Cowboy of Mine

by Red L. Jameson

  “Meredith,” he whispered again.

  The white petals and butterflies returned with a vengeance, making her body squirm and grind against him. The energy inside of her kept amplifying until all she heard was her name on his lips and that haunting, never-hers word: beautiful.

  But while he was with her, she felt it. She was. She was soaked through and through with his precious sentiment, until it crested over her, making her come again. Clutching onto his shirt, she called out his name. Over and over she yelled for him.

  She felt him grip at the sheets beside her head, then he lifted himself as he powerfully thrust into her quivering body. Staring into her soul, he kept circling until he finally took one more stroke, then hurried to remove himself from her body. He came outside of her again, but while gazing into her eyes. He spasmed above her, over her, all around.

  Again, she should have been grateful.

  But she felt lonely.

  He whispered something, something so quiet, she didn’t know for certain what he’d said. Maybe, “I wish...” No, he said it again, and there was a “g” in there. Perhaps, he’d whispered, “The gal”? But it sounded more like, “Ha gaol muga morsht.”

  He swayed against her, his head lowering beside hers again, where she felt him breathing hard. Then, utterly surprising her, he gave way, and rested all his body’s weight on her. Oh, he was heavy. Maybe he truly was made out of lead.

  Holding onto her, he rolled their bodies over, so she lay on top of him. It was as if he wanted to still be close, and she worried her heart already wanted as much. Somehow he adjusted their bodies, so she could lay her head on his chest. So she did.

  He took a giant breath and held onto her with his strong arms. Held her so tight. All she could do was give into this new sensation of being held, as if she were precious, as if she were cherished. And something about the confusing feeling rippling through her body, should have made her wary and awake, but she was sleepy. While listening to his strong heartbeat, she closed her eyes. He caressed her back. And she gave up. She slept holding onto him so tightly too.

  Chapter 5

  Damn, Meredith Peabody was bonny. The morning rays stole in through her cabin’s wide greenish windows, painting her with soft dandelion light and a hint of pink. All her hairpins had been set free in their love making, and Jake noticed how short her hair was. Oh, it was long enough to twirl up in some sort of fashion, but he was used to women’s hair hanging to their waists. Meredith’s lustrous sable tresses mayhap kissed her shoulders. He wondered about the length.

  The Indians around these parts didn’t cut their hair like the Yamasee’s he’d lived with. The Yamasee’s, like the Iroquois, shaved their heads in truly amazing fashions—one side shaven, the other long; short on the sides, long in the middle; or sometimes they’d have spikes that Jake liked the most. But the people of the West didn’t cut their hair, or if they did it meant something. Grief, the loss of dreams, the loss of spirit. Jake wondered if Meredith’s short hair meant something along those lines.

  He hated to leave her, scared out of his skin she could be pursued again. But it was getting late, and he was only on day two of his job. He’d extracted himself from her limbs carefully, but missed her as soon as her legs and arms weren’t stretched around him. Wasn’t he a lucky son of a bitch? Day two of a good job and he’d also landed himself the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. He couldn’t help but smile at that.

  He’d cleaned himself up with some of her indoor water. Will wonders ever cease? It was as icy as Hades, but he could pump it beside her stove, where he’d shoved in a few extra logs to keep the cabin warm. He thought the noise of getting ready would awaken her, but she still slept with that lovely little smile on her face, one arm reached around the pillow he’d put in his stead. Yep, lucky, that’s what he was.

  He couldn’t just leave her alone, so he wrote a quick note that he’d return soon. One of the black kittens had already jumped up on the bed, curling close to Meredith’s head, and the other more cautious one smelled his boot that he’d put back on. It was progress.

  Standing beside her bed, staring down at the woman he’d made love to a few hours ago, his heart warmed, his stomach felt light, his cock—lord, he’d jumped the gun with making love to her so soon, but he could make it up to her. They had the rest of their lives to get to know each other, after all.

  Contentedly, he sighed and quietly left her warm home with half her egg pie in a handkerchief. He hoped she wouldn’t mind, but he ate a lot, and after this morning...oh, this morning...he was starving. Saddling his steed in the cold morning with still no snow, he was out of the barn in record time and munching on the creamy pie his woman had made. His woman. That sounded good. Damned good.

