Journey to Yesterday

by Madeline Baker

  “So we’re just not going to show up?”

  “I told Rojas last night that we wouldn’t be there.”

  “Had it all planned out, eh?” she teased, and felt her heart swell with happiness because he wanted to spend time with her, because, when she looked into his eyes, she saw the answer to every unspoken hope, every longed for dream.

  When they reached the door of her room, he drew her into his arms. His kiss, when it came, was long and deep and filled with promise.

  “Pick you up in an hour?” he asked, his voice husky.

  “I’ll be ready.”

  It was, she mused, going to be a night to remember.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Shaye looked around the hall, amazed and delighted with what she saw. The lamps, turned low, filled the room with a soft amber light. At least a dozen tables were crowded together at one end of the hall. The women of the town must have been baking for days, she thought. She could almost hear the tables groaning beneath the weight of all the desserts heaped upon them: two layer cakes, apple pies, sugar cookies, and cobblers.

  The dance floor was crowded with couples, the women looking like colorful butterflies as their partners twirled them around the room.

  Alejandro swept her into his arms and soon they were caught up in the crush.

  “Did I tell you how beautiful you look in that dress?” he remarked.

  She smiled up at him. “Yes, but tell me again.”

  “You’re the prettiest girl here,” he said. “The color makes your eyes glow like emeralds.”

  Shaye laughed softly. “You sweet talker, you.”

  His gaze moved over her face, lingering on her lips. “I mean every word.”

  How could she doubt him, when he was looking at her like that? She was acutely aware of his arm around her waist, of the warmth of his hand holding hers, of the way their bodies swayed together, as if they had been dancing together for years. He drew her closer, so that, with each movement, his body brushed against hers, teasing, tantalizing.

  How handsome he was. His black coat was the perfect foil for his long black hair and deep brown eyes. Her gaze moved over his mouth and when he smiled, she knew he was aware of her thoughts, knew that she was wishing they were alone.

  Leaning forward, he whispered, “Later,” in her ear.

  When the music ended, Lottie Johl sashayed toward them. “Rio Valverde,” she exclaimed, jabbing the end of her closed fan against his chest, “didn’t you tell me you had to work tonight?”

  Alejandro’s arm curled around Shaye’s shoulders. “There was a change of plans, Miss Lottie.”

  Lottie looked at Shaye and winked. “Yes, I can see that. And a mighty pretty change she is, too.”

  Alejandro laughed. It was a full, rich, wonderful masculine sound, and it wrapped around Shaye’s heart like a warm blanket on a cold day.

  “You saved me a dance, just in case, didn’t you?” Alejandro asked.

  Lottie opened her fan with a snap. “What do you think?”

  “I think your dance card is full,” he said, a woeful expression on his face.

  Lottie batted her eyelashes at him. “Of course it is,” she replied with a saucy grin, “and one of them is yours.”

  “Let me know which one,” he said, “and I’ll be there.” He glanced down at Shaye. “As long as my lady has no objections.”

  Shaye pretended to think about it for a moment, then sighed dramatically. “I suppose I can spare you for one dance,” she said, faking a much put-upon expression.

  “I will see you later, then,” Lottie said. She smiled at the man walking toward her. “George,” she said, pouting prettily as she placed her hand on his arm, “I thought you had forgotten all about me.”

  Shaye shook her head as the man swept Lottie onto the dance floor. “Oh, look,” she said, “there’s Madame Sophie.”

  The dressmaker looked elegant in a gown of black and white striped taffeta. She nodded at Shaye, smiled at Alejandro as she swept past on her husband’s arm.

  “Shall we?” Alejandro asked, gesturing at the dance floor.

  “Yes,” Shaye answered, and felt a thrill run through her as he drew her in his arms again.

  She stared at one of the couples waltzing by, recognizing James and Martha Cain from the photograph in the guidebook.

  As the evening went on, she heard other names that were familiar: Henry Metzger, S.B. Burkham, Frank McDonnell, Tom Miller. Lester Bell. It was unreal, she thought. She was actually here, in the past, mingling with people she had read about in the guidebook.

