The Damaged Heroes Collection [Box Set #1: The Damaged Heroes Collection] (BookStrand Publishing Mainstream)

by James, Sandy

  Could this possibly get any worse?

  She stopped in the kitchen to wash her hands because it was the only place she remembered seeing soap. The short, round lady who stood at the stove, tending something in a huge cast iron frying pan, gave Susan a quick look and a snorted laugh, obviously amused by her hair. Perhaps if she remained stuck in this 1880 hell, she could make some money as a sideshow attraction. Like a bearded lady. Come see the woman with the man hair!

  The aromas in the kitchen set Susan’s empty stomach grumbling. Hopefully James had found a way for them to work for some breakfast because the kitchen smelled like heaven. That combination of bacon and coffee she’d enjoyed earlier continued to beckon her.

  She finally caught up with her husband in front of the boarding house where he was talking to the annoying marshal who had all but threatened her the day before. Hoping to find a moment’s pause in the conversation to give the dirty little man a piece of her mind, Susan sidled up next to James, a little perplexed at how he could look so happy to be stuck here. His whole face beamed with a smile.

  The marshal suddenly stopped talking. He frowned as his irritated gaze scrutinized Susan from head to toe and back again. He turned back to James. “Don’t look like you managed to get that woman of yours dressed proper yet. Folks who seen her already started yappin’ about them pants she’s wearin’. Did she sleep her liquor off yet?”

  “I wasn’t drinking!”

  “Still in pants, and it don’t look like she got no better manners, neither.” He spit close enough to her feet that she almost took a step back. Then she narrowed her eyes at him and decided to put him in his place.

  About to reduce the man to ash with words, Susan held her tongue when James put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. His judgment was often better than hers, especially where her temper was concerned. She deferred to him, although she ached to tell the marshal exactly what she thought of him.

  “Sorry about the lady’s outfit,” James said in the patronizing tone she recognized from when he was trying to humor someone.

  Good! He didn’t like the marshal any better than she did.

  “We’re flat broke,” he continued. “Know where we could get some jobs? We both need clothes and a place to stay for a while.”

  “Stay? Stay?” Susan brushed his arm away, screeching like some banshee. Like she had any intention of remaining in this Hell on Earth one moment longer than absolutely necessary. She glared at her husband, trying to think of the right words to tell him he’d obviously lost his mind. James shook his head before she even opened her mouth. She pinched her lips shut, but he was really going to get it good when they were alone.

  The marshal seemed to mull over James’s questions for a few moments. He spit twice at the street before finally answering. “I don’t know what kinda work you can handle, but the saloon might need a hand, ’specially with the railroad gettin’ closer. Talk to Li’l Jim Simon down to the Gold Nugget. It be his place.”

  The marshal frowned, his gaze focused on Susan. What she’d give to slap the condescending smirk right off his dirty face!

  “Prob’ly should keep her out of the Golden Nugget, what with her…you know.” He tilted his hand at his mouth, hoisting an imaginary drink. “There ain’t no jobs for womenfolk. ’Less she can sing. The saloon ain’t had a good singer since that cute Emma runned off with that soldier boy in the spring. Course singin’ in a saloon ain’t for ladies, but I ain’t sure your wife’s a lady. Way she talks and dresses and all. Leaves a mind to wonderin’.”

  Susan waited for James to come to her defense. Instead, one of his familiar impish grins lit his face, and she knew from experience he was about to make some sarcastic comment—the same kind he always made when he was enjoying himself. How he could be in such a carefree mood in this odyssey was beyond her.

  “Who said she’s my wife?”

  She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her mouth shut. He wasn’t serious. He never was when he said stuff like that. But no matter how many times she told him his stupid jokes hurt her feelings, he said them anyway. If she started talking to him right now, all hell was going to break loose. She caught James’s playful grin and gave up the fight for restraint. “Even a drunk has better sense than to be stuck with a man like you.”

