A Tumble Through Time (18 page)

“You sure took long enough. All ya had to do was give her a poke and git her to talk.”

“I did.”

Buck shoved his empty glass across the bar. “Let’s go.”

The crowd had thinned since they’d entered, so they quickly made their way across the floor and stepped outside into the sultry night air. They lumbered across the street and leaned against a storefront glass labeled
Prentiss Mercantile.
Buck pulled a piece of tobacco from his shirt pocket and stuffed it into his cheek. “So what’d ya find out, boy?”

“Marshal lives near the jailhouse. He’s only been in town about a year. Everyone in town likes him. Things have been peaceful since he’s been marshal.”

“That it?” Buck spat on the ground. “Ain’t nothin’ there to help us.”

Noah shrugged and side stepped when Buck raised his hand. “Did ya at least ask the girl where the damn jailhouse is?”

“North. About three blocks.”

Buck shoved Noah’s shoulder. “Move on boy, I don’t even know which of y’all is dead.”

“Well it ain’t me.” Noah sped up to avoid Buck’s fist.

They circled the dark jailhouse, set on a corner close to the edge of town. It appeared the prisoner was not alone in the jail, but soft snores coming from the front of the building assured them his guard wasn’t awake.

“Billy?” Buck called out softly. When no one answered, he slid his gun from his holster and knocked on the bars. “Billy, wake up, boy.”

“It’s Joe. Billy’s dead.” Joe’s face appeared at the window, his hands fisting the window bars.

“Shit. How’d they git you?”

“Damn marshal shot me in the leg. Didn’t even get a doctor for me until a while ago.” He winced as he shifted his weight and shook the bars. “G
it me out, Buck.”

“That’s my intention, boy, but I ain’t gonna do it now. These things need to be planned out.
And I’m workin’ on an idea for that marshal. A painful one.”

“Well, make it fast. I ain’t wantin’ to stay here. You gotta git me out.”

“I’ll git you out when the time’s right. Now shut yore mouth and let me think.”

“Shit. They ain’t treatin’ me right. That marshal bastard spent more time worryin’ about that wife of his faintin’ dead away than he did ‘bout my leg. Why, I was in pain, and hollerin’, and—”

Buck cut him off. “What’d you say, boy?”

“I said I was in pain and hollerin’. . .” He stopped when Buck backhanded Noah.

“What was that for?” The boy rubbed his cheek.

“You spent all that time diddling with that whore and she never tole’ you the marshal was married?”

Noah shrugged “I don’t know. She might’ve said it.” He backed up at Buck’s expression. “What?”

Buck grinned. “I just found me a way to git to the marshal.”

Noah and Joe exchanged glances, then turned their attention to Buck.

“Come on, we got some planning to do.” He nudged Noah.

“Buck, what about me? I gotta git outta here,” Joe whined.

“Quit your bellyachin’. We’ll git you out, and git that marshal, too.” Buck chuckled as he lumbered down the street. “Yeah, I’ll git that marshal, too.”

Chapter Eighteen

W
es brushed the damp curls from Anna’s forehead and tucked her up against his chest. They’d spent the last hour making love, and he felt his body completely relax for the first time in years. He’d no sooner entered the house than he dropped his saddlebags and reached for his wife. She came willingly, any prior annoyance at him apparently forgotten in their flurry of removing each other’s clothes and rushing toward the bedroom.

Their breathing slowly returned to normal, and Wes’s eyelids drooped with fatigue.

“What happened to the other two?”

Jerked from his near slumber, he cleared his throat. “They got away. Ran off into the woods. Jack and I chased them for a bit, but they knew the woods better than we did.”

“Are you going back after them?”

Wes shifted to his side, facing her. Her flushed face and dewy skin from their lovemaking had him hardening again. He ran his finger around one of her nipples, gaining a sigh from her lips.

“Not right away. I’m sure they’ve gone into hiding. I’m actually hoping they come to me.”

She looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“I have Joe in my jailhouse. I’m sure that won’t sit well with Buck. I’m going to have a twenty-four hour guard posted.”

“I can take a shift.”

“No.” Before she could argue, he reclaimed her lips, crushing her to him. Slowly he pulled away. “Don’t you understand I want to keep you out of trouble?”

“And I want to keep you safe.”

A slow smile curved his lips. “I’ll do the safekeeping in this family.” God, he was ready to take her again. No other woman stirred him like she did. Once more the fear hit, that she would one day disappear. The old Indian woman who sent her across time must have had a reason. Was he part of it?

“Um, Wes.” Anna drew circles on his chest. “What if I got a job
−”

“No. We’ve been through this.”

“Wait.” She sat up, tucking the sheet under her arms. Wes slowly drew it down, revealing her plump breasts with a slight rash from his stubble. He reached for her.