  It was a wonderful night, filled with magic. The band played waltzes and polkas, and a quadrille, which she discovered was very much like square dancing back home. As usual, the men far outnumbered the women, and while Alejandro danced with Lottie and Sophie, Shaye danced with Henry and Spooner, both of whom paid her outrageous compliments.

  She was shocked when Dade McCrory asked her to dance. Taken by surprise, she let him lead her onto the dance floor. She glanced around the room, looking for Alejandro, saw him dancing with Addy Mae.

  “So,” McCrory said, “it’s all over town about you and Valverde.”

  “What’s all over town?” Shaye asked.

  “You know, how the two of you are sharing a room.”

  “I don’t see as how what I do is any of your business,” Shaye retorted.

  His arm tightened around her waist.“I’d like to make you my business.”

  “No way!” She jerked her head back when he tried to kiss her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Come on, honey, I’ll bet that damned ‘breed can’t please you near as good as I can.”

  “That’s enough, McCrory!”

  “Go to hell, Valverde, we’re dancin’ here.”

  “Not anymore. Take your hands off her!”

  “Sure, sure,” Dade said. He backed away from Shaye, nodding and smiling and then, with no warning, he drove his fist into Alejandro’s face.

  Alejandro staggered backward. Slowly, he lifted the back of his hand to his mouth.

  The dancers nearest Alejandro and McCrory stopped dancing. Like ripples in a pond, silence spread around the three of them until even the band fell silent.

  Shaye stared at the blood dripping from Alejandro’s mouth, clenched her hands as he lunged at McCrory. The two men reeled backward, crashing into one of the tables. Punch slopped over the sides of the bowl to stain the white lace cloth.

  A sense of helpless frustration rose up in Shaye. How could he fight? He hadn’t healed up from his last encounter with that vile man.

  Several women screamed as Alejandro and Dade began to trade blows. The men cheered them on. She felt a sense of déjà vu as she overheard several of them making bets on the outcome. Most favored Alejandro to win.

  “Men! They are such…such animals!”

  Shaye turned her head and saw Miss Sophie standing beside her.

  Miss Sophie clucked softly. “Every year it is the same! Always the fight.”

  Shaye nodded, only half listening as the dressmaker went on and on about men and how they spoiled every get-together.

  She took a step forward, craning her neck to see what was happening. Alejandro was pummeling McCrory, his fists making a dull thudding sound as he struck McCrory again and again.

  “All right, that’s enough.” The crowd parted as the sheriff pushed his way through. “What the devil’s going on here?”

  Philo Richardson caught the sheriff’s arm. “Nothing for you to be concerned about, Sheriff, just a little spat over a pretty woman.”

  Alejandro stood up and moved to Shaye’s side.

  Two men helped McCrory to his feet.

  “Who started the ruckus?” the sheriff asked, his gaze moving from Alejandro to McCrory and back again.

  Neither man said anything.

  The sheriff grunted. “So, that’s the way it’s gonna be.”

  “Now, Sheriff, why make a fuss?” Philo asked good-naturedly.
“It’s not the first time two men have squabbled over a woman, and it sure as hell won’t be the last.”

  “I reckon you’re right about that,” the sheriff said.

  “Sure.” Philo slapped the sheriff on the arm. “Let’s go over to the Sawdust. I’ll buy you a drink.”

  The sheriff fixed Alejandro and McCrory with a warning glance. “No more fightin’,” he said gruffly, “or I’ll lock ya both up.”

  Alejandro nodded, his gaze on McCrory, who was walking away, one arm wrapped protectively around his rib cage.

  “Remember what I said,” the sheriff warned, then followed Philo Richardson out the door.

  Shaye looked up at Alejandro. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the blood from his mouth, ran his hand through his hair. “Come on, let’s dance.”

  She was conscious of the stares they received as Alejandro waltzed her around the floor, but she refused to let it bother her, refused to let anything spoil this night. She was all too aware of time passing, of the fact that she could be whisked back to her own time at any moment, that every second she spent with Alejandro might be her last.

