by Deb Stover
A Moment In Time
by
Deb Stover
A Time Travel Western Romance Novel
First publication: June 2000 by Kensington Publishing.
© 2000 and 2012 by Debra S. Stover AKA Deb Stover.
All Rights Reserved
Cover design by Deb Stover.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior permission of Deb Stover, AKA Debra S. Stover, the copyright owner.
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Cheers For A Moment In Time!
Nominated for the Colorado Book Award!
"Deb Stover continually reinvents the genre with her fresh and original novels. This is an author who has made her mark and continues to captivate. She should be on every reader's keeper shelf." ~ Kathe Robin, RT Book Reviews A Top Pick
"Intelligence, humor and warmth...delightful!"
~ Harriet Klausner, AFFAIRE DE COEUR
"Five Stars! A scorcher! Totally entrancing! Ms Stover has yet again delivered a truly entertaining romance so hot you will need to take a cold shower after reading it. Every woman will be wanting Cole Morrison for herself. A story filled with characters you will fall in love with...a truly must buy."
~ Maureen Boylan, Reviewer for Scribesworld.com
"Deb Stover has created a story that blends love, laughter, and miracles for her readers. If I could only say one thing about this book it would be, 'Don't miss it!'" ~ Huntress Book Reviews
"The time travel genre belongs to Deb Stover. Nobody does it better!" ~ Maggie Osborne, author of Silver Lining
Novels by Deb Stover
Shades of Rose
A Willing Spirit
Some Like It Hotter
Almost An Angel
Another Dawn
Stolen Wishes
A Matter Of Trust
A Moment In Time
No Place For A Lady
Mulligan Stew
Mulligan Magic
The Gift
Novellas
"The Enchanted Garden" in A Dangerous Magic; DAW
"Keeper Of The Well" in Murder Most Romantic; Gramercy
"Punkinella" in Vengeance Fantastic; DAW
"Skin Deep" in Irresistible Forces; NAL
"Witch Stitchery" in Enchantment Place; DAW
"When It’s Wright" in Cast Of Characters; Fiction Studio
Dedication
For Dave–the eternal optimist who always had a smile and a kind word for everyone. He was often heard to say, "It's not the worst thing that ever happened to me," even while battling terminal cancer. No matter what life throws at me, I always try to remember his positive outlook.
Chapter 1
Sunlight slammed into Jackie with all the finesse of a sledgehammer. She flopped onto her back and covered her eyes. Not much help there.
Groaning, she struggled to a sitting position and stretched, gradually opening her eyes. With the sheet wrapped around her, she staggered to the window and pushed aside the tattered curtain. The dirt road and endless sea of pine trees jarred her memory.
Oh, yeah. She knew where she was. Sort of. A cultural oasis. A log cabin in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.
"Why'd I let you talk me into this?" she muttered, glancing back at the rumpled bed.
The empty rumpled bed.
Her heart dropped into her stomach, then vaulted to her throat. Suspicion slithered through her as she walked to the closet and threw open the door. His clothes were gone.
"Perfect."
Then another far more disturbing realization struck and she rushed back to the window. The empty driveway confirmed her fears. "My car. He stole my car!"
Tears stung her eyes and her head pounded a rhythm that would've put Phil Collins to shame. Her stomach clenched and burned, forcing bile to her throat.
As if she didn't have enough problems.
"Well, this is a high point in your life, Jackie," she said in her best imitation of Aunt Pearl's voice. "After all, what did you expect from a man who calls himself Blade? How could you be so stupid?"
Looking for love in all the wrong places again?
Add one more man to the not-so-long list of those Jackie Clarke had foolishly trusted in her lifetime, starting with her father. "Nothing like family tradition."
With a sigh, she jerked on her T-shirt and jeans, then went through the only other room in the cabin and out the back door. This lovers' hideaway–sans electricity, phone and indoor plumbing–had only the most modern conveniences.
For about a hundred years ago.
But the outhouse was the least of her problems. Being abandoned in a cabin somewhere in the Rocky Mountains was a hell of a lot more pressing than spending quality time with an outhouse.
Oh, joy.
Picking her way barefoot through the damp grass, she gave the outhouse what she hoped was her most scathing glance. Then she held her breath, ducked inside, and answered the call of nature.
This was all Blade's fault.
The cabin allegedly belonged to Blade's uncle. Somehow, she had trouble believing the con artist could possibly have any family. The place probably belonged to his last conquest.
Gullible woman number hundred and thirty-seven.
She stepped from the outhouse and gulped fresh air.
Why'd you fall for it, Clarke?
Simple. Blade Smith had swept her off her feet. She glanced at her bare toes and wiggled them. His dark good looks, sexy voice, and artsy-fartsy way had wooed her big time.
Let me take you away from all this, sweetcakes, he'd said. His lack of originality should've been her first warning. I must paint you. You will be my masterpiece. More bull.
