Between Two Worlds (8 page)

“You’re talking about women in 1888,” she reminded him. “Remember,
I’m not from around here.”

“You’re very outspoken. Are all the ladies in the future like
you?”

“There are a whole lot of women even more outspoken than me, back
where I come from. I’m just telling you how it is for me. Men are not a
priority at this point in my life.” As soon as the words left her mouth,
Delaney wondered if she were lying to herself. Granted, she hadn’t had luck
with men of late, but someday she hoped to become a wife and mother. Bad
streaks could turn like the eye of a storm. What if meeting Gabriel was the
beginning of a change in her luck? He was nothing like the men she knew in her
own time period. He was cut from a different cloth, and her intuition told her
he’d make a wonderful husband.

But who was she fooling? There was no use in even speculating on
what ifs, no matter how attractive he was. She didn’t belong here.
Keep your
mind on the matter at
hand, Delaney, which is getting home.
She
started walking again, and he fell back in step beside her, both of them quiet.
They hadn’t gotten twenty feet down the walk when she stopped again. Her ears perked.
A throaty whistle sang above them. She looked up and saw three soiled doves
hanging over the rail on the balcony above the saloon. The whistler leaned way
over and displayed her goods, which tumbled almost all of the way out of her
tight black corset. The young woman’s hair was the color of a flaming
southwestern sunset—a red mass of long unruly curls highlighted with shades of
blonde. Underneath the thick coat of paint was a young face. Delaney figured
she couldn’t be over seventeen, if that.

“Now, that’s what I call good advertising,” she whispered to
Gabriel.

The girl called out to the doctor. He waved and called back,
“Hello, ladies. It’s a lovely afternoon, isn’t it?” They all giggled.

“It’d be even lovelier if you came up for a visit, Doc,” the
red-haired girl purred, as she batted her long eyelashes.

A grin split Gabriel’s mouth and the girls all giggled again.

“Friends of yours, Doctor?” Delaney asked with a sly smile as they
walked on.

“No. I wouldn’t say that. I don’t know much about any of them,
except they’re career ladies,” he countered with a hint of the devil. “Much
like yourself.”

Before she could fire back a response, she spied a short, stocky
man at the hitching post outside the gambling parlor next door. In plain view,
he flogged his horse, and no one was coming to the animal’s rescue. He smacked
the stallion with a bullwhip as the horse bucked and reared and tried to escape
its ties.

Delaney dropped her bags, hiked up her skirt, and shot off like a
rocket. She flung herself onto his back, and the force of impact against his
hard body was like a car colliding with a brick wall. “Stop beating that
horse!” she screamed as she pummeled the man’s shoulders.

He spun and flung her away with his beefy arm, then raised the
whip in the air and scowled at her. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’,
woman?” He spat tobacco juice onto the ground.

She glared into his steel-gray eyes and ran at him again,
attempting to pry the braided leather instrument from his hand. “I’m stopping
you from abusing that innocent animal, you jackass!”

There wasn’t much of a struggle. The man took hold of her
shoulders with his two powerful hands, gave her a shove, and slung her like a
rag doll into the dirt. Moaning, she frowned up at him and rubbed her hip.

“That’s enough, Hooper!” Gabriel raced to Delaney’s side. He
helped her up from the ground for the second time that day and then gruffly
ordered, “Don’t move.” The firm grip he placed on her arm and the fierce look
in his eye let her know he was not talking just to hear his own teeth rattle.
He meant for her to stay put.

After taking huge strides toward the man, Gabriel retracted his
fist and punched the horse beater in his already bent nose. Blood spurted.

Rooted right where Gabriel had left her, Delaney stared in
wide-eyed shock. A smile parted her lips as she watched him take a defensive
stance and raise his balled fists, prepared to do further battle.

“Get him, Doc!” some boys on the street yelled. Other people began
to gather and cheer him on.

Momentarily stunned by the blood gushing from his nose, Hooper
reacted slowly at first. Then his eyes boiled with fiery rage.

