A Little Time in Texas (8 page)

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him.

“Those men will be after you now.”

“It’s a big state,” she said. “I’ll go where they can’t find me. Don’t worry about me. You’re the one in danger. We need to get back to the cave. Now that you’ve killed Jake, they won’t stop hunting until they find you and kill you.”

Dallas took off his hat and thrust a hand through his hair. “What a mess,” he muttered.

Angel put a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Shouldn’t we at least head for the cave?”

Dallas was torn, but what she said made sense.
If worse came to worst, he’d take her back to the future with him whether she wanted to go or not. “All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”

The trip was quicker on horseback. They stopped only to relieve themselves and to drink some water from the river at dawn. It was nearly noon by the time they reached the cave. Or rather, the spot where the cave was supposed to be.

It wasn’t there.

Dallas had known for some time that they were being followed. The size of the dust cloud left no doubt in his mind that it was a group of men. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out which men. He kicked his leg over the horse’s neck, then helped Angel dismount.

His hands lingered at her waist. Her disheveled look made her seem vulnerable. One sleeve of the lacy blouse was torn at the shoulder. Her skirt, which had been hiked up over her knees on horseback revealing old-fashioned high-button shoes, was layered with fine dust.

She looked like a damsel in distress, and he wanted desperately to rescue her. Only he would have to stay in this world to do it.

He was willing to make the sacrifice. There was no one who would miss him if he stayed here, if he simply disappeared. Why not? It made sense. He would—

Dallas felt the awful pain before he heard the shot. His leg crumpled under him, and since he was holding Angel, he pulled her down with him into a ravine that gave them some protection.

“You’ve been shot!” she cried. She touched his leg and her hand came away stained red with blood. “Oh, God, Dallas!”

He pulled the bandanna from around his neck with hands that weren’t as steady as he wished. He was losing blood fast from the bullet wound in his thigh.

“Tie this around my leg, above the wound,” he instructed Angel.

Another woman would have fainted, he thought, or been hysterical and unable to help. Angel simply did as she was told. When she finished, she looked up at him and he felt something deep inside him melt and flow. It was too bad they probably weren’t going to live too much longer. It would have been interesting to see how they fared together in the years to come.

One of the outlaws made the mistake of showing himself, and Dallas shot him.

“Give yourself up!” another outlaw shouted. “You’re gonna die of thirst out there anyway. Why make it harder on yourselves? We ain’t gonna kill you, Ranger. We just want the girl.”

Dallas didn’t bother to answer. There was no
question of giving Angel up. But the outlaws had a point. He and Angel didn’t have water or food. And there was no escape across the plains without getting shot.

The next half hour passed slowly as the sun rose to its zenith. Dallas and Angel lay close together in a narrow ravine that provided cover from the outlaws. Dallas had grasped Angel’s hand, and he held onto it as the lifeblood seeped out of him. He intended to fight, but wounded as he was, the chances were slim that they would escape the outlaws.

“Dallas.”

The combination of urgency and wonder in Angel’s voice made him open his eyes. She was gazing toward the rock wall. When he turned and looked, the cave opening was there.

“How?” she asked.

Suddenly Dallas knew. He looked up at the sun directly overhead. “It’s exactly noon,” he said. “It was noon when we arrived yesterday. Noon when I rescued you the first time.”

“We have to get you into the cave before the opening disappears again,” Angel said.

“I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“You don’t have much choice,” Angel said. “I belong here, Dallas.”

He opened his mouth to argue with her and shut
it again. How could he say it was better for her in his world. He knew how it felt to be in the wrong place, in the wrong time. Could he really ask her to come with him to the future? Was it fair? Was it right? Especially when he wasn’t sure exactly what his feelings were for her.

He was physically attracted to her. But what would happen when he tired of her? Or she tired of him? He couldn’t bear the thought. Maybe she was right. Maybe he had to let her make her own choice.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll hold them off while you take the horse and escape.”

“You can’t—”

“Look, Angel. I’m not going at all if I have to leave you here with them. If you want me gone, you’re going to have to make good your own escape. I’ll pin them down and you make a run for it. When I’m sure you’re safe, I’ll head into the cave. They didn’t have any luck following me last time, and I can lose them again just as easily.”

Angel was torn. She didn’t want him to go back to the future. But could she ask him to stay? This world wasn’t anything like his own. He would likely regret his decision and leave her. And while she might be able to let him go now, she would never be able to do it later.

“All right,” she said. “Be careful, Dallas, please. I’ll…I’ll miss you.”

He didn’t answer with words, just pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard, tasting, touching, gathering memories for the long years ahead. Abruptly, he released her.

“Go!”