  As soon as he tethered his horse to the vertical wooden pole outside the Stop, Laura flew out the doors, a thick pink afghan wrapped around her.

  “Is she all right?” Her eyes were gigantic and full of concern.

  Jake nodded and swallowed his last delicious bite.

  “Was there...was there a—?”

  “There were tracks all around her cabin,” he said. Mayhap a bit gruffly. “Someone was spying on her.”

  One of Laura’s hands fluttered to her mouth. Her eyes instantly reddened. “Oh Lord, what have I done?”

  It’d frustrated the living hell out of Jake that no one had believed Meredith, so he let Laura crucify herself with guilt, let her stew in it, while he sucked bits of bacon from his teeth. His woman knew how to cook that was for certain. He’d wished he’d taken more as he held the door open for Laura to walk back into the Stop. Hesitatingly, she did.

  “You must think the worst of me.”

  Jake shook his head. He’d seen some of the worst of humanity in the last year, murdering children for sport. So, nay, what he thought of Laura wasn’t the worst. But he wasn’t sure he cared to get to know her any better.

  “Need to get my shotgun and other arms then return to Meredith’s. Keep a watch out.”

  “Sorry, son,” the booming voice of Tom echoed down the stairs then bounced through the foyer. “Rumor has it my men are going to try to kill each other in a street fight before work.” He’d finally plopped down to the bottom steps of the stairs as large and menacing as ever, holding his red suspenders in hand. “Idiots,” Tom added with a shake of the head.

  Laura gripped the banister. “Thomas, there is no way I’m allowing Jake to be anywhere but at Meredith’s. Someone was spying on her. She wasn’t—she wasn’t seeing things. It was real.” Laura glanced at Jake once more, guilt obvious, but there was also a trace of worry. Seeming to be the kind of worry that she’d revealed too much.

  Tom straightened, his ruddy face paling slightly. “Shit.”

  “Thomas,” Laura reprimanded.

  He turned to his wife. “Well, shit, Laura, aren’t I an ass for not believing her? Lord have mercy, is she all right?” There was deep concern written over Tom’s face, and Jake felt inclined to forgive both he and his wife. Mayhap not just yet.

  Jake nodded, but gritted his teeth. He needed to break up whatever kind of fight the miners were planning. That was his job.

  “I’ll go to Miss Peabody’s and keep guard for her,” a small voice said closer to the dining area.

  Jake glanced at Mr. Wan and his son, Chen. The tall lad continued. “I like Miss Peabody. I’ll keep watch over her while you break up the idiot miners.” Mr. Wan tried to tap down his obvious prideful smile for his son.

  “I’ll go too,” Laura said quietly. “I need to apologize to Meredith. I need to make this right. We’ll watch over her, while you do your job, Jake. Oh. Oh! There—there was a man here yesterday. He asked for Tom—”

  “Who was it?” Tom interrupted.

  Laura pursed her lips. “I was getting to the part where I tell you I didn’t know who he was. He said his name. What was it? Mr. Bruiser, or something like that. No, it was Martin Bruisner, and he said he was part of the Butte Mining Company. Meredith slapped
him.”

  “What’d he do to her?” Jake asked, his voice as threatening as a cannon.

  Laura shook her head. “Nothing much.” She sniffed. “That little, tiny woman was defending me, my decency. They got in a fight about me, my race, being married to Tom being against the law. Oh, they fought about other things too, but, Meredith, like a firecracker, kept defending me. Until she slapped him. Looked as though it would hurt too, that slap. Then he just left, but the look before he left. That scared me down to my bones.”

  Jake repressed a shudder trying to wring through him. Damn, he needed to protect his woman. He hated this, having to do a job versus protecting his woman. Well, there was no contest. Meredith won. Hands down.

  Chen, as if sensing Jake’s thoughts, came to stand closer. “I can do it, Sheriff Cameron. I can protect her until you’re done with your job, breaking up the miners.”

  If the miners were let loose with their battle, Tom might be facing a small war on his hands. Jake sighed. “Got a gun?”

