“Do you know why Wood was in Spring Valley in the first place?”
Hannah’s questions had Gabby squirming. “I believe he had an appointment.”
“What kind of appointment?” When she didn’t answer, Hannah asked, “Gabby, do you know who he was going to see?”
After another long silence, Gabby said, “Madame Duvalee. She’s that psychic they’ve been talking about on TV.” She had to clutch the door handle as Hannah took a curve a little too fast for Gabby’s peace of mind.
“Why would he go to see a psychic?”
Gabby wanted nothing better than to explain the whole situation. The problem was she had promised Wood she wouldn’t mention his time travel to another soul. He had wanted to tell Hannah in his own time—when he was convinced she would accept the truth. Only now Red Murphy threatened to take that decision out of his hands.
“Gabby, do you know why he went to see this Madame Duvalee?” Hannah asked a second time.
Gabby needed to make a decision. Now. “There’s something I need to tell you before we go any farther,” she told Hannah. “Pull off the road.”
“Can’t you tell me while I drive?”
“I think you’d better pull off the road for a few minutes.”
Hannah parked the pickup on the gravel shoulder of the highway. Then she turned to her aunt. “All right. What has your hair standing on end?”
“I think Red picked up Wood because he found out he had a forged birth certificate, which I helped Wood get in Minneapolis last week so he could buy a new identity because he really is Wood Harris, not Alfred Dumler.”
“Wait a minute. This doesn’t make sense. If he really is Wood Harris, why would he need to buy a fake birth certificate?”
“Because his was too old,” she answered weakly.
“I told him we could call the courthouse and have one faxed.”
Gabby tugged on her lower lip with her tiny teeth. “He couldn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
Her voice was barely above a whisper as she said, “Because then everyone would have figured out that he was born in 1842.”
“You mean 1942,” she automatically corrected her. “Are you saying that Wood is really fifty-six years old?” Her mouth dropped open in disbelief.
“No, he wasn’t born in 1942, I said 1842,” she repeated, her voice rising. “He’s a hundred and fifty-two years old. He time traveled from 1876. That’s why he had to pretend to be Alfred Dumler because you already thought he was crazy, and if he tried to tell you he was a time traveler, you would have had him locked up. But he’s not crazy, and he really is Wood Harris. It’s just that he’s in the wrong century.” The words came out in such a rush that she was out of breath by the time she had finished.
Hannah stared at her great-aunt in disbelief. “You’re not making any sense.”
“I know it’s hard to believe. I fainted when Wood told me. Who would have thought time travel was possible?”
Hannah’s jaw tightened, and she tapped several fingers on the steering wheel. “Now let me see if I have this straight. Wood used to live in 1876 until that day you found him in the cornfield, which was the day he time traveled. He doesn’t know how or why he got here, but thought he’d better pretend to be Alfred Dumler, the mail-order groom you had advertised for in the farm journal.”
Gabby nodded in agreement.
Hannah’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “And the real Alfred Dumler—what happened to him?”
“Oh, he couldn’t come. He wrote me a letter but it got lost that day of the storm and Jeremy only found it last week.”
“It was conveniently lost, eh?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gabby asked.
Hannah sat there slowly shaking her head. “Gabby, you don’t really believe all this stuff, do you?”
“Of course I do. It’s true!”
“It’s a scam.” Hannah slapped the steering wheel with her palms. “I can’t believe it. I’ve been taken in by a con man!”
Gabby gasped. “Wood’s no con man! Hannah, it’s true. He’s from 1876. That’s why he acted so strangely when he first arrived. Everything was foreign to him—all the appliances, the vehicles, the machinery. Why else do you suppose he would have asked for a horse to ride to town?” She wanted to explain all the puzzling circumstances of the past month, but Hannah wanted no explanations.
She was too angry to listen to anything Gabby said in Wood’s defense. She started the pickup and did a U-turn in the middle of the highway.
“Where are you going?” Gabby’s cheeks grew even whiter.
“Back home. Wood Harris can figure out how to get himself out of jail,” she said stubbornly.
“He’s your husband!”
“Not for long.”
Gabby gulped air as if she were a fish out of water. “You’re driving too fast! Hannah, turn this truck around this minute,” she ordered in her sternest librarian’s voice, her knuckles white as she clung to her purse. Hannah slowed the vehicle, but she didn’t turn around.
“Hannah, you have to listen to me. Wood’s no con man. It’s the truth. He time traveled,” Gabby pleaded with her.
“The only thing he’s done is bamboozle both of us. And Jeremy.” Anger put two red spots on Hannah’s cheeks.
“He most certainly has not!” Gabby protested indignantly. “He’s a good man who’s caught in a time warp.”
Some of Hannah’s anger dissolved at the sight of her seventy-five-year-old aunt nearly in tears. It wasn’t Gabby’s fault that they had been taken in by a con man. She was just an old lady with a big heart, who didn’t always make the sharpest decisions.
Hannah took a deep breath, trying not to let her emotions overrule her common sense. “He’s caught in a jail which is where he should be.”