And he'd said he loved her. And that, as they say, had clinched it.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and drew a steadying breath. She wouldn't cry. This wasn't the first mistake she'd ever made, and it probably wouldn't be the last. She just had to develop a tougher shell.
Blade had charmed her just when she'd needed charming most. So Jackie had left her partner in charge of their beauty shop and used her savings to fund Blade's excursion through Never-Never Land.
"Smooth move, Tinkerbell."
With a sigh, she walked back inside and scrounged around the kitchen. At least he'd left her some groceries and the gas grill. Now if only she could figure out a way to put wheels on the thing and drive it down the mountain. She sighed. Right now she'd settle for a cup of strong coffee. A whole pot might help her think straight.
After her third cup, she ate a cold English muffin and went back to the bedroom to inventory her belongings. Just how much had Blade left her?
One thing was a safe bet–he'd taken all her money.
She turned her fanny pack upside down over the bed. "Yep." He even had her wallet and credit cards.
Not that they'd do him any good. A smug smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Every single one of them was maxed out. "Thank God for small favors."
Her gaze shifted to the mirror on the wall and she groaned, lifting her trembling hand to her hair. Why had she let him talk her into dying her hair, too?
Red. Neon red.
For inspiration, he'd said. About the only thing it inspired in her was nausea. Until she returned to civiliza
tion and beauty supplies, she was stuck with it, and her dark roots were already showing.
Dismissing her appearance, she looked out the window again. The cloudless blue sky mocked her with the promise of a beautiful day. "Nice day for a hike." She'd have to drive back later for her clothes. Right now she needed to travel light. It was a long walk down the mountain. Still, she was healthy. No reason to think she couldn't handle a little exercise.
Damn Blade all to hell. Murderous thoughts fueled her as she stuffed a few items into her fanny pack, and realized one positive thing might come from this experience.
Her foolishness would provide Great-Aunt Pearl with enough material to razz Jackie for the rest of her life. Both their lives. And then some. After the old woman died, she'd undoubtedly return to haunt her. "Oh, now that's just what I need."
Jackie sat on the edge of the bed, tears building in her eyes, threatening to overflow any moment. At thirty-three, she should've known better than to let a creep like Blade take advantage of her this way. This wasn't at all like her. The old Jackie had been a dreamer.
But those dreams were dead.
"Fool." When she'd walked down the aisle so long ago, dreams had filled her young, idealistic mind. For eight years since the divorce, she'd worked. Period. No love life–nothing.
Just the kind of woman a con man would choose as a target. That made her a...victim. A shudder of revulsion rippled through her, barely saving her from drowning in self-pity.
"Wrong scenario, kid." She dried her eyes with the backs of her hands and stood. "Time to hit the road."
After tying her cheap hiking boots, she opened the door and stepped outside. The great outdoors. Oh, goodie. Shading her eyes, she looked west. Dark clouds now marred the horizon beyond the next ridge.
She shrugged. What the hell? A little rain couldn't make her day any worse. Armed with her comb, compact and Midol, she started along the trail.
The cabin quickly vanished behind her, swallowed by the thick forest of pine and aspen. "Stop looking behind you, stupid." She needed to concentrate on finding her way to the highway, where she knew the nearest town was to her left. At least she'd paid some attention during the drive up here.
When she hadn't been gazing into Blade's dark, deceitful eyes.
A fork in the road brought her to a standstill. She didn't remember this. Which way had they come? Both roads were equally rutted by the passage of four wheel drive vehicles. After a few minutes, she shook her head and chose the left fork...and prayed. It looked right.
She rubbed her upper arms, wishing for something heavier than her thin jacket, but her warmer coat and gloves were in her car. With Blade. The temperature was definitely dropping, and clouds now shrouded the area with heavy gray.
One small flake drifted languidly to the ground.
Jackie shook her head in disbelief. "No, it can't be." Resolutely, she continued along the mountain road, the plunging temperature numbing her fingers and toes. She buckled her fanny pack around her waist and tucked one hand under each armpit to warm.
Another flake.
"No, no, no!"
She walked faster. The flakes were fruitful and multiplied. Adam and Eve would've been proud.
Now there was no denying the facts. Snow.
"Criminy, it's June." It was the very beginning of June, though, and snow still capped the highest peaks in the distance. She stopped to look around. The heavy clouds hung lower now, veiling the treetops.
But something else even more worrisome nagged at her. The farther she walked, the less familiar her surroundings looked. She paused.
She'd chosen the wrong fork. Damn.
"Decision time, Clarke." If she went much farther, she'd never be able to find her way back with the road covered in snow. Shoot, she had enough trouble finding her way to the mall.
But what if she managed to find her way back to the cabin and the snow piled up so high she couldn't leave?
Snowed in.
Without her electric blanket.
But it was June. No matter how much it snowed, it couldn't last long. And the farther down the mountain she went, the warmer it would be. Right?
As she stood in the middle of the unfamiliar road and contemplated her dilemma, the wet spring snow soaked her jacket and hair.
