by Keta Diablo
Clori couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
Burke, where are you?
Something slammed against the door outside.
Burke?
Coldness invaded the pit of her stomach. A hard cold that felt too solid not to be real.
The sixgun. Use the sixgun.
She ordered her mind to concentrate, to think clearly. The continued pounding on the outer walls interfered with her thinking. Who was out there?
Her legs gave out under her, and she sank to the floor. Horace followed her down, not letting up on his grip, her body bearing the full weight of his. The gun, her hand wrapped around it, lay trapped between them.
Thinking grew more difficult. Spots formed before her eyes.
Air. She needed air.
Darkness hovered at the corners of her vision, closing in on her.
Horace's hideous, ruined face would be the last thing she glimpsed before death claimed her, a faint, frantic whinny her last sound.
Chapter Eleven
Burke slowed Dusty as the house came into view. Wouldn't do to warn Horace he'd arrived. Surprise offered his only advantage.
He dismounted and looped the reins over a branch on a spruce tree. Spook looked up and whined. They both worried about Clori. What condition would she be in when he found her? Had Horace already harmed her?
Her sweet face filled his mind, and his heart pounded as the fear in him threatened to explode.
Let her be all right, Lord.
Spook whined again.
"We'll save her, boy. We'll save her." If only he felt more positive than he sounded. If only he could be sure.
One step at a time, Burke crept toward the house. "Stay with me, Spook. No wandering."
He and the dog were halfway there with only a few saplings to shield them when a gunshot sounded inside the house.
Burke's heart tripped.
Clori!
Running the last dozen feet, he threw his shoulder against the solid wood door. It gave, and he fought to keep his balance, gun raised, seeking a target.
"Clori? Clori!"
At first, he saw only Horace on the floor, his eyes slitted open, face red and splotchy. Obviously burned. The cabin stank of burned flesh, seared meat, and fear.
Then he saw a slender arm and Clori's beautiful hair under the man.
"Get off her, you bastard." He shoved Horace away, using his boot instead of his hands to keep his weapon ready. He met no resistance.
Clori lay stone still. As still as death, her dark eyelashes fanned over her cheek. Blood covered her chest. Burke’s heart swelled inside his chest and threatened to explode. She couldn't be dead. He couldn't lose her.
Kneeling beside her, Burke checked for a pulse and found it, thready but present. Thank you, Lord. Swiftly, he examined her to find where she’d been shot or stabbed. He found only blood. Horace’s blood.
Burke collapsed on the floor, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he allowed the adrenaline to drain from his veins and his heart to calm down. She was all right. The relief near overwhelmed him.
When his breathing returned to normal, he moved to check on her husband. Blood from a hole in Horace’s side under his heart had pooled under his body. Burke felt for a pulse. Nothing. Good. Harsh as it might seem, he could not regret the man’s death.
Clori must have shot Horace. No one else was there. Burke looked for a gun and saw it in Clori's hand.
"Clori? Wake up, sweetheart." He caressed her cheek with his hand.
She moaned, and joy flooded his heart.
From outside came the thud of horses' hooves. Within seconds, Ted burst into the room. "Heard a shot." The marshal quickly took in the scene.
Amos leaped inside next.
Ted rushed to kneel beside Burke. "How is she?"
"Not sure. Haven't found any wounds. She's unconscious, though."
Ted took her hand and stroked it between his, warming her. He patted her cheek. "Clori? Wake up, honey."
Her eyelids fluttered.
"Thank God," Burke breathed.
She looked at Ted, then at Burke. And smiled. "I knew you’d come."
"Of course, I came." Burke bent and kissed her lips, overwhelmed by the feel of his mouth touching her soft skin for the first time. "You scared me half to death. Did he hurt you?"
Awkwardly, as if dizzy, she pushed to a sitting position. "Horace was waiting for you. He believed you and I were lovers. He planned to kill you."
