“What about you?” she whispered. Clearly, she’d noticed the men, too.
“If I’m seen, I can talk my way out of it better than you can. Climb in the back of the wagon and lay low.”
Scott lifted Amber over the tailgate of the wagon. There was a heavy tarp wrapped around what looked to be wooden barrels, and she scrambled underneath the covering. The two horses hitched to the rig stomped their feet. One of them blew air through its nostrils and bobbed his head up and down, making the harness jingle.
The wooden planks creaked on the boardwalk as the man approached. He was moving faster now, almost running. Scott ducked behind the buckboard. The man grumbled something, then stopped in front of the horses. He untied them from the pole to which they had been tethered, then swung up on the seat.
He slapped the reins against the horses’ backs, and the rig lurched forward, the wheels squeaking and the harnesses groaning.
Scott cursed under his breath. The wagon moved so fast, he had no time to react and jump into the back with Amber. On the other side of the street, someone yelled obscenities, horses whinnied, and hooves stomped. The two men who’d come out of the saloon whooped and hollered, and one of them even laughed. The loud bang of a gun being fired rang in Scott’s ear. Men yelled and women shrieked.
“Let’s get the hell outta here before the sheriff wakes up,” someone shouted. He laughed and galloped after the wagon as it sped down the street.
The other man leapt on his horse and followed. Scott darted across the street toward the saloon. Two more horses remained tethered to the rail. He hesitated, then grabbed the reins of the closest one, and swung up into the saddle.
His heart pounded in his chest as he kicked the horse into a run to follow the others. It had been months since he’d been on a horse back home, but he had to go after Amber. Why had he been so stupid and told her to hide in the wagon? These men clearly were up to no good, and Amber was potentially in grave danger.
Several men rushed out of the saloon at that moment, shouting and cursing. One of them held a shotgun in his hand. Scott ducked over the horse’s neck, one hand gripping the reins while he clutched the saddle horn with the other. A shot fired, and Scott cursed. His first hour in a different century might very well become his last.
“Don’t think you can get away with this,” came a loud shout. “I’m gonna hunt you down, Kincaid, and when I find you, you’re gonna be sorry you ever stepped foot in this town.”
Chapter 5
Amber grabbed hold of the side of the buckboard, clenching her jaw to keep from yelling out in pain as the side of her head slammed into one of several barrels in the back of the wagon. The jostling and banging were going to kill her for sure, unless one of those barrels tipped over and fell on her first. From the sloshing sounds they made, there was water or some kind of liquid in them.
“Why did I listen to you, Scott?” she mumbled through gritted teeth. His brilliant idea of hiding her inside this wagon had backfired horribly. Why hadn’t he climbed in with her?
Gunfire had echoed through the air as the wagon sped through town. What if Scott had been shot? Now she was alone.
Isn’t that what you wanted, to be alone? Definitely not at the cost of someone’s life . . . not again.
She braced herself for another hard bump, this time sending her bouncing on her rear. Amber lifted the canvas slightly, but there was nothing to see. It was absolutely black all around her. How did the horses or the guy driving the wagon see where they were going?
Another hard bump sent her backward, crashing her back and her head against one of the barrels. She winced at the pain in her skull and scrambled to wedge herself between one of the barrels and the corner of the wagon. She’d either get crushed to death if the barrel moved, or she’d be more stable and not get tossed around.
The jarring ride continued and didn’t slow down. It was like riding a bumpy rollercoaster except there were no seatbelts. Amber lost track of time. Her limbs were sore and bruised, and her head throbbed. She might die tonight in this buckboard.
Then you don’t have to worry anymore. Wasn’t that the plan?
Curling up the best she could, Amber closed her eyes. Her heart pounded as fear and uncertainty consumed her. She was going to go crazy in this confining, dark space. With every second that ticked by, panic threatened to consume her. She was somewhere in the past, clearly in the wild west, it was pitch black, and she was being turned into mincemeat.
