Where Eagles Fly

by Lisa Norato

  Ah! Her suitcase. Shelby hadn’t given a thought to her suitcase, but suddenly its contents ran through her head like a laundry list of long-lost treasures. With Rose’s help, maybe her new wardrobe of western-style clothing could be tailored into acceptable Victorian casual wear. At the very least it was good enough for work wear on a ranch, in which case some extra jeans and shirts would come in handy. Oh, and what she wouldn’t give for more bras and panties, her makeup and body lotions and shampoo and hair-styling products. Deodorant! Ladies’ shavers! She could go on and on. Plus, Jorge’s toys and treats and sweaters were inside that case.

  She eyed Ruckert shrewdly. “Oh, you’re good. You are so good,” she told him. “Okay, you’ve got me. I’d love to have my belongings. I have photographs from last Christmas in there. Pictures of my sister and her husband, my parents, family and friends I’ll never see again.”

  Those were precious photos. Precious, though she’d taken them for granted until now. It had taken her six months to download them off her digital camera.

  “Those are some photographs I’d like mighty well to s-see. The ffff-family I’d never get to meet otherwise.”

  Exactly, Shelby thought. She’d even be able to prove the uncanny resemblance between Hugh and Michael.

  “Well then?” Ruckert prodded.

  Reluctantly, Shelby conceded. “All right. I’ll unlock the car.”

  Leaving Jorge with Ruckert, she strode over to Cameo and removed her rucksack from where it hung on the saddle. She fished out the keys, then slung the bag over her shoulder, hoping they weren’t making a mistake. But then, they weren’t left with much choice, were they?

  Separating the Toyota key from the others on the ring, she held it aloft and returned to Ruckert. “Before we do this, would you mind giving me a kiss first?”

  He didn’t hesitate in stepping forward to reach for her with the arm that wasn’t holding Jorge. As he pulled her near, Shelby let her eyes drift closed in sensory inventory of his clean, mountain scent; his strong, solid presence; the brush of his mustache the moment his firm lips found hers. With his kiss, he indulged her need for reassurance. He enticed her response, until Shelby was swept into an inflamed, passionate kiss.

  It seemed impossible, ridiculous even, to think they could be parted by some supernatural act of nature. She clutched a handful of his shirt and held him close as thoughts of worry swirled away in a mist of mindless bliss until the moment his lips parted from hers.

  “I love you,” she reminded him.

  “And I l-l-love you.”

  “No, Ruckert, seriously. In case something does happen, don’t ever think for a minute I’ll ever forget you or stop loving you.”

  His gray-green eyes swallowed her whole, reaching into her soul with their intensity. “No matter what, Shelby, whenever you come looking for me, I’ll be here waiting for you. I guarantee I’ll be at the Flying Eagle, and you’ll be right there beside me. That’s a promise.”

  Shelby lightened up with a grin, then with a bounce of her brows said, “All-righty, then. Here’s goes nothing.”

  She shouldered past Ruckert to insert the key in the driver’s door. She gave it a turn. The lock disengaged with a click. She slipped her fingers beneath the door handle, then hesitated and turned to glance over her shoulder.

  Ruckert nodded, anticipation all over his face. Go ahead.

  A lift of the latch and Shelby pulled open the door. Whatever alternate reality had held her RAV4 captive these three weeks, it had returned the SUV in exactly the same condition she’d left it.

  An empty paper cup that had held her medium latte filled the cup holder. The Beethoven CD cover lay open on the passenger seat. One of Jorge’s liver-flavored biscuits sat on the dashboard. All undisturbed, as if she had never left them.

  “Never in my wildest f-f-f-flight of imagination could I have dreamed of anything such as this.”

  Ruckert practically tossed Jorge at her on his way to pushing her aside for a peek into the interior. “This wheel right here. Is this the mechanism for controlling the vehicle? Heavens, that is ssss-something. And that stick there in middle, I reckon that has got to be the b-brake, similar to that on a buckboard.”

  Shelby allowed herself a moment to relax and enjoy the look of wonderment on Ruckert’s face.

