A Moment in Time

by Deb Stover

  A shudder of remembrance swept through Jackie and she swallowed. "How'd you get here? I don't understand."

  "When you disappeared in that painting, I dove in after you. It's fate, babe."

  She wasn't crazy after all, and that painting really was a time portal. "So you woke up here, too?"

  He nodded.

  "In the gutter where you belong, I hope."

  "In the kitchen, but I slipped out before anybody saw me." He chuckled and the brunette peered over the edge of the sheet. "This won't take much longer, sweetcakes." He turned his attention back to Jackie. "So...you going to help me spend Goodfellow's gold, babe?"

  Jackie shook her head and gripped the doorknob. She'd heard enough. "Oh, I wouldn't spend what you don't have yet if I were you. And..."

  "Oh, I'll have it and I'll enjoy every penny." He took a drink from his whiskey bottle, his dark eyes glittering as he swallowed. "And what?"

  "I never want to see your sleazy ass again in any time or place." Ignoring his menacing chuckle, she slipped through the door and returned to her room.

  She walked slowly to the mirror again, staring at her reflection. Her gray eyes snapped and her nostrils flared. A sense of power flowed through her, confirming that she was doing the right thing. She hoped Cole would agree.

  With a longing sigh, she squeezed her eyes shut, picturing Cole as he'd looked during their picnic at the waterfall. And he'd been so patient and gentle while she'd told her story of time travel. Only a man who really loved a woman would've listened to every crazy word as he had.

  Her belly tightened with longing and her heart swelled with love. She loved him so much. With renewed determination, she opened her eyes and gave herself an emphatic nod.

  "Ready or not, world."

  Chapter 17

  Cole rode into Devil's Gulch hours before the Gold Mine Saloon would open its doors. He tied Ruth to the hitching post and pounded on the double doors until they swung open with a squeak of protest.

  "We ain't open yet," a woman's husky voice called. "Come back later."

  Cole wedged his boot in the door as she tried to close it. "I'm looking for someone," he said, hoping he wouldn't need the rifle he held close against his leg where it wouldn't be easily noticed. But he would use it if he had to.

  The door opened a little farther and he saw Miss Dottie's big blond hair. "Mornin', ma'am." He tipped his hat. "I'm looking for..." He hesitated, then realized they would only know her by one name. "I'm looking for Lolita Belle."

  "Why?" The woman sounded suspicious, but the door creaked open even farther. "What do you want with that troublemaker?"

  Cole shrugged and flashed Miss Dottie what he hoped was a charming smile, searching for the words that would win his entrance. "She, uh, took something that belongs to me, ma'am."

  His heart.

  "Oh?" Miss Dottie swung the door completely open and her eyes widened as they looked him over from head to toe, then back again. "You're Cole Morrison, ain't you?" She wore only a bright red robe tied at her waist, her voluptuous bosom spilling out and her legs bare.

  "Yes, ma'am, I'm Cole Morrison, and I really need to see Miss Lolita." He smiled again.

  Dottie pursed her lips and sneered, but stepped aside to allow Cole to enter. He didn't care who he had to charm or who he had to anger, as long as it led him to Jackie. At least now he knew she was here.

  "Thank you," he said as Dottie closed and locked the door behind him. "Where–"

  "Morrison, what in blazes are you doing here at this godforsaken hour?" Goodfellow grumbled from the bottom of the stairs.

  "Morning, Goodfellow." Cole removed his hat and dropped it on a nearby table. The man's name seemed wrong. Should've been "Badfellow."

  "Morning? The sun's barely up. What the hell do you want anyway?" Goodfellow rubbed his beady eyes and rolled his unlit cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. "Well?"

  "I came to see Miss Lolita." Cole straightened, keeping the rifle close to his body. "And I aim to see her."

  The saloon owner narrowed his eyes, then shifted his gaze to Dottie. "Do you know anything about this?"

  The woman shrugged and said, "Says Lolita took somethin' of his."

  Goodfellow turned his gaze on Cole again. "I reckon that means you're the one who took her to Merriweather." The little man nodded as he spoke. "Makes sense, I suppose. Merriweather hired you for the job, because no one would ever expect it. Do you realize this makes you an outlaw, Morrison?"

