Between Two Worlds (4 page)

Feeling the weight immediately lift, she rolled onto her back and
gulped precious air back into her lungs.

“Are you all right ma’am?” The male hovering over her had a voice
as smooth as yogurt, but he didn’t sound particularly concerned that he’d
probably just broken every bone in her body. In fact, a small smile quirked his
mouth. Stunned, spitting out dirt and with hair in her eyes, Delaney’s initial
reaction was to lash out. She brushed the flyaway hair behind her ears and gazed
at him. A black cowboy hat tipped over hazel eyes, and stubble covered his
chin, cheeks and above his lip. Obviously, he’d just saved her life, but he’d
nearly killed her and humiliated her in the process. She felt her skirt bunched
up around her thighs. She tried, but couldn’t wiggle it back into place. A roar
of laughter erupted. She turned her head from side to side and saw what must
have been the whole town gathered round.

Coughing to clear the emotion lodged in her throat, she clenched
her fists and drilled a hole through the man with her eyes, which, she’d been
told, were at their iciest blue when she was angry or embarrassed.  His curious
gaze raked her from head to toe. After rubbing a hand across his chin, he drawled,
“Let me help you up. You’ve had an accident.” 

“Good deduction, Sherlock Holmes,” she snapped. More gleeful
chatter filled her ears.  “I’m glad you’re all so amused,” she muttered to the
crowd.  When a child’s giggle caught her attention, Delaney turned her head. A
young woman, apparently the child’s mother or a schoolteacher, cradled the
young blond boy in her arms nearby. The child smiled shyly at Delaney. Her
heart suddenly melted and she smiled back.

The man placed his hand on her back and gently eased her into a
sitting position. Kneeling beside her, his gaze locked with her. “I don’t think
she’s in shock,” he announced to the crowd. To Delaney he asked, “Are you hurt?”

She squinted at him and complained, “Of course I’m hurt. You just
body slammed me into the ground!” More laughter tittered through the crowd. He
offered his hand to help her up, but she smacked it away and the group hee-hawed
once again.

Delaney considered the fashion in which she was sitting and
realized there was no ladylike way for her to get up in the tight skirt without
giving everyone a show. There were a lot of wild-eyed men watching with great interest.
A show would not be a good idea.

“I apologize for what happened,” the man said.  “I was only trying
to help.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “You could have killed me!”

“I assure you, miss, the alternative would have been much worse.  A
freight wagon and a team of horses can do serious damage to a body. Nevertheless,
I beg your forgiveness. Please. Let me assist you up.”

Her skirt was short and tight, and it was going to be a near
impossible feat for her to get up on her own. The crowd was obviously tickled
by the situation, not to mention the man himself.  It seemed he suppressed a
grin.  He leaned down, offered his hand and whispered, “You haven’t much choice
if you wish to maintain your dignity.”

She stared. “You make a valid point, sir.” Appearing to relent,
Delaney stretched out her hand. But she was still reeling with embarrassment.
Instead of taking his hand, she shoved him as hard as she could.  He fell
backwards onto the ground with a grunt. While the entertained crowd laughed,
she scrambled to her knees in one swift but awkward movement. Although it felt
as if gravel was embedded in her knees, she smiled triumphantly, dusted off her
hands, and gave him a curt nod.

He lay on his back, propped up on his elbows, grinning mischievously.
“Nice,” he said.  “This is the thanks I get for saving your life.  I see the
kind of woman I’m dealing with now.”

Her eyebrow cocked. Adrenaline rushed through her veins. She
searched his face and body more closely. He wore a gray vest over a starched
white shirt, and a pair of glasses dangled from a cord around his neck. There
was a decisive gleam in his eyes, which were green—the color of summer leaves—marbled
with specks of brown. She liked his five o’clock shadow, and had to admit, he
cut a handsome figure of a man. His tone was teasing but kind, which was
another attractive trait.

