Badland Bride (5 page)

She slapped a hand against her breasts, the exact spot his eyes kept trying to focus on, and whipped her head around to look at the cave entrance. “Pete! Is he on his way here? To this time? What year is it anyway?"

He straightened out his twisted mind and answered her question, “Its eighteen-eighty-two. And I don't think you have to worry about Pete."

She gulped. “Yes, I do. He won't stop until he kills me. That tunnel isn't going to stop him.” Her voice trembled with fear.

He wrapped an arm around her. The soft, silky skin of her upper arm filled his palm as her head settled on his shoulder. Her body trembled from head to toe. All of a sudden his heart picked up pace, rattled in his chest like the end button of a diamond back. “Don't fret. I won't let anyone hurt you. Besides, Pete won't find the tunnel."

"How can you be sure?"

"He'd never fit for one."

She sniffled and her head bobbed against his shoulder.

He tightened his hold around her. He'd never smelled anything sweeter than the scent floating from the curly locks of her hair. A warm, silly feeling tickled his insides. Then a protective, almost angry knot formed in his stomach. “Why would he want to kill you?"

"Because he's an evil man. I turned him into the police—the law—for um, um, hurting me, and now the law is after him."

"Why didn't they put him in jail? Sheriff Turley threw Kid in the old well likety-split when he was arrested."

"A well?"

He had to keep talking, keep his mind off the way his body was heating up, which had nothing to do with the sun over their heads. “Yes, Nixon didn't have a jail then, so they used the old dried up well. Kid was down there for three days. After he was cleared of the murder charges, he gave the town a donation to build a jail."

She leaned up and glistening green eyes looked at him curiously.

His body groaned, but he rustled up a smile. “That's another long story."

"It must be,” she nodded, and then laid her head back on his shoulder.

A sigh of pleasure left his chest, he couldn't help it. She had to be the sweetest thing he'd ever met. He could get used to having her around. “So why didn't they put Pete in jail?"

"They didn't believe he hurt me, even after I showed them all the stuff I'd found out about him on the internet."

"On the what?"

"The internet,” she sighed. “Never mind, I'd bet that's an even longer story than the well."

His hand roamed up and down her arm. Holding her felt so natural, like breathing, and talking with her was like talking to a trusted, old friend. The best-looking one he'd ever seen. “I was more surprised than a bear seeing snow when I woke up in that cave alive again."

"How'd you get back to the cave before me?"

He pondered her words for a second or two. “I don't think my body ever left the cave, I think just my ghost did. While I was at the house, I didn't have a body. It's hard to explain, but I just kind of floated around. I could still sort of feel my body, but I couldn't use it. I couldn't touch anything, but things inside still worked. I could see things and hear things.” His nose tickled as her sweet scent wafted by again. “I don't think I could smell either. I don't remember if I could or not. Anyway, I was amazed when you could hear me, because I couldn't, I didn't think my voice worked."

"It was like a faint whistle in the wind, I don't know if I heard you as much as I sensed what you were saying."

"Hmm, interesting.” Skeeter rubbed his chin with his other hand. Stiff whiskers confirmed he'd only been asleep one night, and told him he needed to shave.

"What's interesting?"

"Well, Pete acted like it was more than a whisper in the wind,” he chuckled.

She glanced his way. “He did?"

He nodded, lifted one eyebrow to tease her.

A grin made her eyes squint. “Tell me, oh, please tell me."

Her wide, excited smile made his whole body tingle. The blood flowing through his veins felt as hot as the sun blazing down on the rocks. Something swelled in his chest, as if her smile had made his heart double in size, and damn, if it didn't feel good. “After you locked the door under the stairs, I found out ghosts can make things happen with their minds. All they have to do is think about them hard enough."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I thought about a shutter on the old barn falling on him and it did. I thought about a rake handle hitting him in the face, and it did. I made a log roll over and pin him to the barn, and while he was trapped, I made all kinds of scary, ghostly sounds. By the time he got out from behind the log, he ran to his...what did you call it, pickup truck?"

She nodded.

"He ran to his pickup truck like the devil with a red-hot pitchfork was chasing him."