  “Right on the first question. Yes, that’s the steering wheel. However, that shift stick between the seats is not a brake. The brake is actually that horizontal pedal there on the floor,” she indicated, pointing.

  When he angled his head down for a closer look, Shelby grabbed his arm in her impatience to get on with their day as planned, as though her SUV had not freakishly appeared from the ether and spoiled her pre-wedding euphoria with a lingering uneasiness.

  “There’ll be time to play once we get back to the ranch. We should really focus on replacing that flat with the spare,” she warned. “The jack is underneath the passenger’s seat on the other side.”

  He straightened and cast her a penetrating glare, impatient with her impatience. “Yes, ma’am, the jack. I will get right to it, soon as I figure out what the Sam Hill a ‘jack’ is. Seems it’s you who holds the whip hand.”

  Shelby released him, feeling her face warm. “Sorry,” she shot back defensively.

  Immediately his expression softened. He cast a long glance over the vehicle, took a breath, and turning, gazed into her eyes, contrite. “No, it’s me who’s sorry. I ask your pardon.”

  “Forget it. I guess we’re both a little on edge. It’s not every day a horseless carriage arrives from the future, eh?” She offered him her best goofy grin.

  It was totally lost on Ruckert, who had shifted into his strong, reflective cowboy state of mind.

  “You must’ve had an awful f-f-fright that day we found you p-plugging along this road. At the time, there were many things I couldn’t savvy. I was dead suspicious of you and sent the sarcasm flying in a way you didn’t deserve. I played you unfair.”

  Holding Jorge off to one side, she stepped closer and leaned into his long, lanky frame while she toyed with a button on his shirt. “Well, let’s not forget you were also always there for me whenever I needed a hand. Though I do appreciate the apology.”

  Smiling, she lifted her gaze to his handsome face. “But that’s all behind us now. And, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to put it even farther behind us by getting this creepy time machine up and rolling and out of harm’s way.”

  Ruckert crooked a finger under her jaw and caressed her chin with the pad of his thumb. The look in his eyes nearly made Shelby reconsider the hurry and invite him into the back seat.

  “What is it I am looking for again?” he asked softly.

  “The jack. It’s the tool used to crank up the car and lift the wheel so we can take the tire off.”

  For someone who’d come in contact with an automobile as recently as ten minutes ago, Ruckert managed to make quick work of changing the tire.

  Though, in Shelby’s estimation, the entire process was still a haul. She wasn’t ashamed to admit she felt totally justified in reading instructions aloud while leaving the physical work to the brawn. No sweat, just a bit of leverage, a pull of the wrench, and Ruckert had pried off the hubcap. He then fitted that same wrench over the wheel nuts, flexed his biceps and loosened each in turn. The jack needed to be properly positioned by finding the correct “lift point,” which, according to the owner’s manual was not located on the frame, as on most cars, but on the suspension.

  O-kaay. Fortunately, Ruckert’s mechanical prowess counteracted Shelby’s ignorance, and he took to the task with all the enthusiasm of a red-blooded, nineteenth-century man totally mesmerized with each and every detail of an automotive invention of the future.

  In no time at all, they were ready to roll.

  Shelby couldn’t start the engine without Ruckert, understandably, wanting to know how it ran. She popped the hood, but when she couldn’t effectively answer his barrage of questions, she strapped Jorge
into his booster seat and appeased Ruckert with his first driving lesson.

  “Press down on the brake with your right foot. Okay, now, turn the key towards me.”

  The engine cranked to life, then fell into a low hum as Ruckert released the key.

  “That’s it.”

  His eyes gave a spark of anticipation.

  “Next, check all the rearview mirrors to make sure the way is clear.” Shelby realized they were traveling an undeveloped country highway with absolutely no possibility of coming upon another automobile, but she thought she might as well do the job right and instruct him correctly. Teaching was her profession, after all.

  Ruckert shot her an impatient look, then dutifully peered into the overhead mirror and each of the outside mirrors. He nodded approval. “That is a convenient tr-trick, sure enough, t-t-to be able to see in all directions.” In his excitement, his gaze continued to roam.