Gabriel stalked his opponent like a cougar, bouncing on the balls
of his feet. His voice was calm when he said, “I don’t want to fight you,
Warren, but you had no right to hurt the lady, or that horse. I want you to apologize
to Miss Marshall.”

The man bled profusely. He raked a rough hand across his lips,
staining his knuckles with blood. He sneered and murmured, “I’ll beat the
woman, too, if she don’t get outta my sight and mind her own damn business.” As
he raised the whip in the air again, he spit a thick stream of yellow tobacco
juice onto the street, missing Delaney’s boots by mere inches.

“You’ll find yourself on the reckoning end of that bullwhip if you
dare to lay a hand on her, now or ever,” Gabriel warned. Quicker than a cat on
a parakeet, Gabriel lunged and wrenched the whip out of Warren’s fist. With a
flick of his wrist, the whip unrolled and splintered the ground like a lightning
strike. The loud
crack
caused Delaney to flinch. The horse nickered,
too, and backed up, pulling against the lead rope.

“Sorry, boy,” Gabriel apologized to the horse.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Hooper thundered. Before he
could say more, Gabriel aimed the whip at his legs and let it fly. The braided
leather snapped and coiled around the man’s calves like a cobra, slicing open the
fabric of his pants and biting the skin. Hooper screeched and crashed onto his
side, like a tree falling.

With many bystanders watching—Delaney included—Gabriel stood over
him, casting a long shadow on the ground, and jerked the whip. As it unwound it
dug into the meat of Hooper’s leg, peeling off a thin layer of skin, causing him
to yelp like a dog. Gabriel snapped the whip again. “Are you ready to apologize?”
He spoke slowly, with a dead calm, and showed no signs of fear.

Resentment clouded Warren’s face, but he nodded once and got to
his knees. He stumbled to his feet and brushed the dirt off his pants. The torn
material of his pant leg flapped like a tiny flag, and blood dripped from the
open calf wound. Staggering to Delaney, he mumbled, “Sorry ma'am,” but the
apology was far from genuine.

A cheer filtered through the crowd.

She returned a small nod and forced herself to meet the man’s
stone cold eyes. Anger flashed behind them. Under her frontier skirt and
blouse, her body trembled and perspiration dripped down her spine.

Hooper stared her down with his mouth open and his yellowed teeth
grinding together. Limping back to Gabriel, he said, “Satisfied? Now give me my
whip.”

Gabriel shook his head. “You’re not getting this back.”

Warren’s lip curled into a snarl before turning toward his mount.
After he untied the lead rope, he stuck his foot in the stirrup and slung his
damaged leg over the saddle.

Gabriel inched near. In a barely audible voice, he said, “If I ever
hear of you beating this horse again, I’ll personally track you down and show
you what this bullwhip can really do.” With that, he gently patted the horse’s
hind end before Warren reined and trotted the animal down the street.

Delaney walked straight up to Gabriel and couldn’t hold back her
enthusiasm. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, and she was out of breath with
the thrill of it all. “I’m impressed, Gabriel! What a display of courage that
was. You’re a real badass, aren’t you? I have to confess, I didn’t think you
were the type.”

“You know nothing about me, Delaney,” he said, removing his hat
and running a hand through his hair.  He replaced the Stetson. “Stick around,
and I might impress you in more ways than one.” He winked and coiled the whip
into a circle and hung it over his arm.

She suddenly saw him in a totally new light. He was the Indiana
Jones of the Wild West. Bravado in a man was very attractive in any century, particularly
when his body was as muscular as Gabriel’s. She sighed as she watched him bend over
and retrieve her bags from the ground. A tingling sensation coursed through
her. She'd nearly forgotten what it felt like to be excited by a real man. He
gently placed the sacks in her hands.

“You were ready to fight that bully for me,” she said, dizzy with
admiration.

“And for the horse,” he reminded her.

She punched his arm and chuckled. “I think I speak for me
and
the
horse when I say, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“No one’s ever fought for me before,” she repeated.

His mouth formed a thin line. “I know we just met, Delaney, but
I’ll fight a hundred Warren Hoopers for you, if need be. And that’s a promise.”