  Cole didn't bother to respond. The man spoke the truth, though he knew Jackie would never accuse him of kidnapping her now. "I came to see her." He swung the rifle up in front of him and leveled it toward Goodfellow's gut. "Show me to her room."

  "Ah, hell. I know you aren't gonna use that thing, so don't bother pretending."

  "Don't test me." Cole kept his voice low, his eyes hooded. "I'm a man on a mission, Goodfellow. Don't stand in my way."

  Goodfellow chewed furiously on his unlit cigar, his eyes finally reflecting his comprehension that Cole meant business. "I swear, that woman is more trouble than she's worth," the smaller man muttered.

  "That's what I been tryin' to tell you, Rupert, but–"

  "Shut up, Dottie." Goodfellow turned and stomped up the stairs. "Come along, Morrison, but I'm locking you in with her."

  Locked in with Jackie? Cole could think of worse fates, but right now rescuing her was uppermost on his mind. He lowered the rifle to his side again and started up the stairs.

  "Goodfellow, I'll take my gold now," a male voice said from the top of the stairs.

  Cole swung the rifle around again and the newcomer's eyes widened in obvious surprise. The pretty boy wasn't even wearing a gun.

  "Ah, hell," Goodfellow muttered, pivoting to face Cole again, finding himself looking down the barrel of a rifle. "Hell."

  "I believe we were on our way to Miss Lolita's room?" Cole said, keeping one eye on Goodfellow and the other on the pretty boy.

  The stranger chuckled. "You blew it, pal," the man said. "Now I get the gold."

  "You're the one," Cole said, adjusting his aim. "You kidnapped Jackie."

  "Who the hell's Jackie?" Goodfellow asked, rolling his eyes.

  "I am."

  Cole looked toward the familiar voice at the top of the stairs and his breath froze. Uncertainty stormed through him, but quieted as soon as he met her gaze. Her beautiful gray eyes didn't lie.

  Assured it was her and that she was safe, he looked at her hair again. She'd taken the scissors to it, leaving what appeared to be less than an inch of dark brown curls all over her head. No trace of red remained.

  "What the hell...?" Rupert's cigar hung limply from one corner of his mouth. "You aren't Lolita Belle."

  "Bingo, Einstein," Jackie said. "Like I tried to tell you before. Duh."

  She aimed her gaze at the red-faced stranger. "So much for that gold." She gave a dramatic sigh. "Crime doesn't pay...Smith."

  Cole spared Goodfellow only the briefest glance, then turned his attention back to the stranger who'd stolen Jackie. "Smith? Who the hell are you?"

  One corner of the man's mouth lifted. He looked back over his shoulder at Jackie, then shrugged and met Cole's gaze. "Rock. Rock Smith."

  "Rock, my ass," Cole said, tightening his grip on the rifle. It didn't matter. He didn't give a damn who the stranger was, as long as he left them be. "You listen good, Rock. You ever go near the woman I'm going to marry again, and I'll turn you inside out."

  Cole started up the stairs toward the stranger and Goodfellow wisely slithered down and out of their way. "Did you understand what I said, pretty boy?"

  Jackie laughed, but Cole didn't dare risk looking away just now. Later, he'd find out how she knew this man. Then again, he wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

  "Did you understand me?" he repeated.

  The stranger narrowed his gaze menacingly, but he nodded once. "Roger, Houston. I copy."

  Cole kept his gaze pinned on the stranger. "My
name isn't Roger or Houston." He inclined his head toward the door. "Get the devil out of here before I change my mind and shoot your ass."

  "Yes, go." Jackie's voice surprised them all, and the pretty boy seemed downright perturbed when she started down the stairs toward them. She stopped two steps above the stranger and glowered at him.

  Cole saw something in her expression as she stared at the man. She definitely knew him, but the hatred in her eyes assured Cole she hadn't left willingly with the bastard.

  Jackie placed both fists on her hips and Cole recognized the look on her face. Smith was in for it, and Jackie Clarke was just the woman to give him an earful he wouldn't forget.

  An insistent pounding commenced on the front door and Dottie threw it open with a huff. "You'd think it was noon already," she grumbled.

