Journey to Yesterday (12 page)

She fit in his arms so perfectly…was he aware of it, too?

She moaned softly, heard the sharp intake of his breath as
she leaned into him, wanting to be closer, closer, cursing the voluminous skirt
and petticoats that bunched between them.

He murmured her name, then kissed her again, and yet again.
And somehow they were lying side by side in an intimate tangle of arms and
legs. She didn’t know if it was the darkness or the man, but her every sense
seemed heightened, her every nerve attuned to his nearness. Her skin came alive
at his touch, tingling with need, burning with awareness. She tugged off her
gloves, her fingertips moving over the face she could not see, tracing the
shape of his nose, his jaw, lingering over his lips.

With a low growl, he opened his mouth, capturing her finger,
sucking lightly.

Her breath escaped in a long, husky sigh. A kiss, a touch,
and she was on fire for him, filled with a longing she had never known before.

“Shaye…”

She heard her own longing reflected in his voice.

He rained kisses over her face, his touch incredibly gentle,
so filled with tenderness, it brought an ache to her heart and tears to her
eyes. Since her divorce, it had been easy to keep men at arm’s length. Hurt and
disillusioned, she had been certain she would never trust another man, never
want another man in her life. But she wanted Alejandro Valverde with her whole
heart and soul.

She was about to tell him so when she realized he had gone
suddenly still.

“Listen!” he exclaimed softly. “Did you hear that?”

“What? I don’t hear any…”

And then she heard it, a man’s voice. “Hey! Anybody alive
down there?”

Alejandro sat up. “Yes,” he shouted. “We’re here!”

“Sit tight. We’ll have you out of there in no time at all.”

They were, Shaye thought, the sweetest words she had ever
heard. And even as the thought crossed her mind, she couldn’t help wishing
their rescuers had waited another hour, or maybe two.

* * * * *

The man was as good as his word. A short time later, they
could hear the sound of men digging, and in less than an hour, she was standing
on solid ground again. Hundreds of people were gathered at the mine entrance.
They cheered as Shaye and Alejandro emerged. Shaye took a deep breath, filling
her lungs with fresh air. It was, she thought, almost like being reborn.

The doctor came forward to check them over. He examined the
cut on Shaye’s cheek, applied some sort of antiseptic that hurt worse than the
cut itself, and pronounced both her and Alejandro in good health.

Several women surged forward, offering them cake,
sandwiches, coffee, and lemonade.

Lily and Addy Mae and a dark-eyed girl Shaye didn’t know
hovered over Alejandro, touching his arm, his shoulder, his cheek, expressing
their relief that he was all right.

“We were so worried,” Addy Mae said, and the other two girls
nodded.

Alejandro looked at Shaye over their heads, and shrugged.

Shaye accepted a roast beef sandwich and a glass of lemonade
from one of the townswomen. “Do they know if the others are all right?”

The woman shook her head. “No word yet. The cave-in wasn’t
so bad where you were. From what my Harlan said, the worst of it was farther
down the tunnel. They’re still digging down there.”

Shaye took a drink, trying not to think of Moose and the
other men buried beneath tons of dirt.

Around her, men and women talked in subdued voices
punctuated by the whine of the hoist as dirt was lifted from the mine.

“Too bad,” a grizzled veteran said.

“Bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Yup. Mining’s a dangerous business. Could just as easily
have been a fire.”

“Or an explosion. Remember when the powder magazine blew up
at the Old Rough and Ready? In all my born days, I never heard such an awful
sound.”

“Terrible, just terrible. I thought the whole house was
gonna come down around us.”

“Yeah, I recollect that. Thought we was havin’ an
earthquake.”

“Blew the boardinghouse next to the mine to smithereens.”

“Yep. Danged explosion rained rocks down on Main Street.
Lucky more folks weren’t hurt.”

“Killed seven men in the mine.”

“Heard tell folks felt the blast clear to Bridgeport.”

