by Tamara Gill
They headed north on another road that took them over the prairie on a path not well used. “Is this the road the stage coach normally takes?”
“Yep. They come down from Marysville, the last stop before Denton. Where did Slug pick you up?”
Anna jerked her thumb behind her. “About two miles back, on that main road.”
“And you have no idea how you got there?”
“I do. But you’re not ready to hear it.”
Wes’s head snapped around. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing, marshal. You have your secrets, and I have mine.”
She could just imagine his reaction if she blurted out that she was from the year two thousand thirteen. He would probably escort her to this century’s idea of a mental facility. Just the thought caused her to shudder.
Wes slowed and she followed. From atop his horse he began searching the area, leaning over, examining the bushes and dirt, going even slower. She watched him as his features tightened in concentration.
“Here.” Although he said the word softly, the quiet of the prairie made it sound as though he shouted. Wes slid from his horse and knelt, studying the ground. Anna joined him, careful not to step too close to the cluster of indentations in the dirt made from horse’s hooves.
She shaded her eyes from the sun and looked around. If the outlaws had ridden north, which was how it appeared from the tracks, they wouldn’t have had to go very far to reach cover. Off in the distance the area was greener, and the large wooded tract would have provided a good place for them to disappear after the robbery.
“There were four of them.” Wes stood, placing his hands on his hips and gazing in the direction she studied.
“How can you tell that? There’s so many hoof marks.”
He turned to her, his eyes guarded. “I’m half Potawatomi.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. I spent most summers with my mother’s people, who taught me many things, among them how to read tracks.”
Anna pointed to the ground. “So you can tell from that mess that there were four bandits?”
He nodded. “You’re not the only one who’s had training, as you put it.”
“Now what do we do?”
“We do nothing. I’m going to ride further up and see if I can track down their hideout. You, on the other hand, are going back to town, and letting Arnold know I’ll be gone for a couple of days.”
“By yourself?”
“That’s right.”
“No, I don’t think so. I’ve come this far, and I don’t intend to turn tail and run.” She returned to her horse and pulled herself up onto the saddle. “Let’s go, marshal, time’s a-wasting.”
Wes gritted his teeth. “You can’t go with me. I may have to stay overnight, camped out. Not a fit place for a lady.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not a lady, isn’t it?” She raised her eyebrows at his scowl. “Where I come from men and women work side by side, and even sometimes have to spend the night together. It’s no big deal.”
Obviously convinced he would not have his way, Wes mounted his horse, grumbling about cantankerous women and strange academies that no young lady should ever attend.
Wes continued to follow the tracks, which led them to the wooded area that veered off from the stagecoach road. The thickness of the trees soon surrounded them, turning the sunny day dim. The odor of dampness mingled with the fragrance of the forest. Although a narrow path guided them, it had not been used very often. They rode for several miles, passing a couple of abandoned cabins that a careful search turned up nothing. The cloudy day, combined with the canopy of the trees in the thickened woods, blocked out their light entirely right before sunset.
“I think we need to stop for the night.” Wes pulled up on his horse’s reins and turned to face her. They’d ridden the last few miles in single file. If the outlaws had come this way, which Wes assured her they had, it had to be slow going for them.
“Will we camp here?”
“No. Let’s go back to that last cabin we passed. I have no idea how close these fellows are, and I don’t like the idea of making us an easy target.”
***
Nestled in a thicket of trees, the cabin was cold despite it being summer. Moisture had crept into the place through cracked walls, chilling Anna to the bone. “Can we make a fire?”
“I don’t think it would be a problem. Travelers stay in these places all the time.” He turned his piercing gaze on her. “And, no one would ever expect to run across a woman searching for outlaws.”
She smirked. “So, I’m a good cover.”
Wes grunted. “Do you have a gun with you?”
“Of course.”
“Of course,” he sighed. “Keep it handy.”