“I guess you’re right about the alternative,” she finally said. Realizing
she’d reacted too strongly, she blamed her quick temper on the fiery Irish
blood running through her. Stretching out both arms, she smiled and said,
“Well, don’t just sit there on your butt. My knees are hurting. Come on and
help me up.”

“It would be my pleasure, miss.” He jumped up with the grace of a
deer, brushed off his pants legs, took hold of her hands, and hauled her to her
feet. Everyone standing around clapped, and the chivalrous gentleman placed a
palm on his abdomen and bowed at the waist.

“Thank you,” she said, while casting a glance down at her filthy
skirt and blouse. “What a mess I am.”

She hadn’t intended for the offhand comment to warrant a reaction,
but the man responded. “I disagree, miss. If I may be so forward, you’re quite
lovely, dust and all.”

He was smooth, all right. What confidence! Or was it plain
cockiness? Delaney wasn’t sure. She lowered her eyes and cleared her throat.
Whichever it was, he sounded sincere, and she couldn’t remember the last time a
man had given her a sincere compliment. She didn’t know how to take it. “I
suppose you’re my hero, aren’t you?” she said. “I guess I owe you. Perhaps I
can buy you dinner…or a drink.”

He grinned like the devil, and his eyes twinkled. “I’ll take both!
But in all fairness,
you’re
the real hero. You risked your life to save
that young child’s.”

“Where
is
the boy?” Delaney asked, having momentarily
forgotten about the child and how this had all started. Noticing he was no
longer in the spot where she’d last seen him, she gawked around. “Is he okay?”

The man peered into the crowd and spied the boy hiding behind his
teacher’s skirt. “Come here, son. Are you all right?”

The boy stepped forward, still holding his teacher’s hand. “Yes,
sir.”

“Are you hurt?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Just scraped my hand.” He stretched out
his palm to prove it.

“I can bandage that for you if you come by my office later,” the
man said.

“I’m okay, Doc. I guess Ma can bandage it when I get home.”

Delaney threw the man a sidelong glance.  “You’re a doctor?”

Grinning, he pulled a peppermint candy out of his vest pocket and
handed it to the little boy, who snatched it up and thanked him with a friendly
smile. Delaney noticed the child was missing a front tooth. “Do you have
something to say to the lady?” the doctor asked.

The youngster politely said, “Thank you for savin’ my life,
ma’am.”

She placed her hands on his narrow shoulders. “You’re welcome. Be
sure and look both ways before you cross the street next time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As the boy scurried back to the play yard with his friends,
Delaney ran her gaze up and down the doctor. She was five-six.  He looked
several inches taller, and was in good shape. From the way his body had felt on
top of her, he hid some muscles under his long sleeved shirt and corduroy
pants.

“So, you’re a physician? That’s real convenient for me,” she said,
rubbing her arm.

“Gabriel Whitman at your service.”  He nodded his head.

“Pleased to meet you, Dr. Whitman. I’m Delaney Marshall.” They
shook hands, and he held it a moment longer than she would have expected. She
slipped her hand out of his palm and said, “Despite feeing like I’ve been hit
by a Mack truck, I really do appreciate your saving my life. I reacted too
strongly a while ago.”

“I understand. I’m glad I was at the right place at the right time.”
His head angled. “What is a Mack truck?”

“Pardon me?” Before she could respond, someone in the crowd let a
catcall fly.

Gabriel faced the lingering group of curious bystanders and
declared the show to be over. “You can go on your way now.  I’ll take care of
the lady.  Thank you!”

The people dispersed, though most continued to stare and murmur as
they scattered.

“Why is everyone staring at me like that?” Delaney asked, slightly
annoyed.

His intense gaze raked over her again.  She knew she must look a
wreck. Her face was probably smudged with dust, her jacket and skirt were dirty,
and the thin stockings on her legs had runs running up and down them. What did
they expect? She’d just hiked through the hot desert and then gotten tackled
while saving a child’s life, for gosh sakes!

Gabriel’s face flushed.  “They stare because they probably suspect
you’re a show girl,” he answered.

