Diamond in the Dust (Second Chances Time Travel Romance Book 3)

by Peggy L Henderson

  Gabe ran a hand through his hair, then he turned fully toward her. The urge to pull the car over to the side of the road hit her. She’d much rather face him when he talked to her than concentrate on driving. She held his gaze for a moment before darting glances at the highway.

  “Where’s the boy’s pa?” Gabe asked gruffly.

  Morgan’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

  Gabe glared at her. “The boy’s father. Where is he?”

  Morgan frowned, and shook her head slightly. Why was he so angry about Logan’s dad?

  “He’s in Los Angeles, a few hours from here, but he’s not involved in Logan’s life. Why are you so upset about that?”

  “I don’t understand a woman who keeps a child from his father,” Gabe said slowly, quietly.

  “What?”

  Morgan’s lips tightened. In a split-second decision, she glanced over her shoulder, changed lanes, and pulled off the side of the road.

  “What are you doing?” Gabe looked her way. “I thought you were in a hurry to see the car dealer.”

  The last item on her list before heading to Montana was to trade in her BMW for a more practical car. She needed the money a trade-in would bring. Her mother couldn’t touch the little she had in her private account, but that was dwindling fast. At least her car was one gift her mother had given her that would come in handy now. Thankfully, the title was in her name, not her mother’s.

  “I am, but I also think we need to clear the air between us and get some things straight, if I have to sit in a car with you for three days,” Morgan said, putting the vehicle in park. She left the engine running, and shifted in her seat to face the cowboy sitting next to her.

  “It ain’t none of my business, Miss Bartlett, but I’m wondering why you’re taking your boy so far away from his pa.” His stare deepened. “Or why you ain’t married to him.”

  Morgan laughed nervously. “You’ve been giving me the evil eye, and the silent treatment, because of my ex-boyfriend?” she asked, raising her brows in disbelief.

  “Where I’m from, an unwed mother is thought of as a fallen woman.”

  “Well luckily for me and Logan, we’re not in your time.” Morgan gritted her teeth, trying to control her temper.

  She’d had to curb snide remarks about Gabe’s obvious nineteenth century male view of things before, but she hadn’t expected him to have such a strong opinion about her lack of a husband. Her mother was very vocal about that subject, but only because it had embarrassed her, and she viewed Bryce as a goldmine.

  Gabe’s eyes blazed in anger, and he sat stiffly in his seat, his stare bearing down on her.

  “Your son needs his pa,” he nearly growled. “It ain’t right to take him away from a father who wants him. If you were living in my time, your boy would have been handed over to his father, and you wouldn’t have any recourse.” He glared at her, then added, “As well as be forced to marry the man or face a lifetime of disgrace.”

  Morgan’s eyes widened at his angry outburst. Her own voice rose as her temper flared. “You don’t know anything about Logan’s father.”

  “I overheard you talking with Miss Gilbert that he wanted to do right by you and the boy, give him a proper name and make you a respectable woman,” Gabe shot back.

  Morgan blinked, shaking her head slightly. “Do right by me? Proper name?” she stammered. Words failed her. “Logan has a proper name. When did you hear that?”

  Then it dawned on her. He was referring to the conversation from three nights ago, when Ashley had told Morgan about the job in Montana and when she’d last seen Bryce. She inhaled a deep breath to calm herself. He’d obviously completely misunderstood the conversation.

  “You’re right, Gabe. Bryce is none of your business, but I’ll tell you about him anyway.” Not that he needed to know, but for some reason, she wanted him to know the truth.

  “Bryce isn’t interested in Logan for the reasons you think. He’s a businessman, and he doesn’t like to lose at things. I made a bad choice when I got together with him two years ago, and I should have listened to my inner voice before things went so far that I slept with him.”

  Morgan held Gabe’s stare, waiting for his reaction. She shot a hasty glance toward the backseat. Logan hadn’t stirred. Luckily, he’d always been a heavy sleeper.