  Strange. For once he didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by her anger. Teasing was his favorite way to communicate, and in normal circumstances, she even took pleasure in his wicked sense of humor. Today, however, was about as far away from “normal” as a person could travel. Knowing he wasn’t taking her seriously only served to push her closer to the edge of control.

  Crossing her arms over her breasts, Susan leveled her best you’re-in-a-world-of-trouble-mister frown at her husband.

  Watching his wife’s angry scowl, James found some anger of his own. God, he was sick of her treating him like a child. Susan always acted as if she was the smarter half of their pair. If not smarter, certainly more mature. For the first time in a very long time, he felt like he had the upper hand, and he damn well intended to use it. Turning back to the marshal, James grinned. “Never said I was married to her.”

  The marshal’s mouth opened and closed enough times he looked like a kissing fish. “If you folks ain’t married…But the way you two carry on…and you got rings…It just ain’t right you bein’ in the roomin’ house together. In the same room even.”

  James nodded at the marshal. “I suppose you’re right. I just might have to make an honest woman out of her.”

  Without another word to the couple, the marshal shook his head and waddled on down the wooden sidewalk, muttering to himself.

  Susan immediately turned on James. “What in the hell was that?”

  James put his hands on his hips to batten down the hatches and wait out the erupting storm. Her face had flushed red, as had her ears. Red ears were never a good sign. Oh, yes. This was going to be a fine tantrum.

  “You always think you’re so terribly funny, don’t you? I wish you’d just grow the hell up. Last I checked, I’m still married to you. Even if it was the stupidest thing I ever did in my entire life.”

  “Stupid? Marrying me was stupid?” She nodded like a damned bobblehead. He’d wanted a reaction, and he sure as hell got one. But he hadn’t expected insults, especially the type he’d heard from his father his whole life. Stupid. Lazy. Worthless. Anger swelled in response. He had to swallow that shit from his dad, but he didn’t have to take it from his wife. She was pushing his buttons, and she damn well knew it.

  Screw that.

  “You know what? It might have been a mistake, but it’s one we can correct.”

  “Yeah, right.” A hand swept out as if showing him the buildings on the main street. “See many divorce lawyers? We’re in 1880. People don’t get divorced in 1880. Here, wives stay stuck with smart-ass husbands who don’t even care if—”

  James didn’t even wait for her to finish before he lobbed his own insult. “Yeah? Well, here, husbands are stuck with know-it-all wives.”

  Brown eyes narrowed at him. “Don’t make me say something I’ll regret.”

  “You don’t regret calling me a smart-ass?”

  “How about dumb ass? Would you like that better?”

  He breathed so hard, his nostrils flared with each exhale. “You think I’m a dumb ass?”

  “I call ’em like I see ’em.”

  “So if I call you frigid…it’s not an insult, just a statement of fact.” He’d gone too far, and he knew it, but his emotions had taken the lead away from any common sense.

  She gasped then gaped at him openmouthed. “I can’t believe you’d say that to me. Not after losing our…You’re despicable. I have no idea why I ever loved you.”

  Their anger and frustration spun out of control. Back home, they would have adjourned to neutral corners several minutes ago, a strategy that they’d developed early in the marriage. Susan would head to the bedroom and slam the door. He would stomp to the living
room and watch some sports. They’d both have time to cool their tempers before things were said that couldn’t be taken back.

  There were no neutral corners in River Bend.

  Something snapped inside James. He’d already accepted this whole ridiculous situation—hook, line, and time-traveling sinker. If he was stuck in the nineteenth century, he was damn well going to embrace the change with wide open arms. This new chance meant the end of the melodrama that had been his twenty-first-century life. “1880, huh? You know what that means, babe?”

  “No, James. Enlighten me. What exactly does that mean?”

  “We were never married.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “If this is 1880, we were never married. What do you think about that?”

