Falling into Your Arms (Love in the Old West Book 3)

by Bess McBride

  Sarah thought Jeremiah was going to whirl around and leave the room, but he hesitated, then pulled out the remaining chair—much more gently than she imagined he would—and seated himself.

  “I apologize for hovering over you,” he said in his husky baritone. He seemed to want to continue but struggled with words. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke. “I also apologize for manhandling you earlier. I should have conducted myself in a more gentlemanly manner.”

  “Very well done, Jeremiah,” Faith said, beaming.

  “I agree,” Agnes chimed in. “Well done, Jeremiah.”

  All eyes turned on Sarah, as if she too should praise the man. She had no intention of doing so. “Okay,” she said, conceding nothing.

  “What is this tale—” Jeremiah paused, and the rise of his chest indicated he took another deep breath. “What misfortune has befallen you? I overheard that you had missed your train?”

  “Something like that,” Sarah said. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

  “That may not be quite true, Sarah,” Faith said. “Jeremiah owns the only hotel in Benson. The Grand burned down just last year and has not yet been rebuilt. You will need a place to stay, won’t you?”

  “Oh, no,” Sarah said airily. “Not at all.”

  “What are your plans?” Agnes asked.

  “Plans?”

  “Yes, if you have no place to stay, no money and the train doesn’t come for two days, what are your plans? I am not normally so nosy, but even I am worried about you, and I do not worry about very many people.”

  “No, that’s true, Sarah,” Faith agreed. “If Agnes is concerned about you, something must be very wrong.”

  Sarah wondered how long she was going to be unconscious. Did she have to make plans? Eat? Sleep? Wasn’t she already sleeping? She shook her head, as if she could clear it...or wake up.

  “Does your head hurt?” Jeremiah asked.

  “No,” Sarah said. “Maybe.” After all, she must have hit her head. “No,” she said with a shake. “It doesn’t. If I hit my head when I fell, then I don’t feel it.”

  “I caught you before you fell,” Jeremiah said. “You appeared out of nowhere shrieking ‘let me out,’ then rushed toward the window to bang upon it. When you swung to break it with your elbow, you lost your balance, and I caught you, quite literally, before you could break the window.”

  “Really?” Sarah mused. “How odd.”

  “I was in the lobby, but my attention was on the ledger when you must have entered. I did not see you until you began shrieking. I asked Eric, but he did not remember seeing you enter either.”

  “Okay,” she said to no purpose. The three 1890 sorts exchanged glances.

  “What is this about the year 2020?” Jeremiah asked.

  Sarah didn’t hesitate. “That’s where I live. Well, when I live.”

  Both Faith and Agnes made unintelligible sounds that might have been gasps.

  “I beg your pardon?” Jeremiah asked.

  “I know you heard me.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Are you suggesting that you live in the future?”

  “Yes. I don’t live in 1890, that’s for sure. If you knew me, you’d know I have no idea how to survive in 1890. Not a clue.”

  Jeremiah leaned forward in his chair to stare at Sarah. She blinked and looked down.

  “Do you know? I think you might actually believe what you are saying.”

  “Of course I do. Look at me. What about me or my clothing screams 1890?”

  “She has a point there,” Agnes said in an acerbic tone.

  “How utterly fascinating!” Faith said, touching the sleeve of Sarah’s blouse.

  “Does it feel different from yours?” Sarah asked.

  “It is quite soft. Is it cotton?”

  “No, I think it’s a mix of textiles.”

  “How is this possible?” Agnes asked.

  Sarah noted that Jeremiah merely stared at her as if he didn’t know what to ask.

  “I have no idea.” Sarah shook her head. “I honestly don’t think I’ve traveled in time, if that’s what you’re thinking. Like I said, I think I’m unconscious and dreaming. So if I am, I hope that you are all happy and wealthy and loved.” Sarah beamed, hoping that was how the subconscious worked.

  “What a lovely wish!” Faith said.

  “You are not unconscious,” Jeremiah said. “Something else is afoot here.”

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure I am.”

  “No, you are not,” Jeremiah said.