On top of that, what had happened to Scott? If he was dead, that was one more tragedy that would haunt her life. Death seemed to follow her wherever she went. She almost laughed, but it was far from funny. Not only was she doomed, but so was everyone around her. If only the driver of this wagon would get a dose of it.
What if she let him know she was in the back of the wagon? Maybe he’d stop and let her out. She mentally shook her head. The chances of that were slim. He’d clearly committed a crime, he wasn’t about to simply let her go. Besides, she’d be completely lost and disoriented in the darkness.
“Is anyone following us?”
Amber held her breath at the sound of the voice.
“Don’t think so,” someone else shouted. “But I think we lost Kincaid.”
Kincaid?
How did those guys know Scott? And they’d lost him?
“Oh, no.” Amber bit back the sensation of tears.
As annoying and presumptuous as Scott had been, he didn’t deserve to die. Maybe if she hadn’t gone into that room and talked to him about time travel, he would have left before that bright flash of light had sent them into the past.
“It’s his own fault, then,” a third voice grumbled. “We ain’t got time to go back.”
“No, we stick to the plan. That bartender was mighty mad when he realized we was takin’ off with his whiskey shipment.” He laughed, and the other two joined in.
Amber curled up tighter in the corner of the wagon. Her heart was about to pound out of her chest. These guys sounded like out-of-control frat boys, finding joy and humor in petty theft. Only, this fraternity prank involved guns and people getting shot. At least now it was clear what was in those barrels. Before these men found her and killed her, perhaps she could at least get good and drunk.
“Is anyone following us?” the driver asked after a while.
“There was one rider from what I could tell, but we lost him. Haven’t heard any horses behind us in a while.”
The driver laughed. “They’ll be lookin’ a long time for their wagon. That bartender will think twice the next time he refuses to serve a customer. Now we got all his whiskey.”
The other two joined him in laughter.
Amber shifted next to one of the barrels. Her legs had lost all feeling at this point, except for when her knees got knocked into the hard sideboards. It sounded like these guys had been out for some sort of revenge against the saloon owner. Obviously, they were trouble no matter what.
Her chances of them letting her go were getting slimmer by the second. Not that it really mattered. Her time in the past might be shorter than she had at first anticipated.
She shook her head. It would be easy to jump out of the wagon, but what if she broke her leg in the process, or her neck? Definitely not a pleasant way to die.
Don’t be such a wuss, Amber.
Yeah, but avoiding pain and suffering was the whole reason for her plans in the first place. If only there was a quick and easy way. She leaned her head forward, resting it on her knees, and locked her hands around her legs. She closed her eyes to ignore her discomfort of the bumpy wagon ride.
You didn’t think this through any more than you did about telling Ashley your plans.
Why was it so important that someone else knew? What difference would it make if she told Chris the truth? He was the only person other than Ashley, who had really cared about her. After Amber’s parents divorced, she hadn’t seen her father in nearly twenty years. She didn’t even know what he looked like, exce
pt from photographs. Her mother was on husband number four.
The last time Amber had talked to her mom had been over a year ago, when she’d discovered that she and her new husband lived in a trailer park somewhere in Nevada. Like her mother, she’d clearly never been good at making decisions. After a few bad choices in college, the scholarship money had dried up, and now she couldn’t even complete her degree.
Most of her choices had either led her down the wrong road, or whenever she’d tried to do something to get ahead, life had to throw a curveball at her. The latest one had turned her life upside down.
Amber braced against another strong jolt. This driver seemed to be determined to hit every rock and pothole in his path. Her mind went blank. Nothing mattered at the moment. Her body ached from tense muscles as she continued to brace against the jarring ride. When the wagon finally slowed, there was no telling if five minutes had passed or five hours.
The rig suddenly lurched and all the jostling and jarring stopped. Amber opened her eyes and held her breath. Faint light shone in from under the tarp. Had she hit her head hard enough that she’d passed out for a while? It had to be morning. Horses snorted somewhere nearby and the wagon creaked.
