“You gave me quite a scare,” he said, his arm still cradling her neck. He offered a tentative smile. “When Gabe told me you were in that burning barn, I thought I’d lost you.” His palm scraped across his face, then he reached for her hand and brought it to his mouth. He stared at her as if he wanted to devour her with his eyes alone, while his lips softly brushed the back of her hand.
Laney blinked. Her eyes still stung, but she couldn’t pull her gaze away from him. When was the last time anyone had shown such raw concern for her? Every minute she was in this man’s company shattered her resolve a little more that the reverend needed to send her home to her time. Someone actually cared for her here. Why would she want to leave?
You can’t stay here. Jason was a decent guy for a while, and look what he wanted you to do.
Tyler wasn’t like Jason. She laughed softly, which only sent her into another fit of coughing. Tyler might have developed some feelings for her, but what would he do when he found out she’d come here under false pretenses?
“Tyler Monroe, what are you doing?” A stern voice called. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, getting amorous with this girl after what she’s been through. Didn’t I tell you to come and fetch me the minute she woke up?”
Laney turned her head toward the sound of the voice. Myra Hansen swooshed into the room like an eagle swooping down on its unsuspecting prey. Tyler straightened, but didn’t release his hold on her.
“You run along and let me see to her,” Myra said sternly, and appeared next to the bed. “Doc Brooks left strict instructions that she needs to rest.”
Tyler’s gaze didn’t waver from Laney’s face. “I’ll come see you in a little while,” he finally said, and reluctantly released her hand. He pulled his arm out from behind her back, and rose from his sitting position on the mattress. Seconds later, he disappeared from the room.
“How are you, my dear?” Myra asked, leaning over her. She wore almost the same concerned look as Tyler had.
“I feel like a truck ran over me,” Laney rasped. “And like that charred piece of meat from the day before.”
Myra’s eyebrows contracted, and she shot Laney a quizzical look. “Would you like me to get you some laudanum?”
Laudanum? What was that?
“I think I’ll be alright, Myra.” It was safer to stay away from nineteenth century medicine, based on what she’d seen in regard to the horses.
“Well, Doc Brooks said you took a good hit to the head, and you need to stay in bed and rest. I’m here to make sure that happens. I couldn’t leave you here alone with a ranch full of men tending to you.” The older woman patted her hand, and beamed down at her.
“Thank you, Myra.” Laney blinked back the tears in her eyes. “I think I should close my eyes for a while.” She didn’t want the woman to see her cry. Why was everyone so nice to her?
“That’s a good idea. You don’t worry about anything. I’m going to send one of Tyler’s boys into town tomorrow to fetch Henrietta. That is, if you’re well enough.”
Laney adjusted her position on the mattress, and stared up at Myra. “Who is Henrietta?”
“The seamstress. I’m going to have her make you a dress for my party. Don’t you worry now. We’ll have you all well and on your feet by then.”
Laney groaned silently. She planned to be back in the future well before the following Saturday. How was she going to get to town to talk to the reverend?
“Well, you rest now, and I’ll bring you some of my famous boojah soup in a while. I’ll make sure those wranglers don’t eat it all.” She turned and waddled out the door, closing it softly behind her.
Laney pushed herself to a sitting position. Did she really want to know what boojah soup was? It didn’t sound very appetizing, not that she had much of an appetite at the moment. She coughed again, and blinked away the black swirls before her eyes.
Memories of the fire, and the terrified whinnies of the three colts echoed in her mind. She breathed a sigh of relief. Tyler told her the horses were safe. She shuddered at the horrific thought that they could have burned to death. That she could have died, too.
Gabe had been the one to alert Tyler that she was in the barn? Her strange conversation with the foreman replayed itself in her mind. His eerie words that they would get along just fine if she kept up her good work sent a chill down her spine. What good work? What did Gabe know about her? And why had he told her twice now that she wasn’t what he had expected? There was something creepy about that guy, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
Chapter 19
Tyler reached his arms up. Laney peered down at him from atop the seat on the buckboard, her lips twitching in an effort to keep a straight face. He raised his eyebrows, staring up at her expectantly.
