Yesterday's Magic (34 page)

“Oh no. I saw her less than a half hour ago.
She was headed for the hotel.”

***

Take off your clothes.
The words
seemed to bounce off the wood floor, hit the beamed ceiling, and
then ricochet off the papered walls. Oh, shit. Naked. With Rantaan
Toomay.

She’d known from the minute she’d seen him
get off the stage, that Toomay could hurt her, badly. And she had
wondered how it was possible that she would be able to endure his
touch.

He picked at the strings of the guitar. There
was no melody, no song. Just one note, a steady drone. The noise
clawed at her raw nerves. “Well, Mrs. Wainwright?” he asked.

She’d come so far and so many would suffer if
she failed. She sucked in a deep breath and reached for the top
button of her blouse. His eyes tracked her, like a hunter watching
his prey.

“Dance,” he ordered. He took a sip of
whiskey.

Drink, you son-of-a-bitch, drink.
She
let her hips sway. She felt awkward and stiff but it was evidently
good enough. Toomay leaned back against the pillows. The guitar lay
across his stomach and he continued to pick at the one string. In
his other hand, he held the glass of whiskey.

Another button. Another sip.

The third button. Now her blouse gaped open
and he stared at the white camisole that she’d taken from Freida’s
store. Sweat broke out on his forehead and more stained his shirt
under his arms.

The fourth button. His glass was empty. He
reached for the bottle and poured himself another.

The fifth and final button. She slowly pulled
one arm out, then the other. The material slide to the ground.

The hand that had been strumming the guitar
fell to the bed, palm up. The only sound in the room was his harsh
breathing, in and out through his open mouth.

She raised her arms above her head, arched
her back, and pressed her breasts forward, knowing full well that
her nipples were visible through the thin material. He took a big
drink of whiskey and she saw him slip his hand under the guitar and
into his pants.

He was stroking himself.

She closed her eyes and when she heard the
sound of whiskey splashing into a glass, she reached for her skirt
button. She emptied her mind, thinking of nothing.

One button. Two buttons. The waistband was
loose. Her hips swayed and felt the heavy material slip until it
was pooled around her feet. She opened her eyes.

Toomay’s face was red and the veins in his
neck were bulging. The guitar had fallen to the side and the
buttons of his pants were all undone. He had his hand in his pants
and her fingers were wrapped around his penis.

His soft penis.

Her eyes met his. And she knew. Rantaan
Toomay was impotent. He didn’t beat women because he wanted to rape
them. He beat women because he couldn’t.

I don’t disappoint beautiful women.
That’s what he’d said to her in the saloon. But he did. And God
help the poor woman when it happened because it had to be
her
fault.

He had all the power in the world, yet he
couldn’t control this. She understood the curse better now. When
her father had rescued Delilah, Toomay had assumed that her father
had either seen that he was impotent or that Delilah would soon
tell the story. So, when he could have summoned all his power to
heal himself, he’d instead chosen to use it to curse Good Magic.
Dying had been a better alternative than having others know his
secret.

He pulled his hand out of his pants and
lurched off the bed. “Damn you,” he said. He teetered and grabbed
the table for support. The whiskey bottle—the
almost empty
whiskey bottle, wobbled back and forth until it tumbled over the
side. It hit the floor hard and shattered. The remaining whiskey
seeped into the rug.

He’d drunk almost all of it. Was it
enough?

“You bitch,” he roared. He came at her, his
fists swinging.

Jed bolted out of the Sheriff’s office and
bumped into a man walking toward the saloon. The stranger reached
out to steady the two of them and Jed felt an almost overwhelming
intensity surge through his body.

He looked at the man’s face. There was
something so familiar. He looked . . . Christ, it wasn’t possible .
. . but he had the look of Bella about him. His eyes. His forehead.
His brown-black hair.

“Pardon me, Sheriff,” the man said. “Are you
all right?”

Hell no. He was losing his mind. He was
seeing Bella, or whatever her real name was, in the faces of
strangers. He turned and ran toward the hotel. When he got to the
door, he looked back. The stranger stood in the same spot, watching
him.

