by Danni Roan
Barb ran a hand over the lump on her head. It was utterly impossible that she was here, with a cowboy who looked like he’d walked off the pages of one of her favorite novels. He was lean and rugged and looked like the tintypes of the cowboys of yesteryear that hung on the walls of her favorite restaurant.
“I bumped my head,” she mused. “I bumped my head,” she said again tapping her lips with her finger. A light bulb sprang to life in her head and she smiled. “I got kicked in the head, and I’m in a coma. I’m dreaming this whole thing.” She was sure of it. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that she had fallen into a coma and was living out her dreams as she slept.
Chapter 2
“Fella’s I don’t want you to spook her now so I’m tellin’ you up front. There’s a little filly, by the name of Miss Cooper, over at the camp that plumb come out of nowhere.”
“Chance is the sun gettin’ to you?” Russ asked rubbing his dark beard. “What are you talkin’ about?”
“A girl, well a woman,” Chance said. “I was on the lead of the herd as we turned them toward the corrals, and all of a sudden up out of the dust there was a woman.”
Dave looked at Russ raising his hand in a drinking motion.
“No I haven’t been drinking either,” Chance growled. “There’s a woman, pretty as you please back at camp, and she seems all confused and mixed up. She’s wearin’ britches.”
Dave looked at Chance, squinting his blue eyes at the younger man. “I don’t care who’s in camp or what she’s doin’ there,” he grumbled. “I ain’t lookin’ after no she-male of the female persuasion.”
“No one asked you to,” Chance said. “I’m just telling you, so you won’t be surprised when you get there.”
“You reckon she can cook?” Russ asked pragmatically.
“I don’t know,” Chance said throwing his hands in the air. “I saved her is all. She’s called Miss Cooper, and I had to do something otherwise she would have been a smear on the prairie.”
Dave nodded. “I reckon you didn’t have no choice boy, but you found her so you’re keepin’ her.”
“What?” Chance said. “I can’t just keep her. I’m sure her kin will be looking for her.”
“Chance we can’t afford to lose you on this here run,” Russ said smoothing his mustache along his chin. “We already have an order for these horses, and that Tatum fella’ is coming out to see them soon.”
“I know, but what was I supposed to do?” Chance said. In his mind’s eye he could clearly see the pretty woman standing in the path of the racing horses and the sight made him shiver.
“Let her stay and cook a few days,” Dave said. “Then you can fetch her over to the parson down the way if no one comes for her by then.”
Russ nodded as Chance studied his partners. “I guess that makes sense. It’d take days to get her to a real town, but if her family is looking for her then it’s best she stays put.”
“That’s right,” Dave agreed. “No point ruinin’ our chances because some city woman went and got herself tossed off a horse.”
Chance wasn’t sure if he would have put it that way, but he did agree that he couldn’t afford to do anything more for Miss Barbara Cooper at the moment.
“Alright,” he agreed, “but you two mind your manners around her.”
Old Dave chuckled. “Sounds like you’re sweet on the gal,” he said cackling loudly as he turned back to counting the horses that milled in the wide boxed canyon.
***
Barbara didn’t know what to do with herself after the cowboy left, so she made a loop around the camp examining everything.
It was an odd sort of camp with a simple fire ring and cast iron tripod holding a heavy black pot. Instead of a jeep or pickup truck like she had expected, a small high-sided wagon sat in the shade of a rock wall and a rope corral full of horses stretched around the arch of the canyon wall.
“It looks like an old western,” Barbara chuckled. “These men must be crazy.” She made her way to the back of the wagon opening the tail gate and gazing in at the drawers and storage areas.
A hand action coffee grinder was attached to the deck, and she gave the handle a turn peeking into the little wooden drawer to see if there was actually coffee there, but only a few dregs shook out.
Opening the drawers of the wagon she found a sack of coffee and dropped some beans in the grinder then smiled as the crisp edge of a newspaper fluttered from another drawer.
Pulling the paper out as she turned the grinder she opened to the front page and froze. The date read October 20, 1889.
Carefully replacing the paper she ran a hand over the bump on her noggin once more. Perhaps Dr. Lachele really had sent her into a book. “That’s silly,” she said the sound of her own voice heartening. “It’s all just a dream, that’s all. Just a dream.” She giggled nervously determined to enjoy the whole thing, after all it was her imagination she was living in and only time would tell the outcome.
Doing her best Penelope Peabody act she carefully filled the battered coffee pot with water, dumped in the fresh grounds and dug for buried embers in the pit. Soon she had a little fire going and the coffee brewing. A good old fashioned cup of Joe would taste great. Besides it would be a way to pay back her host, the man who had rescued her. On top of that, the whole thing was simply a coma-induced dream, so she could do what she liked.
The sound of a horse coming back to camp made Barb look up from where she had been sitting on a convenient rock sipping coffee. She would have loved a bit of cream, but mostly she was just happy for the hit of caffeine.
“You made coffee,” Chance said startled that the strange woman had managed to get the fire started.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Barbara said “I’m used to camp trips, and I really needed this,” she finished lifting the cup.