  Mr. Wan wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulders who was already taller than his father. “My son has a sniper’s eye. Best in my family.”

  “And I have a gun, God damn it.” Laura’s voice was beyond incensed. “Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I don’t know how to shoot.”

  Jake held a palm out to her. “I was getting ‘round to askin’ ye.”

  “Good.” She snorted. “Sorry to have been so rough with you.”

  Jake smiled. Couldn’t help it. If that was rough, then, aye, he’d give Laura another chance.

  Tom snaked an arm around his wife’s waist and pulled her closer. “Honey, I love it when you talk so coarse.”

  She smacked his chest. “Stop it, you silly man. People are watching.”

  So it was decided: Laura and Chen were on their way to Meredith’s before Jake had much time to think of anything to say. He’d considered asking Laura to give Meredith some sort of code for his undying affection. But he and Meredith hadn’t known each other long enough to have such a code. Ah, but they would, he told himself. Mayhap after he’d help negotiate some sort of peace between the miners, he’d talk to Tom about where to buy a ring.

  Chapter 6

  Meredith tried not to read Jake’s note a thousand times but couldn’t quite stop herself. His handwriting was lovely, the words sparse.

  Dearest Meredith,

  Use the Colt if in trouble. I’ll be back soon. Needed more ammunition.

  Yours,

  Jacob Cameron

  P. S. You bake a hell of a pie.

  P. P. S. Don’t argue with me about this. You’re beautiful, and that’s all there is to it.

  She also tried not to let her heart swell in the glow of the words, or press his letter against said offending four-chamber muscle that kept beating and warming whenever she thought of Jake.

  Oh, this was going to end badly.

  She’d tried to tidy herself and the house, but there was only so much scrubbing a woman could do before she sat down again and read his note.

  What if—what if he wouldn’t throw her away?

  Remembering the way he’d touched her didn’t help any. She’d feel hot and tingly one second, the next about ready to explode from...what was this? It had to be just a simple case of lust. It had to be.

  But when she heard the clip-clop of horse hooves on her drive her heart fluttered, and she flew to her cabin’s front window to see whether it was him, handsome, wonderful Jake. She chided herself for becoming too excited. Besides, she needed to contemplate more about her well-being. Someone had been on her porch, maybe doing something disturbing, staring at her.

  Wait. The big man hadn’t been looking in her cabin at all, she suddenly realized. Well, then what had he been looking at?

  Before she could think any further, the rider came into focus. She was dressed unlike any lady in Montana. At least none that Meredith could think of. This woman was refined in a maroon riding habit and matching bonnet that was more like a feminized top hat with maroon tool veiling it. Or wait—a lady of this time wouldn’t call the color maroon. Far too pedestrian. It was a dark coquelicot.

  The woman rode sidesaddle, and as the stranger approached Meredith’s heart pitched at the color of a stray curl escaping the bonnet. That hue was decidedly blue. Not blonde, red, or brown. Not even so black it looked blue. This was sky-color, cerulean blue. Not natural blue. At least not natural on a head.

  Although, Meredith couldn’t quite make out the woman’s face, she bolted for the gun Jake had left behind. The stranger had to be a muse or a friend of the muses who had kidnapped her and placed her here months ago. That was the only explanation for the blue hair.

  And it was completely irrational, crazy even, but Meredith didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to go back to her time. Not now. Not after meeting Jake.

  But he would surely throw her away, she reminded herself as she wrapped a cloak around her shoulders and hid the Colt behind her back.

  Meredith opened her cabin’s door. The woman, who had her back to Meredith, had already dismounted and tethered her horse to a spoke close to where Meredith had painted her name and her simple address of “down by the creek.”

  “Can I help you?” Meredith asked, noting her voice rasped and sounded as frightened as she felt.

  The woman’s thin shoulders slumped. Then she seemed to take a huge breath and straightened them, the sound of refined silk rustling as she did so. Turning, she lifted her veil and revealed a lovely face Meredith knew well.

  “Erva...”