Angel heard gunshots behind her as she kicked the mustang into a run. A bullet whined past her ear. Just before she reached a rise in the terrain—and safety—she turned the mustang and came galloping back toward Dallas.

She rode low on the pony, making as small a target as possible. She stopped the horse beside Dallas and said, “Grab hold of the horn and I’ll help you get to the cave opening.”

“Angel, damn you—”

“There isn’t time to argue! Just do it!”

Grasping the stirrup, Dallas managed to get to his feet. He clung to the horn as Angel urged the mustang the short distance to the cave opening.

“They’re gonna get away!” an outlaw cried.

“Not this time!” another answered. “I got enough dynamite to make sure they don’t come outta there alive!”

Angel had only thought far enough ahead to realize that with his leg wound, Dallas needed her help getting to the cave entrance. But hearing the
shouts from the outlaws made it clear that if she left him now, if she ran away to save herself, she was condemning Dallas to almost certain death. And that she could not do.

She didn’t allow herself to contemplate the consequences of her actions. She dismounted and grabbed Dallas around the waist, helping him hobble into the cave.

“Angel, you have to leave,” Dallas said in a weak voice. “Otherwise—”

“Shut up and keep walking,” Angel said. “Neither one of us will have anything to complain about if we don’t get away from the entrance to this cave.”

They could hear the cowboys closing in on them. Dallas fired a warning shot to keep them at a distance, but they could hear from the cowboys’ mutterings that they had other plans in mind.

“Got…to get…around that first bend,” Dallas panted.

Angel could barely hold him up, he was so weak. “Come on, Dallas,” she urged. “Just a little farther.”

They had just turned the corner when they heard the explosion. Dallas staggered forward, dragging Angel along with him. This time the explosion didn’t travel so far into the cave. Whether the walls were stronger, or the water had some
thing to do with it, neither of them knew. But when the dust had settled, they were still alive.

“It’s dark,” Angel said into the silence.

Dallas pulled her close. “I know.”

“I guess there’s no going back now.”

“I guess not.”

“So, you’re stuck with me,” Angel said.

Dallas squeezed her hard. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

N
early thirty days had passed since they had returned from their journey to the past, and Angel was still with Dallas.

Dallas had managed to drive the truck back to his ranch and had called Adam Philips to the house to treat his wound.

“Gun went off accidentally,” Dallas explained tersely when the doctor arrived.

Adam had looked at his friend askance, but he hadn’t questioned him. If he thought Angel’s ravaged appearance in old-fashioned clothing odd, he didn’t mention it. “I’ll have to report this gunshot wound to the authorities,” he said.

“Go ahead,” Dallas said. “It was an accident.” Dallas refused to go to the hospital. “Angel can take care of me at home,” he said.

Adam clucked his tongue at his friend’s stubbornness, but when Angel confirmed her willingness to nurse Dallas, he didn’t argue, just said, “I’ll be by to check on you regularly.”

There was no investigation to speak of. Dallas
stuck by his story about how he’d been shot, and though Angel stood by white-faced, she didn’t contradict him.

The Texas Rangers told Dallas to take his time getting back on his feet, but Dallas only managed to stay in his bed for about three days.

He had worried that his interference in the past might somehow have affected history. After all, he had killed several men who might have had important descendants. One of the first things he did was to search out the San Antonio newspaper dated October 7, 1864. He was intrigued by a portion of the article he found. It read:

A mysterious man claiming to be a Texas Ranger foiled an attempted jailbreak last night. After an all-night chase, the Texas Rangers captured the men responsible for blowing up the jail. The outlaws claimed that the man who shot convicted murderer and bank robber Jake Dillon said he was a Texas Ranger. The Rangers have no knowledge of the mystery man, whose name and whereabouts remain unknown.

Somehow, his intervention had become a part of history.

Satisfied that the past would remain the past,
Dallas had begun Angel’s education in earnest. She was stuck in the future because she had saved his life. He was going to make sure she wasn’t stuck with him—not if she didn’t want to be, anyway.

Dallas had reminded Angel of the bargain they had made before they entered the cave for the last time—that she would learn what she needed to know to survive in the twentieth century. So far she hadn’t balked at keeping it.

“I’m used to taking care of myself,” she had said. “The sooner I’m able to be independent, the better.”

Of course he had agreed with her. After all, didn’t he value his privacy?

Dallas had been amazed at the way Angel threw herself into learning everything she could about the twentieth century. For the past few weeks he had been her teacher, and she had been—most of the time—an apt and willing pupil. Until today.

Dallas had saved driving lessons for last because he had feared that once Angel knew how to drive, she might steal his truck and disappear. Even now he didn’t discount the possibility. However, first she had to learn to drive.