And on and on it went, with the bystanders recalling other
misfortunes and catastrophes while a new tragedy was being played out in front
of them.

Shaye had just finished her sandwich when Alejandro came for
her. “You look all done in,” he said, taking her by the arm. “Come on, I’ll
take you back to the hotel.”

“What about Moose and the others?”

“There’s nothing we can do for them. Come on, let’s go get
cleaned up.”

She was too tired to argue. Alejandro had borrowed a buggy
from one of the townspeople. He helped her in, then took his seat. Picking up
the reins, he clucked to the team.

“They’re dead, aren’t they?”

“I reckon.”

“What a horrible way to die.”

“There aren’t many good ways that I know of,” Alejandro
replied.

“No, I guess not.”

And hanging had to be one of the worst, she thought, and
wondered if there was some way to change his fate, and if there were, what the
consequences would be.

When they reached the hotel, he helped her from the
carriage. Inside, he asked the clerk to send some hot water up to the room
right away. Shaye was all too conscious of the speculation in the clerk’s eyes
as she followed Alejandro up the stairs. She could almost read his thoughts,
knew he was wondering what their relationship was, but she was too drained,
physically and emotionally, to worry about it.

She unlocked the door and Alejandro followed her inside. She
stood there, too weary to move, to think, while he lit the lamp.

“Here, now.” He took her reticule and placed it on top of
the dresser. “Sit down before you fall down.”

She sat down in the chair, startled when he dropped to his
knees, lifted her skirt, and began to unlace her shoes. He removed them one by
one, peeled off her long cotton stockings, and then he began to massage her
foot.

“Rio…?”

He looked up at her, head cocked to one side. “Don’t you
like it?”

She shrugged, keenly aware of his hands moving over her
foot. His skin was very dark compared to her own. His touch made her skin
tingle.

“Should I stop?”

She shook her head, felt her heart skip a beat as his hands
moved up her leg, gently massaging her calf. No one had ever done such a thing
for her before. She had never realized how sensual such a thing could be, to
have a man kneeling at her feet, massaging her foot, her leg.

His gaze held hers as he lowered her foot, then cradled the
other one in his lap. His hands were big and strong, yet so gentle.

She looked at him, and she wanted him. Even now, she could
remember the taste of his kisses, the way her body had molded so perfectly to
his. She had come so close, she thought, so close to surrendering her heart and
soul into his keeping. Oh, yes, she wanted him desperately. Even now, covered
with dirt and emotionally and physically exhausted, she wanted to feel his
mouth on hers again, to hear his voice call her darlin’ as only he could, to
feel his weight pressing her down…

And he wanted her. She could feel it in his touch, read it
in the depths of his eyes, those dark dark eyes that seemed to know her better
than she knew herself.

“Shaye?”

She shook her head. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, let herself love
him. She didn’t belong here, didn’t know when she might find herself back in
her own time. How could she hope to survive in the future if she left her heart
in the past?

He didn’t argue, didn’t force the issue. Instead, he stood
up. “I’m going back to the mine and see if I can help.”

“All right.”

“Good night, Shaye.”

“Good night. Alejandro? Be careful.”

He looked at her a moment; then, reaching down, he took hold
of her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. And kissed her.

She was breathless when he let her go.

His knuckles skimmed her cheek. “Enjoy your bath,” he said,
and left the room.

She stared after him, her fingertips pressed against her
lips, and knew she had lost the battle, and her heart, as well.

Shaye pulled a chair over in front of the window, grabbed a
blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, then sat down, staring
into the distance. She had bathed and washed her hair, had tried to sleep, but
sleep wouldn’t come. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Moose being buried
beneath tons of rock and earth. It could so easily have been her and Alejandro.
The thought made her shiver, and she drew the blanket she had wrapped around
her shoulders tighter.