  “Times are a bit different now than in 1872. I want Logan to have a father, but it has to be a loving father, not someone with a volatile temper like Bryce.” Morgan wrung her hands together in her lap, and turned her head to stare out the window. She bit her lower lip and fought back the sting of tears in her eyes.

  “What makes you think he’d abuse the boy?”

  Her head whipped back around to face him. “Oh, I don’t know,” Morgan said sarcastically. “A man who hits a pregnant woman, the future mother of his baby, is pretty low on my list of husband and father-worthy men. Or is that acceptable in your time, too?” She glared at him.

  Gabe stared back at her, his face unreadable.

  “I don’t know what options a woman has in your time when her husband hits her, but these days, it’s considered assault.”

  Something changed on Gabe’s face. He still held an angry look, but it wasn’t directed at her any longer.

  “He hit you?” he asked in a low tone.

  “I was eight months pregnant. I left, and didn’t look back.” Morgan sniffed, and wiped impatiently at her nose. “Bryce didn’t even come to the hospital when Logan was born. He hasn’t seen his son in more than two months, and he doesn’t call to ask about him. Let me ask you this: if a man can hit a pregnant woman because he’s had a bad day, what might he do to a little baby that’s crying at an inconvenient time?”

  Gabe didn’t answer, so Morgan continued, needing him to understand, “I won’t put my son at risk like that. I’d rather have him grow up without a father than with a man who might hit him. Bryce is welcome to have a relationship with Logan. I would never keep my son away from his father, but Bryce hasn’t made any effort to see him. He wants me back because he can’t stand the idea of somebody telling him, ‘no.’ I’m not going to play that game.”

  Gabe cursed in a low tone. A conflicted look passed through his eyes, as if he was fighting with himself.

  “Why is this such a sore subject with you?” she asked. There had to be more to Gabe’s anger with her than simply his nineteenth-century view on women and men’s rights. Part of her wanted to be angry with him for his old-fashioned mindset, but there were also things about that exact way of thinking that made him so different from, and more attractive than, other men.

  If he is from the 1800’s, it’s going to take some time to get him to think differently. It’s not something that’s going to happen overnight.

  “I owe you an apology, Miss Bartlett,” he finally said.

  Morgan held up her hand. “It’s time you called me Morgan, don’t you think, Desperado?” She offered a smile.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, smiling back at her for the first time in three days.

  Morgan’s heart melted. Maybe it was better if he continued to scowl at her. As if he’d read her thoughts, the smile vanished, and his look turned serious again.

  “I never knew my father,” Gabe said coldly. “He refused to claim me as his son. My mother struggled all her life, trying to raise me on her own,” he added, the words nearly whispered. The muscles tensed along the side of his face.

  Morgan’s hand reached out to grip his arm. Comprehension filled her immediately regarding his anger. His haunted eyes tugged at her heart anew.

  “He rejected me for another son.” Gabe gritted his teeth. “My mother refused to tell me who my father was until right before she died. She wanted to spare me the hurt of finding him, and being rejected again.” He scoffed. “He got my mother with child, then soon after did the same thing to another woman, but he married her, and gave his name to her son. My dear half-brother had his name, and all the privileges that came with it, while I grew up on
the streets, always fending off other boys who thought I wasn’t worth the dirt I walked on.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Morgan whispered, squeezing his arm.

  Gabe met her eyes. “I ain’t telling you this so you’ll feel sorry for me. I done some bad things to make my brother pay for something that wasn’t his doing, Morgan, and now I’m here because of it.” He laughed scornfully.

  An involuntary shudder passed through her when he spoke her name. It sounded so . . . so tender, and sensual, and he hadn’t even meant it that way. Morgan removed her hand from his arm. She tried to plaster an impassive look on her face.

  No, Gabe McFarlain wasn’t the kind of man who wanted anyone to feel sorry for him. He’d only get mad at her again if he knew she was feeling that exact way. She fought the urge to find out more, to ask him what he’d meant when he’d said he’d done bad things to make his brother pay. He’d already revealed more about himself than he probably wanted her to know.