More uneasy than ever, Jed whipped open the
door of the hotel and saw Horace Tartin sleeping behind the desk.
He crossed the room and rapped his knuckles against the wood. The
man’s small eyes snapped open.

“I’m looking for Bella Wainwright,” Jed
said.

The man pointed toward the stairs. “First
door on your left. But I think she’s otherwise occupied.”

Jed was halfway up the stairs when he heard a
crash and a scream. Bella’s scream.

He kicked open the door of the room just as
Toomay swung his heavy arm toward Bella’s face. She ducked but not
quite fast enough and he caught the side of her head. She fell
backwards like a rag doll.

Jed charged him. His shoulder caught Toomay
under the ribs. They crashed against the wall. Toomay swung,
catching Jed’s ribs, knocking him back. Toomay came at him again
but Jed got his own swing in, catching Toomay on the chin. The
man’s head whipped back.

Jed threw his body at the man and the
momentum carried the two men across the room. They hit the window,
glass flew, and Jed reared back just in time to catch himself.

He watched as Toomay’s body plummeted from
the second floor of the Mantosa Hotel onto the snow-covered street.
He hit the ground head-first and lay there, face down, his legs
spread, his neck at a 90-degree angle to his body.

Jed turned. Bella was pulling herself up,
using the bedpost as leverage. “Oh Bella,” he said. “Are you
hurt?”

“Don’t let him get away,” she pleaded. “Stop
him.”

Jed looked down at the street. Bart had run
from the Sheriff’s office and now stood next to the body. He looked
up and met Jedidiah’s eye.

“He’s dead,” Bart yelled.

Jed turned to look at Bella again and saw her
eyes roll back in her head. He caught her just before she hit the
ground.

***

Bella woke up in Jed’s arms. He was sitting
on the floor, his back propped against the wall, and she was in his
lap. He had one arm wrapped around her back, holding her, and the
other held a damp cloth to her forehead.

Rantaan Toomay was dead. The curse had never
been made. Her family was free.

“Bella,” he said, his voice full of
concern.

She heard a noise near the door. Bart and the
desk clerk stood in the doorway. “Tell them to go,” she
whispered.

Jed looked up. “Leave us,” he ordered. “I’ll
be down in a few minutes.”

She heard the door shut. “My name isn’t Bella
Wainwright,” she said.

He didn’t look at all surprised.

“It’s Bella Fantini. I’ve been pretending to
be Freida Stroganhaufer’s niece.”

“Why?”

She couldn’t do this with him holding her
like she was precious. She’d lied to him, many times over.

She moved so that she was no longer in his
lap. She stood up and walked across the room. He stood as well but
he stayed with his back against the wall.

He deserved to know the truth. But would it
bring him any peace? “I’m a witch. I live a hundred and thirty
years in the future and I came back in time to reverse a curse that
was placed on my family by Rantaan Toomay.”

She heard him gulp for a breath of air.
“Bella,” he said. “You’ve got a pretty good sized bump on your
head. It’s causing you to talk nonsense.”

She wished it were that easy. “I know what
I’m saying. Jed, I’m sorry. Rantaan Toomay was Bad Magic. The kind
of magic that feeds off the pain and agony of others. On December
fifth, in 1877, he played a game of cards at Hawkin’s Saloon with
my father.”

“Your father,” Jed repeated. He was shaking
his head, as if that would help him sort through the
explanation.

“Yes. My father had come to Mantosa to
deliver some cows.”

“What does your father look like?” he asked,
surprising her.

“Like me, I guess. I always favored him more
than my mother. Anyway, after the card game ended, Toomay followed
Delilah up the stairs. He was beating Delilah up and my father
tried to stop him. They were fighting and neither one of them saw
Delilah pull a gun out from underneath her bed. She shot Toomay but
not before he could curse my father and ultimately me.”

Jed was pale and she was pretty sure he’d
fall down if he moved away from the wall. She needed to get this
over with. “Anyway, I came back from my time to stop the curse from
being uttered. I needed a reason to be in Mantosa and when I got
the chance to pretend to be Freida’s niece, I took it. I’m sorry,”
she said. “I lied to all of you and I’m sorry.”