  “And wh-what’s this for?” He hit the lever on the left of the steering wheel and the directional signals ticked on. As Shelby began to explain their purpose, he pulled the right lever, switching on the wipers. “Says here ‘pull.’ ” He did. The washer fluid squirted out. His face illuminated. “Well, I’ll be. It even cleans the windows for you.”

  His enthusiasm made her giggle. Shelby leaned forward to switch on the CD player. “How about a little music?” she offered as Beethoven’s “Pastoral Symphony” comfortably surrounded them.

  Ruckert was thunderstruck. His fascination knew no bounds. There were also the power windows and door locks. The air conditioning and the heater. Headlights, cigarette lighter, glove box.

  Finally, Shelby had to say, “Okay, enough. Let’s try to focus on our driving lesson.” She took his big, strong hand and placed it over the automatic shift. As Ruckert curled his fingers around the handle, she instructed, “Now, depress the button on the side with your thumb and pull the shift down into ‘D’ for drive. Great. Now, slowly, carefully, release the pressure of your foot off the brake pad.”

  As they rolled down the dusty, unpaved road in a white Toyota RAV4 over one hundred years before it had been manufactured, Ruckert’s rich, delighted laughter left Shelby feeling giddy.

  “How f-f-fast will it go?”

  “Oh, no, don’t you dare!”

  He laughed at her and leaned across the seat, reaching for her with his lips.

  Shelby held him off. “You are such a guy.”

  “You say that like it’s an accusation.”

  “Just a statement of fact. What about our plans, huh? Hello. Wedding tomorrow. Or aren’t you still interested in marrying me now you’ve discovered something more exciting?”

  His eyes narrowed with annoyance. “Of course I want to marry you. What sort of a fool thing is that to say?”

  “Well, we’ve been pushing our luck, when our whole purpose was to quickly remove the SUV from sight. Any minute now, someone could ride by and then what? What happens if they find us inside kissing each other like a couple of pubescent teens?”

  He nodded with all the seriousness of the matter and said, “That’d be cause to make any man feel mighty green.”

  Shelby gave his arm a swat.

  “All r-right.” Ruckert rubbed a hand over his face wearily. “You are exactly right. We need to get this machine off the road pronto and get ourselves married.”

  Shelby couldn’t help wondering whether he wasn’t mentally scheduling a RAV4 rendezvous for after the honeymoon. She rolled her eyes.

  Turning, Ruckert glanced out the rear window for a look at the horses. They stood tethered off the highway, roughly three hundred yards down the road. As he rubbed his mustache thoughtfully, a look of calm resignation eased over his expression.

  He tipped back his hat before addressing Shelby. “I’ll get the horses and walk them along behind you to the ranch. Imagine the hubbub once we come jollying down the drive with a horseless carriage.”

  “Sorry to be so much trouble.”

  Ruckert slapped the dashboard with the flat of his hand. “I’m mighty grateful to this machine for bringing you here. Therefore, it’s small inconvenience doing what needs be done to keep it safe and hid. As for my family, I f-f-figure it was just a matter of time once Cookie got back before questions were raised about where it is you’re really f-from. B-better we shoot square right from the start.”

  Shelby gazed at him reflectively, her handsome cowboy, her love. “All-righty then. Let’s do this. But no need to hike back. Part two of your driving lesson. Backing up. Just press on the brake with your foot and place the automatic shift in reverse.”

  Ruckert followed her instructions, then as he began to release the brake, the small SUV rolled backwards. He adjusted easily to steering in reverse, but like a child testing out a new toy—or rather, a grown man behaving like a child with a new toy—he couldn’t resist messing around and pretended to lose control, zigzagging across the road.

  What was I thinking? Shelby wondered, when the intelligent thing would have been to simply instruct him to turn the vehicle around. Despite it all, Ruckert’s high spirits were infectious and he had her giggling throughout.

  “Easy, watch out for the horses,” she warned.

  Ruckert slowed her RAV4 to a stop and shifted into park just like he’d been driving all his life.

  Shelby nodded her approval. “I’m impressed.”

  He smiled back at her, pleased with himself, then they both hopped out of the SUV so Shelby could take the wheel.

