ChasetheLightning (17 page)

“Beef stew for breakfast? Are you making that up?”

“Wait and see.”

Her heart did a somersault as his gaze met hers across the
table. She loved the way he looked at her, as if she were something incredibly
special, loved the intensity in his eyes, the way his mouth curved in a smile
that seemed to be for her alone. Had she designed him herself, he couldn’t have
been more perfect, except for two little things: he lived in the past, and he
was a bank robber.

The thought made her grin.

“What’s funny?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing,” she said, and laughed out loud.

Trey frowned at her. “Come on, spill it.”

It was obvious he wasn’t happy that looking at him made her
laugh. And that made her laugh harder.

He was still scowling at her a moment later when a
harried-looking waitress wearing a brown dress and a remarkably clean white
apron came to take their order.

“Howdy, Martha,” Trey said. “What’s the special of the day?”

“Beef stew, hon.” She brushed a lock of hair from her
forehead with the back of her hand.

Trey winked at Amanda. “Told you so. Give me a big bowl, and
some of those fresh biscuits, too. Maybe about a half-dozen for starters.”

The waitress grinned. “And coffee, black, and apple pie.”

“Martha, you’re an angel.”

Martha gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder, then turned
to take Amanda’s order. “What’ll you have, dearie?”

“The same I guess, but could I have some cream and sugar for
my coffee?”

“Sure enough, dearie. Coming right up.”

“I take it you come here often,” Amanda remarked after
Martha moved to the next table.

“Now and then. You can’t go wrong with Ma’s cookin’.” He
smiled at her. “Although even she can’t cook up a steak as good as yours.”

“Well, that’s nice to know. I guess if I can’t get back
where I belong, I can always open up a steak house.”

Trey laughed. “I’ll be your first customer.”

“I was kidding! I don’t want to stay here. I want to go
home.”

“Yeah,” he said, suddenly sober. “So do I.”

“Where is your home?”

He grunted softly. “I don’t have one, at least not yet. I
guess now I never will.”

“What do you mean?”

“That money I stole, it was to buy some land, start a
ranch.”

“With stolen money?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t think of it as stolen. I thought of
it as getting back what was rightfully mine.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hollinger refused to extend the deadline on my old man’s
loan because he wanted the property for himself. And when my old man went to
talk to him about it, Hollinger killed him.”

“I can’t believe that. It’s just so awful, so unfair.”

“It’s what happened.” He shrugged. “Hollinger owned the
bank, and pretty much owned the town. He said he shot in self-defense. Nobody
was gonna argue with him.”

“What about the law?”

Trey snorted. “The law was married to Hollinger’s sister.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Not as sorry as I am that I didn’t blow his head off
when I had the chance.”

Before Amanda could frame a suitable reply, the waitress was
back.

“Here we go,” Martha said. “Two bowls of stew.” She blew a lock
of hair from her brow. “You wanted cream and sugar, right, dearie?”

“Yes, please,” Amanda said.

“Coming right up.” She tapped a finger on Trey’s shoulder.
“Careful, now, it’s hot.”

The stew was, indeed, the best Amanda had ever tasted. The
biscuits were hot and fluffy; the coffee, even with cream and sugar, was strong
enough to peel paint off a wall.

Amanda was still working on her first bowl of stew when Trey
finished his and ordered a second. And then a third.

“I love a man with a hearty appetite,” Martha said. She
beamed at Trey a moment before glancing back at Amanda. “Can I get you anything
else, dearie?”

“Another biscuit, please,” Amanda said. “They’re wonderful.”

Martha beamed at her. “Coming right up. More coffee, Trey?”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

“Better save room for some of Ma’s apple pie,” Martha
warned.

“Always room for that,” he said.

“Are you going to have three helpings of pie, too?” Amanda
asked.

Trey sat back in his chair and grinned at her across the
table. “You never know.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Martha said. She looked at
Amanda and winked. “Never seen anyone, man or boy, who can put food away like
he can. I’ll be right back with that pie.”

“I think she likes you,” Amanda remarked.

Trey shrugged. “Martha? She likes everybody.”

The pie was every bit as good as Trey had promised. The pie
was still a little warm, the crust light and flaky.