He swallowed hard. “What…what were you doing
in Toomay’s room tonight? Dressed like that?”

“I’d mixed medication in with the whiskey.”
She pointed at the glass on the floor. “I thought if he drank the
whole bottle, it would kill him. If it didn’t kill him but he
simply passed out, I was going to put a pillow over his head and
smother him. I meant to kill him and I would have done it. I know
it’s hard to understand but he was evil, very evil.”

Jed shook his head. “I know he was evil.
Don’t forget, I saw his face after Pete shot Lenny.”

Was it possible that he believed her? “I
don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come, Jed. You
saved my life. And you rid the world of a very bad thing. You’ve
done more than you can possibly know.”

Jed looked her in the eye. “I’m glad he’s
dead. When I opened that door and I saw him strike you, I…” Jed
stopped. He crossed the room and stood before her. “I was so angry
with you. Freida got a telegram today from the real Merribelle
Wainwright and I knew that you were an imposter. But when I saw you
fall, I knew that none of that mattered. I love you Bella. I can’t
live without you. I want you to be my wife.”

What? She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t leave
her time, her family, her magic.

She opened her mouth but no sound came
out.

“Bella?” he said. He reached for her hand and
rubbed his thumb across the top of her knuckles. “I love you Bella.
Marry me.”

She felt sick and dizzy. She wanted him to
know that she’d stay if she could, if it wasn’t such an impossible
situation. “Jed, I just told you. I’m a witch. I live a hundred and
thirty years in the future.”

“I don’t care.”

He made it sound so simple. Tears leaked from
her eyes and ran down her cheeks. “I can’t,” she said. “I’m
sorry.”

She could see his chest rise and fall, as if
he was forcing air into his lungs.

She pulled her hands back, breaking the
connection. “I have to go. My father will be waiting for me, to
take me back home.”

“I love you,” he said again.

“I know. I love you too, Jed. Goodbye.”

She scooped up her clothes. She was at the
door when Jed spoke again.

“Bella, I want you to have this.”

She turned.

He held out the music box that he’d purchased
from Saul’s. “Take this,” he said. “I don’t understand why you have
to go. But if you must, I want you to have this. When you listen to
it, please remember me and know that I loved you very much.”

Oh, God. She reached for the music box. Their
fingers brushed and she knew that she would always remember his
touch—the warmth, the strength, the passion. She ran from the room.
Bart was standing at the end of the hall.

“Sweet Jesus, Bella. You can’t go outside
dressed like that.”

She wasn’t stopping now. He must have sensed
that because he shrugged off his own jacket. “Here. Take my
coat.”

She did. She slipped it on and when it came
to her knees, she dropped her other clothes and ran out the front
door of the hotel. She held the music box tight in both hands. The
street lanterns had been lit and she could see that someone had
drug Toomay’s body to the side of the road. She looked at him,
needing to assure herself that the man was really and truly
dead.

People were staring at her but she paid them
no attention. She walked toward the edge of town and wasn’t
surprised when her father slipped out of the shadows. It was the
father she left behind a week ago, not the one she’d seen earlier
talking to Bart.

“Bella, darling,” he said. He opened his arms
and she rushed into his comforting embrace. He held her tight and
she started to cry.

He patted her back. “Now, now, Bella.
Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. You did the best you could do.
Don’t cry.”

She pulled back her head. He thought she’d
failed. “Toomay is dead, Daddy. He never uttered the curse.”

His father threw back his head in relief.
“That’s my girl,” he said. “But why are you crying?”

Because I gained our freedom and lost my
heart in the process.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “We should
go. Averil will be worried.”

Her father put his hands on each side of her
face and stared at her. “Tell me what’s going on, Bella.”

“No.”

He took a step back. “Will you at least tell
what this is?” He pointed to the music box.

Fresh tears ran down Bella’s face. “Oh,
Daddy. I was so stupid. I fell in love.”

He cocked his head. “Oh. With who?”

“With Jed.” She sniffed. “He’s the sheriff.
Daddy, he’s sort of a tough guy until you get to know him. But he’s
strong and brave and kind and I should have known better.”