"I figured that." He grinned. "But you stopped him, didn't you? He's dead. I'm proud of you, Clori. You stood up to him and won."
"He's dead?" Her smile widened. "I did win, didn't I?"
She glanced around the room. "Where is he? Can I spit on him?"
"Right over—" Burke looked over to where he'd left Horace Halstead.
The man had fled. Only a pool of blood remained.
* * *
"I’m so thankful you came," Clori said looking up at Burke from her bed. "You saved me and risked your life doing it. Why?"
He glanced toward the open door. Nellie undoubtedly lurked in the hallway for propriety’s sake and listen to everything they said. Clori didn't care. She wasn't ready to let Burke leave. Her eyes drifted shut, despite her effort to keep them open.
"Horace threatened to kill you. Besides," he added softly, "I adore you."
How like him to put her well-being ahead of his own. "I adore you as well. But you might have been killed. That was his intention."
An oak, pressed-back chair stood by the window. Hearing the scrape of wooden legs, Clori opened her eyes and watched Burke move it beside the bed. He sat and took her hand in his. She loved the feel of his smooth palm, and his thumb lightly brushing the back of her hand. His skin wasn't rough and callused like Horace's. Burke seemed to feel no need to slave in a mine or the crazed desperation to strike it rich. She liked that.
"I had to take the risk, Clori. Stopping him from hurting you again mattered more."
She smiled and curled her fingers around his where it lay on the bed. "You're not like any man I've ever known. Except Marshal Jameson."
He grinned, showing straight white teeth. She'd rarely seen a man with teeth as nice as his. It was as if God had lined them up carefully in his mouth because He saw Burke as someone special. Like she did.
"I consider that a compliment. You should get some rest now."
"Not yet." She closed her eyes in pleasure, then opened them. "Burke, what are your plans now? I know it's impertinent of me to ask. Your plans are none of my business, but I.... Well, I'd really like to know."
His gaze settled on their joined hands and he didn't answer right away. Clori's heart began to sink.
"I haven't given much thought to plans for the future if that's what you mean."
"It is."
He peered at her as if trying to divine her thoughts. "Whatever I do in the future, Clori, I hope you'll be there somewhere. Close by."
Joy burst inside her chest, and she swallowed hard to contain it. She wanted to throw her arms around him. Yearned for him to kiss her. Was she a fool? They barely knew each other. She had no idea of his favorite color, his birthday, what he liked to read, how he liked to spend a free summer afternoon. Yet it seemed they did know each other on some higher, inner level she couldn't begin to explain. In her heart, she held a tenuous belief Burke James was the man she'd waited for all her life. The man she'd thought she married when she wed Horace.
Thoughts of her husband reminded her she had a poor record for choosing men.
And she remained married because Horace Halstead remained alive somewhere.
Until they found his cold, dead body, she'd never be free. Was it so wrong of her to hope her single shot at point-blank range would be the death of him? No, only foolish. She'd shot him in the chest last April, and he'd fully recovered. He’d recover this time as well.
Her nightmare would never end.
What would Burke do if she filed for divorce? Would he stand by
her? Two years ago Elizabeth Clemmons went to Utah and secured a divorce there quite easily through the Mormon Church, even though Elizabeth wasn't Mormon. Clori could do that. She certainly could not go back to living with Horace Halstead.
She tried to divine the exact meaning of Burke's words and see into his heart. Did he think of her as he would a sister? A friend? Could he ever think of her as a wife, a lover?
"We're friends already," she said. "More so than you and that saloon girl in town."
"I wondered when you'd bring that up. She means nothing to me, Clori. She—"
"I know." She smiled at his surprise. "If it were her you cared about, you wouldn't have rushed to the old house to save me."
"I wouldn’t say that," he said in a teasing tone, his lips curved upward. "I am a deputy marshal. It would be my duty to protect her. Along with everyone else in town." He glanced at the door again and lowered his voice. "I care about you, Clori. A great deal. But there are things you don't know about me. Things you'd have to understand and accept before we can allow our relationship to become more serious."