Chance swung down off of Pan’s back. The big gelding was tired, and he quickly stripped the animal’s tack and turned him into the rope corral where the horse promptly had a good roll.
“You like horses?” Chance asked stepping up to the fire and pouring a cup of coffee. It wasn’t as strong as he was used to, but it tasted good after a long and difficult day.
“I love horses,” Barb replied. “I work with them every day.”
Chance ran a hand around the back of his neck. “I talked to my partners,” he said hesitating to make sure the woman was looking at him. “They don’t think we can make the time to take you to town, but if you can wait a few days, I’ll take you down to one of the mission towns and you can hitch a ride to the city from there.”
“Chance,” Barbara said a smile playing around her lips. “I’m afraid it won’t matter if I get back to the city or not.” She looked up pinning him with her bright eyes.
Chance walked over to Miss Cooper propping a boot on the edge of the rock where she sat and looking down at her seriously. “I don’t understand.”
Barb smiled up at the man. He was good looking in an old fashioned way, the stubble on his jaw accenting his chiseled features while his bright eyes were clear and intelligent.
“I’m not from here,” she said her voice dropping to a whisper.
“You said you were from the city,” Chance said a scowl marring his forehead.
“I am. I’m actually from New York but it’s not the place you know. I’m from the future,” she finished leaning forward, a bright twinkle in her eye.
Chance swallowed hard wondering if the woman before him in the odd clothing had suffered more than a simple bump to the head.
Barbara giggled. “You don’t believe me do you?” she asked.
Chance shook his head. “I think I need to get you to a doctor soon,” he hedged. “That bump on the head was far more serious than it looks.”
Barbara sat her cup on the rock and stood, looking the cowboy in the eye. “I’ll prove it.”
Chapter 3
Chance studied the young woman taking in her strange attire. She wore a long coat over tan
pants that clung to her shapely legs. The strange leggings were tucked into polished boots that came all the way over her calves. All together it was a smart and practical look, if rather immodest. Still if she were riding it would have been comfortable.
“When I was making coffee,” Barb said, “I found a newspaper. It took a while before I could get my head around it but the date read 1889.” She looked up her pale eyes meeting his. “I’m from 2019.”
Chance rubbed the stubble on his chin wondering if the woman was dangerous to anyone but herself.
Barbara smiled. “I know you don’t believe me, but it doesn’t matter,” she waved her hands as if disregarding his disbelief. “Look at this,” she said pulling something out of the pocket of her coat and making him jump.
“Take it,” Barb insisted. “It won’t hurt you.”
Chance reached out taking the slim, flat device in his hand. It was small and roughly rectangular appearing to be made of glass and some other material he wasn’t familiar with.
“It’s a phone,” Barb said.
“This ain’t no telephone lady,” the man said softly, while shaking his head. “I’ve seen a few in large towns and this don’t look like them. Phones are big wooden boxes that hang on the wall and you have to jiggle the little hook so’s someone knows you want to speak to a body.”
Barbara sighed. “That’s because this is what phones will look like in the future. Look,” she said taking the phone back and switching it on, turning the screen so that he could see it.
Chance stepped closer, his heart pounding as a little light sprang to life in the tiny box.
“I can call people or I can write a message to them anywhere I go.”
“Like sending a wire?” Chance asked looking up at her in wonder.
“Yes, just like that. You write the words then hit send,” she finished going through the actions as she wrote a message to Sally at work.
“What’s that mean?” Chance asked pointing at the little pop up that said no network.
“I’m not connected to anything,” Barb said, laughing slightly. “I won’t have a connection until at least the year 2000.”
Chance looked between the woman and the device in her hand. “What else can it do?”
Barbara opened up a book on her kindle app flipping through the pages. “That’s a book,” she said then switched to pictures of the various horses and clients she worked with at the therapy stable. “Those are pictures of the place I work.”
Chance felt the blood rush to his head, and he wondered if he was the one that had been thrown off his horse and bumped his noggin. “Am I really seeing this?” he asked mostly to himself.
Barb bit her lip. For a dream this one sure was fun. It must have been her conversation with Dr. Lachele the night before that had triggered this coma-induced getaway, but she intended to enjoy it right up to the minute she woke up.
“There’s nothing wrong with you Chance,” Barb said laying her hand on his arm. “I just need you to know. I have no problem staying here with you and your partners for a few days. I love camping under the stars and I can cook, at least a bit. Just tell me I can stay.”
Chance handed the ‘phone’ back to the woman who seemed entirely calm for someone who had arrived from the future. “I don’t think you should tell Dave or Russ,” he said. “Dave’s too old for these things and Russ will spend the rest of his life trying to figure out how it happened.”
“Alright,” Barb said. “But what do we do?”
Chance took his hat off and ran his damp bandana over his brow removing a single swatch of dust from his forehead. The day felt suddenly too warm.
“Just stick close to me, and we’ll figure something out. Right now I’ve got an order for one hundred mustangs broke to ride by the end of November.”
“I can help,” Barb said. “I’ve been working with horses most of my life. Ever since my uncle took me in to live on his ranch after my mom and dad died.”
Chance looked the woman up and down once more. “I don’t think the work we’ll be doing is right for a woman,” he said apologetically.
