by James, Sandy
The shirt was first to go, followed rapidly by the pants. James waded into the water in nothing but his boxers, not sure what called him into the river. When he was waist deep, he dove, plunging beneath the surface and swimming underwater for as long as he could before his lungs felt as if they would burst for need of air.
As he pushed back toward the surface, the sunbeams broke the water, sending shimmers of light and color over his arms and chest. A rebirth, he realized as he swam toward the light. A chance to start all over again.
James dressed as he stared out at the restoring river, forming plans for his new future. The saloon. The marshal had said the saloon needed a hand. It seemed to be as good a place to start as any.
* * * *
Susan couldn’t bear being in that despicable little town for another moment. Her one hope had been dashed. She couldn’t teach. Being turned away by that man had been a blow, but even that hadn’t entirely discouraged her. Not at first. No, she hadn’t been defeated that easily.
She’d gone to several other businesses, asking for a job. The general store. The tailor. Every possible place except the saloon because she knew how unacceptable it was in the nineteenth century for women to even enter a saloon. If she worked there, the whole town would think she was a whore. It wasn’t until she went back to the boarding house that she finally realized they already did.
She should have figured it out sooner. Every time she passed a woman on the walkway, that woman would grab her skirts and swish them away from Susan as if letting the skirts touch her would dirty them. And if there were two women together, they would not only swish their skirts, but they’d talk behind the hands they held in front of their mouths. Even if she couldn’t hear the words, their body language had screamed their opinions.
If there had been any doubt about what the people of River Bend thought of her, the marshal and the boarding house owner had made it vividly clear. Catching her right before sunset as Susan was heading there to ask if she could wash dishes again for a room and a meal, they’d stopped her before she even went in and informed her in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t welcome. She was, in their minds, an unmarried woman who had spent a salacious night with a man alone in a room, sullying the reputation of the boarding house.
So what options were left for her?
James? He hadn’t even tried to find her, and she’d seen neither hide nor hair of him. He obviously didn’t miss her as much as she missed him.
Other options?
She had none.
Holding her head up, Susan left River Bend behind, hoping against hope she could find that blasted rock and get the hell out of this dreadful place.
She retraced the route she and James had taken to get to the small town. As darkness settled in, she strayed from the main road to try to find the small path they’d taken only the day before. Not that she’d ever been horribly good with directions. James had promised to buy her a GPS unit, even picking out one that had Mr. T’s voice barking out commands on when and where to turn. She’d foolishly expected her husband to get it for her for their anniversary. An anniversary that would never happen for a marriage that had never been.
Susan’s life had become a nightmare from which she couldn’t wake.
The trees in the woods seemed to swallow her whole, and she lost the path. Stumbling over the underbrush, Susan found a huckleberry bush and decided she’d discovered the only supper she was likely to get. Her stomach was so empty, it ached. Grabbing at the berries, she shoved them in her mouth, savoring the sticky bittersweetness. After eating enough to make her feel a little queasy, she sat down in a smooth place next to the trunk of a fallen tree. It wasn’t doing her any good to stagger around in the dark. She’d have to stay here until dawn.
The tears weren’t unexpected. Susan was frightened, but that wasn’t why she cried. No, the tears came because she was thoroughly disgusted with what she’d become.
Alone. I’m all alone.
How ironic. She’d always thought she took care of everyone else. Now she realized James had always taken care of her. She’d never wanted for a roof over her head or a pantry full of food, even when all they could afford was macaroni and cheese. His hard work had provided everything she’d ever needed, and Susan had never really thanked him for all he did. Instead, she’d turned into a bossy know-it-all. Lashing out gave her a release valve for her pain. No wonder he’d left her as soon as he had the slightest opportunity, claiming that since it was 1880, they weren’t really married. How flippin’ convenient.
Am I still married?
One of the reasons she always liked reading time travel stories was to look for the stumbling blocks, the possibilities for paradoxes. Just being here, interacting with these people, was changing timelines. How would her future change? And when was her future? Here or in the twenty-first century?
What about her kids? How would they handle the loss of their parents? It was enough to make Susan’s head ache and her vision blur with more tears.
She thought about all Harry had said back in the church. Destiny. He’d said it so many times, she felt like the word was branded in her brain. She had come here for a reason, and that reason was to find her destiny. Not to resurrect her marriage. Not to be a mother. Not to go home. To figure out who she was. Isn’t that what Harry said?
Susan Williams. Who the hell was that? A teacher? A mother? A wife? She was a woman with nothing, with no one, and she had only her stubborn pride as her blanket. Susan Williams was a woman who could never ask for help. Susan Williams was a woman who thought she knew what was best in every situation, even when it turned out she’d been dead wrong. Susan Williams was a woman Susan wouldn’t choose for a friend.
The decision came easily. She just wouldn’t be Susan Williams anymore. She had time now. Time to change things, time to change herself, and time to become the woman she wanted to be.
Dropping her bundle of clothes on the ground, she used it as a pillow. She pulled her knees up and hugged them, falling into an exhausted but fitful sleep and making plans for her new future.
