“What about Ripley?”
The knot lodged further in Rick’s throat as he put his hand on Ripley’s chest. She was still warm and breathing. “Looks like she got wacked on the head. Go around and climb through the window.
He pushed damp hair off Amber’s forehead. “What happened to you, sweetheart?”
“They took my journal. Can’t breathe.”
“Who did?”
“Men. Take me home.”
Noah plowed in through the window and ran to Amber’s side. “What’s wrong?”
“She can’t breathe. She needs oxygen,” Rick said. “Check on Ripley. See how deep the cut is.”
Noah checked Ripley’s head. “The cut doesn’t look deep. Her eyes are open a little bit, but she’s not moving. What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s probably got a concussion.”
“Take me home, Rick.” The words were barely audible.
“We’ll have to take Noah and Ripley with us.”
“You can bring them back.”
He didn’t have time to think about the consequences of kidnapping Daniel’s son. Amber had to get to a hospital and Ripley needed emergency care, too.
“Take the brooch. It’s burning my skin.” She fidgeted with the top button of her blouse. Her blueish tipped fingers looked even bluer against the white of the fabric.
“I’ll get it.” Rick unbuttoned her blouse until he could reach the brooch pinned beneath her chemise.
She shivered when he brushed her breast with the back of his fingers. “Cold.”
“Sorry.”
With the brooch in hand, he crossed the room to the roll top desk that teemed with paper-stuffed cubbyholes—marketing pamphlets, stationery, envelopes. Even though she hadn’t asked and didn’t know how extraordinary the time with Dr. Lakes had been, she would want him to leave a note and repay him for his time. He took thirty seconds to address an envelope to Dr. Lakes and write a note thanking him for spending time with Noah. Before sealing the envelope, he pulled out all the cash he had in his pockets and included the bills with the thank-you letter. He left the envelope on the desk with instructions to deliver it to Dr. Lakes in the dining room.
Noah’s brow furrowed. “Rick, are they going to be all right?”
“I believe so.” A great claw of fear gripped his stomach and tightened it hard, but he remained focused on what he had to do. “Gather up our gear and put everything in a pile next to Amber and Ripley.”
Noah brought in Rick’s saddlebags and added his own knapsack, Amber’s bag, coat, and shoes to the pile of gear. “What now?”
“Now? You must trust me. You need to be brave. Braver than you’ve ever been in your life. The only way Amber and Ripley are going to get well is to go to the hospital. This is what I want you to do, and you must do exactly what I tell you. Lay down next to Ripley and hold her as tightly as you can.”
The hairs on the back of Rick’s neck stood on end as he thought about leaving. Where should they go? Amber disappeared from Hughes Cabin. They couldn’t go there. It was too far from medical care. If he focused on a Denver hospital, they could end up anywhere at any time. If he focused on the University of Kentucky Medical Center, they would be all alone in Lexington. Was that the best choice? He racked his brain, and then he knew.
“Noah, this is going to sound crazy, but I want you to say, ‘Take us to Charlotte Mallory. Take us to Charlotte Mallory.’ Say that over and over, either out loud or in your head.”
“Who is she?”
“My cousin. She’s a doctor. Now snuggle with Ripley and Amber, and I’m going to snuggle on top of you, so we’ll be one tight group. You’ll smell something yucky and the room will start to spin. It won’t hurt you. Just keep saying Charlotte’s name.”
“I thought we were going to a hospital.”
“We are, but it’s far away. Don’t be scared. I’ll be with you.” Rick opened the brooch, straddled Amber and wrapped his body around her, Noah, and Ripley. “Soon everything will be all right.”
He kissed Amber’s forehead. “Stay with me, sweetheart.”
Within a few minutes of entering the hotel room, he was repeating the ancient words: “Chan ann le tìm no àite a bhios sinn a’ tomhais a’ gaol ach ’s ann le neart anama.”