  As she stepped around to the driver’s side, Ruckert took her firmly by the shoulders. “I promise to take care of you, and I’m going to handle this, don’t f-fret. I want you to drive this horseless buggy nice and easy down the county road. I’ll be r-right b-b-behind you with the horses. And by the time we reach the Flying Eagle . . . well, I’ll have figured out how I’m going to explain.”

  “Truth is stranger than fiction.”

  “In this instance, it s-sure is.”

  They shared a conspiratorial grin, partners in this craziness together. In a sudden rush of emotion, Shelby flung her arms around Ruckert’s neck, squeezing tight for several moments before Ruckert loosened her choke hold and turned his face into hers for a kiss that hinted of melancholy.

  When, at length, they released each other, Shelby climbed inside her RAV4. Ruckert shut the door behind her, waiting as she powered down her window. She lowered Jorge’s window so he could stick his head out, then repositioned the seat and adjusted the rearview mirror.

  “All set,” she said.

  Ruckert nodded, then leaned in for another kiss. “I love you,” he whispered.

  “I love you, too.”

  Backing away, he strode to the rear of the vehicle. Shelby watched as he snatched up Cameo’s lead and mounted Chongo. Seated high in the saddle, he nodded for her to proceed.

  Shelby sat forward, shifted the automatic into drive and applied gentle pressure to the gas, keeping the vehicle moving at about fifteen miles an hour.

  She traveled, one eye on the road, one eye on the rearview mirror.

  Her bouncing gaze fell on the clock. The digital display showed 11:03. Funny, she remembered it being 11:03 the last time she’d been driving her RAV4, about the time the tire had gone flat. Something about that thought chilled her with foreboding, and a thread of fear began to spool around her heart.

  She glanced into the rearview mirror. Ruckert saw her and waved. Shelby waved back at his reflection and returned her focus to her driving. The view ahead was bright beneath the sun’s sharp glow, vibrant with the cobalt of the Wyoming sky, the dusty green of the plains, the deep blue-green of the timbered mountains.

  Behind her, however, Ruckert and the horses appeared to be traveling in the dimness of nightfall. Had she inadvertently touched the switch for anti-glare night driving? She readjusted the mirror, but still didn’t notice a change. Weird.

  She laughed at herself, shaking off the paranoia, and concentrated on the road ahead.

  Seconds
later, she couldn’t resist another peek. She blinked, mesmerized as Ruckert’s image faded in the rearview mirror to the sepia tones of an antique photograph.

  Shelby slammed on the brakes and stopped the SUV. Jorge barked wildly, sensing her alarm.

  She opened the door, and the moment her boot touched the ground, the road transformed to asphalt.

  Stepping out, she turned to glance behind. Modern day pole-and-wire fencing closed off the prairie on either side of the highway, with telephone poles spaced along the vast stretch of paved road.

  And Ruckert and the horses. They were no longer there.

  Gone!

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  11:03 a.m., June 4th

  Highway WYO 130, heading west towards Centennial, Laramie, Wyoming

  There was a gaping hole in her chest where her heart used to be. Shelby stood frozen, like a snowman with a head full of slush on the way to a meltdown. No. No. No. It couldn’t be. Nooo . . . nooo . . . nooooooooo!

  From the instant her RAV4 had made its shocking and unexpected reappearance, she’d dreaded the worst, and now that it had happened . . . she couldn’t . . . couldn’t believe . . . it.

  Once she began taking air into her lungs again, coherent thought returned. She could feel a shift in atmosphere. The world as she’d known it moments ago was changed.

  She now wore her outfit of that fateful morning three weeks ago, down to the last thread. Her white shirt was as crisp and fresh as if she’d slipped it on mere hours ago. The colors in her batik print, jean-style jacket shone rich and vibrant, and her jeans showed no wear, as though she'd never worn them across the Wyoming prairie on a cattle drive.

  She turned a full three-sixty and surveyed her surroundings, clinging to the hope that what was no longer there might suddenly reappear. But up ahead to the right lay a drive off the paved highway. The Flying Eagle Guest Ranch sign hovered high above it, marking the entrance to the ranch road. The ranch’s mailbox stood nearby.