“Don’t distract me.” Anna pulled
the sheet up.

Wes flipped
to his back and folded his hands together behind his head. “All right, I’ll stare at the ceiling. That’s the only way I can keep from distracting you.”

“Actually, I do have a job.”

He glared at her, all thoughts of her lush body fleeing his mind. “I told you−”

“No. Listen.” She leaned forward. “My job won’t reflect on you in any way. I’ll be writing a column for the newspaper, but I’m not using my name, so no one will know it’s me.” She sat back, a look of satisfaction on her face.

“You really want to do this, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. I’m not happy sitting around
pretending I like to sew. I’m trying my best to do chores that to my way of thinking should be done by machines.”

Wes rubbed his thumb over her tightly fisted knuckles. “Tell me a little bit about this time of yours. Are things really so bad that women have to leave their homes to work and fight in wars?”

Anna drew her knees up and rested her chin there. “It’s not like that. I mean, a lot of women do have to work, but most women work because they want to.”

“What about their husbands?”

“Women don’t marry as young as they do now. They go to college, and have careers. Then, when they’re older they get married. In most cases, both the husband and wife work.”

“I see a problem with that.”

She tilted her head questioningly.

“Marriage usually leads to children, and if everyone is working, who takes care of them?”

“Day care. It’s a place you bring your young children each day to be taken care of.”

Wes shook his head. Life in her time seemed confusing
−and difficult. Especially for women. “Do you miss it?” The words were out before he thought about it. Did he really want to know?

Anna stared off into the distance. “Sometimes.”

Relief flooded him. At least she didn’t indicate such a longing for her time that she would continue to find a way back.

“If you were able to go back, would you?” Why did he keep asking questions he didn’t want the answers to? He held his breath as she studied him for a minute, a slight smile gracing her lips.

“Only if you could come, too.”

He studied her for a minute. “Why?” The question sounded gruffer than he’d intended, all of his emotions and fears laid on the line.

“Because I love you, and can’t imagine my life without you in it.” Her eyes filled with tears, her lips trembled.

In one forward motion, he drew her into his arms. “And I love you, Mrs. Shannon. More than I could ever tell you.” He brought her mouth to his, all the love in his heart in one
burning kiss.

Anna put the plate of scrambled eggs in front of Wes, along with toast. Thank goodness for the bakery or they’d never have bread.

He took a whiff. “This smells good.”

She wiped her forehead with the back of her arm. “I think I’m getting better.” She sat across from him and sipped her coffee. “But I sure miss my microwave.”

At his raised eyebrows, she continued, “It’s a type of cooking machine. You can prepare meals in it, but most people use it for heating up leftovers or making popcorn.” She forked eggs into her mouth. “Hmm. Not bad.”

They ate in silence for a while. “So tell me more about this job of yours.” Wes shoved his empty plate aside, and eyed her half-eaten breakfast.

She slid her plate over to him. “You can have this, I’m finished.” No doubt she’d better start thinking about bigger portions.

After pouring mo
re coffee into her cup, she rested her elbows on the table. “I’m going to write a column every day. But, as I mentioned before, Mr. Penders, the editor−sorry,
senior
editor−will use my middle and maiden names. So I’ll be writing under Kay Devlin. That way I figure no one will know it’s me, and you can keep your male pride intact.”

Wes grinned. “‘Male pride,’ huh? That one of your modern sayings?”

“If you’ve never heard it, then yeah, I guess it is.”

“What are you going to write about?”

“Well . . . I already gave him an article he was going to print last night.” She jumped up. “Oh, that reminds me, I never got a copy of the paper.”

“There will be a copy at the jailhouse. I’ll bring it home.” He balanced on the back legs of his chair and crossed his arms. “Can’t wait to see your name in print?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I’d like to see my name in print.”

The chair slammed down as he leaned toward her. “Just one thing. I want you to promise me you’ll put whatever money you make aside. I don’t want you buying the things I should be paying for.”

She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it at the look on his face. “Fine,” she sniffed. “But you’re so old-fashioned.” Then she cast him a grin. “Wait until you read my article on women’s rights.”

Wes groaned and reached for his hat before brushing her cheek with a kiss and heading to the door. “I’ll see you tonight.” He pointed at her. “Stay out of trouble.”

Although Anna had scoffed at The Book mentioning the list of daily and weekly chores for the diligent nineteenth century housewife, she did find doing a little bit each day helped. After dusting her parlor and mopping the kitchen floor, she changed into a clean dress and headed to the newspaper to drop off the column she’d sweated over that morning.

Another hot day in the Kansas prairie. What she wouldn’t give for a pair of shorts and a tank top. That would
certainly scandalize the town, and sure wouldn’t fit in with Wes’s order to stay out of trouble.

