Elizabeth thought she saw Miguel everywhere. Once at the mall, and again in a public library. She’d even followed one tall, dark-haired man on foot in Sundance Square in downtown Ft. Worth, only to be disappointed when he turned to look into a store window and his profile was different. She knew she was being foolish. She had no idea of how she’d time-traveled to 1849, or home again. What were the odds that Miguel would or could? Or that they’d find each other again? She’d be luckier wagering on the lottery.
How ironic she couldn’t tell her students she’d been where they read about. She had lived history. She gave herself a little shake as she turned into the old building in a quieter part of the yards. One of her students even looked like Raul.
She sighed. She’d cried enough tears to last a lifetime, and even now, she felt them welling up inside again. She wiped at her eyes before she went inside.
Sweet Mary. She missed him.
• ♥ •
“Are you all right, sir?” The gray-haired police officer gazed anxiously into Miguel’s face. “A tourist found you sitting on the ground here, leaning against the wall.”
“What?” Miguel felt light-headed, as though he’d been dancing the Reel at double speed. He looked up at the lawman. The man wore a badge and carried a gun, but it was unlike any Miguel had ever seen, the grip more squared, the barrel short. His clothes were unusual, too. “A what?” he asked again as he slowly stood up.
“A tourist. Are you sure you’re all right?”
Miguel had no idea of what a tourist was. He glanced at his surroundings. Ah. Cattle pens. He was familiar with those, even though these were paved in bricks. What looked like an auction area was to his right. Both were empty. No animal smells emanated from them. He frowned at the noise coming from a building behind him. It sounded like amateur musicians were trying to play guitars or fiddles, but they had a metallic sound, and someone was pounding drums far too loudly to help the poor attempt at music, if that’s what it was.
The officer laughed at his expression. “Someone’s left the door open to the saloon again.” He shook his head. “Young folks’ music takes some getting used to. It’s not exactly Willie Nelson anymore.”
“Who?” Miguel felt more and more disoriented. Some other noise was bothering him too: a steady rumbling that seemed to come from some trail that he couldn’t see.
“You’ve never heard of Willie Nelson?” The man asked incredulously. “You look like a cowboy; where are you from, anyway?”
Miguel started to say Texas and then thought better of it. Until he could figure out where he was, it was better not to offer too much information. He certainly didn’t want to be hauled off to a brig somewhere. “Mi familia es desde España.”
“Spain, huh? Are you here with a tour group?”
“No. Con mi esposa.” He needed to get himself away from this lawman so he could think. “I guess I’d better go look for her.”
The officer nodded and pointed. “If you’ll go by the Stockyards Museum and cross East Exchange, there’s a Visitor’s Center. They can help you find her.”
“Gracias. Eres muy amable,” Miguel said and turned to walk in that direction. He had just passed the large building with its cupola and was about to cross the street when he glanced to his right and stopped in his tracks. Another street crossed this one, and metal boxes on wheels were moving past the intersection at incredible speeds. People were inside them, but he could see no train tracks or how they were driven. There wasn’t a horse in sight. The constant noise he’d heard seemed to be coming from them. Where on God’s earth was he?
The street was crowded with people. And the women! He tried not to stare, but even at Lily’s, the girls didn’t walk around showing their entire legs in something that looked like cut-off denims. Some of these younger ones hardly had their breasts covered and their backs were bare, except for a thin string tied in a bow. The men with them didn’t seem to care. How could anyone not notice so much skin? Briefly, he wondered if they were all wearing underwear like Elizabeth’s.
Miguel became aware that maybe he had arrived in the century that Elizabeth had talked about. He wasn’t sure how he’d done it. The last thing he remembered was praying, and thinking he’d seen another vision of the red-haired Indian maid. She had held out her hands to him and nodded and he remembered a blinding white light.
He still had his saddlebag slung over his shoulder and he opened it now. His money was all there, but he must have dropped the dream catcher somewhere. He knew he’d been holding it when he had the vision. He wondered if he’d blacked out.
Miguel began to smile. If this were Elizabeth’s century, that meant she must be here. He’d just ask those people at the Visitor’s Center to find her. Easy enough. He straightened his hat, crossed the street and opened the door.
The room was lit oddly with little squares in the ceiling. People milled around, some of them with pamphlets in their hands; others held small boxes to their ears that they talked into. Very strange, yet no one seemed to take notice that these people were all talking to themselves.
Someone official-looking stood behind a counter and Miguel made his way to the young man. “I’d like to find Elizabeth O’Malley, please.”
“Is she visiting the Stockyards, sir?”
“I don’t know. She lives here.”
The clerk raised an eyebrow. “No one lives at the Stockyards. Do you mean she lives in Ft. Worth?”
Fort Worth—is that where he was? “Well—I think—Is there some place called Arlington?”
The young man gave him a wary look and Miguel wondered what he’d said. Maybe he should switch to Spanish again. This boy was blond, though, and probably didn’t understand a word of it. “No soy desde aqui, lo siento.”
