He chortled at his joke, then started to cough, a deep, racking sound that shook his thin frame and brought tears to his eyes. He started to choke, and his chair fell backwards as he staggered to his feet and into the hall, unable to get his breath.
A Distant Echo: Chapter Eight
Zelda shook her head with chagrin. She’d hoped Dad might make it through the meal without having an attack, but he seldom did these days.
A deep and unnamed fear twisted her insides, and she got up quickly and took the brown medicine bottle from the kitchen shelf, found a spoon, and followed Virgil. When he was able to swallow, she spooned in the cough medicine. After a few moments, his coughing subsided and they both returned to the table.
Tom and Jackson ha stopped eating. They watched, alarmed at the ferocity of the attack.
“Sorry, gents,” Virgil wheezed when he sat down again. “Damned coal dust gets in a man’s lungs and sticks there. Now, enough of me and mine. What’s this yarn of yours that got under the corporal’s skin today, anyways? What made him think you two were counterfeiters?”
“Counterfeiters?” Eli’s eyes widened and he stared, awe-struck, at first Jackson and then Tom. “Are you really counterfeiters?” His voice was reverent.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Eli. Of course they’re not.” Zelda felt herself tense. For some reason, she didn’t want to hear what Tom and Jackson had to say.
She looked at Tom. His dark blue gaze met hers for a long, intense moment.
“Corporal Allan got the wrong impression of us, Virgil” he said finally, carefully evasive as if he had read her mind. “We happened to have some…”
Again Tom’s eyes locked with Zelda’s, and she was aware of a message sent and received, a silent reassurance.
“ Some foreign money that he’d never seen before, and he jumped to the wrong conclusions. Jackson and I aren’t criminals of any sort. I guess you could best say we’re vagabonds. We travel around looking for work, and we follow up on whatever honest opportunity presents itself.”
“Well now, I did that myself as a young man.” Virgil nodded.
The excitement faded from Eli’s eyes. “Can I be excused now, Dad? I’m gonna be late, and we’re up to bat first.”
“Go ahead, son.”
Eli jumped up and knocked over his chair, set it back on its feet, and left in a hurry, slipping on a scatter rug before he made it out the door.
Zelda shook her head and clucked her tongue.
“I take it this foreign money you two got ain’t much good hereabouts?” Virgil waited to ask the question until after the back door slammed and Eli was gone.
Zelda saw Tom and Jackson exchange a look.
“No good at all.” Tom sighed. “We’re going to have to find work fast. But I’m afraid until we do, we’ll have to owe you the money you paid to the Corporal on our behalf.”
“Oh, say now, that ain’t why I was askin’.” Virgil shook his head. “No, sirree, a measly dollar ain’t gonna break us Ralstons.”
It was a chivalrous thing to say, but not entirely true, Zelda reflected. She mentally tallied up how much money was left from Dad’s last mine check. Minus the six dollars he’d handed to the police today-how could that beastly corporal fine her the unheard of sum of five dollars?-there was probably not more than two dollars left. Payday wasn’t for another week, and Dad had missed three shifts from illness, so his check wouldn’t be much. And she’d made only two dollars in the last month with her photography.
She owed the milkman, and she already had a bill at the grocery. Rent on the house was due the first of May, and Eli needed new trousers in the worst way. And always, there was the savings account at the bank for Eli’s education. Regardless of how short of money they were, Zelda religiously put a dollar from each check into the account.
Worrying about money was familiar to Zelda. She tried to be philosophical about it, but it nagged at her all the same, waking her even at night and making it difficult to sleep again.
Virgil said, “What came to me was, you two got nowhere to stay and no money to eat with. I’ve been in that spot myself, now and again.” He shot a quick, guilty look at Zelda, and her heart sank.
She knew what was coming. Dad was soft-hearted, he couldn’t bear to think of these two without a place to sleep or a hot meal to eat, and it wouldn’t matter one whit to him if she had to spend his last dime buying food to feed them. If they stayed long, that’s what it would come down to, too.