  Two burly men dressed in fancy suits with brocade vests shoved their way through, and a third one held the door open for a woman. She swept into the saloon wearing an expensive-looking green traveling suit with a huge feather in her hat. Her face was powdered and her lips painted. Her flaming red hair hung in curls to her shoulders, and her breasts were so large she looked as if she might topple forward from their weight.

  Every person in the room stared in shock at the newcomers. Every person except one. Rock Smith–or whoever he was–leapt over the bannister and bolted for the door.

  Cole aimed his rifle after the coward, but the redheaded woman gave a bored sigh and shook her head as she peeled off her gloves. "Put that thing away, gorgeous," she said in a voice like silk. "I didn't travel all the way up here to this hovel to get myself shot."

  "Lolita," Jackie whispered from directly behind Cole.

  He turned and caught her as she fainted.

  * * *

  Jackie heard voices and struggled to open her eyes. Finally, she blinked several times and a colorful blur greeted her. "Where am I?" she whispered, trying to rise.

  "Stay," Cole said gently, then a cool cloth touched her forehead. "How do you feel?"

  "Like I got hit by a Mack truck." Jackie blinked several more times and he final came into focus. "Where are we?"

  "Goodfellow put you in a room upstairs. I think he feels guilty. And he damn well should. I sure do." Cole stroked her hair. "This'll take some getting used to, but it's an improvement."

  Jackie gave him a weak smile. "It'll grow, but this is the real me, Cole." She reached up and cradled his cheek in her palm. "I'm so happy to see you. I was afraid..."

  "Don't be afraid." He kissed her palm, then bent to press his lips to hers. "I promised to take care of you. Remember?"

  Jackie nodded, then asked, "Where's Todd?"

  "Chief Byron is with him, but I asked the sheriff to bring them both to town."

  Jackie couldn't quite picture Chief Byron in town. "Why?"

  "For our wedding."

  She smiled, then remembered bits and pieces of what had happened. "Was that really Lolita Belle?"

  "In the flesh," Cole said, chuckling. "And I'd say she's got more than her fair share of that."

  "And then some." Jackie remembered the portrait and her initial reaction to the woman's Rubenesque figure. "Now you see why it was so ridiculous for everybody to think I was her."

  Cole chuckled again, still stroking her hair. "I don't care who you are or how you got here, Jackie," he said, his voice low and rough at the same time, rumbling around in her belly and spiking straight to her bone marrow. "I just thank God you're here with me now, and that you're safe."

  She bit her lower lip and a crocodile tear rolled unheeded down her cheek and the side of her neck. "Look at me." She laughed and cried simultaneously. "Great-Aunt Pearl can't stop me now."

  Cole shook his head, obviously stymied by her words, but he gave her an indulgent smile anyway. "I want us to get married today, if you're feeling up to it."

  "Are you...sure, Cole?" She grabbed his hand and held it very tight. "I won't...won't hold you to it if you've changed your mind."

  "Never." He kissed her again, the tenderness of it reaching into her soul and surrounding her aching heart. "We're getting married."

  Jackie trembled and sighed when their lips parted. "I want that," she said. "Very much."

  "Good, then it's settled."

  She pushed herself up to a sitting position. "I've never fainted before in my life."

  "Probably the shock of seeing Lolita." He placed an arm around her shoulders and slid onto the bed beside her.

  "You really think Goodfellow's feeling guilty about mistreating me?" She chewed her lower lip. "And you're determined to return Merriweather's gold. Right?"

  He gave her a solemn nod. "You'll be marrying a poor man, Jackie." He sighed. "Does that bother you?"

  "We're rich in every way that matters."

  He smiled down at her. "I was hoping you'd feel that way."

  "I do." She kissed his cheek and sighed. "Cole, that...that man," she said, her voice sounding odd even to her ears. "I have to tell you about him."

  Cole's nostrils flared and she felt him tense at her side. "Don't be angry," she said. "He's from the future, too...and he stole something of mine."

  Cole stared at her for several moments, then nodded. "I'll help you find him and get it back, but we're getting married first."

  "I definitely don't want to find him."

  "Good, because I'm not letting you out of my sight again."