“I make a pretty good apple pie myself,” Amanda said, “but I
have to admit, this is the best I’ve ever tasted. One of these days, I’ll have
to…”

“Trade me places, quick!”

“What?”

“Just do it!”

“What was that all about?” she asked when they had changed
seats.

“That man who just came in the door, Wolf Langley, I’d
rather he didn’t see me.”

“Langley!” She glanced over her shoulder. “My gosh, he looks
a lot like Rob, doesn’t he?”

“What’s he doing?”

“Talking to Martha. I can’t believe the resemblance. You
don’t suppose he’s…”

“Is he alone?”

“Yes, why?” Her eyes widened. “He’s after you, isn’t he?”

“Is he coming this way?”

“No. Martha’s talking at him a mile a minute. He’s looking
around the room.”

Trey swore. He should have left Relámpago down at the
livery. The stallion was a dead giveaway. But who’d have thought Langley would
show up this early in the morning? The man had the instincts of the wolf he was
named for. “What’s he doing now?”

“Martha gave him a piece of pie.”

Trey grunted. “So, even Wolf can’t resist Ma’s apple pie.
Maybe he’s human, after all.”

“It’s easy to see he’s related to Rob. They look so much
alike.”

Trey grunted softly. “Some say he’s related to the devil
himself.”

“Rob told me once that he had a relative who was a bounty
hunter in the Old West. His great, great grandfather, I think. I never thought
I’d meet him.”

“What’s he doing now?”

“Eating.”

“Is he facing this way?”

“No.”

“All right, get up real slow and get out of here.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Damned if I know.” There was only one way in, and one way
out.

“Trey…”

“We don’t have time to discuss this. Just do as I say. Now!”

Heart pounding, Amanda stood up and walked toward the door.
She met Martha’s gaze as she skirted the bounty hunter. He scrutinized her as
she passed by, then turned his attention back to Martha.

“How long ago did he leave?” Langley asked.

Amanda paused, pretending to read the hand-written menu
tacked to a bulletin board just inside the door.

“Not more than a few minutes,” Martha replied. “Said he was
going on down the street to the Palace. Shameful place! Can I get you another
piece of pie, Mr. Langley?”

“No thanks.”

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble.”

“Obliged, but I’d best be on my way.”

“Here,” she said, reaching behind her. “Have a cup of
coffee…oh!”

Langley swore as Martha spilled hot coffee down the front of
him.

“I’m so sorry!” Martha exclaimed. “Come in the kitchen and
dry that off.” She didn’t wait for an answer. Reaching for his hand, she pulled
him behind the counter and into the kitchen.

As soon as Langley was out of sight, Trey headed for the
door. Grabbing Amanda by the arm, he hustled her outside and lifted her onto
the gelding’s back. He thrust the reins into her hand, then took up the
stallion’s reins and swung into the saddle.

Trey drummed his heels into the stallion’s flanks and
Relámpago took off at a gallop. The gelding followed without any encouragement
at all.

They had only gone a short distance when she heard Langley’s
voice holler, “Long Walker!”

The bounty hunter’s outraged cry was followed by a pair of
gunshots that echoed in Amanda’s ears like thunder. She screamed as her horse
reared, unseating her. She landed on her rump, hard.

Things seemed to happen in slow motion after that.

Langley took a step forward, smoke curling from the muzzle
of the gun in his hand.

People on the street ducked for cover.

Trey wheeled his horse around in a tight circle and raced
back toward her.

There was something almost other-worldly in the sight of him
riding toward her.

Relámpago’s coat seemed to blaze in the morning sun, and
sparks seemed to fly from his hooves.

Langley fired again and Trey’s hat went flying. She felt her
stomach drop. That was close. Too close!

She watched with a sort of horrified fascination as Trey
drew his weapon and fired in one smooth, easy motion.

Langley staggered backward.

Trey was almost on her now. He leaned forward in the saddle,
his arm outstretched. She reached toward him, and he swept her from the ground
and swung her up behind him. Her arms went around his waist, hanging on for
dear life as they galloped down the street.

She buried her face against Trey’s shoulder, certain she was
about to get a bullet in the back. Oh, Lord, she wasn’t ready to die! Not now!
Not here!