She glanced at Tom, and realized she didn’t want to think of him cold and hungry, either. But even apart from the strain on the budget, how would she fare with him living right there?
Jackson Zalco didn’t bother her in the slightest, in spite of the fact that he, too, was an extraordinarily handsome man, as blond as Tom was dark, and just as muscular and tall.
There was something about Tom Chapman that affected her in a fashion she didn’t need or want, one she couldn’t explain. She didn’t have the slightest idea how to deal with it, because she’d never felt exactly this way before.
“I thought mebbe you’d stop here with us, till you get on yer feet, so to speak,” Virgil said. “No room in the house, but there’s a big, dry loft out in the barn filled with hay, and we got plenty extra quilts you can borrow. Ain’t fancy, but it’s a roof over yer heads, and I make a good pot of mush in the mornin.”
The two men looked first at Virgil and then at one another.
“As you know, we haven’t a usable cent to our names, and nothing but the clothes on our backs,” Tom confessed. “I realize this is an imposition, but we’d be very grateful for your hospitality, even just for tonight.
Zelda could tell how difficult it was for him to accept Virgil’s offer, and it touched her. Tom was a proud man; it obviously galled him to be in the position he was in.
He went on in a firm voice, “With the understanding, however, that the moment we get a job, we’ll pay you back. And you can rest assured we’ll be out looking for work bright and early tomorrow morning.”
Virgil nodded. Zelda knew her father would make the two men welcome for as long as necessary. Apart from the mines, jobs weren’t all that plentiful in Frank, due to the vast number of immigrants arriving daily, all of them eager to settle and make a living. The men could be in the hayloft for quite some time.
Part of Zelda insisted it would be better if Tom walked out their door tonight and disappeared. But another traitorous part of her was glad he’d be around for at least a little longer.
“That’s all right with you, is it, Zel?” Virgil’s question came a bit late, she reflected wryly, now that the arrangement between the men had already been reached.
“Yes, it’s quite all right, Dad,” she agreed, giving him a reassuring smile and noting the high color in his cheeks. It wasn’t natural, that color. She’d have to somehow convince him he had to see Doc Malcolmson again.
She rose and began to collect the dishes, and in an instant, Jackson and Tom were on their feet, helping her.
“I’ll do these,” she insisted. “Dad, you three go on into the other room and relax now. You’ve earned it. Sit and have your pipe.” Zelda knew her father lived for the pipe he smoked each night after supper, and she made certain, no matter how short they were, that there was always tobacco for him. He never spent a cent on himself, otherwise. “You cooked, I’ll do the dishes. We’ll catch up with our Eli tomorrow night. It’s actually his turn.”
“I’ll be happy to help,” Tom insisted, but Zelda refused.
“Go on in and talk with Dad. He enjoys company.”
The truth was, she wanted to be alone for a while. She needed to be alone, to think through the day’s happenings, to examine the emotional reaction this Tom Chapman roused in her. She had to try and put a stop to it before it became even more intense.
She couldn’t do that with him right beside her. She wasn’t sure she could do it at all, and that troubled her deeply.
There’d never been a man to wh
om she’d felt this attracted, and that was absurd, because she’d known him for only a few hours. But for some reason, time didn’t seem relevant. She felt as if she’d known him forever.
She waited until the soft rumble of male voices and the smell of pipe tobacco issued from the sitting room down the hall. Then she tied an apron around herself, filled the dish basin with hot water from the reservoir on the side of the stove, sprinkled in soap flakes, and attacked the dishes.
Was this---this peculiar sensation she felt around him just some traitorous physical need, come on her because she was nearing her thirtieth birthday and still a virgin?
But she had chosen to remain a virgin, she reminded herself, scrubbing a pot with excess zeal. In spite of the fact that she wasn’t pretty, she was still a spinster by choice. She wasn’t one of those sad women who’d never even been asked for their hand in marriage or never felt desire burning in their loins. A flush rose when she thought of those bodily needs, and the vivid dreams that eased them, however temporarily.