The hours passed slowly. Lights shone like tiny beacons on
the hill near the Robison mine. She thought about the men who had been killed,
about their families, huddled together near the mine entrance, waiting, their
hopes dimming as each body was brought to the surface. She wondered if Moose
had a wife, children, who were waiting, praying.

She wondered what drove a man to work in the mines. It was a
hard life, working twelve hours a day, six days a week, for a paltry four
dollars a day, yet men from all over the world had brought their families here.
Mexicans and Swedes, Italians and Irishmen had all come here, some bringing
their families with them.

She remembered reading somewhere about three park aides who
worked in Bodie. They had gone hiking at dusk. They had stopped at one of the
abandoned mines at dusk. They were tossing rocks down the twelve-hundred-foot
shaft when they reported hearing a voice calmly call out, “Hey, you”. They said
the voice seemed to come from the pit’s opening. The depth of the shaft,
together with the fact that it had been caved in for years, seemed to rule out
any human presence, but they swore they had heard a voice. Had it been the
Robison mine, Shaye wondered. Had the voice belonged to one of the miners who
had been killed there this night? There was a time when she would have
dismissed such a tale as nonsense, but not any more.

Dawn was lighting the sky when Alejandro returned. One look
at his face confirmed her worst fears.

“All of them?” she asked.

He nodded. “We brought the last body out just a few minutes
ago.”

“You must be exhausted.”

“I am that. It’s been a hell of a night.”

She tossed the blanket aside, only then remembering that she
was in her nightgown. Not that it revealed anything, she thought. Made of heavy
white cotton, it covered her completely from her neck to her ankles.

Rising, Shaye went to him and helped him out of his coat.
She tossed it on top of her skirt and shirtwaist. All were in need of a good
cleaning.

“Here,” she said. “Sit down before you fall down.”

He grinned faintly, recognizing the words he had said to her
earlier. Siting down on the chair, he put his head back, and closed his eyes.
She filled the basin with water, wishing it wasn’t so cold, and washed the dirt
from his hands and face, then, kneeling in front of him, she removed his boots
and socks. Lifting his left foot into her lap, she began to massage it.

He looked at her through half-lowered lids. “What are you
doing?”

“Returning a favor.”

He made a soft sound of pleasure and closed his eyes again.

It was, Shaye thought, remarkably satisfying to sit there
and massage his foot. She couldn’t remember ever having done it for anyone
else. She did his other foot, then pulled him to his feet and helped him remove
his shirt. She wasn’t willing to go further than that, and he didn’t seem to
care.

She drew back the covers on the bed, then turned away so he
could remove his trousers. She heard the whisper of cloth over skin, the creak
of the mattress as it took his weight. She gave him a minute to cover himself
before she turned around.

He was already asleep, sprawled face down on the bed. On top
of the blankets.

Unable to help herself, she stood there, her gaze moving
over his broad back and shoulders, noting the indentation at the base of his
spine. He should be doing ads for Jockey shorts, she thought, with those long
legs and that tight butt.

With a sigh, she tugged the covers out from under him,
pulled them up over his shoulders, and then slid under the blankets, staying as
close to the edge of the bed as she could without falling off the mattress.

She closed her eyes and tried not to think of him lying less
than an arm’s length away, tried not to remember how potent his kisses were,
the way her body had felt next to his. The way his hands had felt moving over
her skin.

Gradually, she drifted off to sleep, and in her dreams, he
fulfilled her wish, every desire.

It was, she thought, the best dream she had ever had, better
even than the one where Harrison Ford, Mel Gibson, and Brad Pitt were all
fighting over her. She sighed as Alejandro’s lips slanted over hers, warm and
firm, his tongue like teasing fire. And his hands…oh, those big brown hands.
They moved sensuously over her skin, stroking, caressing, arousing. His breath
was hot when he pressed his mouth to her breast, his long dark hair tickled her
cheek.