Her cheeks grew warm, and tingles crept across her neck, down her
arms, and let loose inside her stomach. It’d been such a long time since she’d
felt the kind of physical sensations he stirred in her. It scared and aroused
her at the same time.

Why am I meeting a nice guy now? she wondered.
It wasn’t fair, but that was par for the course.
I travel back
in time to a place where I don’t
belong, and I literally run into a good
guy who seems to dig me. And he’s single. That’s just my luck, isn’t it?

“You know, you showed a lot of guts yourself,” Gabriel said,
returning the compliment and rousing her from her thoughts. “You weren’t going
to back down. That’s the second time today you risked your own life for
another’s.”

She smiled, feeling proud. “A woman has to do what a woman has to
do.”

“No. It’s more than that. I don’t know many people—women
or
men—who
would do what you’ve done today. You leapt in front of wild horses to save a
child, and you risked a beating from that ignorant louse in order to protect a
horse. You’re a special person, Miss Marshall.” The sincerity with which he
spoke was something she wasn’t used to. He placed his hands on her shoulders.
“I’ve never met a woman like you before, Delaney. However it happened, I’m awfully
glad that Irishman, Samuel McKinney, convinced you to cross that bridge into
1888. Frankly, I hope you never go back to the future.”

His confession floored her. She didn’t know what to say, and her
head was spinning. She was intoxicated not only by his sweet words, but by his
raw masculinity mixed with some spicy scent. Standing so near to him was about
to become her undoing. Her knees grew weak and her tongue, for once, felt tied.
She was going back home soon. The two of them lived in different
worlds—literally. There was no use in starting something she could never
finish. Delaney gently shrugged away from his touch and backed up a few steps.

When she finally managed to speak, her voice came out small.
“Maybe we should get on down to that boarding house now.”

Seven

Gabriel knocked on the door of the two-story clapboard home.
Hanging on the door was a large wreath covered in black fabric, decorated with
black ribbons.

“What’s this for?” Delaney asked.

“It’s a mourning wreath. One of the boarders passed away recently.
She was an elderly lady who, I was told, lived here for years.”

“Oh.” She glanced around. “This is a beautiful wraparound front
porch.” She was thinking it was large enough for entertaining, and also a
romantic spot for sitting and gazing up at the stars at night with someone
special. The porch lacked furniture or decor of any kind, aside from three rocking
chairs and a big potted cactus next to the door. She could imagine it decked
out in white wicker settees and armchairs, and half a dozen pots of colorful
blooming flowers hanging from the rafters.

She peered down the street to the place where she’d nearly been
killed by the runaway wagon. The school was at the end of the road, but its
play yard was quiet now. She also thought of the little blond boy she’d saved,
and wondered how he was faring. He’d probably already forgotten about the
incident. Kids bounced back fast.

The door creaked open and they were met by a plump, honey-eyed
woman looking to be in her fifties, wearing an apron over her dress—just the
type of lady Delaney expected to see running a boarding house. Delaney thrust
her hand out to shake before Gabriel could make the introductions.

“Mrs. Quinn. It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Delaney
Marshall, and I find myself in need of a place to stay for the night. Dr.
Whitman thought you might have a room available.” As she swept her hand in an
arc to include him in the greeting, she noticed the amused look on his face.

The woman’s head was a helmet of tight brown pin curls. She
giggled like a girl as she said hello to Gabriel and then returned Delaney’s
handshake. “Hello, Miss Marshall. I’ve heard all about you. Please come in.
You, too, Dr. Whitman.” She welcomed them through the door into the foyer.

They stepped onto an Oriental rug runner and Delaney glanced
around. The home was adorned in pure Victorian style—warm and inviting with
polished hardwood floors, a grand oak staircase, and a glass chandelier that
hung from the high ceiling. A hutch with glass doors, which housed a collection
of china plates with a pink floral pattern, stood against one wall of the
foyer, and several potted plants were scattered about on the floor. A mirror hung
on the wall, but it was covered with more black fabric.