  Faith and Agnes twisted their heads, following the interaction, as if watching a tennis match.

  “Sure, except that I am. This isn’t real.”

  “Whatever you mean by ‘this,’ it seems very real to me. Would you ladies agree?”

  Faith sighed helplessly, and Agnes crossed her arms. Both refused to engage in what had essentially devolved into bickering.

  Sarah waved her hands to encompass the room. “This...this...this 1890 historical thing. I don’t know that I have to explain it to you, but ‘this’ isn’t real. I’m not sure why you all are featuring in my dream or delusion or subconscious state of coma, but you are. I do wonder if I’ve known someone like you before though.” Sarah quirked an eyebrow at Jeremiah. “Some guy I dated who seemed overbearing, or maybe a boss I didn’t like, but no one comes to mind.” She smiled at the sight of Jeremiah’s dark eyebrows narrowing, and she turned to the women. “You ladies are great though, really wonderful. Thank you so much for your kindness.”

  “Not at all, dear. The least we could do,” Faith mumbled.

  Agnes merely stared at her with widened eyes and her lips slightly open.

  “I think you meant to insult me?” Jeremiah said, pushing back his chair and rising.

  “Yes, I do think I did, in an honest way though. I can’t imagine why I would make you up.”

  Jeremiah rolled his eyes, a childish expression that didn’t fit with his elegant appearance.

  “Nor I. Ladies.” He nodded his head before whirling around to leave.

  “Jeremiah!” Faith called out before he took a step forward.

  He turned back reluctantly, the glory of his storming out interrupted.

  “Despite the animosity with which you two appear to hold for each other, Sarah needs help that only you can give her. You have a hotel. Can you provide her a room?”

  “Oh, no! No need for that,” Sarah mumbled quickly.

  “A room?” Jeremiah repeated incredulously. “A room? Here?”

  “Like I said, no need for that,” Sarah said more forcefully. “I’ll be just fine. Just fine!”

  “How will you be fine, Sarah?” Faith asked. “Where will you stay until you can sort yourself out? Agnes and I live in a small boardinghouse. There is no room there. I would ask if you could sleep on the floor of our room, but we truly have very little space in which to walk now. I wish I exaggerated the situation, but I do not. Where would you stay? With no money?”

  “I’m resourceful. I’m sure I could—” Sarah ran out of bravado. She had absolutely no idea what to do, short of awakening from her delusional state. Surreptitiously, she moved her hand to her opposite arm and pinched herself. It hurt, and three people who said it was 1890 still watched her.

  “I can find something or somewhere or...something,” she said.

  “No, you probably can’t,” Agnes said. “Not without money. Faith and I have less spare money than we do floor space in our room. You have to rely on charity, and that is what Jeremiah can do.”

  Agnes turned a censuring face on Jeremiah, who shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot under her scrutiny. Sarah wasn’t unhappy to see him embarrassed.

  “Jeremiah,” Faith said softly. She said no more, but her request came in that sweet tone of hers.

  Jeremiah physically melted at Faith’s voice. His uptight shoulders loosened their stiff posture, and he lowered his chin. “Because you were my mother’s dearest friends,” he began, “I will help
you help Miss Chilton. I have a spare room that she can stay in for a few days.”

  “Nelly would be so proud, Jeremiah,” Faith said with a broad smile.

  “Nonsense,” Jeremiah said. “Please see Eric in the lobby when you have finished your tea.” With that, he turned and left the dining room.

  “There!” Faith said with satisfaction. “We have found you a place to stay, Sarah. I have no doubt that Jeremiah will provide your meals free of charge as well. He truly has a kind heart, just like his mother. He does not look like her—she was small, petite and golden haired—but he has her good heart.”

  Sarah was pleased to see Agnes look at her sister as if she were nuts. Sarah hadn’t seen Jeremiah’s “good heart” yet, which was just as well because she hadn’t wanted his charity. She felt herself swept up in Faith’s tidal wave of helpfulness, powerless to take control of her destiny.

  Until she reminded herself that destiny had little to do with her current situation. The word evoked a period of time far too long for the period in which she would remain unconscious. Didn’t it?