"Oh, I wish I could have seen it.” Her light, happy laughter was contagious, and he soon found his laugh echoing with hers over the buttes.
Ole’ Pete had been a sight to see.

After the ever-present Kansas wind carried the sounds far away she sighed, then pulled out of his embrace and stood up. “Skeeter Quinter, thank you very much for rescuing me today. I don't think I've ever met a nicer man.” She held her hand out for him to shake.

He stood, wrapped his hand around hers. Her fingers fit inside his palm perfectly. “You're very welcome, Lila Scott. I don't think I could have rescued a more delightful or beautiful lady."

The way her cheeks turned cherry red made him chuckle. She pulled her hand away, ran it down her narrow hip. “Well, I better be on my way."

"On your way?"

"Yes, on my way."

"Where to?"

"Back to the future.” She giggled again, flashed him a silly grin. “There's a movie called that, it was pretty good, actually had sequels. I even think they traveled back to the old west in one of them."

He frowned, not only because he had no idea what she was talking about, but also because he had to tell her something else. “Lila,” he sighed.

"Skeeter,” she said with a smile that made her eyebrows rise in a way that sent his heart rattling again.

Looking into her deep green eyes, he grimaced, not wanting to be the one to disappoint her. She was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. A lump formed in his throat as he explained, “Lila, I'm sorry, but you can't go back to the future."

"Yes, I can.” She dug into a pocket of the short, white pants. “I still have the key. I'll just crawl back down the tunnel. And thanks to you Pete is probably half way to Wichita by now, I'll be able to go to the police again. I'll file an order for protection or something."

"While I was a ghost...” he started.

She nodded, waited for him to go on.

"I, uh.” He swallowed, cleared his throat. “Well, I sort of told the house to collapse. It was the last thing I did before floating into the tunnel. I heard it behind me, rumbling and tumbling, and then the tunnel caved in. The next thing I remember is waking up next to the fire."

She pressed both hands against her stomach. “But Skeeter, I have to go back to the future.” Her eyes became glassy and wide. “Now!"

The terror on her face made a tingle rip up his back. He reached out, wrapped his hands around her upper arms. Willing to do whatever it took to ease her fear, he said, “Lila, settle down. I can try to dig out the tunnel, but it's going to take some time."

"I don't have time!” She shot a nervous glance between him and the cave.

"You don't have to worry. Pete can't get to the tunnel either."

"No, it's not that.” Tears started to trickle down her cheeks.

The sight made his heart melt. He stepped forward, pulled her into an embrace. Warm breath tickled his chest as her face pressed against the opening of his shirt. His hands ran over the silky skin of her shoulders, then down her back, fitting her trembling body against his solid one. “Shh, don't cry. It's going to be all right."

"No, it's not.” She lifted her face to peer at him. Tear drops glistened in the sun. “I'm pregnant,” she whispered. “I can't have a baby in eighteen-eighty-two. Women die during childbirth in this century."

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If his solid arms hadn't been holding her, she would have collapsed to the ground. Her trembling knees knocked harder than a Jehovah's Witness with a station wagon full of Watchtower flyers to distribute. The beat of her heart pounded in her ears. Lila wrapped both arms around his tall, brawny body, holding on for dear life. High school history lessons, long lost in the caverns of her brain, leaped forward. More pioneer women lost their lives during childbirth than anything else. Not Indian raids, not diseases, not accidents, snake bites, gun shots...

She twisted her face, knowing her tears were soaking the front of his shirt. His hand, firm, yet gentle, ran over her hair, pressed her cheek back in place. “Shh, don't cry.” He settled his chin on the top of her head. “It'll be all right. I promise."

It was as if he was a tall oak, and she a little sprig, sprouting near its roots, protected by an encompassing shelter. Her emotional breakdown began to ease. Feeling a tad foolish for falling completely apart in front of such a wonderful man, she took a deep breath, and eased her grasp on his waist. His hands slipped to her hips, the hold soft and reassuring.

Unable to meet his gaze yet, she wiped away tear residue with both hands. Glancing down she realized her hands were quite grubby from crawling through the tunnel. Fearful dark streaks covered her face she rubbed the backs of her hands across her cheeks.

"Come on.” His hold tugged at one of her hips as he twisted about.