  Morgan glanced over her shoulder to see if any cars were coming, then shifted the BMW into drive and accelerated. She’d gotten her answer about Gabe’s anger, and hopefully they had come to an understanding. He’d seemed genuinely upset when she’d mentioned that Bryce had hit her.

  Morgan reflected on what she’d learned. She’d grown up knowing nothing but wealth and privilege. Her father had treated her like a little princess. Gabe, on the other hand, was rejected by his father and raised by a single mother, and by the sounds of it, was bullied by other kids because of it. She suppressed a smile. They were such opposites, came from such completely different worlds, yet had somehow been tossed together to head down the same road. Her sense of connection to him intensified. Where that road would lead them both remained to be seen.

  Chapter Ten

  Gabe paced the asphalt alongside Morgan’s wagon. Almost every road he’d seen was covered with the hard substance. She stood several yards away, taking advantage of the shade the large glass-fronted building offered. She held her phone to her ear, talking with someone. Although it still looked silly to him, watching people talk into those little contraptions, he was slowly getting used to it. Everyone seemed to be doing it.

  Gabe’s hands clenched and unclenched, irrational annoyance making his entire body tense. After spending the better part of an hour walking along rows and rows of vehicles of all shapes and sizes, Morgan had decided on one that she wanted to trade for her wagon. When he’d asked her what was wrong with the one she had, she’d explained that she needed the money from a trade to move them to Montana.

  Gabe had wanted to hit something at her mention of money. Feeling corralled and restless the last four days since he’d been in the future was one thing. Depending on someone else for his basic upkeep was quite something else. He’d never in his life felt as helpless, not to mention incompetent, as he had since his arrival in this time.

  While he’d done a few odd jobs around Miss Gilbert’s house, it wasn’t nearly enough to earn his keep. Not having the means to repay the women fully for their hospitality ate at his very soul, and he clung to the hope that he could make a new life for himself and find work once they reached Montana. According to the women, there were still ranches that required wranglers and cowpokes.

  Did the Double M still exist? The thought had crossed his mind several times, especially after seeing the photographs Morgan had shown him that were in the envelope the reverend had left with her.

  Gabe laughed scornfully. His entire future was contained inside one brown envelope. Other than the photographs, he hadn’t bothered to look at the rest of the contents. The photograph taken in front of the old barn at the Double M brought back all the hatred that lived inside him. He’d only glanced at it briefly, remembering the day that picture was taken; the day Tyler had made him foreman. He’d sat on his horse, Tyler next to him on his gelding, and the rest of the Double M crew on foot.

  “The Double M is rightfully half yours. Together, we could have turned it into the best horse ranch in the territory.”

  Gabe scoffed at the memory of Tyler’s words after he’d revealed to Tyler that he was his half-brother, and what a bastard their old man had been. Clearly, Tyler hadn’t known that Jonas had another son.

  All his life, Gabe had longed for a place to belong, a place he could call home and set down roots. Hatred for Jonas Monroe had spilled over to hatred for the land the old bastard owned, and he’d been driven to seeing the horse breeding operation destroyed. He hadn’t wanted any part of that ranch then, and he certainly didn’t care now if it was still around.

  He scanned the vast asphalt lot. Morgan’s confrontation with him in the car earlier had eased the anger that had been brewing inside him. Every time he’d looked at her boy over the course of the last few days, Gabe had seen his own life flash before him. The only difference, he’d assumed, was that this boy’s father was ready to claim his son, unlike the bastard who had fathered him.

  Apparently, he’d made the wrong assumption. Morgan wanted to protect her boy from his own father. The fact that the man had hit her didn’t sit well with him. Only a coward resorted to hitting or abusing a woman. He’d seen too much of that in his lifetime. His own mother had fallen victim to men who enjoyed inflicting pain on a woman, but he’d been helpless to stop it. No one batted an eyelash when a man abused a whore.