She clamped her lips together to keep from crying out when she stretched her legs. It was as if hot needles pricked her all over as blood rushed to her limbs.
“Reckon we’ve come far enough to stop for a while?”
“The sheriff ain’t gonna put a posse together until after his morning coffee. He’s not gonna miss breakfast over a stolen whiskey shipment.” The man laughed. “This freight is gonna make us more money with the boys at the ranch than we’ll make driving a herd of longhorns from Texas to Montana.”
“Well, let’s see what we got.”
Before Amber had time to react, the tarp was pulled off the back of the wagon. She squinted into the bright light, then stared at a bearded man wearing a dirty shirt and a cowboy hat.
“What in tarnation?” he called out. He took a step back, running his hand over his face.
“What’s goin’ on, Jeb?” Another man came into view alongside the first one, staring into the wagon.
“We got trouble,” Jeb said, looking as if he was staring at an alien.
Amber grabbed the side of the buckboard and pulled herself out from between the tight space she’d occupied all this time. An alien might be exactly what she looked like to these guys, who didn’t appear to be any older than she. They looked like young punks with little experience but thought they were big shots.
Her heart raced in her chest, but she held her head high as she faced the men. Somehow, she’d figure out a way to get away from them.
“Haven’t you ever watched a western movie?”
Scott’s mocking question echoed in her head. She couldn’t do anything about the way she was dressed, and she wasn’t about to act like a damsel in distress. She really had nothing to lose.
The sting of tears behind her eyes came on suddenly. If Scott was dead, it was because of her. If only she hadn’t given him a ride to Heartsbridge, perhaps none of this would have happened. She blinked rapidly.
Amber sighed dramatically. “Thank goodness. I thought you’d never stop this wagon.” She stared at the bearded guy. “I’m probably black and blue at this point from all the ruts and potholes you hit.”
On unsteady limbs, she scrambled to the tailgate and swung her leg over to climb down. The three cowboys stared at her, clearly at a loss for words. A woman in the back of a whiskey wagon was probably the last thing they’d expected to find.
“Who the blazes are you?” the third guy, who spat tobacco juice on the ground, demanded to know. “And what do you think you’re doin’, hitchin’ a ride inside that freight wagon?” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you one of Tom Barton’s girls?”
“Who?”
“Tom Barton, the saloon owner.”
Amber shook her head. “My name’s Amber, and I’m not anyone’s girl.” She held her hands to her hips to keep them from shaking, and glared at the man. “I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and didn’t know you were going to steal that wagon.”
All three men shuffled their feet uncomfortably. They all stared at her, their eyes directed at her pants.
“What sort of woman wears britches?” the guy named Jeb asked, looking to the other two.
Mustache Guy pointed at her. “How’d you even get them britches on? Looks like someone took black paint to you and painted them on.” He laughed, and the others joined in.
“Getting into tight pants is a special talent most women have,” Amber retorted. “I’ve seen Gone With the Wind, and I’d wear these pants any day to what those women had to go through to get dressed.”
All three cowboys gave her a perplexed look. Mustache Guy shrugged at the other one who hadn’t said much up to this point. Jeb tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes.
“Ya know, if ya ain’t careful, a man might get the wrong idea about you.” He reached for her arm and dragged her a few steps forward.
Amber braced her feet in the dirt and pulled against his hold on her and squirmed.
“Get your dirty hands off me,” she hissed.
Only a day ago, she’d given a ride in her car to a guy without the slightest concern for her safety. Scott may have irritated her with some of his comments, but he’d never looked at her the way Jeb was looking at her now. Reading his mind wasn’t difficult. Amber glared at him. Jeb leered at her, but surprisingly, let her go.
“What are we going to do with her?” the quiet guy asked. He looked worried, glancing at his companions.
Jeb smiled. “I can think of several things.”
Amber scoffed, and shot him a disgusted look. Maybe her only hope of avoiding what she read in Jeb’s eyes was to get them drunk.
“Since you stole whiskey, I’m guessing you’re going to want to drink it. After the kind of night I’ve had, I could sure use a sip myself right now.”