As from a great distance, she heard a door slam, the rumble
of wagon wheels, the crack of a bullwhip, but she wasn’t ready to wake up, not
now. Not when he was kissing her again. A kiss to take her breath away.

She ran her hands over his chest, his shoulders, down his
arms, loving the feel of his skin against her palms, the way the muscles in his
arms bunched and relaxed. She loved his arms…

“Shaye.”

His voice, that wonderful, sexy voice, deep and husky,
filled with want and desire.

“Shaye…darlin’, tell me to stop before it’s too late.”

Stop? Why on earth would she want him to stop? She couldn’t
love him in the cold light of day, in the harsh realm of reality. But here,
safe within her dreams, anything was possible.

“Don’t stop,” she murmured. “Oh, Lord, don’t ever stop.”

The bed creaked as he shifted on the mattress. She felt a
whisper of cool air as he gently tugged her nightgown over her head.

In her dream, she opened her eyes …and realized with sudden,
startling clarity that she wasn’t dreaming at all, and that her nightgown was
now on the floor.

And Alejandro was poised over her, his dark eyes smoldering.

For a moment, she couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, could
only stare at him. He was every woman’s fantasy, she thought, a man without
equal. His hair fell over his shoulders, thick and black. His skin was the color
of burnished copper, every muscle taut with desire.

She tried to find her voice as he lowered himself over her,
but she seemed to have lost the power of speech. She had to stop him before it
was too late. But it was already too late. His mouth covered hers, hot and
hungry, coaxing and sweet, so sweet.

She moaned softly as she drew him closer, her hands sliding
restlessly over his back. Right or wrong, she wanted this moment, and she meant
to have it, before it was too late, before she was zapped back to the present,
before he met his Fate…

An image of Alejandro being led to the gallows, his hands
tied behind his back, flashed through her mind in vivid detail. With a
strangled sob, she burst into tears.

“I guess you changed your mind,” he muttered ruefully.

She shook her head. “No…no…you don’t understand. I…you…”

“Shaye, what’s wrong? You can tell me.”

“Nothing,” she said, and sobbed harder.

“Dammit, Shaye, why are you crying?” He rolled off her and
sat up, his back against the headboard. “I thought that you…that we…” He ran a
hand through his hair. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”

“You…you…haven’t done…anything,” she sobbed. Grabbing the
covers, she drew them over her.

“Then why are you crying?”

“Because you…you’re…”

“I’m what?”

“You’re going to die!”

“Darlin’, we’re all gonna die.”

She sat up, drawing the covers up to her chin. “Oh, you
don’t understand! I know
when
you’re going to die.”

He stared at her, one brow arched. “The only way you could
know that is if you’re planning to kill me,” he mused. “Are you?”

“Of course not!”

Alejandro shook his head. “Don’t tell me you’re a fortune
teller?”

“No. Oh, you’ll never believe me!”

“Try me and see.”

“I know because I came here from the future.”

“The future?”

She nodded, sniffling. “From the year 2000. I was born March
nineteenth, 1973 in Los Angeles, California.”

Alejandro grunted softly. He’d suspected it from the very
beginning. She was addle-brained, there was no doubt about it now.

“It’s true! You saw my driver’s license. It expires in 2004,
one hundred and twenty-four years from now.”

“It’s not possible.”

“I know that. Don’t you think I know that? I didn’t believe
it either at first, but it’s true.”

“I’ve heard some tall tales in my day,” he muttered, “but
this one beats them all to hell.”

“If it’s not true, how do you explain the things in my
backpack?”

“I don’t know.” He ran a hand over his jaw. “I reckon there
are lots of new-fangled things being invented in the big cities back East that
we haven’t heard about yet.”

Shaye let out an exasperated sigh. “What about my watch? And
my shoes? What about my camera? And my phone? And my water bottle?”

He shook his head, clearly unconvinced. “For all I know,
those things are common as warts in Los Angeles and New York City.”