She doused plates and cutlery and scrubbed them with unnecessary vigor.
Before moving West, she’d had two serious suitors in her life, and she’d sent both of them packing without a qualm. She was attracted to neither, and her uncompromising honesty forced her to acknowledge that behind their attempts at wooing her lay not love, but the stark, desperate need for a woman. Any woman.
Edgar had been a widower with a two-month-old baby and three other small children. Zelda had loved the little ones and pitied their father, but never enough to accept his hasty proposal of marriage.
Bert, too, had needed her. He’d been a kind, honest man, already middle-aged and settled into a routine. His mother was bedridden, requiring a woman’s care. Zelda had visited the pitiful old woman regularly, but she’d gently refused Bert’s offer of marriage when it came, although she’d thought that Bert might represent her last opportunity for a home of her own and a family.
But really, she thought in disgust, how could she think of marrying either man when neither one had even attempted to make any sort of love to her? She’d done enough reading---she had those certain feelings---that told her that there was a physical side to marriage that was equally as important as the business part, and the thought of engaging in intimacy with either man had set her teeth on edge.
Here in the West, of course, there were untold numbers of single men hungry for a woman. Zelda was well aware of the fallen women who lived in the houses on the outskirts of town, the area men called the Tenderloin, and of how popular their establishments were.
She was also aware that if a husband was what she wanted, she could probably find one in Frank without too much trouble. The men outnumbered the women to an astonishing degree, and great numbers of them were single and young.
And, she reminded herself, snatching up a clean dishtowel and beginning to dry the stack of clean dishes, she didn’t have to look far to see what her life might be like, married to a miner in the town of Frank.
There was Isabella Vandusen next door, several years younger than Zelda, the mother of two babies, with a life that was nothing short of dreadful. Isabella was in danger of a beating each time Nestor drank too much, but she was also totally dependent on him for every morsel of food and scrap of clothing.
There was Lydia Kovich, worn out from being pregnant for the third time in four years. She’d been Zelda’s friend until Zelda gave her some information on birth control from the Women’s Temperance Union. Lydia’s husband, Guido, had found the pamphlets and told Lydia that he’d throw her out into the street if she dared use any of the devices, and that Zelda was no longer welcome in their house. He’d torn up the pamphlets and scattered them all over the Ralstons’ front yard, and to the day the Koviches moved to Calgary, Lydia had never spoken to Zelda again. She hadn’t even said good-bye.
There were plenty of other examples of married life. Zelda knew numerous women whose husbands drank away badly needed cash in the pubs and frequented the houses of ill repute, and the wives were helpless to do anything about it.
It was perfectly obvious that a man had altogether too much power over a woman once he married her. Zelda had long ago decided she would rather go to her grave a frustrated virgin than relinquish her freedom of thought and action just for the pleasure of having babies and her own home.
She dried the last pot and hung the towel neatly on the rack. The image of Tom Chapman’s midnight-blue eyes and lazy grin imposed themselves on her mind and sent an involuntary shiver down her backbone.
Going to her grave a virgin hadn’t seemed such a great sacrifice when she’d never actually met a man who tempted her to do otherwise.
Unfortunately, Tom Chapman did.
A Distant Echo: Chapter Nine
Tom finished arranging his blankets on the stack of sweet-smelling hay. It was cold in the loft, but Zelda had given him and Jackson each a thick, goose feather-stuffed quilt as well as sheets and pillows, so he had no doubt they’d sleep warm and comfortable.
Jackson’s head and then his shoulders appeared in the square opening where a wooden ladder nailed to the wall led down to the barn proper. He hoisted himself up into the loft.