"I don't care about your past, Burke. I—"
"Even if I were to tell you I'm from the future? That I don't belong here in 1881?"
Confusion clouded her mind. "Why would you say something so outlandish? Are you testing me?" She pulled herself to a sitting position, which caused him to lose hold of her hand. Not what she wanted, but she had to be able to look him in the eye.
"I'm not testing you, Clori. Nor am I being ridiculous, but I understand why you see it that way. I would, too, if the truth hadn't been forced down my throat."
He reached for her hand again, tentatively, as if afraid she'd deny him. She didn't. She rather liked the warmth of his palm surrounding hers and the sanity in his eyes.
"Here is the truth I need you to hear, Clori. When I came to Eagle Gulch, the year was 2016. I was born in 1985. I grew up on a ranch not far from here."
She shook her head, her brow furrowed. "You're making no sense, Burke. How can that be? It's impossible."
"It is possible. I'm proof of it, and I need you to believe me. It was a shock to realize I had somehow slipped through time. I'm not even sure how it happened. It may have been a horse."
"A horse?" She frowned and her thoughts immediately went to Silver. She pushed them out of her head. The pain of missing her best friend proved too much.
"Yeah. My partner and I were on our way to investigate ghost activity at your old house when our van died. Suddenly, there was this mare on the road with a saddle, but no rider—"
"What is a van?"
He frowned. "A vehicle, sort of like a wagon. Anyway, I thought the horse had thrown her rider so I climbed on her and she took me to your house. I never found a fallen rider. And everything was strange. Weird. In 2016, your house is a historic site, because of the supposed murder. But the Historical Society plaque is gone. The door should have a deadbolt, but I could see none had ever been installed. I visited it when I was fifteen. Forest surrounded it and—"
She slipped a hand over his mouth. His whiskers tickled her palm, but she loved the heat and vitality that felt so solid beneath her touch. Confusion rattled around in her head. She wanted so badly to understand, to believe him. "I don't comprehend a thing you're saying, Burke."
"Neither do I," Nellie said, stepping into the room.
Burke rose and faced the older woman. "Nellie. I'm sorry. I should have waited for another time to speak of this."
"I'm glad you didn't. I want to hear more of this story." She came and sat on the side of the bed next to Clori.
Appearing chagrined, Burke sank onto his chair. He made a vague gesture with his hand. "Look, no one truly understands time. Many people believe there are several worlds living side by side but in different realms. Now and then someone accidentally steps over a boundary and finds himself in the wrong world. That's what happened to me."
"Oh, Burke." Clori crossed her arms over her chest. Disappointment filled her. She had truly come to think of this man as honest and honorable. He was a charlatan. He didn't need to make up excuses, lie to her, push her away with fantastical tales. "I think you'd better go now."
Nellie stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I believe you should listen to him, child. There are many strange things in the world we don't understand like he said."
Clori stared at the woman. "You believe him?"
"I haven't decided yet," Nellie said. "But I've seen enough of life to keep an open mind. For now."
"I appreciate that, Nellie. In fact, it means more than I can tell you and for very good reasons."
"This is all nonsense." Clori wanted Burke and Nellie to leave. She wanted to bawl her eyes out. The sweet dreams that had begun to take shape in her mind vanished. She had fooled herself once again into thinking she'd found a wonderful man she could love and trust. One who would love her back. And he was full of nonsense. "I want you to go."
"Wait," Nellie said. "Let's test him, shall we?"
"What do you mean?" Clori frowned. Nellie, who was never anything but rational, calm and level-headed, acted crazy today.
"Let me fetch some things and we'll see if he's telling the truth or not." Nellie slipped off the bed and went out the door.
"You've both gone loco." Clori glowered at Burke.
"Maybe."
"Then you admit it?"
"One thing life has taught me is that anything is possible. What is sanity? What is insanity? Who can say which is which?"
