A Moment in Time (9 page)

      
"Yeah, right."
 
The urge to blurt out the truth invaded Jackie, making her stomach clench and her adrenalin-laced blood sing through her veins.
 
Instead, she chose silence, knowing she had to sort through all this herself before sharing it with the world.

      
"Suit yourself."
 
Dottie slipped through the door, pulling it shut behind her, and Jackie seized the opportunity to visit the water closet.

      
After putting the facilities through their paces, she returned to her room–for now, at least.
 
She walked slowly to the window and peered out at the bustling little town.
 
It was still there–Devil's Gulch, Colorado.
 
"What the hell happened to me?"

      
Wagons and horses, men in work clothes, a few women in long dresses, and an abundance of dust filled the street below.
 
Incredible.
 
"Yeah, a coma."
 
She nodded, trying–and failing–to convince herself again.

      
It was possible, though.
 
If this was all part of a coma, then she'd either come out of it...or die.
 
Eventually.

      
Lovely thought.

      
And if this was real...?

      
Jackie swallowed and turned to look around the room again.
 
Could she really have traveled back in time?

      
It was a possibility she had to face.

      
"Think, Jackie."
 
She shuffled over to the bed and flopped onto her back, gripping her head with both hands.

 
      
If she had truly traveled through time, then she had to make the best of her situation...such as it was.
 
Rupert P. Goodfellow thought she was the famous Lolita Belle–
sans
Guinness Book of World Record
-sized breasts.
 
At least Jackie's mistaken identity had secured her temporary shelter.
 
Besides, if she forced herself to think logically about all this–a greater challenge than getting Aunt Pearl into a male strip joint, for sure–it made sense for Jackie to stay put and play along.

 
      
Maybe she was no rocket scientist, but she'd watched enough television to know it took either a time machine or a portal–a tunnel?–to travel through time.
 
She was bound and determined to stay close to her exit.
 
Except the painting didn't exist.
 
Yet.
 
One more reason for her to pose in the nude.
 
Again.

      
"Get a grip, Clarke."
 
She rested the back of her hand against her forehead and closed her eyes, summoning everything she could remember about "Quantum Leap" and
Back to the Future
.
 
But instead of Scott Bakula and Michael J. Fox, she saw George Clooney–rather, the man who'd hauled her fanny out of the street earlier.

      
"Cole...something.
 
Morrison, that's it."
 
At least his name wasn't Blade.
 
Now that would've put a decidedly horrific slant to this entire predicament.
 
"That sorry son of a bitch.
 
This is all his fault."

      
A shuffling sound from the hall and a knock at the door jerked her to the present.
 
Past-present?
 
"What a mess."
 
Jackie sat up and swung her feet to the floor just as the door opened.
 

      
Dottie sashayed in, followed by the ever-filthy Zeb pushing a bathtub on squeaky wheels.
 
Fingers of steam drifted up from the water's surface.

      
A bath would make Jackie feel better, and maybe it would finish off her headache.
 
Of course, she could always drown herself, but it'd be just her luck this was really just a coma, after all.

      
Dottie dropped some towels on the bed beside the robe, then pointed to a collection of bottles on the dresser.
 
"Fancy stuff Rupert ordered for you.
 
Zeb'll come back to fetch the water later."

      
Zeb waggled his woolly eyebrows.
 
"I could just stay an'–"

      
Jackie leveled her gaze at him.
 
"Out, you pervert."
 
She drew a deep breath.
 
"But thank you for the water."

      
Zeb looked almost as surprised as Dottie by Jackie's gratitude.
 
Good.
 
If she was going to stay here for a while, she'd better start making nice with the natives.
 
Even mean old Dottie.

      
"And thank you, Dottie...for everything."

      
A look of total confusion flitted across the woman's face, then she sighed.
 
"You're welcome."
 
After a moment, she narrowed her gaze and flashed Jackie a wicked grin.
 
"Rupert'll be up after your bath to take you to the artist.
 
He works in a cabin on the edge of town–says it gives him inspiration."

      
Like Blade.
 
"Today?"
 

      
"Yep, and that robe's
all
you'll be needin'."
 
Dottie turned toward the door.
 
"But you won't even need that for very long."

      
"Damn."
 
Jackie watched the pair leave, laughing all the way.
 
The image of Lolita's portrait flashed into her brain and made her wince.

      
After a moment, she jerked herself from a state of near shock and rushed across the room to lock the door.
 
Somehow, some way, she had to endure posing for that portrait.
 
If it was her time portal, it was also her only hope.

      
And just what would happen when the real Lolita put in an appearance?

      
Groaning, Jackie stripped off her clothes and stepped into the tub.
 
She had to think of something.
 
Fast.
 
As much as she hated it here, the last thing she wanted was to lose access to her time.
 