  "Cole, I–"

  A knock sounded at the door and Jackie's heart leapt into her throat. "Easy, now," Cole said, rising. "I'll get it."

  He opened the door and Dottie stuck her head around the corner. "Mind if I come in?" she asked.

  Suspicious, Jackie scooted back to lean against the headboard. This definitely wasn't the green velvet room, but that was always meant for the real Lolita. "Sure, come on in," she said.

  Dottie had a pair of leather pouches with her and wore an expression of total bewilderment. She shut the door behind her and approached the bed. "That Rock Smith left these in his room," she said, placing the leather pouches on the bed at Jackie's feet. "I don't read very well, but you said your name's Jackie. Right?"

  "That's right. Jacqueline, actually." She glanced down at the pouches. "Why?"

  "I went through these after he left," Dottie continued, her cheeks reddening. "I figured he owed us for the night's stay and the trouble he caused."

  "Saddlebags. What did you find?" Cole asked, reaching for them.

  "Like I said, I don't read too good, but I think Jackie's name is on some of the things in there." Dottie inclined her head toward the saddlebags.

  Cole passed them to Jackie. "You'd better take a look."

  "Thank you, Dottie." Jackie smiled at the woman, a dull roar beginning in her head.

  "There ain't nothing valuable in there anyhow." Dottie turned and went to the door, pausing with her hand on the doorknob. "I gotta tell you, the real Lolita's one helluva lot more trouble than you ever was."

  Jackie laughed. "How's that, Dottie?"

  The buxom blonde rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "She's been givin' that poor artist hell all mornin' over her portrait, makin' him redo things he already painted. And Rupert ain't helpin' much, insistin' it be done before tonight."

  Jackie held her breath. The roar between her ears intensified and Cole reached down and put his hand on her shoulder.

  "I'm sending a breakfast up for you two that's fit for kings and queens–or Lolita Belle." Dottie made a face. "Rupert had real maple syrup sent in for Lolita, but after seein' her for myself," Dottie shook her head and sighed, "I don't reckon she needs it."

  Cole and Jackie both laughed quietly as the woman opened the door and Zeb rolled in a cart bearing silver trays and steaming coffee.

  They both thanked Dottie and Zeb, then Jackie and Cole were alone again. Jackie looked down at the saddlebags. "Will you...do this for me, please?" Her hands were shaking so badly she didn't trust herself.

  "Sure." Cole hugged her, then sat beside her and opened th
e pouches. He pulled out a burgundy leather wallet. A woman's wallet.

  Hers.

  "Oh, my God." Her voice was barely more than a strangled whisper as she reached for the item and opened the snap. "It's mine. These are mine. It must've been in his pocket when..." She withdrew credit cards, her driver's license, frequent flyer cards, phone cards.... The irony of it all washed over her and she laughed, then cried again.

  Cole held her and rubbed her back as she wept, twenty-five years worth of tears soaking his shirt before she finally regained her composure. "I...I'm sorry."

  "No, don't be sorry." He picked up her driver's license and looked at her birth date. "You...were telling the truth."

  "Yes, Cole. The truth."

  He drew a shaky breath and looked at the picture. "This is you."

  "With my hair grown out." She cleared her throat. "Cole, now do you believe me about...where and when I'm from?"

  He stared at her license for several moments, then met her gaze. "Yes. I'm sorry. Will you ever forgive me for not believing you?"

  "Don't take advantage of this, big guy," she said, "but I'd probably forgive you anything."

  Drawing a ragged breath, he cupped her cheek. "When you were born doesn't make a bit of difference, because we're still getting married." He tossed the license onto the bed and pulled her against him. "I don't care if you were born in 1967 or 1867 as long as you're right here, right now, with me."

  A sob caught in her throat. "You're going to make me start b-blubbering again."

  He shook his head slowly. "If you need to cry, you cry. If you need to laugh, you laugh. If you need to scream, you scream." Pulling slightly away, he stared down into her eyes. "I mean it, Jackie Clarke. You be whoever and whatever you are, because that's the woman I love."

  She held her breath, staring into his beautiful blue eyes. "Cole, I...I never thought you'd say those words." Smiling, she touched her fingertips to his lips. "I love you, too. More than anything."