  The tangle of emotions played across Susan’s face, but he just couldn’t make himself care as he knew he should. Life had won. His job, his responsibilities, the daily grind. They had all finally won. He was tired of rolling with the punches. The pain of losing their child and not being able to grieve because he had to be the “strong” one had been the last straw. He wanted out. James was waving the white flag and surrendering in the only way he knew how.

  “Not married? You think we’re not married?” Her voice sounded strained enough to tell him she wanted to scream. Not that he blamed her.

  All James did in reply was give Susan a curt nod. He was drowning in this farce they called a marriage. He needed a breath of oxygen or he’d surely die.

  “Fine. Whatever you say.” With her lips drawn she held her left hand up in front of her. “You want out of this mess of a marriage? Well, so do I!” With great ceremony, she tugged off the gold band he’d put on her third finger the day he’d promised to love, honor, and cherish her. Damn, that seemed a million years ago. Then she dropped the ring onto the wooden boardwalk. The “plink” it made echoed as loud as thunder. The ring rolled a few feet away before slipping between two boards and disappearing.

  James bowed his head and clenched his hands into fists to try to control his temper. What a nightmare this had become. A goddamn nightmare. But the damage had been done. This time there would be no forgiveness. This scene only had one possible conclusion.

  Holding up his left hand, he jerked his wedding ring from his finger. Pinching it between his thumb and index finger, he stared at it for a long moment before he closed it in his fist. He whirled around and heaved it as far down the street as he could, far enough it would be nothing short of a miracle if he ever saw it again.

  Susan gasped. Then she opened her mouth, obviously searching for just the right words, but he didn’t want to hear them. Any of them. He strode away from her and his old life, feeling like a drowning man, but not sparing a backward glance to see if she offered a helping hand to rescue him.

  All Susan could do was watch him leave. The words she knew she should have said remained stuck in her throat like some enormous lump that would allow nothing to pass. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t. James wasn’t leaving her alone in some godforsaken pissant town in the middle of nowhere. He wasn’t abandoning her to find her way back from 1880 all by herself. She’d lost everything. John and Lynne. Her baby. And now her husband.

  She was utterly alone.

  The pain wracking her body knocked her to her knees. Her wedding ring. She’d thrown away her wedding ring. The only time she’d ever taken it off was when she’d been pregnant and her hands had swollen. As far as she knew, James had never taken his off. Those little bands of gold always meant the world to her.

  She tugged at the boards, trying to pull them up so she could get her ring back. A few people stopped and stared, but she dismissed them from her thoughts.

  Tears brimmed her eyes, making it difficult to see, and her fingers were too big to jam in the cracks between the boards. All she got for her efforts were splinters. The world had become nothing but a blur. The boards wouldn’t budge.

  Could it possibly get any worse? she’d asked herself earlier.

  Yes. Oh hell, yes.

  Circumstances, both past and present, were suddenly more than she could bear. Susan gave up. On everything.

  Somehow, she dragged herself to her feet and stumbled away from the boarding house. She never wanted to see the damned place again. She never wanted to see the nineteenth century idiots who gawked and pointed, probably at her stupid hair. She never wanted to see River Bend again. Ever.

  Dust swirled around her ankles as she followed the road out of town. Not that she had any destination in mind. She still didn’t even know what state—or was it a territory?—she’d landed in when that stone from Satan himself had dropped her in 1880. Anyplace would be better than that unforgiving, judgmental little town.

  Wiping away stray tears with her shirtsleeve, Susan tried to calm down. She stopped to lean against a white picket fence. All she could do was argue with herself.

  You can do this. You can do this.

  But what about James?

  He’d left her. He’d really left her. Twenty years down the drain like it was nothing more than dirty dishwater. Twenty years of love and caring and trials and triumphs thrown out like yesterday’s trash.

  You took your ring off first.

  I didn’t mean it! I was just angry. Acting before I thought. Again.

  She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to hit something.

