“And this you must pay close attention to, and think strongly on, yankobcakin. You can never return. Once you are in a new place, I am unable to bring you back.”
“I don’t care. I have no life here without Anna.”
His grandmother’s shoulders slumped, and her eyes filled with tears. “My powers grow weak with the passing years. I will never see you again.”
Wes placed his hands on her shoulders, his voice low. “I will miss you and mIshomes very, very much. But this is something I must do.” He smoothed her hair back, tucking the loose strand behind her ear. “So far you haven’t said anything to stop me. Please, koyake'. I’m begging you.”
She studied him for a minute. “You are so much like your father. He loved Sings Like Angel with such fire, she was unable to resist. And neither were we able to stop her from accepting him. Know that your father was a wonderful man, and loved our daughter deeply, much like you love your Anna. We were always pleased with him, and with the son he and Sings Like Angel created with that love.”
Bowing her head, she chanted, thumping her chest lightly. Wes gazed at the top of her head, the ever-present scent of honeysuckle surrounding her. He indeed would miss her and mIshomes, but his love for Anna was so powerful, he’d do anything, make any sacrifice, to get her back.
Over numerous cups of his grandmother’s specially brewed tea, she related a brief summary of what he would see in the future, and exact instructions on where outside of Denton, Kansas he would find the oasis. When he balked that he knew the area well and never saw anything like that, she merely smiled and continued her narrative.
Shortly before midnight, anxious to be on his way, Wes was packed and ready to begin the twelve-hour journey to Kansas, followed by the one hundred-thirty year trip to Anna.
With his saddlebags slung over his shoulder, he looked around his grandparents’ hut for the last time. The oil lamps that lit the small space brought his gaze to the old couple, their hands clasped together.
Koyake' moved forward and tucked some bills into his hand. “This is money you will need in the future. It may be some time before you find a way to pay for your own things.”
“I have some gold coins as well,” he added.
After hugging his grandfather and thanking him for all he’d been to him, Wes turned to his grandmother and held out his arms. She settled there, hugging him tightly.
“I will never forget you, Koyake', and will always carry you and mIshomes in my heart.” His voice shook with emotion.
“I know that, Wesley Shannon. Go now and join your woman. I wish you happiness throughout time.”
He stared at her once more, then headed for the door and his new life.
Chapter Twenty-One
For a moment after he opened his eyes, Wes was confused. He’d awakened from the most restful sleep he’d had in weeks with an overwhelming sense of peace filling him. His palms rubbed the arms of the marble chair perched in an oasis surrounded by flowers and the greenest grass he’d ever seen. Gazing off into the distance, he noted the change in the area where he’d settled, before nodding off mere minutes ago.
A small hill rose in front of him, about a hundred yards away. His attention was immediately drawn to unfamiliar noises. He glanced up at a large metal container of some sort he remembered his grandmother calling an airplane. He felt the need to duck, then laughed at himself.
Before he could take more than a few breaths—even the air seemed different—sounds of mumbling and footsteps caught his attention. Using his hand to block the sun, he studied a figure coming toward him. Unable to believe what his eyes told him, he blinked several times, the thumping of his heart silencing all sound as a woman in a familiar outfit of men’s trousers and a strange yellow band around her breasts, clutching a pouch tightly against her body, crested the hill.
Anna.
His lips parted and he stared as relief flooded him and every bit of blood drained from his head. He had to fight black dots closing in as he watched her approach. Torn between racing to her, or shouting with joy—which would most likely have her running in the other direction—he stilled, mesmerized.
She was alive, a flesh and blood woman. Her silky hair blew in the breeze, and she casually brushed the strands back. Still busy with her thoughts, she walked with her head down. She hadn’t yet seen him, which gave Wes time to study her.
He’d forgotten how appealing she looked in those clothes, but he still had the urge to whip off his shirt and cover her up before anyone else saw her. Then he’d drag her off and keep her all to himself−forever.
Her footsteps slowed when she finally noticed him, then she flashed a hesitant smile, perhaps because of how he stared. He couldn’t get enough of her, feeling as if he’d break down any second and cry like a baby. Every muscle in his body screamed to pull her close and hold her tight−and never, ever let her go.
How the hell am I going to handle this without scaring her to death?
With her head down, Anna never noticed the man’s presence until she stood only about fifteen feet in front of him. “Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry, the woman in the store sent me out here. I didn’t realize she’d told someone else, too.”
When he continued to stare silently at her, she grew a bit nervous. His face had paled and he looked as though he’d just seen a ghost. Deciding it was time she was on her way, she shrugged. “No big deal, I guess. Have a good day.”
Just as she backed up to leave, the man spoke. “Wait!”
Something in his voice chilled her. For a moment, a strong sense of belonging to this man and that voice washed over her. This was crazy. First the strange Native American woman, and now this equally strange man. The past few weeks must have stretched her nerves tighter than she’d realized.