“Push down. Now let up. Easy does it. Give it some gas!” Dallas said.

The truck lurched and stalled. “I can’t do it!” Angel cried. “I’ll never get the hang of this!”

“You’re doing fine,” Dallas said. “Everybody has trouble learning to drive a stick shift at first.”

“Did you?”

“Well, no, but—”

Angel shoved open the truck door and stepped down. “Who are you trying to fool, yourself or me? I don’t fit in here,” Angel ranted. “I can’t do the simplest things.”

Dallas slid across the seat and came after her. “Driving a stick shift isn’t exactly simple.”

“You can do it,” she said scornfully over her shoulder.

“You aren’t going to make me lose my temper, Angel, so stop trying.”

She headed for Dallas’s front porch and flopped down into a rocker there.

He followed her. “Over the past month you’ve learned how to use every appliance in the house,” he said. “Even the computer.”

Angel snorted. “I can turn it on and get words to appear on the screen. Anybody could do that.”

“There you’re wrong,” Dallas said. “Lots of people are intimidated by computers. That’s what makes you special, Angel. Nothing scares you off.”

Angel stared at him in disbelief. If only he
knew! She had spent the past month terrified that she would find herself drowning in water over her head. Dallas had filled her as full of information as a mail-order catalog. If he hadn’t been a patient man…

Even so, she had managed to provoke him often enough into losing his temper. It had become a sort of game—for her to push and him to shove back. The flare of tempers, his and hers, had helped to ease the sexual tension that was never far beneath the surface.

She threaded her fingers together and clutched them tight to keep from reaching out to Dallas. She wanted the comfort of being held in his arms. It wasn’t a safe thing to ask for, because she was liable to get a whole lot more than comfort. Angel was inexperienced with men, but that didn’t mean she was totally naive. She knew Dallas wanted her. Both his eyes and his body betrayed his desire. Since the day they’d returned from the past, he had been a perfect gentleman. She was going to do her darnedest to help him stay that way.

Dallas saw the muscles work in Angel’s jaw and knew she had her teeth clenched again. It wasn’t the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last. The tension between them had gotten unbearable over the past month. He had tried to hide
the way he felt about her, but being a man, his reaction had too often been visible.

He hadn’t touched her. Not the way he’d wanted to, anyway. It was getting harder, though, not to reach out and hold her close, to fit them together as a man and woman were meant to be. Soon she would be independent. Soon she wouldn’t need him at all, anymore. And, strange as it seemed, he felt a sense of impending loss.

“You can relax,” Angel said. “I’m not going to burst into tears or have a hissy fit or start laughing hysterically. I’ve got myself under control.”

“Sure you do,” Dallas said, taking a seat on the top porch step. “You’re some special kind of woman, Angel. Have I ever told you that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Once or twice a day for the past month.”

He grinned. “Well, I mean it. You’ve got to cut yourself some slack. You can’t expect to catch up on a hundred and twenty-odd years in thirty days.”

Dallas always made a joke when he spoke about her coming from the past. Angel knew it was because he still didn’t feel comfortable with the idea. But he also made her laugh when she felt like crying and provoked her into argument when she felt like giving up. She didn’t know
when she had ever met a man who challenged her the way he did.

The biggest surprise of all was that Dallas expected her to have a mind of her own and to use it. While Angel had never considered herself less capable than a man, she had never known a man who had treated her as an equal. Dallas’s expectations were high, and it often took every ounce of courage she had to meet them. Like this driving business.

To be perfectly frank, the truck terrified her. Not that she hadn’t driven a four-horse team in her day. She had. But there were
two hundred
horses under the hood of the truck. That was a lot of power. Dallas seemed to think she could handle it. She wasn’t so sure.

Angel would have said forget it, except there were practical reasons why she had to overcome her fears. Dallas’s leave of absence was up tomorrow, and if she didn’t learn to drive, she would find herself isolated at his ranch. Not that she was looking forward to venturing out into the world without Dallas as a guide. The twentieth century was as daunting as it was exciting.

She had tried, over the past month, to find a place where she fit in. However, in this century, her lack of advanced education was a distinct disadvantage. Unfortunately, she hadn’t much ex
perience earning her living honestly, and Dallas had made it clear she wouldn’t be earning it dishonestly.

Dallas had promised he would help her get whatever college degree she wanted, but the truth was, Angel had never been the best of students. She had spent more time in school daydreaming than studying. At Dallas’s urging, she had agreed to sign up for some adult education courses at the local junior college. Which meant she had to learn how to drive so she could get to class.

Angel turned to Dallas, somewhat abashed by the childish tantrum her fears had caused. She huffed out a breath of air and said, “I’m sorry.”