* * * *
“A college boy, you say? Tended bar while you was there?” The short and very stout owner of the Golden Nugget saloon asked his questions as he rubbed the lenses of his pince-nez glasses with the corner of his stained apron.
James nodded. It was only a little white lie. He’d been the only guy in his dorm who knew how to tap a keg. But tend bar? “Yes, sir. I really need a job and a place to stay.”
The man perched his glasses back on his nose and stroked his waxed, handlebar moustache with his index finger and thumb. His stare was intense, as if he could judge James’s character simply by looking at him. James tried to paste a sincere expression on his face.
“S’pose I could use a hand. Them rail layers been comin’ in here, stirrin’ up the place. You’re a might tall.” He reached out and gave James’s bicep a squeeze. “And brawny. Maybe you can bounce a few of ’em outside if they get outta line.” He slapped the table with his palm. “You’re hired.”
James offered his hand. “Thank you. You won’t be sorry.”
The owner gave him a firm handshake. “Name’s Jim Simon.” He patted his rounded belly. “But folks call me ‘Li’l Jim’ on account of me being so…big.” His chuckle sounded warm and friendly.
Walking over to a set of swinging half doors, Li’l Jim pushed one open and pointed to the room. “I got a cot in here you can sleep in. I’ll give you room and board and pay you two dollars a day.”
Two dollars a day? How the hell did that calculate into twenty-first-century money? Didn’t really matter. It would have to be enough.
James stepped through the open door and took a look around. His college dorm room had been larger. This place was nothing but a storage area. Shelves covered three walls and were loaded down with glasses of varying shapes and sizes and bottles of liquor. The fourth had a cot pushed against it and a small table with an oil lamp.
To James, it
looked like home.
He smiled. “It’s a deal.”
James spent the afternoon stocking the bar and cleaning glasses. By the time patrons wandered in, he felt more like he belonged than he had in any job he’d ever worked. He loved the bustle, the constant chatter of the clientele. He loved the smell of smoke and beer. He loved the smiles of appreciation. His way with words seemed to keep the somewhat rowdy men satisfied. Before the night ended, he also found himself with a nickname.
Although he introduced himself as James, the customers were intent upon calling him Jim. After Li’l Jim came from the kitchen for the third time, thinking he’d been called when the customers were actually talking to James, Li’l Jim dubbed his new bartender Big Jim. The name stuck.
By the time James collapsed on the bunk, he’d never been so content or so exhausted. He was just drifting off to sleep when the big clock above the bar struck four chimes. Four AM.
James bolted upright.
Susan!
Susan hadn’t come looking for him. He’d watched for her the first few hours customers started arriving, but then he’d gotten so busy, he hadn’t noticed the hours slipping away.
What in the hell was wrong with him? He’d walked away from his wife, for God’s sake. He’d actually walked away from his wife.
Where was she? Who was she with? Had she eaten? Had she found a place to sleep for the night?
James tried to relax. Susan had to know where he was. Every man in the whole damned town had wandered in and out of the bar that night. If she wanted to find him, she’d had all the opportunity in the world. When the boarding house owner stopped by for a drink and to play poker, James promised him to pay for a room if Susan turned up there again. All the man did was shake his head.
No, it was crystal clear that she’d been happy to blow him off. She had, after all, been the one who took her wedding ring off and let it disappear beneath the boards of the sidewalk. Susan obviously thought, just as he did, that they weren’t married. Not in this place and not in this time.
Guilt niggled at him as he thought about all the years they’d spent together. He still loved her, and he always would.
But the time had obviously come for each of them to find their way in this world alone.
Chapter 7
Blinking against the light, Susan tried to shake the I-didn’t-get-nearly-enough-sleep feeling dulling her mind. A face slowly came into focus. Her heart leapt, thinking it was James. Instead, Sean Connery stood there gawking at her with his hat in his hands.
No, not Sean Connery. Just a man who looked an awful lot like him. A dash of gray painted his brown hair, especially around the temples. Laugh lines framed kind blue eyes. His skin was tan, and he wore a charming smile. She finally recognized him as the School Board member who’d turned her away.
“Ma’am? You’ll pardon my curiosity, but did you sleep here last night?” He nodded at the pack of clothing she’d used as a pillow.
She gave him an unladylike laugh and sat up. “Sleep? Hardly. Damn, I miss my pillow-top mattress.” Every joint ached. Every muscle screamed. Shit, she’d grown too old for camping out under the stars. The wilderness was highly overrated.
A weary sigh fell from her lips. Although she’d hoped against hope to wake up back in her own time, evidently her nineteenth century trial by fire would go on.
Damn it all anyway.
“Pillow-top? Sounds comfy. Filled with goose down?” The man plopped the weathered cowboy hat back on his head and extended a tan, calloused hand. “Can I help you to your feet, ma’am?”
“Please stop calling me ma’am. Makes me feel ancient.” And I haven’t even been born yet.