“All right,” she mumbled, and rolled her eyes for dramatic effect. She turned on the seat, and leaned toward him, reaching out her own arms to grab on to his shoulders. Her breath caught in her throat when his strong hands latched on to her waist, and he lifted her from the wagon. He set her gently on her feet in front of him. Too close in front of him. The smile faded from her face as she gazed up into his dark eyes. The muscles along his upper arms bunched taut, and she didn’t want to let go. Heat radiated into her from his broad upper body, warming the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders where her shawl had fallen away.
No matter how hard she fought her feelings for Tyler, he chiseled away at her resolve with every moment she spent in his company. If she hadn’t been sure before the barn fire that she had fallen in love with him, there was no question in her mind now. The overpowering urge to run as far away as possible warred inside her with the desire to grab hold of him and give in to her feelings. Nothing good would come of this. It never did. Every person she’d ever put her trust into or given freely of herself, had turned out to disappoint and abandon her. Hadn’t she decided that, after her experience with Jason, she was done looking for that one man who would love her forever?
The day she’d woken up in her bed after the fire to see Tyler leaning over her, his eyes so full of concern, would be etched in her memory forever. Oh how she’d wanted to wrap her arms around him, and tell him he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She couldn’t do it. Panic engulfed her every time she thought about the intensity of her feelings for him; panic that he would turn out to be just like every other man. Gabe had implied that Tyler was in love with her, but what did that really mean? Heck, she even heard Tyler whisper the words to her in her dreams.
You have no experience with real love, Laney. Every guy who’s ever told you he loved you only wanted one thing from you.
Laney touched a hand to her temple. Myra Hansen had stayed at the ranch since the barn fire to take care of her while she recovered from her accident. The sweet older widow had only returned to her own home late yesterday to help with the preparations for her sixtieth birthday party. Tyler had mentioned that the entire town had come together to throw the beloved matron a celebration that would be talked about for years to come.
Laney had insisted for days that she was fine, and didn’t need anyone to look after her. Her chest was a little tight whenever she inhaled deeply, and her head still hurt from where the colt had struck her, but she wasn’t used to someone constantly hovering over her. Myra’s motherly attention had been nice in a way, but at the same time, it had given her no opportunity to sneak away and treat Rap, or visit the gray colt. All her efforts would go to waste if she didn’t continue the swimming regimen with the stallion.
One good thing that had come from Myra’s stay was that she kept Tyler away from her for the most part. The old widow had watched over her like a mother hen, and had apparently decided that she needed to keep a watchful eye on Tyler, so there would be no “shenanigans” while Laney was on the mend.
“You two young’uns will have plenty of time for that when Laney’s all better, Tyler,” she’d scoffed, and shot him a glare that dared him to contradict her.
&nbs
p; Tyler had obliged the old woman and kept his distance. On several occasions, Laney caught the way he looked at her with such longing and warmth in his eyes when Myra’s back was turned, that Laney thought she might melt into the wooden floorboards in the living room. It scared her more than anything else in her life ever had. Would she have been able to keep her feelings in check if Myra hadn’t been a constant presence?
It’s better this way. For both of us.
“Was that so difficult?”
Tyler’s deep drawl close to her ear startled her back to her senses. She blinked, and refocused her attention on him. She hadn’t realized that she still stared into his eyes.
“Are you happy now that I let you help me down from the wagon?” She plastered another bright smile on her face. Hopefully it would hide her nervousness, and the direction her thoughts had taken. She hadn’t been this close to Tyler since the day before the fire. The day he’d kissed her, and let her know in no uncertain terms that he was ready for more than a casual relationship with her.
“That’s twice in one day, Tyler. I let you help me up into the buckboard back at the ranch, remember?” she teased.