Mustache Guy shook his head, turning fully to Jeb. “Stealin’ whiskey is one thing, but kidnapping a woman, and –”
“We didn’t kidnap her,” Jeb argued. “No one forced her into that wagon.”
The other two looked at each other, then at Amber.
“We can’t take her back to town. We’ll get caught.” Jeb started pacing in front of the wagon. He pulled his hat from his head, then glared at Amber with annoyance in his eyes.
“We could just leave her out here and she can find her own way back to town. By the time anyone finds her we’ll be long gone.”
Amber’s eyes volleyed between the men. “You can leave me out here. I don’t mind. I won’t even say anything if I run into another person.” Not that she wanted to do that, either, unless it was Chris.
“It’s a long way back to town, lady.” Mustache Guy shook his head. “You might not make it back.”
“Don’t matter,” Jeb said to his companion. He slapped his hat against his thigh and shook his head with an annoyed look on his face. “We wasn’t supposed to get caught, and now we got a woman to deal with, too. I don’t cotton to killin’ a woman, but she knows who we are. She can tell the sheriff.”
Amber scoffed. “I hardly know who you are. I only know your first name, Jeb, and I’m pretty sure the people in that saloon can figure out that it was you who stole the whiskey wagon.” She smiled at him when he shot her another annoyed glare. “The only person I’m interested in talking to is someone named Chris Hawley.” She looked from one man to the other. “You wouldn’t happen to know him?”
All three shook their heads. “Never heard of him.”
Amber’s shoulders slumped. It didn’t mean Chris wasn’t here. He certainly wouldn’t be friends with the likes of these three.
“Did you come to Heartsbridge in that freight wagon?” Mustache Guy studied her.
Amber shook her head. For criminals, these three weren’t the brightest bulbs in the bunch. All of them except maybe Jeb were rath
er polite, though.
“No, I came to Heartsbridge in a car, and then I got sent to the past. What year is this, anyway?”
Three pairs of wide eyes stared at her before they exchanged perplexed glances.
“Lady, you ain’t quite right in the head,” Jeb proclaimed.
“She’s one of them crazy women, probably belongs in a mental asylum, or maybe she broke out of one.” Mustache Guy added. “I’ve heard of them places. It’s where they put folks that tend to talk a bunch of gibberish. They’re plain mad.”
Amber smiled at him. “You’re not the first person to tell me that, believe me.”
“Why’d you come to Heartsbridge hiding in a whiskey wagon?” Jeb demanded, standing in front of her.
Amber stared right back. There was no reason to beat around the bush. “I came to Heartsbridge to die.”
Chapter 6
“Good one, Amber. Make them think you’ve already got a death wish. Some reverse psychology might work and they’ll let you go.”
Scott crouched behind a dense bush, taking in the scene that played out a short distance away. The three cowhands were all armed, each wearing a gunbelt strapped to their hips. The only weapons available to him were a small knife he carried in his backpack and his multi-tool.
In all the years he’d gone out searching for the next adrenaline rush and adventure, it had never remotely crossed his mind that he’d ever get caught in the real-life version of a wild-west movie scene. Back home, on the family ranch in Montana, he’d done plenty of riding horses in open terrain, but galloping blindly after three outlaws, in the dark, while someone else was shooting at him, was an entirely new experience.
It didn’t help matters that the Texas terrain wasn’t familiar. During the long chase, the occasional coyote had yipped, and he’d even heard the low, drawn-out howl of a wolf piercing the stillness of the night, to add to the reality of this predicament.
This entire situation was completely foreign, and if he made one wrong move, he and Amber could both die. For that reason, he’d stayed far enough behind so the outlaws didn’t think they were being followed. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to keep his horse in a straight line and away from obvious obstacles. Even in the dark of night, there was always some light. The partial moon had helped, too, and so did the horse. It had seemed eager enough to follow the others.
Timeless Bond (Timeless Hearts Book 8) Page 4