The history teacher in her screamed that this whole amusement park ride was rife for paradoxes. She’d have to stay on constant guard to make sure she didn’t reveal anything about the future that could cause the world to rip apart at the seams. Would knowing about pillow-top mattresses create a paradox? She was glad she hadn’t mentioned heated waterbeds or memory foam pillows.
Susan took the offered hand and let the man pull her to her feet. A few stretches worked some of the tension out of her knotted muscles. Trying to straighten her skirt, she brushed away the dried pine needles and loose dirt clinging to the fabric. New clothes and they were already soiled and wrinkled, and she sure didn’t have anything else suitable to this era to change into. Did they still wash clothes in the creek and pound them with rocks to get out stains? All she wanted was a long, hot shower and something very caffeinated from Starbucks. A couple of warm Krispy Kremes sounded like heaven too.
Who was she trying to kid? Breakfast would be huckleberries.
The man had a disarming smile. Had she not been a married woman for far too long to remember how, she would be flirting with him. Not that a man that good looking would ever flirt back. Besides, she felt almost too tired to function. Where did someone get a caffeine IV in the 1800s? She’d give up every penny in her IRA for an Espresso Frappuccino.
“If you don’t want me to call you ma’am, you’re gonna have to provide me with an alternative.”
Picking up her pack of old—or was it new?—clothes, Susan turned back to him. “I’m Susan—” Susan what? Williams? Hardly. As James pointed out so cruelly, they’d never been married. Not yet. Not for over a hundred years.
Damn him anyway.
Her own personal paradox was that she hated James at the same time she wanted nothing more than for him to find her, wrap his arms around her, and take all of this hurt away.
“Got a last name to go with that, Susie?” The grin on his face reached those handsome eyes.
“Hollis.” She blurted out her maiden name, letting the “Susie” nickname she’d always avoided since she turned thirteen pass. Coming from his deep baritone, it was almost…pretty rather than immature. “I’m Susie Hollis.”
How odd that sounded. She had been a Williams since she turned twenty. Almost half her life. She’d been Susan since she was an adolescent. But she figured now that she had a new life, she deserved a new name.
“Well, Miss Hollis. Welcome to the Circle M.”
That rang a bell. “The ranch? This is where we were dropped when—”
Paradox, Susan! Always think of the damage you could do. Just like the damage you’ve done to your marriage.
“Pardon?”
She couldn’t rightly tell him the ridiculous rock had dropped her and James at the Circle M when it had wrenched them from their own time. “Nothing,” she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Is this your ranch?”
He nodded. “Daniel Miller. This is my spread. Mine and Abigail’s.”
Sean Connery was married. Not that she was shocked by that notion. The man exuded masculinity. Handsome. Muscular. Tall. Had circumstances been different, Susan would have found him very attractive. Truthfully, she had to admit she already did.
She’d always thought her husband was one good-looking man as well, though he normally just shook his head and ignored any of the times she’d told him so. Of course, she’d ignored his flattery about her looks as well. What an odd couple they’d been. Taking each other for granted, never bothering to offer those little endearments that might have made their marriage stronger.
And just exactly where was her wayward spouse now? Had he left River Bend? Had he found a place to stay? Something to eat? Someone to pass the time with? Worrying about him was such a habit she doubted she’d ever truly break it. Even if they weren’t really married anymore. Susan sniffed back threatening tears. He might not love her anymore, but she would never stop loving James Williams.
Daniel cleared his throat, bringing Susan back from her reverie. Her face flushed hot. “I’d venture to guess that you haven’t had any breakfast,” he said. “Me, either. I always ride the fence line first. I’m heading back to my house to eat. Be honored if you’d join me. With the spread she puts on for our boys, Abigail will surely have more than enough for one more plate.”
“
Your boys?”
“Hank and Cain. They work the ranch. So how about breakfast, Miss Hollis?”
The invitation shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it was. Accustomed to the overall rudeness of people in her own time, she reminded herself common courtesy of this simpler era would demand he invite her, and at least he treated her kindly compared to the rest of River Bend’s citizens. Not sure when she’d have a chance to find a decent meal again, Susan wasn’t about to turn down something other than berries du jour for breakfast. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Miller. I’d love to meet your wife.”
“Wife?”
“Didn’t you say her name’s Abigail?”
“Ah, Abigail. She’s not my wife. She’s my daughter. My wife passed a few years back.” He reached down to grab Susan’s pack. “If you don’t mind sitting two to a saddle, we can ride back together.” Without waiting for her answer, he tied her clothing package against the back of his saddle.
“I haven’t been on a horse in years.”
“Do you prefer a wagon or do you just walk everywhere?” He winked at her.
Susan shrugged and stared at Daniel as he swung up into the saddle like he’d been born riding a horse. All she could think was how tall the horse looked and how fragile her thirty-nine-year-old bones were. One tumble and she’d need traction. Did traction even exist in 1880?
Daniel reached down for her as he moved his foot out of the stirrup. “C’mon, Miss Hollis. You can ride behind me. Just put your foot in the stirrup and take my hand.”
“Adding my weight will break your horse’s back.” Her typical denigrating sarcasm hid her fear of high places and strange men. Even handsome ones.