Anna dragged in their saddlebags, and placed the food both she and Wes had brought with them on a wobbly table near the fireplace, while he started a fire with a flint and some kindling. Within minutes, he had a good-sized fire going, turning the cabin into a warm, snug cocoon.
“Well, it appears we have a feast.” Anna smiled as she surveyed the table laden with beef jerky, bread, apples and a block of cheese. “Where can we get some water? I even brought coffee, and there’s a pan on the shelf in the kitchen area we can use.”
“There’s a lot of small creeks running through this area, I’ll fetch water for us.” Wes snagged the pan she’d indicated, then left the cabin.
Whoever had abandoned the cabin had left a couple pieces of broken down furniture behind. Besides the table and three chairs, there was a rickety bed shoved into one corner, but Anna didn’t think she’d care to sleep there. God only knew what critters had made their home in the mattress. While she waited for Wes, she returned once more to the horses and unloaded Wes’s bedroll, and the one she’d borrowed from the hotel.
She rested them next to the fireplace and surveyed the area. Well, this certainly is cozy. Then brought herself up short. What am I thinking?
The last thing she wanted to do was get cozy with the marshal. She had a life more than a hundred years from now, and needed to figure out how to get back to it. No matter how many times she ran the episode through her mind, no answer ever appeared. She’d been inexplicitly attracted to the Native American store, and stopped there even though she was in a hurry to get back to Tulsa.
The strange old woman knew her name, and seemed to know all about her. As scary as that should have been, instead Anna had sensed an overpowering feeling of belonging that she hadn’t felt since her mother died. Then the most alarming part of the experience, when she’d fallen asleep in the ‘peace chair’ and had awakened to find herself one hundred and forty-three years in the past.
What did it all mean, and how was she going to get back? Was there something about this time and place that was supposed to be important to her? The Indian woman seemed to think sitting in the ‘peace chair’ would give her answers. Instead, it had only presented hundreds of questions.
The door to the cabin opened and Wes entered, carrying a pan of water. “Why don’t you get the coffee started and I’ll tend to the horses?”
Anna pushed her disturbing thoughts to the back of her mind, and took the pan from him. The jolt she’d felt once before from touching him made her jump when their fingers met. Wes must’ve felt it as well, because he pulled his hand back, causing water to slosh over the edge and splash onto the floor.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“No problem. I’ll clean it up.” Anna carefully balanced the pan of water on the fire and wiped the few drops from the floor. When she turned, Wes had disappeared again.
She sat back on her heels and studied the door. Instead of dwelling on why she’d been thrust into the past, the puzzle of Wes and the feelings he brought out in her arose to the forefront with remarkable clarity. The idea that he could be the reason she found herself where she did was not something she wanted to consider. She’d sworn off men, and had no intention of letting a well-built, handsom
e lawman change her mind.
After about fifteen minutes of Anna tying herself in knots trying to answer questions to which there seemed to be no solution, Wes returned and settled at the table. Anna poured the coffee into two cracked cups she’d found, and joined him. He bowed his head, obviously saying a prayer, which caught her off guard. She’d forgotten how common mealtime prayer was in this time period. Avoiding each other’s eyes, they ate, silence coupled with awareness filling the small space.
When they’d both had their fill, Wes pushed back from the table and crossed his arms over his chest. She glanced up at him, flinching at his light brown eyes boring into hers.
“All right, Miss Devlin, let’s have it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Where are you from, and why do I think your answer will be something unbelievable?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Wes studied the various emotions flitting across Anna’s beautiful face, beginning with surprise and ending with her raised stubborn chin. This woman had him tied in knots most of the time, and he needed some answers. Unlike any woman he’d ever met, there was also something about her that called to a very deep part of him. Oh, he wanted her in his bed; who wouldn’t with that body he’d seen enough in those trousers to keep him in a semi-hard state? But she was also smart, brave, funny, and somewhat vulnerable in her insistence that she could take care of herself. It still didn’t explain the unusual pull he felt toward her.