“I wish I had a tape recorder handy,” he said. “I don’t think those are words often heard from your lips.”

“Tape recorder,” Angel repeated. “That’s the little box you talk into, and it repeats whatever you say back to you?”

“Yes. Or it can play music or other recordings.”

“There’s so much to remember!”

“You’re doing fine,” Dallas said, laying a hand on her knee. “Better than fine. Great.”

“Except where driving is concerned.”

“Want to give it another try?”

Angel shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not?” Ev
erything had gone out of her head except an awareness of Dallas’s hand on her knee. She subtly shifted out from under his hand, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

Dallas noticed. His own response to the contact with Angel was seated a lot lower than her delightfully pinkened cheeks. The past month had been agony and ecstasy rolled into one. Having Angel living with him was like having a kid around—every experience was new and exciting for her. But she wasn’t a kid, and his reaction to her was definitely a grown-up one.

Despite the moments of discomfort, he wouldn’t have traded his time with her for anything. He desired her more than any woman he had ever known. Because he considered her vulnerable, he hadn’t pressed her for a more intimate relationship. However, he found he couldn’t leave her alone, either. Being her teacher had given him a good excuse to spend a lot of time with her.

He thought back over their first trip to a grocery store. Angel had picked everything up and examined it, looking for foods she recognized and inquisitive about those she didn’t.

“Pineapple?” she had asked. “How can you eat something that’s so prickly on the outside?”

“You cut the outside off,” Dallas had explained. They’d bought one, and he’d had the
pleasure of seeing her grin as the juice dripped down her chin.

Bread cut in slices, milk in a carton, fudge Popsicles, and of course more Twinkies and potato chips, quickly found their way into the shopping cart.

“This stuff is called spaghetti?”

“You’ll love it,” he had promised.

He had never laughed so much in his life as he did watching her twist spaghetti endlessly on a fork. She had laughed, too, once she got the hang of it.

Mexican food she knew, and insisted on buying all the ingredients for burritos, enchiladas and chili.

“I’m a pretty good cook with what I know,” she’d said.

And she was. The stuff she cooked was so hot his head had nearly come off.

She knew all about tinned foods, which they’d had in 1864—not in such variety, of course. She’d reluctantly agreed to try the frozen ones, which he’d suggested were fresher tasting.

“Why these green beans look like they’ve just been snapped!” she exclaimed when she finally opened the package.

He’d felt as proud as though he’d personally planted the beans and hoed and harvested them.

Angel told him again and again how lucky he was to be able to walk up to the meat counter and have anything he wanted, not only skinned or plucked, but cut into serving sizes.

It had been a little touch and go at first when they got to the cosmetic and personal hygiene shelves at the grocery. Angel had wanted to know what everything was used for. In some cases his explanations were simple; in other cases they were not.

She was skeptical about using the makeup he pointed out to her. Only one kind of woman painted her face in 1864. Dallas had assured her that today it wasn’t only the “soiled doves” who did. When he thought about it, he had found Angel’s fresh face appealing without a hint of cosmetic aids. He pushed the cart right on by without suggesting that she purchase anything.

Explanations about some feminine products he knew she would need left them both red-faced by the time he finished. Angel put a box of the necessary items in the grocery cart with the comment, “These are really…convenient.”

She picked up a box of condoms with the same eager innocence that had prompted each of her inquiries and read the label. Then she looked back up at the infinite variety of this particular product available. He watched her stiffen.

“What, exactly, is in this box?” she asked.

“A condom,” he managed in what he thought was a creditably normal voice. “It…uh…a man wears it during…A man wears it.” He felt unaccountably uncomfortable discussing it with her. Which was dumb. Everyone knew about condoms nowadays. He kept a box at home. They certainly didn’t need to buy any more. However, he wanted her to understand what they were, how they were used and why. And he realized he’d been thinking a lot lately about what it would be like to make love to Angel. He’d better do this right.

“A man wears a condom during sexual intercourse,” he explained.

He looked up and caught a very pregnant woman smiling at him from behind her shopping cart. He flushed to the roots of his hair. “Are you ready to go now?” he asked Angel.

“Not yet. It says here that a condom is ‘highly effective against pregnancy.’”

“It’s used for both contraception and protection from disease.”

“Like syphilis?”

“Yes, and AIDS.”

Her brow furrowed and he explained the devastation wrought in the past decade by the new disease. Meanwhile, syphilis was no longer the
killer it had been in the past, but could be treated with medication.

It was plain from her distracted look that her thoughts were elsewhere. “You can actually prevent pregnancy with these?” she asked.

“A condom isn’t a hundred percent effective,” he said. “Pills are better for preventing pregnancy.”