Her arms tightened around Trey’s waist. Closing her eyes,
she clung to him and tried to pray, but she was too afraid to think coherently,
too afraid to do anything but hold on to Trey. And in that moment, with death
breathing like a dragon down her neck, she realized she was falling in love
with Trey Long Walker.

Though they’d been running for a long time, Relámpago had
barely broken a sweat when Trey reined the horse to a halt. But for Relámpago’s
smooth, effortless gait, Amanda was sure she would have been jarred senseless
by now. She was amazed by the stallion’s stamina.

She loosened her death grip on Trey’s waist, flexed her
aching arms, and leaned back a little to look around. The terrain was wide and
rugged, covered with cactus and brush. A roadrunner dragged a small plume of
dust up a dry wash off to the left. It was the only movement, other than high
clouds moving toward the sun. The threat of rain the night before had yet to materialize.

Trey dismounted and lifted her from the saddle, then whirled
around, gun in hand.

Amanda stared at him, startled, and then she heard it, too.
The sound of hoofbeats coming hard and fast toward them.

Trey grabbed her by the arm and thrust her behind him.

Oh, Lord, she thought, would this nightmare never end?

The hoofbeats drew nearer, slowed, stopped. She heard Trey
swear softly as he holstered his gun.

She peered around him, a bubble of hysterical laughter
rising in her throat as her gelding trotted into view.

The horse stood there, sides heaving and covered with sweat,
holding its head and to the side to avoid stepping on the reins. The gelding
blew softly as Trey caught up the reins.

He thrust them into her hands. “This critter needs a rest,”
he said. “But we need to keep moving. Langley might have followed him. We’ll
walk a while, give your mount some time to cool out.”

“All right.”

It was unsettling to walk across the rugged, wide-open
terrain. She felt very conspicuous. Being hunted was
no
fun. Her gaze
darted from side to side. This was Indian country. She envisioned
paint-streaked Indians lurking behind every bush and rock, just waiting to
ravish her and take her scalp. And what about that bounty hunter Trey had shot?

“Do you think he’s dead?” she asked.

“Who, Langley? I couldn’t be that lucky. I think I might
have nicked him, though.”

“Oh! I just thought of something!”

“What?”

“You can’t kill him!”

“Why the devil not?”

“Because of Rob.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you see? If you kill Langley, Rob will never be
born!”

Trey grunted. That might not be so bad, he thought. At least
then he wouldn’t have to worry about Amanda marrying that two-bit greenhorn if
she made it back to her own time. He slid a glance in her direction. If he had
his way, she would never make it back.

Amanda took hold of his arm. “You won’t kill him, will you?”

“Not if I don’t have to.”

She seemed satisfied with his answer. He was sorry when she
let go of his arm.

“Have you killed many men?”

“A few, in self-defense.” But not the one who needed killing
most, he thought bitterly. Not J. S. Hollinger. His failure gnawed at him.

They walked the horses for half an hour or so before Trey
told her to mount up. She swallowed a groan as she stepped into the saddle.
Even though the gelding had a nice, easy gait, spending so many hours in the
saddle was tiring.

For the rest of the day, Trey set an easy but steady pace,
only pausing now and then at hidden water holes he seemed to find by dead
reckoning. He seemed to know his way around the wilderness the way she knew her
way around her house. Several times he had her wait while he doubled back to
check for pursuers from some high point. Each time he was satisfied to find
their back trail clear. During one break, she rinsed off her face and hands.
The Band-Aid on her palm had come loose and she peeled it off, dug a hole and
buried it.

Another long afternoon twilight was descending, and the
clouds were massing again, when he decided to call a halt for the night.

This time he stripped the rigging from the horses and rubbed
them down with their blankets, before spreading the blankets over a patch of
brush to dry out.

“They’ll dry quick in this air,” he said. “I'm going to take
a scout on foot. You might gather up some of that dead brush. I think we can
risk a fire tonight.” He loosened his six-gun in its holster and faded from
sight like a— Like an Indian, she thought.