  “I wonder how long this thing is going to go,” Sarah muttered under her breath.

  “What’s that, dear?” Faith asked.

  “Sarah wants to know how long this ‘thing’ is going to go,” Agnes said. “Are you referring to your notion that you fainted and hit your head? Because here you are, awake and alert. If you do live in the future, tell us something that we wouldn’t know.”

  Sarah smiled. Agnes was a skeptic like her.

  “Planes fly overhead and carry people from New York to California in about five hours.”

  Agnes’s eyes widened, and Faith gasped.

  “In the sky?” Faith asked.

  Sarah nodded.

  “Why are you on a train then?”

  “I just wanted to go on a train ride.”

  Agnes pursed her lips and shook her head. “No one wants to go on a train for no particular reason.”

  “They do in my world. Passenger trains are scarce in most parts of the country, other than the shorter route commuter trains. Most people drive cars or fly on planes.”

  “Hmmmm,” Agnes said. The door opened, and two more couples entered. “That’s it then, sister. Time to go. Far too many people in here now.”

  “Yes, all right, dear. Let’s go see about your room, Sarah.”

  They left the dining room and returned to the lobby, where Eric greeted them with his friendly smile. Compared to the grumpy Jeremiah, Eric was a breath of fresh air. Sarah didn’t see Jeremiah, a fact that made her happy.

  “Miss Chilton!” Eric said. “Mr. Stone says that you will be staying with us for a few days. I have your room key right here. Could you sign the ledger?”

  He handed her a skeleton key and pushed a large book in her direction, along with an inkwell and a steel-tipped pen. Sarah wondered how her subconscious managed to add so many specific historical details. She wondered because any alternative was too bizarre to contemplate. For the past hour she had been ignoring the small voice in an even smaller part of her brain that kept repeating the words “time travel.” Nope, that wasn’t possible.

  Next to the entry “Room 202,” she signed her name, making a mess of the thing with a splotch of ink, and listed her residence as Richmond, Virginia.

  “Do you need any help with your bags, Miss Chilton?”

  “Sarah,” she said with a smile. “I don’t seem to have any.”

  At his look of surprise, she hurried on. “They got left on the train. I missed the train. I forgot to get on. I was late getting on. You get it. It left without me.”

  Eric tilted his handsome head and looked toward the window.

  “Oh, what a shame! There won’t be another one for a few days.”

  “Yes, a shame,” she said unconvincingly.

  “Will you continue on your journey then?” Eric asked.

  Sarah looked at the sisters before responding. “Maybe,” she said cryptically.

  “We shall see what is to be done then,” Faith said. “Let us see you to your room.”

  “There’s no need,” Sarah said, suddenly tired. “I’ll be fine. I’m just going to lay down and rest.”

  “That is a good idea,” Faith said. “Could Agnes and I stop by to see you later?”

  “Yes, that would be nice.”

  The sisters seemed prepared to wait while Sarah went upstairs, perhaps to ensure that she actually did, so she said goodbye, crossed the lobby and climbed the ornate ruby-red-carpeted oak stairs to the second floor. As Sarah moved her hand along the varnished balustrade, she thought that she could never have imagined that the lobby, the stairs, the hotel in general had looked so grand in its heyday.

  Then again, she never imagined a small town like Benson would have the need for such a luxurious hotel. What was the industry in 1890? Ranching?

  Upon reaching the landing between the two floors, she noted a tabletop-style glass display case. Implements of mining were displayed inside, along with bits of precious stones, copper and a gold nugget.

  Gold mining! That would explain the beautiful hotel. She wanted to study the display but looked over her shoulder to see Faith and Agnes still watching her. She nodded and continued climbing the stairs.

  “Sarah!” Faith called out.

  Sarah paused to see Faith hurrying toward the bottom of the steps. Agnes followed more slowly. Faith scanned the lobby, as if to see if anyone was about. Except for Eric, it was empty.

  “We will bring you something to wear, dear,” she said in a loud whisper. “You really should put on a skirt.”

  Sarah wasn’t surprised. “Okay,” she said reasonably. “Thank you.”