Dustoff outbound…
43
1878 Pueblo, Colorado—Olivia
A change in the tempo of the hoofbeats alerted Olivia that the carriage was slowing down. Shortly, it came to a stop. There was a slight racket from above, then a dip and rise as the driver jumped down from the box. A loud crunch of hasty footsteps on gravel preceded the door creaking open.
The South Park & Pacific Railroad Nathrop Station was a nondescript stone building with a surrounding platform. The station’s gravel drive led to a single dusty red road, crowded on both sides by scrub brush. Looking westward beyond the brush was a to-die-for view of the Rockies. Her clients would pay a premium to buy a house with a view like that. Heck, so would she.
Connor disembarked but stood there, straightening his worsted waistcoat as he slowly scanned the outskirts of Denver. In the last several days, she’d seen him assume that cop-like posture often, or maybe it was more noticeable now that she was tuned in to the way he moved, full of physical grace and strength, yet determined and fully aware. There was no multitasking for him. He was singularly focused.
As she climbed down the folding step with Connor holding her gloved hand, she felt like an actress playing a role in a Victorian-era movie. She glanced up, half-expecting to see camera and boom operators, lighting technicians, and a director telling her where to go and what to say. But there was no one there. This was the real deal.
She untied the ribbon around her parasol and opened it, not because she needed protection from the morning sun, but because it was so dang cute. She stopped and took a closer look at the depot platform. No one was standing around waiting for a train.
“I think we’re really early. I envisioned Union Station in LoDo. If you don’t arrive early, you’ll never make it to your train on time.”
“I’ve seen Union Station, but what’s LoDo?” Then he snapped his fingers. “Oh, I remember. Lower downtown, the mile-high hood, the cutesy So-Ho. You told me. I just can’t think straight when I’m around you.”
She dipped the parasol slightly and glanced at him coyly. “I’d hate to think I was so spellbound by my client, I forgot to describe one of the charming aspects of the city.”
“You didn’t forget anything.”
She laced her arm around Connor’s elbow and the fringed tips of her open parasol brushed against his hat. He caught the tumbling topper before it hit the dirt and tossed it back onto his head.
“Wow. That’s impressive. Can you roll it down your arm, too?”
He tilted his head, let the hat roll down his arm into his hand, flipped his wrist backward, and tossed the hat. It landed squarely on his head.
She had a flash-forward moment and could easily see Connor teaching the move to their son, and she smiled. “How’d you learn to do that?”
He ran his fingers along the brim of the hat and winked, as a finishing touch. “We all took dance lessons and watched old movies with Mom. We had a contest to see who could pull off the hat trick first.”
“Who won?”
“Rick. That’s his signature move when he wants to impress a woman. He even has the gestures down so well, he can pantomime the trick.”
“I’m impressed with your moves.” She gazed into his eyes, letting them linger there until she had to break contact and step away, wishing she had a fan instead of a parasol, to whisk away the heat rising in her face.
“You’re blushing, my love.”
At his words of endearment, her step faltered. He caught her arm and tugged her closer, and whispered, his breath warm against her cheek. “I do love you, Olivia. And I have for the longest time.”
She looked up at him, licking her bottom lip. “I want to kiss you, but we’d pr
obably make the front page of the Denver Times for our scandalous behavior.”
He gripped his hand above hers on the shaft of the parasol. Then he tilted the cover to block their heads from the view of those in the station who might be looking in their direction.
“Tell them to take the picture now.”
He kissed her, and she clung to him. Her arm went around his neck, prolonging the kiss. When sanity returned, she pulled away from him, breathless and somewhat dizzy.
“You know how to make a moment memorable.”
He laughed and released his grip on the parasol. “You gotta do something else when the hat trick doesn’t work.”
She looped her arm with his again. “The hat trick worked.” She had thought it would be wonderful to get a love letter like the one Daniel wrote Amber, but Connor’s hat trick fit him perfectly. It showed the depth of the love he had for his mother, the fun competitive nature of the O’Grady boys, and how much he wanted to please her. Olivia didn’t need a love letter.