She gathered an armful of dried branches. She layered some
of them on the most level patch of ground she could find and then spread their
blankets over them. She dragged the saddles over for pillows and then, after a
quick look around, she hurriedly changed out of her dress and petticoat and
into her tank top and jeans, wondering why she hadn’t done it sooner.

She rolled the dress and petticoats into a ball and shoved
them inside one of the saddlebags. She spent a few minutes brushing the dust
and tangles out of her hair and then, with a weary sigh, sank down on the
impromptu bed, her head resting on the saddle. She pulled a corner of the top
blanket up over her and lay there, shivering, partly from the chill creeping
into the air and partly from nerves as she relived their close escape from
town. Trey could have been killed. She could have been killed.

“I don’t belong here,” she whispered. “Please, just let me
get back home.”

“You say something?” Trey asked, startling her. He had
materialized as quietly as he had disappeared.

She signed tremulously, determined not to cry. “No.”

But Trey heard the unshed tears that made her voice tremble.
“Amanda?”

She sniffed.

He knelt down beside her and pulled her into his arms.
“What’s wrong?”

“I want to go home,” she wailed softly.

“Yeah, you said that before.”

“Well, it’s still true.” She sniffed again, wishing she had
a Kleenex.

All her misery seemed to evaporate as Trey’s hand stroked
her back, making her forget everything but how good it felt to be in his arms.
His chest was solid, comforting, his touch light, soothing, his breath warm
against her cheek. Only a moment before, she had been feeling afraid and alone,
but no more. She relaxed against him, content to be in the past, for the
moment, if it meant she could be in his arms.

She closed her eyes as he continued to rub her back,
massaging away her tension, easing muscles that ached from spending a long
night on the ground the night before, and a longer day in the saddle.

Trey’s arm tightened around her as sleep claimed her. He
couldn’t blame her for wanting to go home. For a woman accustomed to fancy cars
and indoor plumbing, life in his time must seem primitive indeed. If it wasn’t
for the woman in his arms, he might have thought he’d dreamed all of it: the
electric lights, the indoor privies, hot running water, machines that washed
and dried clothes, machines that made ice and kept food cold, pictures that
moved and talked. He had never imagined such things.

He should have left her in Canyon Creek. It was a good-sized
town. She would likely have been happier there, staying in a decent hotel, than
tagging along with him. At least there she would have had three hot meals a day
and a warm bed to sleep in. If he couldn’t hunt up some game, they’d have to
make do with jerky and beans, and she would have to get used to sleeping on the
ground until they reached Diablo Springs.

He shook his head ruefully. How could he take her there? The
place was populated by whores, horse thieves, murderers and…he swore softly.
Bank robbers.

He stared into the darkness. Why hadn’t he left her behind?
She stirred in his arms, and he knew why he hadn’t left her. Her breasts were
warm and soft against his chest. Every time he inhaled, her scent filled his
nostrils. Lowering his head, he brushed a kiss across her cheek. Her skin was
soft and warm, her hair still carried the faint scent of fresh peaches, even
after all this time on the trail. Looking at her, holding her, made him ache
with desire, filled him with the need to protect her, even if it meant
protecting her from men like himself.

She felt good in his arms, and he held her for a long while
before he lowered her onto the blanket. Awake or asleep, in a pretty blue dress
or tight fittin’ jeans and a shirt like she was wearing now, she was the most
beautiful woman he had ever seen. And yet, it wasn’t just her beauty that
attracted him. He recalled the tenderness of her touch when she had tended his
wound, her willingness to take in a stranger, the mischievous light in her eyes
when she had insisted on buying him a hat and new jeans. She made him feel
good, he thought, inside and out, made him think about settling down—damn!
Where had that thought come from? As if he could settle down now, with Wolf
Langley on his trail and his stake a hundred and two years in the future.

A sigh escaped Amanda’s lips and she smiled in her sleep.
Trey stared at her mouth, remembered the taste of her, the way she fit into his
arms. His new jeans felt suddenly tight in the crotch and he stood up, restless
and aching.

Relámpago whinnied softly as Trey approached. “Hey, boy,” he
murmured. “What the devil are we going to do about her?”