Tyler’s grip on her tightened. His fingers slid along her waist, and she sucked in a deep breath at her body’s response to his touch. His warm hands radiated heat through the fabric of her dress, and an unexpected ripple of pleasure raced up her spine. She clung to his arms when her legs turned to putty.
The corners of his mouth twitched, and his dark eyes sparkled. “I paid a small fortune for this dress you’re wearing, and I’d rather not see it get ruined if you end up in the dirt again, like you did on the day you arrived. Besides,” he added after a pause, a wide grin on his face now, “Widow Hansen will tan my hide if I don’t show up here with you in one piece.”
Laney broke eye contact. She couldn’t continue to look at Tyler. Her heart melted enough as it was. She darted a hasty glance down her front at the dress she wore. Myra had insisted on bringing Henrietta, the town’s seamstress, to the ranch, to have Laney measured and fitted for a new dress “on account of my birthday party.”
Between Myra and Henrietta, the two women had designed the beautiful sky blue taffeta dress she wore now. It wasn’t something she would have ever chosen to wear in her lifetime, but she had to admit it was a pretty dress. The thick bustle at the back that seemed to be fashionable in this time was something she would have a hard time getting used to, and she’d insisted that the seamstress take measurements without a corset.
“I, uh . . . still have a hard time breathing from all the smoke. If you want me to come to the party, Myra, I can’t wear a corset.”
Myra and Henrietta had exchanged uneasy looks, but had reluctantly agreed that Laney was right. In the end, Myra had said that a shawl worn strategically over the shoulder and around the bodice would hide the impropriety.
Tyler finally released his hold on her, and offered her his arm. “Are you ready to meet the town, Laney?”
She leaned back, and scrutinized his face. “I’m shocked you even let me leave the house today to come here for the party,” she stated in mock outrage. “It’s a wonder that you didn’t tie me to my bed and lock the door to the room the minute Myra left yesterday.” Somehow, the teasing banter with Tyler was easier than any serious conversations. It kept her mind in check from focusing on the intense feelings she had for him.
Tyler grinned. His eyebrows raised. “The thought of tying you to your bed has crossed my mind.” He winked at her. “But Myra would have sent the sheriff after me if we didn’t show up, or I would have kept you home.” His face turned serious in the next instant. “If you feel at all unwell, you let me know, and I’ll fetch Doc Brooks or take you back to the ranch.”
“I’m fine,” Laney huffed. She swallowed back the lump in her throat at Tyler’s suggestion that he would tie her to the bed. Was he even aware of the double meaning of his words? Damn. Why did her mind have to stray in that direction?
“I’m not some porcelain doll. How often do I have to tell you or Myra that?” She adjusted the shawl around her shoulder, and slipped her arm through his.
Tyler frowned, his gaze still on her. He didn’t comment, and seemed rather reluctant as he led her toward the lighted yard behind the livery. The faint sounds of music and voices mingled with the soft snorts of horses that were hitched to buckboards and rigs. The sun’s last rays of the day disappeared in a red glow in the distant horizon. Paper lanterns hung from every tree and pole, and along the ropes that had been erected over a wooden dance floor.
Laney’s heart sped up. She’d be meeting all of Tyler’s friends. For him, she wanted to make a good impression. Hopefully she wouldn’t do or say anything that was considered improper in this time.
People mingled about, chatting, sipping from tin cups, and helping themselves to food items from a long table that spanned one side of the clearing. To their right was the dance floor, and several couples moved to the tunes of a lively reel.
More and more people glanced in their direction with interest when she and Tyler walked into the yard. He patted her hand when women and men openly stared as they walked by.
“Howdy, Tyler,” one man greeted and held out his hand. Tyler shook it heartily. The woman who stood next to the man eyed Laney curiously, her gaze resting on her hair. The woman’s curls were done up in a similar style as Laney had worn the day she arrived. In fact, as she glanced around, she was the only one with her hair completely down. She tucked some strands behind her ear that had come loose from the comb she’d used to keep it swept back and out of her face. A ponytail wouldn’t be appropriate, and she had no idea how to curl and arrange her hair in the elaborate style that seemed to be fashionable here. She raised her chin and squared her shoulders. Having other people look down on her because of the way she chose to dress was nothing new to her.