Head down, she fell into step beside him, and they walked toward the cave. One of his strong arms remained wrapped around her waist. The cooler air inside the cavern was a needed relief. Her shoulders drooped in acceptance. With a gentle but reassuring squeeze, he left her side, and she snuck a peek as he walked toward the fire pit.

Skeeter Quinter was the picture of an ultimate man. Not modern-day, fitness-club built, but naturally formed into a body so perfect Hercules would be jealous. Broad, bulky shoulders looked as if they could easily carry the load of the world. Lean hips swaggered as he walked with an old west flare, yet, he stood straight and tall.

And his charismatic face—she pressed a hand to the rapid thud behind her breast bone. His five o'clock shadow would make any woman swoon, and his bedroom eyes... There isn't an actor out there whose lashes could match his, and the way his hazel-green eyes twinkled she wondered if they were flecked with real gold.

Lila closed her eyes, trying to gain some resemblance of control. How could she be agog over her rescuer, when his rescue had sent her a hundred and twenty-six years in the past? Her lids snapped open, and her gaze floated about the cave. Was it all a ruse?

There wasn't a modern trinket in sight.

"Here.” Skeeter set a wooden bucket down near her feet. “It's fresh water. There's a natural spring in the back of the cave.” He tugged her elbow, forcing her to turn his way. A small square cloth dangled from his fingers.

"Thank you.” She took the washcloth, dipped it in the water. “Maybe the tunnel didn't cave all the way in.” Wringing the water from the cloth, she added, “Maybe it only caved in in the future, but not in the past."

He looked at her, his gaze sad.

She pressed the cloth to her face.

His hand brushed her shoulder. “You wash up, I'll go check."

The material, though wet, absorbed the tears slipping out of her eyes. She pressed the cloth harder against her face, trying to force any more from flowing. It was all too much. There was no way she could live in the past. She was a child of the twenty-first century. A millennial.

When convinced she was in charge of her rolling emotions, Lila scrubbed her hands and knees before wiping the sweat from the rest of her exposed skin. By the time she was done, Skeeter had built up the fire to provide more light near the tunnel entrance. She swished out the cloth, hung it on the edge of the wooden bucket, and walked toward the blaze.

He crouched on his hands and knees, his head and shoulders stuck in the opening. Careful not to stand in his light, she asked. “Is it open? Can you see anything?"

Slowly, he inched back, pulling his head out then his hands. A boulder half the size of the opening rolled out beneath his fingers. He grunted, shoved the rock further away from the hole. “I'm sorry, Lila. It's blocked."

"Are you sure?” She knelt down and grimaced at the pain in her knees. Her hurried scrubbing had opened the abrasions caused by her long crawl, and left the skin tender and sensitive.

He moved over, giving her free rein to examine the small opening. The only clear space was where the huge boulder had been. Other large rocks, thick sand, and baseball size stones created a solid wall from top to bottom. “How?” She twisted to look at him. “I didn't hear anything, didn't feel anything.” Glancing back to the tunnel, she added, “It's unbelievable."

"The whole event is a little unbelievable.” His hand brushed her shoulder. “You, me, the tunnel."

"Yes, it is.” She ran a hand through her hair, flipping the irritating curls away from her face. Her gaze snapped up. “What about the house? Maybe the other end of the tunnel is there.” She leaped to her feet. “Do you know where it would be?"

He shrugged. “Sure, but I don't think you should get your hopes up."

A cold chill showered her body. “Sometimes hope is all a person has."

His hand, big and warm, wrapped around hers, encompassing it like a winter glove. With his other hand, he wiped a wayward curl from her face. “You're right. Let's go take a look."

Half an hour later, Lila would have traded her new Mustang for a touch of that cold chill she felt back in the cave. Sweat oozed from every pore. Her bra, glued to her body, chaffed her skin beneath the hot, wet elastic. Following Skeeter down the steep cliff, she paused, slipped her fingers beneath her shirt and tugged on the wide band to ease the discomfort. He stilled, as if he sensed she'd stopped.

Quickly, before he had a chance to turn around, she stepped forward, grabbed a protruding boulder near his shoulder and managed to fix an expectant look on her face.