* * * * *

Amanda awoke with a groan. The sky was pale with a new dawn,
and it still hadn’t rained. Her neck ached, her back ached, and she was hungry
enough to eat her Nikes, dirt and all. Cracking one eye open, she glanced
around. There was no sign of Trey, but she saw Relámpago and the gelding
standing head to tail a little ways off, so she figured Trey hadn’t gone far.

She sat up slowly, stretched her arms and legs and then
stood up.

Where was he?

And even as the thought crossed her mind, she saw him
walking toward her. He moved with a lithe grace, supple and silent. Just
looking at him made her heart do a little dance, sent a warmth spreading
through her that had nothing to do with the heat of the sun.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning. Where’d you go?”

He lifted his arm. A rabbit dangled from his hand.

Amanda grimaced. “What’s that for?” she asked suspiciously.

“Breakfast. Something to go with a can of those store-bought
beans. Let’s saddle up. I found a waterhole not far from here. The horses can
graze while we eat.”

“Eat? The rabbit?” She shuddered. “Raw?”

He laughed softly, amused by her horrified expression.
“Guess you’ve never cooked rabbit over an open fire.”

“No.”

“Good eating,” he said. “You'll see. There's plenty of
firewood around the waterhole. We can heat the beans, too.” He thrust the
carcass into her hand and began to saddle Relámpago.

She felt dampness under her hand. Blood, already congealing.
She swallowed a gasp and held the rabbit the way she might hold a live snake.
“Where’d you get this, anyway?”

“Shot it.” He reached under the stallion’s belly for the
cinch and drew it up tight.

“You’re a regular Daniel Boone, aren’t you? Where’d you
learn to hunt like that?”

“My grandfather taught me.”

“The Indian one, I guess.”

He chuckled as he smoothed the blanket over the gelding’s
back. “Sure as hell wasn’t the other one.”

“You didn’t like him?”

“I never met him.” He cinched the saddle in place, took the
rabbit from her hand, and draped it over Relámpago’s withers. “Ready?”

She wiped her hand against her pant leg. “I guess so.”

“Need a leg up?”

“No, I can manage.”

The waterhole was less than a mile away. Several patches of
yellow-green grass grew nearby. Dismounting, Trey tethered the horses to a
sturdy bush. Amanda knelt at the waterhole. Dipping her hands in the water, she
took a drink, swallowing just enough to quench her thirst. She watched Trey
gather tinder and some dry wood from beneath a stunted mesquite tree and
started a small fire. She grimaced when he skinned the rabbit.

“Aren’t you supposed to take out its…its innards before we
eat it?”

“I already did that.”

He cut the carcass into pieces, tossed the skin away from
their camp, “for the coyotes”, he said, and then put the meat on a stick.
Hunkering down on his heels, he held the stick over the fire. Sort of like
roasting marshmallows, she thought.

“Open up a can of those beans and set it here, in the edge
of the coals,” he told her.

She did so, having a little trouble with the manual can
opener. She dragged one of the saddle blankets over for a table, and put out
the two enamel plates and the flatware. She wasn’t keen on the idea of eating a
freshly killed creature, but her stomach began to growl as the air filled with
the aroma of warming beans and roasting meat.

“Won’t be long now,” Trey said, grinning as her stomach
growled loudly.

She glared at him. Even though she liked living in the
country, she was, by no stretch of the imagination, a country girl. She had
gone on one camp out when she was nine or ten years old but when she found out she
had to sleep on the ground, she had called her mother to come and get her.

Oh, Mama, she thought. If you could only come and get your
little girl now.

* * * * *

Amanda arched her back, then stood in the stirrups for a
moment. Who would have thought horseback riding could be so tiring? She didn’t
remember getting so stiff and sore when she rode on the farm. Of course, she
had been a lot younger then. And she had only ridden for a couple of hours at a
time, not all day and into the night.

The land stretched ahead of them, seemingly endless, flat in
every direction save for the mountain that loomed in the distance. For all that
the country seemed to be populated by little more than salt scrub and cactus,
roadrunners and beady-eyed lizards, Trey managed to find food enough to stretch
out the meager supplies in their saddlebags. Another rabbit, a prairie chicken,
a cute little squirrel she refused to eat, a small deer. He’d also found some
wild onions and cabbage to break up the constant diet of meat and beans.