  “Yes, of course. I am so pleased that you are not offended.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Rest well.”

  “Thank you.” Sarah nodded again and climbed the stairs. She came out into a red-carpeted hallway that darkened as one walked farther away from the staircase. Locating her room, she unlocked the door with the skeleton key and stepped inside.

  A white lace-curtained window provided plenty of light to reveal a wood-paneled room featuring a large four-poster bed with matching lace hangings and a red quilt, two oak nightstands with flower-patterned milk-glass lamps, several matching high-backed chairs flanking a small round table underneath the window, a wardrobe and a bureau. A red-patterned carpet covered much of the floor. A white porcelain pitcher and bowl rested upon the lace runner topping the bureau, next to several white linen towels. Of course. There should be a pitcher and bowl in her historical drama. Why not?

  Sarah searched for a connecting door but found none. Where was the bathroom? She opened her door again and peeked out into the hall. An open door at the end of the hall beckoned her, and she walked down to find a bathroom done in black and white floor tiles, a white porcelain sink, toilet, and a claw-foot tub. It seemed that the guests shared bathrooms. She looked for a light switch but found none. No electricity yet apparently. Thankfully, a lace-curtained window provided daylight. She noticed two wall sconces on either side of the mirror and a box of matches on a nearby shelf.

  Sarah used the bathroom, washed her hands with a lavender-scented bar of soap and dried before returning to her room. Upon entering, she walked over to the window and looked down on the street. The train tracks were empty, the train having long gone. Wagons, horses and people moved along the dusty road and the boardwalk below. Benson appeared to be a bustling little town in 1890.

  Sarah kicked off her canvas shoes and dropped onto the bed. She closed her eyes and willed herself back to the future.

  Chapter Four

  Jeremiah sat back in his office chair and stared out the window as passersby moved down the street. He had not needed Faith to shame him regarding his behavior to the unfortunate young woman. He had sufficiently embarrassed himself. Running his mother’s hotel had introduced him to many awkward situations, and he had handled all with his usual patience. But the Chilton woman—t
he woman who dressed like a ranch hand, who had a fantastical story that could not be believed, who had tried to break a window...that woman had revealed heretofore unknown violent tendencies on his part.

  He had never had occasion to toss a lady from his hotel, though some demanding guests had tested his patience. He wished he had not done so. He should have seen—as his mother’s longtime friends, Faith and Agnes, had seen—that the young woman was in distress. He should have seen in Miss Chilton’s beautiful amber eyes a need for aid and succor, not for censure and physical maltreatment.

  He was, in fact, thankful that she was ensconced safely upstairs in a room, though he would certainly never have admitted such to the young woman. He did fret that she had a fetish for breaking windows and hoped he would not find the bedroom window broken, but if he did, so be it.

  He rose and left his office.

  “Did you put her in room 202?” he asked Eric.

  “Yes, sir, as you instructed.”

  “Good. The window there is new and might be able to withstand a small amount of abuse. Is she up there now?”

  “Yes, sir,” Eric replied.

  “I will go up and see if she needs anything.”

  “I believe she was going to rest.”

  “I see,” Jeremiah said, looking toward the staircase. “Very well then. I won’t disturb her.”

  “The Misses Williams said they would come back later this afternoon. I overhead Miss Faith say that she intended to bring clothing back for Miss Chilton.”

  Jeremiah turned a surprised eye on Eric. “Clothing? What kind of clothing?”

  “Miss Faith said skirts.”

  “Goodness! I hope not hers. They would not fit Miss Chilton. She is such a petite thing.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Very well. I will leave her to rest.” He turned to go back to his office but paused. “Eric?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Did you see Miss Chilton enter the hotel? Through the door? I did not see her do so, and yet there she was.”

  Eric drew his brows together, as if giving the matter great thought. Of course. He was a very thoughtful man. That was one reason Jeremiah had hired him. The other was that Eric was his cousin on his father’s side. In truth, they had grown up next door to each other, playing and fighting. Jeremiah did not require that Eric treat him so formally, such as calling him sir, but Eric enjoyed the pretense of being a respectful employee, and Jeremiah let him have his way.