“Your mother was an Indian. Her name was Lark or Dove. Your
father was Irish and Spanish. You were born in the Black Hills. You came to
Bodie in 1879.”

“Her name was White Eagle Woman,” Alejandro replied. He
studied her a moment, his expression wary, then thoughtful. “So tell me, when
am I going to die?”

“This year. You’re going to be hanged on August twelfth.”

“Hanged!
Maldicion!
Why?”

“You were convicted of killing Daisy Sullivan.”

He swore again, in English and Spanish. “Supposing I was to
believe you, how do you know so much about me?”

“I met a relative of yours. In Bodie. In the year 2000. He
told me. I also read Daisy’s diary.”

“How do you know about her diary?” he asked sharply. “I’m
the only one who knows about that, and she never lets anyone read it. Not even
me.”

“Well, I read it.”

It was impossible, preposterous, and yet he was beginning to
believe her. “What’s the town like in your time? In…” He swore softly. “In
2000.”

“It’s a ghost town. By 1882, only six mines were still in
operation. By the 1890s, the population was less than a thousand. In 1932, a
little boy started a fire behind the Sawdust Corner Saloon. It wiped out more
than half of the town.”

Alejandro shook his head. It couldn’t be true. No matter how
plausible she made it sound, no one could travel from the future into the past.
But if it was true, it would explain so many things, like the strange outfit
she had been wearing when he first met her, the peculiar objects in her
peculiar pack, the odd words that occasionally cropped up in her speech.

Damn, what if it was true? He rubbed his hand over his jaw
again, remembering how she had kept asking him who he really was the day they
met.

“So,” he asked, “how did you travel through time? And why
did you come here?”

“I don’t know. I came to the ghost town to look around, and
I heard music coming out of the saloon.” She shrugged. “Whatever happened,
happened when I went into the Queen of Bodie saloon. It wasn’t there when I
walked through the town the first time, I’m sure of it.” She bit down on her
lower lip. “I’d seen a picture of you the night before. And I…I had dreamed
about you.”

“Oh?”

She nodded. “In my dream, you were in a saloon, playing
cards. It was the Queen of Bodie.”

He grunted softly. “So, you dreamed of me, and now you’re
here?”

“There’s more.”

Something in her voice sent a shiver down his spine. “Go
on.”

“I saw you. Before I saw you in my dream.”

The air seemed to spark between them. Alejandro stared at
her, felt the hair raise along his arms. His mouth felt suddenly dry.
Everything else faded into the distance as he waited for her to go on.

“When I was walking through the town the first day I got
there, I stopped at the jail.” She took a deep breath. “When I looked in the
window, I saw you. And later that night, I saw you in the jail again. You were
wearing a pair of black pants and a white shirt and a black vest embroidered
with little gold fleur de lis.”

Alejandro swore. He had ordered the vest she described from
San Francisco a month ago. He hadn’t received it yet; there was no way she
could possibly know about it. Yet she did.

“You came to stand at the window of the cell, and even
though it was impossible, I had the feeling you saw me.”

He stared at her a moment and then, too agitated to sit
still, he stood up. Unmindful of his nudity, he crossed the floor to stare out the
window. He had always been certain he had seen her somewhere before. Of course,
it had never occurred to him that he might have been a ghost at the time. He
shook his head. How could he remember something that hadn’t even happened yet?
It was preposterous.

“You believe me, don’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m telling the truth! You’ve got to believe me. You’ve got
to leave town before it’s too late.”

“I like it here.”

“Are you crazy?” she exclaimed, her voice rising. “If you
stay, they’ll hang you.”

“I don’t have any reason to kill Daisy.”

“Well, they convicted you of her murder just the same.”

He turned to face her. “Even if what you say is true, it’s
Daisy who has to leave town. Not me.”

Shaye nodded. He was right, of course. Getting Daisy out of
town would solve everything. “How will we convince her to go?”

“I don’t know. I guess you could try talking to her.”