The tinny bell sounded as she entered the newspaper office. Mr. Penders sat behind his desk, again writing furiously. If her history was correct, a typewriter would be available in just a few more years. Something to remember if this newspaper job worked out.

“Well, hello, Mrs. Shannon.” Mr. Penders laid his pen down and flexed his fingers. “Did you bring today’s column?”

She drew the sheets of paper from her reticule and handed them over. “Yes. It’s a continuation of what I wrote yesterday.”

“Good, good.” He adjusted his eyeglasses and held the paper next to the oil lamp on his desk. He waved at the chair. “Have a seat.”

The senior editor’s lips moved from a thin line to a huge grin as he finished the piece. “I was right, Mrs. Shannon, you are a troublemaker. How does your husband deal with you?”

“My husband finds me . . . interesting.”

“I give him a lot of credit. You don’t generally find such forward thinking men out here in the west.” He reached behind him and grabbed a newspaper from a shelf. “Here’s last night’s edition. I’m not sure you saw it.”

Anna took it and flipped it open. “No. I was busy last night.” She resisted the urge to fan her flaming face in memory of what had kept her and Wes busy the night before. And again this morning.
My, my, he can keep me occupied
. Who needed television?

After enjoying the thrill of seeing her name at the head of the column, she folded the paper and rose. “Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Penders. I’ll drop another piece off tomorrow.”

He rose. “I look forward to it.”

Light steps took her from the newspaper office to the jailhouse. The cool dimness felt good as she closed the door behind her. Wes sat behind his desk while a rough voice sounded from the jail cell a few steps away.

“Honey, I don’t think you should be here while I have him in custody.” Wes gestured with his thumb toward the scruffy man shouting curse words from behind the bars.

“Come right
over here, little lady, and I’ll give ya a kiss. Hell, more’n a kiss. I’ll give ya a diddling−”

“Shut your filthy mouth.” Wes stood and shoved his chair back. “If you can’t keep t
hat trap shut, I’ll gag you.” He turned to Anna and cupped her elbow. “Come on, I could use a break. I’ll walk you home.”

“What about him?”

“He’ll be all right for a few minutes. He’s not going anywhere.”

“That’s what you think, m
arshal. Once my daddy and brother come for me, you’ll be dead with yore face blowed away, and I’ll be riding away. Laughing my ass off.”

Anna shivered. “Bastard.”

“Whoa, marshal, your little lady ain’t a lady, now, is she?”

Wes’s jaw worked as he pushed her out the door, and slammed it behind him. “Do me a favor, and stay away from the jailhouse until he’s moved to wherever it is they’re going to hang him.”

“I’ve dealt with criminals before, but there something really sinister about that one.” Anna rubbed her palms up and down her arms.

Wes tugged her close. “He’ll be gone soon. The circuit judge should be around next week. I’d like to get the other two before he comes. Get rid of them all at once.”

“Do you still think they’ll try to break him out?”

“No doubt in my mind. Buck Mather is not going to let his son hang. From what I hear, he’s no great father, but no one crosses him without paying.”

They reached the front door, and Anna turned to him. “Be careful, Wes.”

“Always.” He bent and kissed her lightly on the lips. “There’s more where that came from.” He winked and hurried down the steps, whistling a nameless tune.

Anna eyed her reflection in the mirror, chastising herself for acting like a schoolgirl. She felt giddy at the thought of Wes coming home in a short while. After a refreshingly cool bath, she dressed in a clean dress and was now combing the tangles from her hair. She’d managed to put together a dinner of beans and dried beef, her most successful effort so far. A small bouquet of wild flowers decorated the dinner table. If only she could get her hands on a bottle of wine.

She moved from the mirror to the dresser and fished through her drawer for a ribbon to tie her hair back. The sound of the front door opening brought a smile to her lips. “I’m in the bedroom, Wes, I’ll be right out.”

Humming softly, she pulled out a long yellow strip, but before she could reach behind her, a rough hand clamped around her mouth the same time an iron arm wrapped around her middle. Anna tried to bite a fat finger, then stomped down on the boot wedged between her feet.

A grunt from the person behind her turned into a growl in her ear. “I got a real sharp knife in my pocket, Miz Shannon. If you make a noise, or try to injure me again, I’ll slit that pretty throat of yours the marshal likes so much.”

Horror seeped through her at an older version of the voice she’d heard in the jailhouse.

“Git over here, boy.” The man, who must have been Buck Mather, spoke to someone else in the room. “Tie her arms behind her back, and make it quick.”

Still unable to see what was going on behind her, she pulled and tugged until Buck let go of her mouth and yanked on her hair hard enough to drag her backward almost to the ground. Tears sprang to her eyes at the pain from her scalp.