When the real and appropriately-endowed Lolita showed up, Goodfellow would toss Jackie and her B cups
 
out on her butt.
 
She had to buy some time before–

      
"Waitaminute."
 
A shiver raced through her, despite the water's warmth.
 
If she didn't know better, she might think she was starting to believe this.

* * *

      
Cole gave the reins a gentle tug until the mare his wife had named Ruth came to a reluctant stop.
 
"Don't worry, girl," he said, patting the side of her neck, "you'll get those oats soon."

      
The horse stretched her neck to reach the early blades of grass around the base of a small aspen tree.
 
The weather had been downright peculiar, though Cole wasn't complaining.
 
Normally, the high country was still covered with snow this time of year.
 
Now only the highest peaks had any at all, and it was melting fast.

      
The dry weather enabled him to work in the mine almost every day.
 
Not that all his work had done him any good.
 
Sighing, he pushed his hat back farther on his head and scanned the horizon.
 
All these years of mining the same claim had netted him barely enough gold to keep his son fed and clothed.

      
Todd deserved better than this.
 
The sound of Elizabeth's last words barged into Cole's thoughts, tying his gut into an unwieldy knot.

      
"Promise me, Cole,"
she'd said, clinging to life barely long enough to make her plea.
 
"Make sure Todd gets decent schooling and a better life than this.
 
Promise."

      
And he had promised.

      
Though she'd asked him earlier to take their son home to St. Louis, he hadn't promised her that.
 
Guilt pressed down on him and he sighed.
 
Clicking his tongue, he gathered the reins in one hand and urged the mare into a slow walk up the rocky trail.

      
And he should have kept his promise.
 
Not a day passed that he didn't kick himself in the ass for breaking that vow to his dying wife.
 
"Ah, Elizabeth."

      
Selling the claim probably was the wisest thing to do, because it certainly hadn't yielded the gold he needed to start the ranch he and Elizabeth had always planned.
 
His dilemma had tormented him since her death.
 
He could either return to St. Louis to beg his father-in-law for a job in the mercantile, or he could keep digging in that damned hole he called a mine.

      
But what of their dream?
 
He and Elizabeth had come to Colorado shortly after Todd's birth with one dream in mind.
 
All they'd wanted was enough gold to go to Oregon and start a ranch–something to pass down to their son.

      
Something to make them all proud.

      
Pride.
 
What good was pride, after all?
 
It couldn't fill a boy's belly...and it sure as hell couldn't warm a man's bed at night.

      
He flexed his gloved hand, suddenly remembering how it had felt to touch that woman in town.
 
His gut clenched and an insistent tugging commenced in his groin.
 
Problem was, he hadn't been with a woman at all since Elizabeth....

      
Long, lonely years without a woman could make a man want anything in a skirt.
 
Hell, that woman in town hadn't even been
wearing
a skirt.

      
Still, her compelling softness filling his hand had triggered his need in a big way.
 
In search of comfort, he shifted in the saddle.
 
It was past time for him to get on with his life.

      
But not with Lolita Belle.
 
She was a legend.
 
Miners and cowboys alike had whispered about her at card tables, on the trail and underground for years.
 

      
Cole tried to rid himself of the nagging voice in his head.
 
That woman couldn't be Lolita.
 
Not a chance.

      
At least, he sure hoped not.

      
Shading his eyes, he looked beyond the familiar boulder jutting out from the side of the mountain.
 
He was almost there.
 
Home.
 
At least, for now.
 
Smoke curled upward from the chimney, vanishing in the clear mountain air.

      
Todd would be setting the table for their noon meal, knowing his father should be home by now.
 
He always helped out without being told.
 
Elizabeth would've been proud of the boy.

      
Stopping the horse again on the ridge, Cole gazed longingly at the flowers his wife had planted around the front of the cabin.
 
The puny things looked so out of place there, but she'd been determined to bring civilization to their temporary home.

      
Temporary.
 
Then why had Cole let it become so damned permanent?

      
This was no place to raise a boy.
 
Todd needed schooling and a real home.
 
His grandparents could give him that in St. Louis.
 
All Cole had to do was put his tail between his legs and slink on back there.

      
Gnashing his teeth, he shifted his gaze to the well-worn trail leading from the back of the cabin, up the side of the mountain.
 

      
His claim.
 
All their dreams rested in that hole.
 
"Fool."
 
Shaking his head, he nudged the mare with his heels, and she cantered eagerly to the log shelter that served as a stable, not far from the cabin.

      
He'd been offered an alternative.
 
It was there for the taking.
 
All Cole had to do was agree to the dirty job, and he'd receive enough pay–gold!–to live his and Elizabeth's dream.
 
If he didn't take it, the only way to keep his promise to Elizabeth would be to return to St. Louis with his pride in shreds.