“That outhouse sure isn’t the place to linger on a cold night.” He shivered. “Those contraptions are enough to make a guy anal retentive forever.” He looked around, squinting in the pale light of the lantern Virgil had given them. “Hey, Tom, this reminds me of that job we had for that Texas millionaire who was certain there was Mexican gold buried in the desert. Remember how we ended up bunking in the hayloft of that barn?”
“Yeah. Except for thermal sleeping bags, flashlights, freeze dried food, and our Jeep parked outside, it’s nearly the same. Get your bed made up. I’m gonna blow out this lantern. I think Virgil was a little afraid we’d burn the barn down with the damned thing. He told me three or four times to be careful.”
Jackson hastily chose a spot several yards away from Tom and made his bed, then sat down on the blankets to tug off his boots and his jeans. He left his underwear and his sweatshirt on and crawled into the nest of blankets, wrestling the quilt into a cocoon around himself as Tom undressed, climbed into his bedroll, and carefully blew out the light.
“It’s freezing in these damned mountains,” Jackson complained. “I’ve forgotten what that sign said the elevation was when we drove through the Crowsnest the other day, but I do remember it was high. No wonder it’s so damn cold here. We’re way to hell and gone up in the Rockies.”
He paused and then added, “Was that just the other day?” His tone of voice changed. “It feels like a year ago, and God knows when it really was, considering what’s happened to us since.” He was silent a long moment. “You figger we got a hope in hell of getting back where we belong, Tom?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t know. What with one thing happening right after another, I haven’t had time to give it much thought today.”
“Well, we’re gonna have to try,” Jackson declared. “I don’t know about you, but I surely don’t relish freezin’ my ass off sittin’ in an outhouse for the rest of my life. I like central heating and electric razors and showers with lots of hot water.”
Tom did, too, particularly now that they weren’t available. “How do you figure we oughta go about it?”
Tom could almost hear Jackson shrug. “Got me,” he said, and Tom did hear the frustration in his partner’s voice. “There wasn’t a thing up on that hillside to indicate how we got here in the first place. It must have had something to do with that movie we watched.”
“Yeah. In the Shadow of the Mountain, wasn’t that what it was called?” Tom gave a humorless chuckle. “Damned if we didn’t end up right here in its shadow all right. Doesn’t make me too comfortable, looking at that sucker in the moonlight, knowing it’s planning to blow its top right off.”
“But not for another year, right? This is April of 1902, the Slide was April of 1903. So we got time to maneuver, even if we’re stuck her
e awhile, God forbid. And there’s not a thing we can accomplish tonight, anyhow. Ask me, we’re damned lucky to meet people as nice as these Ralstons. They sure saved our sorry asses in that lockup today.”
Silence fell. Tom thought Jackson was already asleep, but after a time his voice sounded again in the darkness. “Tom, they’re poor, these Ralstons. You can tell by their clothes, and there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot in the cupboards to eat, either. And that cough of Virgil’s sounds serious to me. He had an attack when we were cookin’, and the kid, Eli, let it slip that Virgil’s missed work because of it.
“He indicated Zelda’s been on her father’s case to go to the sawbones, but I’d lay you odds Virgil figures they can’t afford a doctor’s bill. Way I see it, we owe these people big-time, Tom.” He gave a frustrated snort. “Can you believe we’ve got probably four hundred bucks cash between us and every gold card known to man, and not one bit of it any good?”
The irony of it hadn’t escaped Tom. “First thing in the morning, we’ll find work, anything that’ll let us reimburse the Ralstons right away.” Zelda’s face was clear in his mind, and it disconcerted him to realize it wasn’t only compassion he felt for her. “There’s always the possibility we’ll get slam dunked back into the nineties with as little warning as we arrived, so we’ll make paying them back our first priority.”
“Right on. All I can say is, slam dunk can’t come too soon for this cowboy.” Jackson yawned aloud. “Well, tomorrow’s gonna be busy, so guess I’ll get some shut-eye.” In another moment, he began to snore, and soon Tom, too, fell into a restless sleep.
Now and Forever: Time Travel Romance Superbundle Page 70