A pretty Hispanic girl joined the clerk. “He’s not from here, Harrison.” She smiled at Miguel. “¿De donde son?”
He smiled back. This might work, if only they thought he was foreign, and not loco. He needed to find Elizabeth. “España. I am looking for an amiga.” He’d almost said wife. “She lives in Arlington.”
The girl pulled a huge book out from under the counter and turned it to him. “You can look in the phone directory and see if she’s listed.”
He had no idea what a phone directory was, but obviously she expected him to look for Elizabeth’s name. He thumbed through the “O’s”. Yes, there it was! “Here!” he pointed it out. “That’s her.”
“If you don’t have a cell,” the girl said as he stood there waiting, “you can use our phone.” She turned a square object on the desk toward him, separated the top part which seemed to be attached by some kind of cord and handed it to him. He took it gingerly and looked at it. He jumped slightly when an identical box next to it started ringing loudly.
“Excuse me,” she said and lifted the top half of the other box. She spoke into it. “Visitor’s Center. How may I help you?” Miguel listened in fascination. She appeared to be answering questions, but he could hear no one else speaking. What sort of things were in these boxes? Were the other people who had them on their ears answering questions?
She put the box together again and looked at him. “Go ahead, dial the number.”
Dial? He glanced around and noticed some people were holding their boxes in their hands and punching them with their fingers. He looked back at the one in front of him. It had little pads with raised numbers. Somewhat apprehensively, he tapped out the numbers from the phone book, not sure what would happen. The girl had put the top half to her ear to talk, so he did too.
He heard a ringing on the other end. Then a voice startled him. “The number you have dialed is out of service or has been disconnected. Please check your number or try your call again.” Click. Silence. It wasn’t Elizabeth’s voice.
He handed the instrument back to the girl and told her what he’d heard. She shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said, “your friend must have moved.”
“How can I find her, then?”
“I don’t know. You might go to Arlington. It’s only a few miles from here.”
He brightened. “Is there some place I could buy a horse?”
“A horse?” she asked and behind her, the blond boy stifled a laugh. Miguel was not amused. If he’d had Diablo, he wouldn’t even be here now.
“Yes. A horse.”
“You might try the Superior Livestock Auction across the street,” she said, “but they don’t have live animals.”
He stared at her. What on earth would he want a dead horse for? But he wasn’t making any headway here; he might as well wander around and see if he could find a horseman. He’d seen plenty of men walking around in denims and boots. Maybe one of them might help him. He thanked the girl and headed back the way he’d come. Dead horses. Elizabeth’s world certainly was strange.
• ♥ •
Elizabeth huddled in front of a television monitor in the corner, her back to the door, watching a video auction. This was the high-tech way to purchase breeding stock. Via satellite the auctioneer would start his pitch, and ranchers across America could turn on the televisions and see which animals were on sale. If they were interested, they called in their bids to the operators manning the phone lines.
She knew this was economical; cattle didn’t have to be delivered to market, they stayed fattened, their muscles remained tender. Still, the romantic in her yearned for the cattle drives, especially since she had been on one. The chuck wagon, the cowboys singing low tunes to quiet the cattle as they rode, the harmonicas and campfires at night, sleeping under the stars—the modern world had lost so much.
“How do you get animals in that machinery?” she heard a male voice ask. “And how do they have room to move around?”
The man sounded like Miguel. Maybe she really was slipping from sanity. Not only did she think she saw him everywhere; now she was hearing him too.
“What are you talking about?” one of the telephone operators asked. “Those animals are on tape.”
“Tape?”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and bit her lip. In a minute she would turn around and see that this man was not Miguel. Just like the others. But for a few seconds, she could fantasize. She listened as he continued.
“Well, I want to buy a horse. A live one.”
“I don’t know that we’re offering any horses for sale,” the woman replied. “This is a cattle auction.”
“Where are the cattle?”
She sounded exasperated. “On tape, sir. You’re looking at them. Check with the auctioneer and see if there is a horse listed.”
He pitched his voice lower, much like Miguel did when he’d had about enough. “I don’t want a picture of a horse. I need one I can ride to Arlington.”
This time there was no mistaking the sarcasm in her voice. “Wouldn’t it be better if you’d rent a car and drive there?”
His voice dropped lower, and Elizabeth strained to hear, hugging her knees and keeping her eyes closed. For this blissful moment, it was as though he were here.
“Are you going to sell me a horse or not? I have gold.”
“Gold? You want the currency exchange then, sir. It’s down—“ Before she could finish, he thundered at her.
“¿Tu eres loco? Quiero un caballo. Ahora. I have to find my wife!”
Elizabeth stifled a sob. Now, she was really becoming delusional, thinking this man was trying to find her. She was putting words into her head that he wasn’t saying.
“Señor. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Elizabeth heard boots stomping toward the door and she turned, needing to see the man who sounded so much like Miguel, but the door had already shut. The hallucination was gone.
And then she caught a familiar scent. Soap and leather and Miguel. All of her senses couldn’t be deceiving her, could they? Sweet Mary. She rushed to the door, stubbing her toe in her haste to get through it.