  Thirty minutes later, the band took a break.

  “Let’s go outside,” Alejandro suggested.

  “All right.”

  Shaye picked up two cups of apple cider and a napkin and they left the building. They found a relatively quiet place behind the hall. Using the napkin, Shaye wiped the a spot of blood from the corner of Alejandro’s mouth, then handed him a cup of cider. She sipped hers slowly.

  It was a beautiful night. The sky was like rich, dark velvet; a vast indigo vault peppered with millions and millions of twinkling silver stars accented by a bright butter-yellow moon.

  On this night she was only dimly aware of the noise and the dust and the people. On this night, she was mainly aware of the man standing beside her, of the way her skin tingled whenever he touched her, the way her pulse raced and her heart beat fast in anticipation of the time when they would be alone in her room, just the two of them.

  Putting her empty cup on an overturned crate, she moved closer to Alejandro, placed her hand on his chest. “Are you all right? Your arm…”

  “I’m fine, darlin’, stop worrying.” He gazed deep into her eyes. Put his cup down next to hers. Wrapped her in his embrace. “Shaye…”

  His kiss was warm and sweet, filled with promise and an unspoken question.

  Her heart was pounding with anticipation when he took his lips from hers. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

  Every saloon they passed was overflowing with miners and townspeople. There were gatherings at most of the houses, as well, and another dance at the Odd Fellows Hall. They passed a group of older boys who were lighting firecrackers and blowing up bottles and tin cans.

  Shaye paid little attention to the noise and the music and the people. Every sense was attuned to the man walking beside her, to the feel of her hand in his. Soon, she thought, soon she would be in his arms. The thought was exhilarating, and frightening. She hadn’t been sexually intimate with a man since her divorce. She’d had offers, of course, but sex without love, without any meaning other than the gratification of the moment held no appeal. She recalled a line from a movie, something about women needing a reason and men just needing a place. The thought made her smile, and then gave her pause. Was that all she was to Alejandro? Just a place? He’d never said he loved her, never mentioned love at all. Of course, neither had she. When had she fallen in love with him? Did anyone really know the exact moment when the magic happened, or why?

  Alejandro squeezed her hand and she looked up, felt the warmth of his gaze seep into her very soul.

  The hotel lobby was practically empty. The clerk glanced up from the paper he was reading when they stepped inside. Shaye paid him hardly any attention, too caught up in Alejandro’s nearness, and what was about to happen between them, to spare a thought for anything, or anyone, else. Until a woman in a bright-red dress emerged from a shadowy corner.

  Alejandro swore softy as Daisy staggered toward them.

  Shaye felt a wave of pity sweep through her as Daisy threw her arms around Alejandro’s neck.

  “Rio!”

  “Daisy, what are you doing here?” He tried to disengage her arms from around his neck, but she clung to him like a burr to a saddle blanket.

  “You don’t need her!” Daisy said, sobbing. “You don’t need anyone but me. I’ll make you happy, Rio, I’ll… “

  “Daisy, that’s enough.”

  “Get her out of here,” the clerk called. “This is a decent establishment. We don’t want her kind in here.”

  Alejandro quelled the desk clerk’s outburst with a single withering glance, then he looked at Shaye over the top of Daisy’s head. “She’s drunk. I’d better take her home.”

  Shaye nodded.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Alejandro said, and there was a wealth of promise in his voice.

  Daisy leaned heavily against him as he guided her out of the hotel. Outside, the streets seemed uncharacteristically empty. She stumbled once, and he slipped his arm around her waist to steady her.

  Alejandro nodded at several men as they neared White Street.

  “She ain’t gonna be any use to ya tonight,” one of the miners called out good-naturedly.

  “That’s right, Rio,” came a honeyed voice. “Why don’t you come see me instead?”