She gaped at him, unable to express her incredulity. She might not be able to define sanity in a way that would suit a doctor, but she certainly knew what it was.
Nellie hurried back into the room, carrying several items which she set out on the bed.
"Nellie, why on earth did you bring—"
"Shh. Don't say anything, Clori. Just watch. I'm old enough to know how much the world has changed from one generation to another. It's bound to be the same regardless of the year." Nellie picked up a polished steel iron with the handle removed and showed it to Burke. "Do you know what this is?"
Clori laughed. Of course, he would know what an iron was, even if he was a man.
"A door stopper?" Burke said.
"In your world, when a woman needed to iron a dress, how would she go about it?" Nellie asked.
"Well, everyone in 2016 has electricity in their homes. A woman would plug in her iron, and when it heated up, she'd iron with it." He shrugged as if the simplicity of it seemed totally obvious.
Nellie cast Clori a pleased smile. "You see? He has no idea that this—" She held up the iron. "is an iron. We heat it on the stove, attach a handle and work as fast as we can before it grows cold. Because we have no electricity. Few small towns do."
He hefted the iron in his hand. "It's heavy as sin."
"Yes, it is." Next, Nellie held up a cambric corset cover with buttons down the front and narrow lace around the neck and armholes. "Tell me what this is, Burke."
"Easy. A woman's blouse."
"A blouse, you say. How would it be worn?"
He blinked. "Well, with a skirt, of course."
Clori couldn't believe what she heard. "You don’t think we'd put that on with a skirt and go out in public, do you?" Only women of ill repute would wear it as a blouse. How could Burke not know this?
"Sure," he said. "Why not?"
"Because it's an undergarment. A corset cover. A woman wears it over her corset and under her bodice for the sake of modesty."
"No kidding?"
Nellie laughed. "No kidding. Now, I notice, Burke, that you wear no collar on your new shirt. Why is that?"
"It didn't come with one."
"And what is this?" She held out a man's linen collar so stiff it could knock a man out.
Burke took it. "Looks like a collar, but how on earth do you use it?"
"Like this." Nellie attached the bit of starched linen to the neck band on his shirt using the button sewn there for that purpose, then
moved around Burke and fastened it in front.
"Okay. But why not just sew collars on the shirts in the first place?"
"Because collars wear out faster than shirts. They also become dirty quicker. This way, a man can change the collar without having to change the shirt."
He shook his head. "Seems silly to me."
Nellie laughed and turned to Clori. "Are you convinced yet that this man is not from our world?"
Clori had to admit, at least to herself, that something was definitely wrong when a man had no idea about collars. The corset cover and iron were women’s things, but he should know about something as basic and simple as shirt collars. "I don't know. How did you know to ask him about these items, Nellie?"
She released a long breath. "Because he's not the first man I've heard of ignorant of our ways although he had been born in this country. He claimed to have been from the twentieth century also, from the year 1967. He dressed in flamboyant clothing no ordinary man would be caught dead in, and went on and on about vehicles that flew in the sky and traveled over the earth at incredible speeds."
"Airplanes," Burke said. "And cars."
A fear worse than any she had ever known filled Clori. Could this all be true? Had he come from a different world? If so, and it had objects like the airplanes and cars—evidently something very different from rail cars—Nellie had mentioned, he would never stay here. He would go back where he came from.
She'd lose him. Forever.
She scooted back down under the covers and turned her back to Nellie and Burke. "I'm very tired now. This nonsense has worn me out. Please, let me sleep."
"But Clori—" Nellie began.
"No, Nellie. Not another word. Just leave me alone."
A moment later, footsteps sounded on the wooden floor followed by the closing of the door.
And then, the tears came.
* * *
"Give her time," Nellie told Burke as they descended the stairs. "She'll come around. You must admit your story is difficult to swallow."
"Yes. But I had hoped...." Come hell or high water, he meant to marry that woman. All the conveniences in the world couldn’t make up for not having her with him.