“You’re wrong, Hannah. Wood’s a good man.” Gabby refused to give up her defense of the man. “Now turn this truck around and take me to that jail.”
“No. I won’t do it.”
“I never thought I’d see the day when you would be a coward.”
Hannah chuckled mirthlessly. “You think I’m afraid to go see Wood?”
“Aren’t you?” When she didn’t answer, Gabby pressed on. “Hannah, he’s your husband. You at least owe him the right to give you his side of the story. How’s it going to look if you don’t even go get him out of jail?”
“Like I woke up and smelled the coffee,” she retorted.
“No, it’s going to make you look like a fool.”
“I am a fool. I trusted him.” As hard as she tried, Hannah couldn’t keep the hurt from her voice.
“All right. If you don’t want to pick him up, at least allow me to go set the record straight. I’m the one who helped him get the forged documents.”
“No.”
“All you have to do is drop me off at the front door. You don’t have to come inside. I’ll take care of everything.”
“No.”
Gabby would have stamped her foot had it reached the floorboards of the truck. As it was, she was too short and had to settle for a stern scolding. “Are you going to tell me what I can and cannot do?”
Reluctantly Hannah stopped the pickup. She mumbled something under her breath, then made another U-turn.
“Thank you,” Gabby said primly.
“You’re welcome.”
They were the only words spoken until Hannah parked the truck in front of the courthouse.
“Are you coming in with me?” Gabby asked.
It was a challenge. Hannah could see it in the old lady’s eyes. The C word still hung in the air between them. Gabby knew that if there was one thing Hannah hated, it was to be accused of having no guts.
But Hannah was also stubborn. If Gabby wanted to get Wood out of the clink, she could do it alone.
“I’ll wait here,” she said coolly, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel as she waited...and waited...and waited. Although she tried not to think about the outrage
ous story Gabby had told her, she kept replaying it over and over in her mind. She switched on the radio, hoping that music would distract her. It didn’t.
Finally, Wood and Gabby emerged from the courthouse. Hannah’s heart thumped madly in her chest at the sight of her husband. Something warm unfurled inside her, igniting an ember of desire that still smoldered from last night. When he saw her, their eyes met, and he smiled, as if he could read her thoughts.
There was no remorse on his or Gabby’s face. In fact, they were both smiling as they walked toward the pickup. Hannah soon learned the reason why.
“It wasn’t the forged-document thing at all. He got picked up for driving without a license,” Gabby said cheerfully, when Wood flung open the door on the passenger side. She smiled gratefully at him as he gave her a boost up into the truck. “Red sure was surprised to see me. He hadn’t even done the paperwork when I walked in. Lucky for us, I was able to convince him to let Wood off with a warning.”
“Thanks again, Gabby. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Wood gave her arm a gentle squeeze, then pulled the door shut, while Gabby blushed like a young schoolgirl.
Hannah caught a whiff of his aftershave, triggering all sorts of pleasant memories. Flustered, she started up the truck and backed it out of the parking space, ignoring the conversation going on between her aunt and her husband.
When they were halfway home and there still was no mention of time travel or Madame Duvalee, Hannah assumed that Gabby had warned Wood not to bring up the subject until they were back at the farm. She was right.
As soon as the three of them had their feet back on Davis soil, it didn’t take long for Gabby to discreetly disappear, leaving Hannah and Wood alone. They stood outside in front of the house, acting like two strangers rather than a husband and wife who had made passionate love through the night.
“We need to talk,” he said soberly.
She nodded, swallowing with great difficulty.
“Everything Gabby told you is true. I know it sounds crazy—I still have trouble believing it myself. But, Hannah, one day it was September 9, 1876 and the next day it was September 11, 1998.” He repeated the same story that Gabby had told her on the way to the courthouse. When he had finished and she hadn’t responded to any of it, he asked, “Don’t you have anything to say?”
“Yes, I do. Your game’s over, Wood or Alfred or whatever your real name is. You tried to scam us and it didn’t work, or did you forget that you signed the prenuptial agreement?”
“You think this is some joke I’m playing on you?”
“Yes, and it’s a cruel one. You hurt Gabby and when Jeremy finds out...”
“He’ll understand why I didn’t know a thing about basketball,” Wood interjected. “Or how to change the channel on the TV. And why I asked to use the outdoor privy.”
The image of him flushing the toilet repeatedly flashed in Hannah’s mind.
“Think about it, Hannah. I didn’t understand half of what you were saying and you saw what my clothes looked like.”
Bits and pieces of memory gave Hannah reason to suspect that what he said could indeed be true. What if he had really come from another century? It would explain so many things...the blank stares, the odd phrases, the total unfamiliarity with anything motorized.
“And how do you explain this time travel?” she asked cynically.
“I can’t. I suspect that it could have been lightning, since I saw a flash before it happened, and Jeremy tells me lightning hit that tree in the Nelson forty.”
She dropped down onto the porch steps, uncertainty weakening her muscles. “Was that why you didn’t want to come in from the storm? You wanted the lightning to take you back?”