The street bustled with people. Frantically, she looked above their heads, hoping to spot a tall, dark-haired man. There! She started running only to have the man stop and hold out his hand to a small child. He turned, and she saw it wasn’t Miguel. She searched up and down Exchange Street, thinking where he may have gone. She even checked the bars although she hardly expected to find Miguel there.
Dejected, she went back to the auction and picked up the notebook she had dropped on her way out. She decided to avoid the crowds on Main Street and cut through the cattle pens area toward Stockyard Boulevard and 26th street.
That’s when she saw him. He had his back to her, arms folded across the top of one of the fences, one boot on the bottom rail, staring into space.
“Miguel?” Did she dare to hope it was him?
His head snapped up. Slowly, he turned and looked at her as though not believing what he saw. “Elizabeth?”
She thought she screamed, but she wasn’t sure. He reached her side in four strides, and then, she was in his arms, his hands caressing her back and pulling her tight against him as his mouth covered hers in a deep and hungry kiss.
When he finally broke the kiss, it was only to stroke her hair and face before holding her close again. Elizabeth laughed and reached behind her for his hands as a crowd began gathering.
“I don’t know how it happened and I don’t care. You’re here. Let’s go home.”
They stopped on the sidewalk of Main Street and Miguel stared in fascination at the traffic. “What are those?”
“Cars. It’s what we use instead of horses,” Elizabeth said as the light turned green. “Come on.”
He balked. “I’m not walking in front of them.”
“It’s okay,” Elizabeth tried to soothe him. “They’ve stopped for us.” She took his arm and tugged. “We have to cross before the light turns red.”
“Why?”
“Because they’ll all start moving again. Trust me.”
He gave her a desperate look, but she finally got him safely to the other side of the street. When they reached her car, she unlocked it and opened the door. “Slide in.”
“You expect me to sit in that?”
“You have to,” Elizabeth said. “It’s how we’re getting home.”
“Can’t I buy a horse?”
She laughed. “I know you won’t believe me, but under that hood, there’s the power of three hundred horses.”
His look was incredulous. He tapped the metal with his fingertips. “Impossible. There isn’t even one horse in there.”
She sighed. That probably hadn’t been the wisest thing to say, considering how he’d fumed about cows on the television monitor. “Never mind. I’ll explain later. Right now, I need you to get in the car.”
Dubiously, he eased himself in. She went around to the other side and slid behind the wheel. She leaned over and tugged on his seatbelt. He grinned as her hand brushed against his groin.
“At least that’s something I understand,” he said and reached for her.
“Not here,” Elizabeth said and yet lingered over his kiss. She finally pulled back and started the car.
Miguel gripped the door handle. “What are you doing?”
“Relax, sweetheart,” Elizabeth answered as she eased out into traffic. “This is called driving. You’ll get used to it.”
Miguel closed his eyes. Elizabeth suspected he might be praying. By the time she reached Interstate 30, he had opened his eyes. Then they widened in alarm.
“Watch out! It’s a runaway train!”
She dared not laugh. “That’s an eighteen-wheeler,” she said. “They carry all sorts of things, like wagons did in your time.”
Miguel closed his eyes again. Elizabeth sympathized. To him this century must seem terrifying; at least, she knew what history held in store when she went back in time. She tried to think how she would feel if she were catapulted into the twenty-third century. She’d be equally anxious and alarmed. If she could just get him home where there would be peace and quiet. He needed some time for things to sink in.
Finally, after w
hat seemed like an eon, she pulled into the apartment complex and parked. Miguel sprang out of the car quickly and looked at the ground. She wondered if he were going to stoop down and kiss it. He really did look that grateful to have arrived in one piece.
Elizabeth opened the door to her apartment. “This is it,” she said and snapped on the light switch.
Miguel looked from the switch to the lit lamp and back again. “I’m not going to ask,” he said. He proceeded through the living room and poked his head into the kitchen. “Some of this looks familiar. Sink. Is this a stove? And icebox, no?” He frowned when he opened it. “How does it stay cold? There’s no ice block.”
“Electricity,” Elizabeth said. “It’s something I’ll explain later. Let me show you another room.” She took his hand and led him to the bedroom. “Recognize this?”
Miguel grinned, and she could see him visibly relax.
“Your world is very confusing,” he said, “but I think I know what to do in here.” He wrapped his arms around her and brought her against him. Elizabeth felt his erection harden even as his tongue plunged deeply into her mouth. Eagerly, she sucked on it and then plied him with her own, her senses arousing to a searing pitch.
She was on the bed and naked without being aware that he’d undressed her. His hands kneaded her breasts while his lips moved adeptly from one hardened nipple to the other, lapping gently and then suckling hard, afterward blowing cool air on the hot, deliciously tender swollen tips. He moved downward, his tongue blazing a trail of heat to where her core throbbed and vibrated with its own ache. Elizabeth groaned.
Catch a Dream Page 25