“Ben,” Tyler said next to her, nodding to the other man. “This is my wife, Laney,” he added. His voice held the same note of pride she’d heard him use when he talked about his ranch and horses. “Laney, this is Ben Sockum, and his wife, Charlotte. They’re our neighbors.”
The woman nodded politely and plastered a fake smile on her face, and Ben shook her hand when Laney held it out to him.
“A pleasure, ma’am. I heard about the trouble you’ve had at your place.”
Laney nodded quietly. The rancher directed his gaze on Tyler, and she tuned out the men’s talk. Her eyes roamed across the yard and observed the people. Myra Hansen sat near a table that held an enormous crystal punch bowl. She was surrounded by a group of elderly ladies.
Her heart sped up when she spotted a white-haired man in a black waistcoat, sipping from a tin cup. He stood away from the crowd, and his eyes met hers. He raised his cup to her. Reverend Johnson! She had to talk to him. This was her opportunity to tell him to send her home.
Laney slipped her hand from around Tyler’s arm. “If you’ll . . . um . . . excuse me, I think I’ll go and wish Myra a happy birthday.”
“All right.” Tyler glanced at her. His eyes roamed her face. “Why don’t you go sit with her. I’ll be along shortly.”
Laney nodded to him, and then to the couple in front of her. She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, and headed toward Myra. Before the old woman could see her, she veered off to where the reverend stood, concealed partly in shadows.
“Why, Mrs. Monroe. Don’t you look stunning. What a change from the young woman I met in that limo a few weeks ago.” He held out his hands, and clasped hers in greeting. His face beamed and his eyes roamed over her from head to toe.
“I need to talk to you,” Laney whispered in a hushed tone. “Can we go somewhere private?”
The reverend frowned, and his smile faltered. “Is something the matter? I heard about the unfortunate fire at the Double M. I am so sorry you were trapped in that barn. I never expected your life to be in danger.”
Laney glanced over her shoulder. Tyler was still in conversation with th
e other rancher. She waved off the reverend’s concern, and walked away from the festivities, heading away from the yard and toward a couple of buildings. The light grew dim, and she blinked to adjust her eyes to the darkness. The reverend fell in step beside her. When they were far enough away from everyone, she stopped between two buildings that formed an alleyway of sorts and led to the main street. She turned to face the old man.
“Reverend, you have to send me home,” she pleaded, and grabbed for his arm.
“What? You haven’t completed your assignment yet.” The old man took a step back, his eyes wide with surprise.
“I can’t help Tyler’s horse, Reverend. I don’t even know what’s wrong with him. All I do is play guessing games. And. . . I can’t make Tyler happy.”
The reverend’s bushy eyebrows scrunched together. “I saw him arrive with you, and he appeared completely happy. You must be doing something right.”
Laney sucked in a deep breath. “Please, send me home. I don’t want to be here any more.” Somehow she choked the words from her mouth. She did want to be here, but she couldn’t stay. What did she need to do to convince the old man that he needed to send her home?
“Mrs. Monroe, I –”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “My name is Laney Goodman. I’m not married to Tyler. You know that.” This fairy tale had to end now, before her heart was crushed even more.
The reverend shook his head, the wrinkles in his forehead furrowing even deeper. He chuckled. “Of course you are married to him. You both signed the certificate, and it’s been properly filed.”
“I don’t belong here.” Laney’s voice rose in a frantic plea. She grabbed the reverend’s hand.
The old man’s face grew serious. “You can’t tell me you enjoy your old life better. Is Tyler not treating you well? Are you not enjoying the horses?”
“Of course I am,” she hissed. “Tyler treats me . . . no one has ever treated me the way he treats me.”
Ain't No Angel Page 20