  As a boy, he’d seen the many bruises Cora tried to hide. When he’d mention it, she’d always brushed it off as insignificant, and tell him it was none of his concern. As he’d grown older, shame for his mother grew into hatred for the man who’d fathered him. When he’d started asking questions, Cora had refused to tell him anything about his old man. Only on her deathbed did she finally reveal the name of the man who’d abandoned her after he got her with child.

  Gabe scoffed. Even properly married women were often targets for enraged husbands to take out their aggressions. It wasn’t talked about, but he wasn’t blind or deaf, either. Women in his time had no recourse but to stay with their abusive husbands. They needed someone to provide for them and their children.

  It was obvious that times had changed for women, giving them more rights and independence. He’d seen it in Tyler’s wife’s behavior, and Morgan was no different. Her soft-spoken, caring nature appealed to him more than he wanted to admit, not to mention the draw he felt for the determined woman under all that softness. The women he’d been familiar with had seen too much of life’s harsh realities to have retained any of their feminine softness. Morgan was so unlike any woman he’d ever been around. She was like a refreshing splash of cool water to a parched man. That she had left a man who hit her took guts, especially while being with child. Not something many women in his time would have done.

  Gabe gnashed his teeth. His intense attraction to the woman had overshadowed his need to dislike her since overhearing the conversation with her friend about her boy’s father. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Morgan, hadn’t been able to shake these irrational thoughts of wanting to look out for her, and keep her out of harm’s way from men like this Bryce fella.

  He scoffed. What about men like you, McFarlain? She needs protecting from the likes of no-good drifters who have no roots.

  Hell if he knew the reason for what was going on in his head regarding Morgan. There was another woman living right under the same roof, one who’d shown blatant interest in him. He shook his head. When had he ever refused the attentions of a female? Ashley didn’t so much as spark mild desire in him, yet when Morgan looked at him with those amber eyes of hers, he didn’t know which way was up anymore.

  She’d never looked at him as if he were a worthless mongrel, like so many of the fine ladies in every town he’d ever been in had done. He’d seen the pity in her eyes a few times, but there was also genuine concern, and a spark of something else; something he, or she, had no business thinking about. As sure as the day was long, he’d convince her that he wasn’t someone needing to go to the asylum, but that he had come from more than a centu
ry in the past. It was clear that she still didn’t quite believe him, although doubt lingered in her eyes at times.

  Gabe pulled his hat from his head, and raked his fingers through his hair. Perspiration from the hot desert sun beaded his forehead. Heading to Montana couldn’t come quick enough. Morgan had told him Montana was a thousand miles away, and that it would be about a three-day drive, an unimaginably fast time to cover that kind of ground. The quicker they got there, the better. He needed to put some distance between himself and that woman before she crawled under his skin even more than she already had.

  He glanced to where Morgan stood in the shade. She held her son against her hip with one arm, and in the other she held her phone, still talking to someone. A man came out of the building, a wide smile on his face. Gabe’s eyes narrowed. This car dealer had acted much too friendly with Morgan earlier to be considered genuine. Gabe had dealt with his share of shady horse traders before, men who were all too eager to unload worthless animals on an unsuspecting buyer.

  In this case, it appeared as if the dealer believed Morgan to be shady. Gabe couldn’t fault the dealer for being suspicious that Morgan wanted to trade her elite thoroughbred for nothing more than a workhorse. What bothered him, however, was how the man was looking at her. Gabe’s eyes narrowed on the man, but he stayed by Morgan’s car. She stuffed her phone in her pocket, and faced the dealer.

  “I spoke to the owner of the dealership where my car was purchased, and they are going to email you every single service report they have. There’s nothing wrong with the car, Dennis. It doesn’t even have so much as a scratch in the paint.”

  The man called Dennis smiled indulgently. Apparently, women weren’t considered a man’s equal by all men in this time. The dealer’s eyes drifted below Morgan’s neck, then lower, and Gabe fought the urge to put himself between the two.

  “We don’t get trade-ins very often that are worth more than the car being purchased. You have to understand that I’m only doing my job by being careful. I can’t give you full value for your car.”