But where did she come from?
He raised one eyebrow. “Well?”
Anna took a deep breath, stood, then began to pace. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why not? Are you wanted by the law?”
“Geez, marshal, how many times do I have to tell you I am the law?”
Wes waved his hand in dismissal. “I don’t want to talk about that right now. If you think you’re a bounty hunter, then fine. What I want to know is where you come from, and don’t tell me ‘Tulsa’ again. I checked all the federal records, and there is no such place.”
She stopped and rested her hands on her hips. “If I tell you what I suspect, you’ll haul me off to the nearest funny farm.”
“See. That’s what I mean. You say the strangest things. What the hell is a funny farm?”
“I thought gentlemen didn’t cuss in front of ladies.”
Wes smirked. “Oh, no. That’s not going to work. Don’t attempt to change the subject. As a Federal Marshal, I have the right—hell, the duty—to know where you came from.”
Anna chewed her lip, thickening his blood and sending it right to the place he was trying desperately to ignore. Before she was able to answer him, a pounding shook the door.
Wes grabbed his rifle the same time Anna pulled her gun from where she’d obviously put it in her bedroll. He put his fingers to his lips and motioned with his head for her to stand against the wall next to the door. He cocked his rifle, then eased the door open.
The weather had changed since he’d taken care of the horses. A soft rain fell, causing dark green leaves to release pools of water, which plunked on the ground, splashing up like fish in a pond. An older man with a long gray beard stood there, his soaking wet clothes dripping more water. He shifted a wad of tobacco from one cheek to the other. “Can ye give me a place to rest for the night?”
A quick appraisal of the man reassured Wes he was no threat. He placed the rifle against the wall and opened the door wider. “Your name?”
“Jaime. Jaime MacClan.” The man limped through the doorway, a pool of water quickly surrounding him. “I’m headed to Denton, but me horse threw a shoe.” He pulled at his beard. “Thought if I could stay the night out of the rain, I’d fix her up tomorrow, and be on me way.” He turned when Anna moved to the center of the room, sliding her gun into the back of her trouser waistband. “Oh, sorry, lass.” The man swiped off his wet hat. “I dinna know ye had yore wife with ye, lad.”
Aware that their being alone together would raise questions, and possibly cause Anna some embarrassment, Wes didn’t correct the man. “Sit next to the fire and warm yourself.” He turned to Anna. “Honey, why don’t you warm up that coffee, and Mr. MacClan can dry off a bit by the fire?”
Anna snickered softly, obviously enjoying his subterfuge. Frustrated at having their conversation interrupted just when he thought she’d finally solve the mystery, Wes pushed all his questions to the back of his mind until later. The release of tension in Anna’s body only enforced his determination to discover what she was hiding.
After removing his dripping hat and soaked woolen coat, Mr. MacClan pulled one of the chairs close to the fire and extended his hands toward the flames. “I appreciate this, lad.” He turned to Wes. “What did ye say yore name was?”
“Shannon. Wes Shannon.”
Mr. MacClan nodded. “Pleased ta meet ye, Mr. Shannon.” He glanced at Anna who stood against the wall, studying the man as if she expected him to whip out a pistol and start firing. “Pleased ta meet you, too, Mrs. Shannon.”
She nodded and pulled another chair closer to the fire.
“We have a bit of food left from our supper, if you’d like some.” Wes cut off a hunk of bread, and handed it to the man, along with a slice of cheese and an apple.
“Thanks again.” MacClan took the food and dug right in.
Wes joined the two of them in front of the fire, and for the next hour their guest entertained them with stories of Scotland, where he’d lived up until ten years ago. Wes also shared the bit of whiskey he’d brought with him, and soon Jaime burst into song, his fine tenor voice reverberating off the cabin walls.