  Alone. Susan hadn’t been alone in so long, she couldn’t even remember what it felt like. They’d been nothing but kids when they married. Nothing but a couple of kids. She’d never even lived in an apartment by herself. She’d never had a place of her own where the only person she had to pick up after was herself. She’d never had any privacy. There had always been James. Then James and Lynne. Then James and Lynne and John. And she would have welcomed the new baby.

  But now she was all alone.

  Susan pushed away from the fence with no intention of where she would go. She turned to look at her options and realized the white fence bordered a small cemetery. Standing next to it was a church. Something, some unseen force as strong as gravity, made her walk to the entrance where she stared at the door before working up the courage to go inside.

  It was just what the history teacher expected. Wooden benches instead of pews. A small altar. More of a meeting hall than a church. She paced to the front bench and dropped down on her ass, propped her elbows on her knees, and buried her face in her hands.

  Susan didn’t want to cry, but she couldn’t seem to stop. This wasn’t how she handled problems. She had always been the strongest in her family. Her spine was made of steel.

  That steel was buckling.

  I want James. I want my kids—and my baby. I want to go home.

  The hand that suddenly settled on her shoulder made her jump in surprise. Sniffling and figuring she looked pathetic, it took Susan a moment to focus on the face gawking down at her. “You! You did this to me!”

  Harry grinned like he’d found a long lost friend before he sat down next to her.

  Susan scrambled to her feet and whirled to face him, aching to smack the grin right off his troublemaking face. “What in the hell did you do to me?”

  His only response was to pat the bench next to him.

  “Answer me!”

  He had the audacity to smile at her again. “Are you always such a bully?”

  The question took the wind right out of her sails. Susan collapsed like a lump on the bench next to the tour guide. A million questions fired through her mind like shooting stars, burning too bright and too fast for her to grasp a single one. Thankfully, a thought finally settled. “I’m not a bully.”

  When he patted her shoulder, it took every ounce of strength not to knock his hand away. Odd. She actually took some comfort from the meddlesome old man. He helped her calm down enough to form a coherent thought. “Why did you send me here?”

  “Oh, my dear child, I didn’t send you here. I had nothing to do with it.” His speech had changed. No more Walter Bren
nan accent. No more down home dropping of every g. Now, he sounded like some stuffed-shirt English professor.

  She turned to gape at him. “Come off it. You had to be the one who sent me here. You pushed my hand against that…that…rock.”

  “But I didn’t send you. That decision came from much higher up the celestial ladder.” Wrinkled hands folded in his lap as he lifted his chin to stare at the ceiling.

  No. No way. He couldn’t be telling her that…

  Harry smiled and nodded.

  Her relationship with God had been estranged at best. Raised a Catholic, Susan had often felt the ties binding her to religion were less like gentle tethers and more like a very tight noose. She’d had both of her children baptized and saw to it that they were confirmed. But Lynne and John had both drifted to going to churches and youth groups with their friends, and Susan had learned to enjoy sleeping in on Sundays. James hadn’t stepped into a church since they buried his grandmother a decade ago, when he’d had a horrible fight with his overbearing father.

  God wouldn’t go to the effort to send her to 1880. He had more devout, pious people to care for. He wouldn’t waste something this big on her.

  Harry nodded and grinned at her again.

  “Stop smiling at me. There’s nothing to smile about.”

  Reaching over to give her knee a pat, he said, “I don’t know about that. You’re a teacher.” His gaze swept the big room. “Isn’t it grand to see history instead of just talk about it?”

  “I haven’t had time to think about it. I’ve been too busy washing dishes and watching my marriage fall apart.”

  “Ah. Yes. Destiny does work in some mighty strange ways.”

  “Destiny? What does destiny have to do with any of this?”

  “That’s why you’re here, Susan. To find your destiny.”

  He knew her name. Not “Miz Williams” like back at the museum. Now she was just Susan. “God has better things to do than fling me back to 1880 to find my destiny. James left me. The only things I have left are my kids, and they’re over a hundred years from being born.” Her heart froze in fear. “What if we don’t get back? They’ll never be born.”