, ferocious dog that hadn’t been fed in days....

  Eventually Jessica summoned her courage, and then she inched her way on her back across the dirt floor.

  The sound was coming from the other side of the cellar, behind the thick stone support wall in the center. She wiggled her way around the wall, where it was much darker. Slowly her eyes adjusted, and she focused on a man, but it was too dark to see his face. He was tied to a chair and slumped forward.

  Jessica nudged her shoulder against his leg. She tried to speak, but only grunts and gibberish broke through the gag. Bumping and prodding, she uttered words as best she could. “Wake up, wake up!”

  Suddenly, the man jerked wildly like a bucking stallion. It was a fit of anger, the likes of which Jessica had never seen. She flipped over and rolled across the floor to escape the unpredictable path of the thrashing chair.

  After a moment, he went still, seemingly spent of energy. Jessica lay there in fear, listening to the violent rush of
the blood in her veins.

  The man seemed unaware of Jessica’s presence on the floor not three feet from his boots. He began to tug against the ropes that bound him. Sitting up again, Jessica uttered a sound as best she could to let him know he wasn’t alone.

  There was a pause. Silence. Then, “Jessica?”

  She recognized the voice. It was Truman’s.

  Dizziness swarmed in her head as she rose up onto her knees and touched her forehead to his chin. He nudged her with his face, burying his nose into the crook of her neck. “Thank God you’re alive,” he whispered. “Did they hurt you?”

  “No.”

  The ropes at her wrists and ankles felt like shackles now. She tugged and pulled, ignoring the chafing pain.

  “Wait,” he said. “Try to get behind me and untie my hands.”

  She nodded and inched along the floor, so they were back-to-back. She then wiggled her cold fingers to find the ropes in the dark. She felt the leg of the chair, but she was too low to reach his hands.

  Jessica grunted as she pushed upward with all her might. She used Truman’s weight as leverage, balancing as best she could. The ropes around her ankles pulled tightly as she tried to stand.

  She fumbled as she untied the knots at his wrists. After a considerable struggle, she loosened them, and Truman pulled a hand free. He untied the rest of the knots, and then released her as well.

  They each untied their ankles, and Jessica rose to her feet. In one swift motion, she was in his arms. “I didn’t know what happened to you.”

  “I was on my way to you, and they caught me off guard. I was tired...I should’ve known better.”

  His mouth covered hers. He crushed her body to his and pulled her close. His lips were warm and moist as he kissed and caressed her, and she sighed with a pleasure that seemed impossible under these circumstances, but there it was. They were together. Nothing else mattered.

  He drew away and whispered faintly, “I was in hell today. It was all I could do to keep from following you after you left Rosie’s. Then when they ambushed me, I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”