***
Anna finally relaxed, convinced the funny little man meant them no harm. At first she eyed him carefully, watching for any sudden movement on his part. But now she’d reached the point where all she wanted to do was sleep. The warmth of the fire, the long day, and the taste of whiskey Wes had handed her a while ago had taken its toll.
“Honey, why don’t you crawl into your bedroll, and sleep. You look exhausted.” Wes grinned when she jerked her head up, only a minute before she’d have most likely begun to snore.
“Aye, ‘tis sorry I am for keeping ye and the missus up all this time.” MacClan stood and glance around the room. “If ye both have bedrolls, I’ll be taking the bed in the corner, unless it collapses under me.” He slapped his thigh and laughed, then stumbled away. “But first I think I’ll be making a wee visit to the trees outside, if ye get my meanin’.”
Anna was also aware of a pressure low in her abdomen. Once Jaime returned, she would make her own visit. What she wouldn’t give for a modern bathroom with a toilet, hot shower and bright lights. Big fluffy towels, her razor, and deodorant. Although she had the toothbrush that she carried in her purse with her, a tube of creamy white toothpaste would be welcome right now.
The rain had stopped, but the leaf-covered ground on top of inches of mud was a far cry from her imagined bathroom. She quickly did her business and returned to the cabin. Mr. MacClan was already snoring in the corner, and Wes was stretched out in his bedroll on his back, his hands tucked behind his head. He watched her as she removed his duster and crossed the room to join him.
“It didn’t take Jaime long to fall asleep.” Anna edged into the bedroll, then turned to her side, propping her head on her hand.
“Must’ve been the whiskey.” Wes shifted so he faced her. “I don’t suppose you would like to continue the conversation we were having when our guest arrived.”
Anna shook her head. “I’m tired.” Her gaze held his. “And why did you tell Mr. MacClan I was your wife?”
“The two of us here, alone? I’m sure you know what he would have thought if I didn’t say we were married.”
She shrugged. “We’ll probably never see him again.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He reached over and took her hand. “I wouldn’t want anyone to think badly of you.”
Anna felt her face flush and her stomach flutter. Her hand heated where he
held it, shooting warmth up her arm, causing goose bumps to break out. Unsettled, she tugged at her hand, but instead of releasing it, Wes pulled her closer, and lowering his head, touched his mouth to hers.
His lips were soft and tasted of the whiskey he’d had. When she didn’t resist, he slid his palm around her waist and gathered her against him. Very large bells went off in her head, and she fought the urge to groan. Although her experience was somewhat limited, Robbie being only the second man she’d slept with, she certainly had quite a bit of practice when it came to kissing. On a scale of one to ten, Wes scored an easy eleven. His tongue rubbed against her lips, and she opened, allowing him to skim her mouth, raising her temperature even more.
Almost of its own free will, her hand slid up his chest, resting at the back of his neck. Wes released her mouth and kissed the sensitive skin under her ear, then trailed his lips down her neck, across her jaw. Anna played with the silky hair hanging over his collar, leaning her head back, giving him better access. Soon the sound of their heavy breathing competed with MacClan’s snores.
Wes abruptly pulled back, regret in his eyes. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
Anna tugged him back, but he resisted. “No. For one thing, we’re not alone.” He gestured toward the noisy sleeper. “And I don’t want to dishonor you.”
Dishonor me? Does he really think I’m a virgin? At my age?
Before she could form an answer, he ran his knuckles down her cheek. “Good night.” Then he settled into his bedroll and gave her his back.
Anna’s heart was about to jump out of her chest. Talk about being left frustrated. How could he do that? Her sex was throbbing. Unless he was a eunuch, which she had no reason to believe he was, he had to be as frustrated as she was. “Wes?”
“Don’t, Anna. Just go to sleep.”
“I can’t.”
He turned back around, his eyes blazing with passion. “I shouldn’t have started that.”
“Perhaps not, but the point is you did. Now what?”
He hesitated, his mouth working. “I could . . . you know.” His face flushed.