  Alejandro winked at the scantily-clad woman leaning over the railing in front of the saloon on the corner. “Some other time, Katie me darlin’,”

  Alejandro was practically carrying Daisy by the time they reached her house. Deciding that would be easier, he swung her into his arms, opened the front door, and carried her through the dark house to her bedroom.

  She clung to him when he put her down on the bed. “Don’t leave me.”

  “I’m here.” He disengaged her hands from his neck, kissed her cheek. “Just lie still.”

  Alejandro reached for the matches on the bedside table, his fingers brushing against the derringer he had given her. He lit the lamp, turned the wick down when she groaned and turned away from the light.

  He removed her boots and stockings, slipped off her petticoats, drew her dress over her head. He found her nightgown and helped her into it, then tucked her beneath the covers.

  “I’m sorry.” She reached for him again, capturing his hand in hers. “Don’t be angry.”

  “I’m not angry with you.”

  “I love you, Rio. I’ll never love…” She hiccoughed. “Never love anyone else. Just you.” She squeezed his hand. “Just you. We could be happy, Rio.” She looked up at him through wide, hopeful eyes. “I know we could, if you’d just…just give us a chance.”

  She was young, he thought, so damn young. He didn’t want to hurt her, but it would be no kindness to let her go on hoping.

  “Daisy…”

  “Why? Why can’t you love me?” She flung his hand aside, her expression suddenly cold and bitter. “It’s her, isn’t it? That woman you were with tonight.”

  Alejandro shook his head. “No, Daisy, it’s me. I’ve never had a steady woman in my life. I’m a drifter, and I always will be. That’s no life for a woman. Any woman.”

  He extinguished the lamp, then leaned down and brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Get some sleep, darlin’. You’ll feel better in the morning, and you’ll see that I’m right.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes suddenly clear. “I’m tired.” She turned over on her side, putting her back to him.

  Something in her voice sent a chill down his spine. “Daisy…”

  “Goodbye, Rio.”

  Laying his hand on her shoulder, he gave it a squeeze. “Good night, Daisy.”

  * * * * *

  Shaye stared out the window, wondering what was taking Rio so long. She had removed her shoes and stockings, turned down the bed, brushed out her hair. Every time she
heard a footstep in the hallway, she felt a thrill of anticipation, followed by a keen sense of disappointment.

  What was taking him so long? Daisy’s house wasn’t that far away. She drummed her fingers on the window sill. Had Daisy convinced him to stay awhile?

  To stay the night?

  She banished the thought as soon as it formed and forced herself to think of something else, of what she would do if she was stuck in the past. Not that she would mind, so long as Alejandro was here with her. It would be hard on her parents, of course, never knowing what had happened to their only daughter, and she had a few close friends who would miss her for a while, but life went on and they would no doubt forget about her soon enough. She could be replaced at work. She shook her head. It was kind of sad, actually, that there were so few people who would be worried by her disappearance.

  She blew out a sigh. Where was he?

  Just when she was beginning to think he wasn’t coming back, she heard the door open. She felt a rush of anticipation as he came up behind her, his arms sliding around her waist.

  “Miss me?” he asked.

  “What do you think?”

  He nuzzled the back of her neck, his breath warm against her skin. “I want to hear you say it.”

  “I missed you.” She leaned back against him. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d changed your mind.”

  “No, darlin’, not for a minute.”

  She had thought to feel apprehensive, shy, embarrassed, but all she felt was contentment as he turned her in his arms, lowered his head, and kissed her. It was the Fourth of July, she thought. Independence Day. And Alejandro was setting her free.

  His hands moved up and down her back, slowly, sensually, the heat of his hands penetrating her clothing, warming the skin beneath. His tongue skimmed over her lower lip, a living flame. Her breasts were flattened against his chest as he drew her closer, closer. He deepened the kiss, and she moaned softly, her arms sliding around his waist, her hands delving under his shirt to caress the firm warm skin of his back.

  “Shaye…” He rained kisses on her nose and eyelids, on her cheeks, down her neck, his hands deftly disposing of her clothing until she wore only her chemise and pantalets. No small feat, she mused, considering the layers she wore.