“What would make them think that?”

“Your costume. It’s…provocative. Not like anything we usually see
around here. It’s got the tongues wagging, as you can tell.”

She glanced around. People still whispered behind cupped hands.
“Why? This happens to be a very expensive suit I’m wearing. Well, it
was
,
before I ruined it in the dirt.”

“I’ve no doubt,” he replied. “The shade is becoming on you, but
women don’t generally show their legs unless they’re an actress from back east
or they work at the dance hall.” His eyebrow arched in question, and she noted
his eyes looked green one moment and brown the next. “Have you come to town to
work at the dance hall?” There was a note of intrigue in the inquiry.

“No!” she exclaimed. She could feel her eyes flashing.

He chuckled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Well, you did.” She stuck out her lower lip in a fake pout. “Do I
really look like a…a dance hall girl to you?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know much about dance hall girls.”

“Uh-huh.” She tossed him a smug smile. He was quite good looking.
He’d probably known one or two dance hall girls in his time, though she found
his use of the old fashioned word amusing. He was a good actor—staying in
character the way he was. “And the moon is made of cheese, too,” she joked.

“Ah, don’t tell me it’s
not
made of cheese, Miss Marshall.
I’ll never believe another thing my dear mother ever told me. It is
miss
,
isn’t it?” He peered at the bare fingers of her left hand.

“Yes, but I prefer Ms.”

“Beg your pardon? What’s a Ms.?”

“What’s a Ms.?” she repeated. For a second, she wondered if she
really was on a movie set, or if she was in the middle of a long, drawn-out dream,
like she’d first suspected. Playing along, she grinned and answered his
question. “It’s a title, like missus or miss.” He was a very good actor,
pretending like he had no idea what she was talking about. “Some women don’t
want to be labeled as being either married or single,” she continued,
chattering nervously because of the way he stared intensely. “Men use the term ‘mister’
whatever their marital status, so we chose ‘Ms.’ It’s a generic, non-disclosure
title.”

“Generic? Non-disclosure? I’ve never heard of such things.” He laughed.
“Why wouldn’t a woman want people to know she’s married? What kind of town do
you hail from that it requires women to go by a ‘generic’ title?”

She waved him off, feeling as confused as he looked. “Oh, never
mind. You can just call me Delaney.”

As he studied her again, she felt like a painting that was being
appraised. “Come on. Let’s get out of this street,” he said. “I’ll walk you to
my medical office where you can clean up, and I’ll examine you—no charge, of
course. I’m afraid I did smash you awfully hard.”

She touched her elbow and then arched her back. “Yes, you did. I’m
sore in a couple of spots.”

“Again, please accept my most sincere apology. I’ll fix you up
with a salve that should ease the pain.”

Four

Delaney was not surprised when Gabriel presented his arm. Here was
a man who had obviously learned something from the historical role he
played—how to treat a lady with respect. She’d never had a date offer his arm
before, but the fictional Dr. Whitman was not like any of the men she knew. She
could tell that from the moment their eyes met. He was a true gentleman in
every sense of the word—a man from another century.  Meredith’s words echoed in
her mind. Too bad Gabriel would probably go back to his modern-day demeanor and
attitudes once he was out of costume.

She snatched up the mismatched high heels that she’d kicked off
and the purse that was still lying in the street where she’d dropped it. She
linked her arm through his, satisfied for the moment with playacting alongside
him. Without speaking, they made their way down the street to the medical
clinic front she’d passed earlier. Townsfolk continued to stare, but Gabriel simply
nodded at them.

When they entered the building, she disengaged herself from his
arm and gazed around, surprised to find the room fully set up like a doctor’s
office.  The front parlor she took to be the waiting room. It was simply furnished
with three hardback chairs, a side table, and a worn oriental rug covering
hardwood floors. Heavy velvet drapes of midnight blue, tied back from the
windows with gold tasseled cords, were the most opulent furnishings in the room.