"Damn."
Even if this road wasn't the same one they'd driven up, it still had to lead to civilization. Eventually. Deciding not to waste precious time backtracking, she closed her eyes for a brief prayer, then reopened them and put one foot in front of the other.
Frustration permeated Jackie like lotion toner on a seek and destroy mission for dark roots, as she continued along the rutted mountain road. Snow quickly covered the ground, making her pray again that she'd made the right decision.
She squinted through the white stuff, straining to identify the dark silhouettes ahead. They weren't trees. Dare she hope...?
She quickened her pace, falling flat on her face twice before she was able to identify the definite shapes of several structures. Calling out in the awesome silence, she hoped someone would hear and lead her to shelter.
Nothing. No sound at all came from the cluster of buildings. Whatever it was–a ranch, maybe?–no one was home. It didn't matter. She'd break in, if necessary.
Nearly numb, Jackie staggered to the nearest building and stumbled to her knees. An upward glance confirmed that she would find no shelter in this building. It had no roof.
Abandoned. Like her.
Fear sliced through her. Surely one of the buildings was whole and safe. After struggling to her feet, she turned and stomped toward the next one. Only two walls still stood against the harsh Rocky Mountain weather.
"I don't believe this."
She was so tired, but she remembered reading something about people getting sleepy before they died from hypothermia. Well, she wasn't ready to die. Not until she made Blade pay for what he'd done.
A new surge of anger fueled her. After a few minutes, she summoned what remained of her strength and lurched toward the next building. If she died up here, she wouldn't be able to get revenge.
And her aunt would really get some mileage out of this one with her women's circle at church.
Jackie had no intention of being that generous.
Her heart raced as she studied the next structure. Hope filled her. This building had a porch and all the walls appeared intact. She reached for the handle and jiggled it, holding her breath as the door squeaked in protest. After a good shove, it swung open and she scrambled inside. The interior was dry and warm–comparatively speaking.
After closing the door against the wind, she unbuckled her fanny pack and dropped it, then slumped to the floor to catch her breath. Her feet and hands were completely numb. The way her luck was running, she'd probably lose all her fingers and toes.
Blade would pay for each and every one.
As her breathing slowed to a more reasonable rate, she examined her surroundings. Dusty was a supreme understatement, but the place was totally dry. Who cared about a little dust?
She sneezed.
A bar ran the length of the room, with a tarnished brass rail around its rim. Glasses and barrels lined the wall behind it.
A saloon. She laughed in disbelief. Just her luck to find an abandoned...ghost town?
She slowly rolled to one hip and rose, flexing her fingers and wiggling her toes. Maybe she didn't have frostbite after all. Everything seemed to be thawing nicely. Like a Thanksgiving turkey.
And she was definitely thankful, ghost town or not.
Stiff-legged, she walked toward the bar, inspecting the place. Incredible. Overturned tables and chairs filled the room; broken chandeliers hung from the rafters. A potbellied stove occupied one corner.
Her gaze followed the stovepipe through the wall high above. What were the chances of it being clean? She didn't want to burn down her only shelter, and the way her luck had been running...
A sinking sensation swept through her. It didn't
matter anyway, because she had no matches. Just her luck they didn't teach fire building in beauty college.
With a sigh, she turned to look at the magnificent bar. Where were Little Joe, Hoss and Adam? Better still, a bartender like Sam Malone from "Cheers" waiting to serve her a shot of whiskey to warm her bones?
It struck her as odd that this one building should be in such good shape–so to speak–while the others were completely collapsing. Curious, she walked behind the bar and looked at the shelves beneath it.
A book grabbed her attention. She pulled it out and set it on the bar, pluming dust into her face. Coughing and waving her hand to clear the air, she flipped open the black leather cover.
It was a script called The Legend of Devil's Gulch. That explained a few things. Obviously, a movie crew had used the saloon. They must've done a little restoration on the place.
She looked upward at the roof. Thank God.
Wondering what other useful items might have been left behind, Jackie searched through the shelves and produced a bottle of whiskey. A sealed bottle of whiskey.
"This is progress." She placed the bottle on the bar and continued her search. Now, if only she could find a can of soup, or anything else non-perishable and edible.
After completing her unsuccessful search of the bar, she turned around. A portrait on the wall seized her attention. Tentatively, she reached up and wiped a layer of dirt away with her bare hand.
"Nude, of course. I should've known." She shook her head and sighed. "Men are pigs. Sheesh."
As she studied the painting, heat bloomed in her face. Blade had painted Jackie in the nude. What was he doing with that painting now? Who was he showing it to?
"Damn." It didn't matter. Right now, only survival mattered. But what if he tried to blackmail Aunt Pearl with it? Jackie covered her face for a second and groaned.
She couldn't help wondering if the woman in the portrait had been foolish about men, too. She studied the woman's face. Her eyes appeared intelligent and a smug smile tilted the corners of her red lips.