  Minerva, Erva, Ferguson-Hill nodded once. “Hello, Meredith.” There wasn’t an ounce of warmth in Erva’s tone. Not that Meredith thought there should be. This was the one woman who could condemn her to a life of hell, and Meredith knew she deserved it after what she’d done to Minerva.

  Erva climbed the three stairs to Meredith’s porch and looked down at her.

  “May I come in? It’s rather cold here in Montana, although, I’m surprised it hasn’t snowed yet.”

  “Yes,” Meredith breathed, not too sure how to talk to Erva. Too surprised to think of how Erva came to be here, at this time. Such a shock on her system, Meredith followed Erva blindly.

  Erva strolled into the cabin. As Meredith closed the door behind herself and her guest, she noticed Erva’s gaze bouncing around her home.

  “It’s quaint.”

  “It’s small, you mean.” Meredith didn’t know why she was confrontational with the woman. Erva probably just meant it was quaint. After all, she was a saint. Or nearly. And Meredith was the devil in comparison. Was that why she was argumentative? Because she was damned anyway?

  Erva’s jaw line kicked. Her nose flared. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

  “I’m sorry,” Meredith whispered. Trying to hide her movements, she placed the Colt on her pantry, covering the gun with a kitchen towel, turning her back to Erva in the process. There, she could finally give clarion to her sentiment. “I’m so sorry, Erva.” Like a coward, she could only talk with her back to the one woman she’d hurt so much.

  Erva didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to, and Meredith knew it.

  Tears surfaced and rolled out of Meredith’s eyes before she could stop them. But something about crying, something about being so damned vulnerable in front of Erva broke the little pride Meredith had.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Meredith turned, staring at Erva. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  Erva’s jaw line worked again, but a flash of compassion passed through her lovely amber-brown eyes. Meredith didn’t deserve it.

  “I don’t know how you got here,” Meredith continued. “I don’t know why I’m here, but I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done, done to you.”

  “The muses didn’t tell you why you’re here?”

  Meredith swallowed, panic streaking through her chest, pulling her lungs too tightly together. “You know about them?”

  Erva nodded slowly. “The
y gave me a glimpse. They sent me back to 1776.”

  “A glimpse?”

  Erva kept nodding. “Isn’t that what they called it when you landed here?”

  Meredith shook her head, looking down at her hands making a moving lump under her gray wool cloak. She twisted her fingers, gripped at her hands in nervousness. Her movements made it look like the beginnings of an alien about to surface from her belly. How fitting, Meredith thought, as she found the courage to tell Erva how she came to be in Montana in 1887. She was going to explode with the truth.

  “I had just gotten the summons for the Harvard hearing. The one for my plagiarism of your work. I was looking down at the note, when it evaporated, and I woke up here. In this bed.” After pointing with a wave of her hand toward said bed, she finally looked up at Erva again. “There were two women in golden togas. One of them said how being here was for my own good, punishment for what I did to you.”

  Erva’s mouth gaped. But Meredith continued.

  “I—I thought I had gone insane. That the stress had gotten to me, the guilt and shame, making me...see things. I’m known as the town’s loon now for telling everyone I was from the future.”

  Erva swallowed and looked down at her perfectly matching maroon silk gloves. “I’m sorry. That must have been horrible.”

  Meredith snorted a laugh simultaneously more tears pooled in her eyes. “I deserved it. I deserve worse.”

  Erva’s light blonde brows puckered. She took a big breath and removed her riding bonnet, revealing bright blue hair. It was in a style worn by the ladies of 1880s, caught up in a chignon of curls, but it was freaking blue. And looked lovely on Minerva.

  “I like your hair.” Meredith covered her lips with her hand, angry with herself for saying anything other than an apology.

  Erva smiled that beautiful, breathtaking grin of hers. “Thanks. I like it too.” She walked close to the one small table of Meredith’s. “May we sit? Keep talking?”

  Meredith didn’t know whether she could be so close to Erva, so scared of—well, Erva already knew Meredith was a liar, a thief, a scoundrel of the worst sort, the very worst of humanity, so what more could it hurt if she sat close to her? Swallowing her dread, Meredith flung off her cloak, folded it neatly on the chair in front of her, then took the seat opposite Erva.