He was tall and muscular, dressed in unusual clothes. Instead of jeans or slacks, he had on a dark pair of thin wool pants, and a shirt with a strange collar. His dark hair fell over his broad forehead, making her ache to brush it back, a memory of having done just that rattling her to the core. He took a few steps closer to her, yet instead of wanting to retreat, she had an overwhelming need to step closer, wrap her arms around his waist, inhale his familiar scent. Her hand moved to touch him, then she jerked it back, feeling foolish. He would think she was crazy.
What the hell is going on?
This man was a complete stranger, yet she felt a pull toward him she’d never experienced before in her life. Sudden visions of him holding her, while she kissed him passionately, swept through her as though it had actually happened. She needed to get out of here before she lost her mind, or did something totally stupid. She forced herself to step away, feeling a sudden despair so strong, she almost wept.
“Don’t go.” His deep voice, like soft velvet, caused goose bumps to break out on her arms. “I’m finished here. In fact, I thought I might get a cup of coffee.” He looked around. “Do you know where I can find some?”
He seemed confused, out of sorts, as if he’d just landed in an unfamiliar place. Again a burst of remembrance shot through her, and before she even considered the impulsiveness of her words, they were out. “There’s a coffee shop next to the Indian store.”
“That’s good. Will you join me?”
She opened her mouth to decline, then heard herself say, “Yes, I would like that.” All the while her head nodded almost of its own accord. Any plan to return to Tulsa as soon as possible fled as his piercing eyes captured hers.
They trekked over the hill, back toward the highway. The silence surrounding them seemed comfortable, but she still had a strong urge to touch him, almost as if she had that right.
Anna peered through the entrance of the Indian store as they passed, but a different woman sat in place of the Native American lady who’d sent her to the ‘peace chair.’ This had indeed been the strangest morning.
The coffee shop was empty, a lone waitress sitting at the counter, turning the pages of a newspaper as she sipped from a cup. “Y’all can s
it anywhere. As you can see, we’re not exactly humming with business.” She left her seat and grabbed a coffee pot before heading in their direction.
They both looked up as she poured coffee into two mugs, then held out a menu.
“I’ve just had breakfast, so only coffee for me,” Anna said.
“Me, too.”
Once they were alone, he folded his hands on the table and stared into her eyes. “I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Wesley Shannon. But most people call me Wes.”
“Anna Devlin,” she responded. “Are you from around here?”
“Yes, in a way.”
When she raised her eyebrows, he smiled. “I haven’t been here in a while, so if I seem a little confused, that’s why. Where do you live?”
“Tulsa.” Anna’s smile faltered as an image of this same man, claiming there was no such place as ‘Tulsa,’ danced in and out of her memory, like a long ago dream. Her eyes met his in confusion. She could almost hear his voice as he uttered the words.
Her gaze wandered from his eyes to his high cheekbones, full lips and stubble of a beard. In a flash she envisioned that face as he held her in his arms while she struggled to breathe, a massive pain in the back of her head. The image was so strong, and caught her with such surprise, that she gasped.
He frowned, reaching across the formica table to touch her hand. “What’s wrong?”
She rubbed her forehead, the pain very real. “I don’t know. This is going to seem weird to you, but even though I’m sure we’ve never met, I have a feeling I know you.”
Her insides clenched when he smiled as if he held a great secret. She struggled to catch her breath, on the verge of a full-fledged panic attack. Where was her brown paper bag when she needed it?
Wes didn’t know how much longer he could keep from grabbing her. It was obvious she felt some connection between them, but it was too soon to tell her the entire story. As they chatted, he didn’t understand most of what she said, but listened intently.
Anna patted her lips with a paper napkin. “You said before that you hadn’t been here for a while. Where’s your home?”
Running his index finger around the rim of his cup, he looked off into the distance. “I was living in Kansas−quite a ways from here. But I have reasons now to move to Tulsa.”
Anna eyed him thoughtfully. “Maybe we’ll run into each other once in a while.”
“I certainly hope so.”
It was becoming more difficult to carry on a normal conversation with Anna when all he wanted to do was blurt out his story and be done with it.
“Well, I really do have to be on my way.” Anna reached for her pouch and fumbled around inside it.
Realizing she must be looking for money, Wes picked up the check from the table. “I’ll pay.”
Anna threw him a smile that had his body coming alive as it hadn’t for weeks. Wes looked at the small piece of paper, amazed at how much two cups of coffee cost in the future. He pulled out the bills his grandmother had given him and left enough on the table.
Once they were outside, Anna turned to him. “Is your car here? I don’t see any other except mine.”
Car. She must have been referring to the machine she walked toward. He seemed to remember something about that from Koyake'’s quick instructions.
“No, I don’t have a . . . car.”
She tilted her head, questioningly. “Oh. Where is it?”
Wes fumbled, unsure how to answer her question. As she continued to stare at him, he blurted the first thing that came to mind. “It was stolen.”
Anna’s jaw dropped. “Seriously? That’s terrible. How will you get to Tulsa?”
He shrugged, then flashed her a smile. “Can I ride with you?”
After a slight hesitation, she nodded. “Sure.”
They headed to her car and he watched as she opened her door, then he did the same on his side. As he settled in, he noted it was the most comfortable place he’d ever sat in.