He squeezed her hand as if he could read her thoughts and threaded himself between her and a stack of crates and baggage at the corner of the platform. “During our ranch hunting expeditions, we saw the entire city, but I haven’t seen anything since we’ve been here that resembles Denver of the future, except the mountains.”
“I know. It really makes me appreciate the old sections of the city to see how much they’ve changed. I’ll be able to give clients a better feel for Denver’s early days now that I’ve seen it, experienced it.” She bit the corner of her lip. “I would have lost out on so much if I hadn’t come here with you. It scares me to think how close I came to…”
He faced her and thumbed away a single tear hanging on her eyelashes. “It’s all behind us now.”
“I know, but it still—”
He placed his finger across her lips. “Let’s get through today. Tonight, we can have dinner with Amber and Rick, and maybe Daniel will return with us. We’ll have a Champagne celebration. How’s that?”
“Wonderful.”
He opened the door to the station and held it while she closed her parasol and swept through, her skirt sweeping around her ankles. She reclaimed his arm. “You know, I looked forward to every one of your visits. I spent days planning what I would wear, where I would take you for lunch, whether the weather report would require a change to my carefully planned schedule.”
He shook his head tsking. “And you never went out with me.”
“You never asked,” she teased.
“I did ask, but you turned me down. After that, you never gave me a signal that you’d accept. Some guys like to crash and burn, but not me.”
“I didn’t want to screw up a good thing. Not the commission. I wasn’t worried about that. I was worried about us. I didn’t want us to be over.” The heat rose in her cheeks again, but she was rescued from embarrassment when a young man came out from behind the windowed ticket office, waving an envelope.
“Mr. O’Grady. Mr. Connor O’Grady.”
Connor walked toward him, a single finger raised in acknowledgment. “Here. I’m O’Grady.”
“Telegram for you, sir.”
Connor plucked a coin from the pocket of his waistcoat and flipped it to the young man. It arced and caught the morning light, glinting through its downward spiral. An easy catch for the young man who rolled the coin across his knuckles as he returned to the ticket office.
Olivia smiled. “It must be a guy thing, rolling hats and coins and balls?”
“It’s part of our DNA.” Connor unfolded the piece of paper. “It’s from Daniel. He wants us to disembark in Pueblo. He and General Palmer are on their way there from Caǹon City.”
“Pueblo, huh?”
She stepped over to the window and gazed out at the mountains. She brushed her hand along the windowsill, as if checking for dust, while considering the timeline of events in the Royal Gorge War. She remained quiet, gathering what she knew, trying to pin down her uneasiness about going to Pueblo. There was a standoff there involving Bat Masterson and Doc Holliday, but she didn’t know the exact date. She and Amber had talked briefly about the gorge war while getting ready for the day, but they weren’t concerned about the standoff at the roundhouse since the plan was to go to Caǹon City and not Pueblo.
“What are you thinking?” Connor asked.
She gave the windowsill one more brisk brush with her fingers, turned, and said quietly, “There’s a gun battle at the roundhouse in Pueblo, but I don’t know when. Two men were killed. I can hear my dad telling the story, but exactly when it happens,” she said with a shrug, “is a blur.”
He ran his hand up her back softly, and although he wasn’t touching her skin, every inch of her quivered. “I won’t put you in harm’s way. We won’t go.”
“No, we have to go. I want to meet the general. I just wish I was better informed.”
“You know more than anyone else. It all happened over a hundred years ago. The exact date has probably been lost to history. You know the places, players, and events. Once you get there, you might be able to piece it together based on who’s in town.”
The young man who had delivered the telegram returned. “Mr. O’Grady, your car is ready to board.”
Olivia looked for a clock but didn’t see one. “Is the train ready to leave? It’s early.”
“No, ma’am. Your car will hook up to the train when it’s close to departure time. If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you there now.”
Olivia looked at Connor, expecting an explanation.
Giving her a wicked grin, he said, “This is our first date. I wanted to make it memorable.”
“You mean more memorable.”