Barbara decided not to argue for the moment. Chance had a lot to process so she would try to make life easier for him and his partners. “I guess we’ll just take it a day at a time.”
The sound of horses making their way around the outcrop of rock made Barbara and Chance turn to see Dave and Russ ride into camp.
Barb watched as a white haired man, slim as a whip, stepped down from the back of a leggy buckskin gelding and began stripping his saddle from its back.
Beside him, a dark cowboy with a short beard and a handlebar mustache swung down from a hefty gray pulling the chinch and slipping the saddle from the horse’s back in one smooth motion.
Moments later both men made their way to the fire dumping their saddles and looking at Chance and Barbara.
“Miss Cooper, I’d like to introduce you to my partners Dave Oster, and Russ Hoke,” Chance said pointing to each man in turn.
“Pleased to meet ya Ma’am,” the dark cowboy said shucking his hat.
“Miss Cooper,” the older man said his blue eyes suspicious.
“Mr. Oster, Mr. Hoke,” Barb said imagining herself as the heroine in this story. “Please don’t be so formal,” she said indicating their hats.
Dave plunked his hat back on his head. “Looks like coffee,” he said stomping over to the fire and filling a cup.
Russ placed his hat back on his head and headed to the fire as well. It had been a long day in the saddle and coffee sounded good. He really didn’t care who made it.
“Whose turn is it to cook?” Dave grumbled over his mug, his blue eyes seeking out the woman in the strange clothing.
“I’ll take it tonight,” Chance volunteered.
“I’ll help,” Barb added with a grin. Would she really be making biscuits and beans over an open fire tonight? This was the best dream ever.
Chapter 4
“That was a fine dinner,” Chance said as he scraped his plate clean. “I didn’t know beans and biscuits could taste so good.”
Barbara grinned. All she had done was cook a bit of bacon into the already soaked beans. “I’m glad you liked it,” she said. “I was wondering if maybe I could walk over and see the mustangs after we wash up.” She turned imploring him with her eyes.
“We?” Chance raised a brow.
“Yes, we,” Barb insisted. “After all you volunteered for supper duty.” She grabbed the bean pot and scraped the last few beans onto her plate, then headed to the spring for water.
“I’ll let this all simmer over the fire a bit while we go see the horses,” she said finishing the leftovers and dropping the dishes into the pot.”
“Why didn’t I ever think of that?” Chance growled, watching as the grime soaked from the tin plates.
“Because you’re stuck in the past,” Barb giggled.
Chance shook his head, but didn’t reply as he offered her his arm for the short walk to the corrals.
Barb took the man’s proffered arm feeling the play of cord like muscles under his cotton shirt. Chance Evan was solid as a rock and felt so real under her hand. He was the kind of man she’d always longed to meet.
“Your partners are very quiet about me being here,” Barb said as they walked around the large rock that separated the camp from the entrance to the corral.
“They figure you’re already here, so there’s no point making a fuss.” Chance said looking over at her noting her bright eyes and lazy smile. “Besides if you cook for them, they’ll be happy to keep you.”
Barb laughed. “Are you saying you don’t like to cook?”
“More often than not we end up with burnt beans and doughy biscuits. No one cares to live on that.”
“Why did you decide to capture mustangs?” Barb asked changing the subject. If the other men were happy for her to cook she’d oblige, but what she really wanted was to understand this man. Mustangs had long been an elusive dream to her a
nd now here she was walking next to a real Mustanger.
Chance made his way to the rocks and shrubs that masked the high corral gate. A blind used to prevent the wild horses from spooking and running the other way. He could hear stomping and squealing on the other side of the gate as separate herds tried to make a space for themselves in the canyon.
“They don’t sound very happy,” Barb said.
“We brought another whole herd in today,” Chance said helping her up on a rock where she could look over the rails then climbed up next to her. “We’ve got at least three stud horses in that mix not counting young males, and it won’t be long until one tries to take over all the other mares.”
Barb looked out over the herd as a golden glow painted the prairie. The canyon was probably three or four acres in circumference and she could distinctly see three separate herds of horses each being held in their own quadrant by a wild stallion. Each herd had their own distinct family resemblances. One herd held in place by a stocky blue roan ran to grays, blacks and speckled roans.
On the other side a leggy bay paint trotted in front of a herd of mixed mares and young stock, all bays, paints, and chestnuts with a smattering of heavier stock probably stolen from some ranchers lot. The genetic imprint of the lead stallion’s impact on the herd was clear in the colors, confirmations, and character of his herd.
The last herd, on the far side of the large corral was led by a lean appaloosa and the solid colored mares were trailed by half grown foals with white blankets or black spots speckling their overlong coats.
“This is not going to end well is it?” Barb asked sadly.
“Mostly Mustangers shoot the studs,” Chance said. “I don’t like it, but if you turn them loose the land management will do it anyway, or they’ll just keep coming back trying to recapture their mares.”
Barb turned horrified eyes on the man. “That’s terrible. How could you do that to those noble creatures?”
Chance shrugged. He didn’t like the reality of the work, but he also didn’t plan on starving because of a few flea bitten nags that no one wanted anyway.