“Fasten your seat belt,” Anna said as she slid a key into a metal column of some sort and turned it with a quick flip of her wrist. A loud humming surrounded them.
Wes glanced over his shoulder and pulled down a strap as he’d seen her do and pushed the metal end into a slot with a soft click. With his heart in his throat, he grasped a handle alongside him as the machine moved forward with such speed he thought for sure they would both be killed. No wonder they had to tie themselves in.
Anna tapped a small button in front of her and music began to play. “I love this song, don’t you?” She glanced at him and he almost screamed at her to not look at him, but keep watching all the other cars around them.
“I don’t remember it.” The words barely made it out of his mouth, fear keeping his throat closed.
“‘Open Arms?’ By Journey?” When he shook his head, she shrugged. “I think it’s the most romantic song ever recorded.”
After an hour or so he became used to the movement, and was able to look around. His grandmother had been correct. Life in the future was very different. But sitting here, unable to touch his wife−hell, not even able to tell her how much she meant to him−was killing him.
“Is it possible to stop somewhere so we can talk?”
“I guess so. Are you feeling all right? You look like you might be sick to your stomach or something.”
Wes blew out a breath. “No, I’m fine. I just want to talk to you, and I need your attention.”
Although she looked a bit nervous, she nodded and slowed the car. “There’s a small park here.”
The machine entered a wooded area, with tables scattered around. Once it came to rest, Anna again fumbled with the key and the noise discontinued. “Want to walk around?”
What he wanted to do was make love to her. Assure himself she was really here, soft and warm, not as he last remembered her. Cold and dead. He shivered at the memory and tried his best to push it away as he joined her in the bright afternoon sun.
After they were a few feet from the car, he took her hand. At first she seemed to pull back, but then she closed her eyes for a second and formed the smile he remembered so well. They strolled to one of the tables and Wes leaned his hips against the edge, clasping both of her hands in his so she faced him.
Taking a deep breath, he said, “I want to tell you something. A very important story.”
She eyed him curiously. “All right.”
Wes hesitated, the words sticking in his throat. Now that the time had come, he needed a way to ease into it. He studied the face he never thought to see again, her large brown eyes, the slight scattering of freckles, and that perplexing smile.
He ran his fingers through his hair, wondering how to begin, where to start with finding something that would make sense of a very unusual tale. She continued to stare at him, waiting patiently.
Suddenly, it came to him in a flash. “I’m . . . I’m an author and I just finished a book.”
Anna raised her brows. “Really?” She’d never met a real author before.
“Yes.” He leaned forward, a slight smile curving his sexy lips. “And I’d like to tell you about it, see what you think.”
“This is why you wanted my attention?” The entire morning had been nothing but a string of weird events since she’d left the motel. She studied him, the oddly familiar stance, and despite her misgivings, she knew in her heart she could trust this man. Had trusted him, somewhere along the line. Bizarre.
“Yes. It’s a strange story, but one I’d like very much for you to hear.”
She shifted her feet, pushing away her uncomfortable thoughts. “I’m listening.”
He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles and seemed to reflect before he spoke. “My book begins with my main character, a bounty hunter, finding her fiancé cheating with her best friend.” He paused, his hand tightening on hers.
Anna’s breath hitched, and she jerked her head up, staring into his eyes.
What the hell?
His slow sm
ile turned into a full grin, as he raised her hands to his mouth and rubbed her knuckles across his lips. And it felt right.
“Wait, Anna,” he whispered. “It gets better . . .”
Epilogue
Six Years Later
Wes held his face up to the hot stream of water cascading down his body, his muscles relaxing as the heat worked its magic. Truly, the best thing about the future must be showers. Especially when his wife was in a playful mood and joined him. He groaned as he felt a stirring in a part of his body that was best ignored right now. Six years of marriage and he still reacted like a randy teen to thoughts of Anna’s curves.
Within minutes, the cooling water reminded him that soon the hot water tank needed to be replaced with a larger one. Another expense to add to the growing list. He slid open the glass door and stepped onto the soggy bathmat, his feet making a squishing sound. Reaching for something to dry himself with, he snagged the only towel in the bathroom, already wet from his wife’s shower. He grinned at life with Anna.
Wrapping it around his waist, he studied himself in the mirror as he prepared to shave. Water beaded his chest and dripped from his hair. He looked the same, maybe a few years older, but he was no longer a marshal. In any time.
He thought back to the conversation he’d had with Anna when he’d first arrived. Perched against the picnic table, she listened, then stepped back and walked away from him. He’d given her time to absorb it all, staying near the table as she wandered around, mumbling to herself and shaking her head. Thankfully she hadn’t jumped into her car and raced away from a man she must’ve thought at the time was crazy.
When she’d returned to him, she’d admitted there was definitely something between them, much too strong for them to be strangers, but still she refused to believe his story.
Could he blame her? At least Anna hadn’t dismissed it out of hand, and she’d reluctantly agreed to allow him to court her, what this future time called ‘dating.’
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