They’d been on an emotional roller coaster for days. Now that they’d cleared the air, apologized, and been forgiven they could finally enjoy each other. Besides being a handsome, sexy guy who made her laugh, he was dependable and caring, and one heck of a kisser. She ran her finger along her bottom lip, still sensitive from making out in his room last night.
He tucked her gloved hand under his arm again, and they departed the station behind the young messenger. Directly ahead, sitting on a short track by itself, was a two-story carriage with a gleaming shell of mahogany, brass, and spotless glass.
“What is that?” she asked.
“A private car. I wanted time alone with you.”
Olivia raised the hem of her skirts to avoid the muck in the rail yard. “Amber will be so jealous. I wish I had a camera to take pictures.”
“Rick and I booked transportation at the same time. Amber won’t be disappointed.”
“The O’Grady men certainly know how to please women.”
“Pops was a good teacher.”
Olivia mounted the steps to the canopied open platform. “We can make a whistle-stop and campaign from here.”
“Are you running for something?” he teased.
“Not this year, but I’d like to run for a local office one day—school board, municipal office, something.”
“Why stop there? What’s wrong with a Congressional or Senate seat?”
“One step at a time.” She walked into the drawing room-style Pullman car. “Wow. This is spectacular.” She dropped her parasol, unclasped her cloak, slung it over the back of a chair, removed her gloves, and unpinned her hat.
First impression of the car, it was gorgeous. Second impression, it was expensive. Third impression, she was in love with the man who rented it to please her.
“I want to explore every inch, but first I want to do this…”
She dropped his hat on the chair with her belongings and kissed him, and he kissed her back. The tender touch of his lips had heat dancing all over her—belly and breast, neck and face, fingers and toes. His tongue was soon inside her mouth giving, taking, tasting. And she clung to him, threading her hands into his thick hair. The hypnotizing scent of him—apple cider and leather and fresh air—was as arousing as his hands caressing her. The softness
of his lips against her temples, the butterfly touch of his tongue, and the pressure of his hands on the curve of her hips had her melting in his arms.
A knock on the door forced them apart. A steward dressed in a white shirt and black vest entered. He bowed far enough to reveal a bald spot on the crown of his head. “I’m Chester, Mr. O’Grady. I’ll be with you until you return to Denver. Is there anything I can get you and the missus from the kitchen? Even though your carriage isn’t connected to the train, I can bring over whatever you’d like.”
Connor lifted his brow. “Olivia?”
She let his question hang in the air for a moment. She knew exactly what she would like, but Connor wasn’t on the menu. “Maybe coffee, fruit, rolls or biscuits. I don’t want to spoil lunch. I assume we’ll eat in Pueblo with Daniel.”
“Probably not until mid-afternoon,” Connor said. “Get whatever you want.”
“That’s enough for now.”
“I’ll have the same,” Connor said.
Before leaving with their order, the steward picked up her cloak and Connor’s hat and hung them on a row of pegs near the door.
“I think I’ll explore while we wait on room service. If we pick up where we were interrupted, I might not be fully clothed the next time Chester barges in.”
“I’ll lock the door.”
“He’ll only come back again.” She picked up a copy of The Denver Times and handed it to him. “Why don’t you check out the local news while I play Realtor.”
“Take your time.” After unbuckling the heavy leather belt at his waist, he coiled the cartridge belt around his holster and set the gun rig on the opposite chair. Then he snapped open the paper.
She made mental notes and checked off items as she walked through the car: new carpet, polished furniture, velvet drapes over tasseled shades, mahogany paneled walls and ceiling, crystal chandelier, green velvet wallpaper, matching settee and deep cushioned chairs, and green-shaded lamps. It was market ready. If she had the listing, and planned an open house, she would dress just as she was now. How fun would that be?
At the opposite end of the car, a washroom gleamed with porcelain and polished brass. Directly across from the washroom was a small door that opened to reveal an elegant wrought-iron staircase. “I’m going upstairs,” she said.
The Amber Brooch: Time Travel Romance (The Celtic Brooch Book 8) Page 51