He nodded grimly.
“And that’s why you were so interested in history, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I didn’t lie when I said I wanted to find my sister.”
“But you lied about so many things,” she said, disappointment creeping into her voice. “Why did you pretend to be Alfred Dumler? If you had told us right from the start who you were and what had happened, we would have helped you.”
“Have you forgotten that you tied me to the bed that first night I was here, even when you thought I was your invited guest?”
“Because you had marks on your neck and wrists—” she stopped suddenly. “Oh my God. Those were from a rope, weren’t they? You said you had run into the wrong kind of folks.” Fear widened her eyes. “Did someone try to hang you?”
She shuddered as the cold autumn wind sent a chill down her spine.
“You’re cold.” He took off his jacket and tried to slip it around her shoulders, but she shrugged away from him.
“I don’t need your warmth.”
“That’s not what you said last night,” he reminded her.
And that, she acknowledged, was the problem. Last night she had fallen in love with Wood Harris, and this morning she had discovered that it was all based on a lie. “I want to pretend last night never happened.” She buried her face in her hands.
“Don’t say that.” He sat down beside her and gently pulled her hands away from her face. “Hannah, look at me.” When she lifted her chin and met his gaze he said, “Last night did happen, and we both wanted it to happen. I love you and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I was going to last night, but I never expected we’d spend the entire night making love.” He gave her a tiny smile that still had the power to ignite the flame of desire in her.
She quickly looked away and jumped to her feet. “It should have never happened. You’re a...a...” she trailed off at a loss for words.
“Go on tell me, Hannah. What am I?” He, too, got to his feet. When she didn’t answer he said, “A murderer? Is that what you wanted to say?”
She didn’t deny it. She couldn’t because at this point she honestly didn’t know who Wood Harris was. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” she asked shakily.
“Because you already thought I was crazy, and I could imagine your reaction had I said, ‘Oh, by the way, I traveled across time from 1876 where a group of vigilantes tried to hang me for two murders I didn’t commit.’”
She gasped and shrank back from him.
“I would be dead right now if the time travel hadn’t occurred.” He reached inside his pocket and pulled out the newspaper clipping. “You might as well know the whole truth.”
Hannah read every word of the article. She didn’t want to believe any of it, yet she found herself asking, “Did you kill George and Mary Nelson?”
He looked as if she had punched him in the stomach. “If you need to ask me that question, then last night must have been a mistake.”
She clutched her arms to her waist. “What am I supposed to think? Since the day you arrived you’ve done nothing but lie to me.”
“Last night was no lie on my part.”
Hannah squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to remember how good it had felt to be in his arms. “It only happened because we drank too much champagne.”
“Then I believe I’m not the only one who was lied to,” he said sadly, and started to walk away.
Hannah felt like one of the stalks of corn that had been mowed down by the combine. Only hours ago she had been on top of the world, ready to embrace a future filled with promise. Now she felt lied to and betrayed by a man she had thought she could trust. It made her angry, and the more she thought about it the angrier she became.
“Where are you going?” she called out to him as he climbed the steps of the house.
He paused and turned around. “Do you care?”
Hannah wanted to say yes. Every instinct inside her begged her to not let him walk out of her life, yet her pride stood in the way like a big old ugly weed, strangling her vocal chords.
“No.”
“I didn’t think so,” he said quietly, then disappeared inside.
WOOD WAS IN THE LOFT packing up his few belongings when Gabby appeared, twisting her handkerchief as s
he entered the room.
“You’re not leaving?”
He could hear the distress in her voice, and it tugged on him emotionally. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt the woman who had been so kind to him.
“I have to go, Gabby. Hannah doesn’t want me here.” As difficult as it was, Wood knew it had to be said.
“That’s not true, Wood. You know Hannah. She’s as stubborn as they come, and her pride’s hurt right now. But she’ll get over it. She just needs a little time,” Gabby assured him with her usual optimism.
Wood sighed. “I wish I could believe you, Gabby.”
“Where will you go?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You don’t want to try to go back to 1876?”
“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it. If only I knew how to do it.” He sighed. “Just before the lightning struck, there was this old woman who tied a pouch around my waist and poured sand in my hands. At first I thought it was the sand that might have sent me forward in time, but now I’m wondering if it wasn’t something in that pouch. All I remember is that it had a terrible odor.”
Gabby snapped her fingers. “I have something you may find of interest. Come with me.”
She led Wood to her small library where bookshelves lined every wall. “By now you probably know this is where I spend most of my time.” She motioned for him to sit down on the love seat. Then she pulled down a section of board that turned one of the bookcases into a writing desk.
She held up a thin journal bound in cloth. “Ah! Here it is.”
She scooted in beside Wood, opening the pages of the book with extreme caution. “Remember when Jeremy was working on his family tree? Well, something I read back then came to mind today when you were talking about that pouch.”
As if she were handling broken glass, Gabby carefully turned the fragile pages until she found what she was looking for. “Look, the date is smudged, but I’m pretty sure it says September 1876.”
Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance) Page 22
