Taken by the Cowboy (23 page)

Jessica looked down at
her feet.

"I'll come by around
noon," he said.

He left her there at
the gate, and she wondered uneasily if this would turn out to be a
mistake. Maybe she would be wiser to keep her extraordinary secret
to herself and just try to fit in.

But no. She couldn’t
live like that.

She had to tell
him.

* * *

The following day,
Jessica stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, gliding a
brush down the length of her hair, wondering how Truman was going
to react when she told him where she came from.

What would he think
about microwave ovens, movies, and space travel. Would he even
believe it? And what if she were able to find a way home? If she
could take him with her, would he come?

She was imagining all
that when the sound of hoof beats approached the house. A moment
later, a knock sounded at the front door.

"Jessica!" Angus called
up the stairs. "Sheriff Wade is here to see you!"

A thrill moved through
her. Taking one last look in the mirror, she quickly twisted her
hair up into a knot on top of her head, pinned it and tucked the
stray locks in as best she could. She smoothed out her dress,
picked up her purse, and headed downstairs.

When she reached the
parlor and her gaze fell upon Truman standing in front of the
fireplace, she could go no further. Their eyes met and locked, and
her heart turned over in her chest.

Before she entered the
room, Angus donned his hat and told them he was heading into town
to run a few errands, but Jessica knew he was simply giving them
some time to be alone.

"Good morning," Truman
said after the door swung shut behind Angus.

"Good morning." She
strode into the room. "Do you want to sit down?"

Truman hesitated. He
turned his hat over in his hands. His voice was heavy with what
sounded like an apology, and Jessica felt a sudden twinge of
discomfort.

"I'm afraid this isn't
a social call," he told her.

“But I thought we were
going to spend the day together.”

He shook his head. "Not
today.”

Her stomach began to
churn with a sinking dread. “Why not?”

“Because Virgil Norton
was murdered last night."

“What!” Jessica
exclaimed, her heart suddenly racing. They had seen Virgil only
yesterday. "How? What happened?"

"That’s what I’d like
to know. I came to ask you where you were last night. Some time
after eleven."

Her mind refused to
register what he was implying. "You can't possibly think...."

"I don't think
anything,” he replied. “Just answer me."

She sat down. "I was
here, sleeping. You don’t seriously think I did it."

"Did you?" he
asked.

"Of course not!"

He looked down at his
boots, as if he didn’t know what to believe. "I had to ask," he
said coolly. "I’m the sheriff, and it's my job."

Jessica could feel her
mood veering sharply to anger. "I thought you knew me better than
that by now."

He gave no reply, and
she noticed the muscle at his jaw was twitching. "I'm sorry,
Jessica,” he said, “but you’re going to have to come with me."

She scoffed in
disbelief. "What are you saying?"

"Just until we get
everything straightened out. It’s for your own protection."

“
My
protection? Why?”

He hesitated, his
eyebrows pulling together in frustration. "Because if I don't bring
you in, I might have a riot on my hands. There was another article
in the paper this morning, and it said there was a witness who saw
you do it. The folks of Dodge won't stand for any more of this. I
just can’t guarantee your safety."

She massaged her
temples with two fingertips. "But I didn't do it. You can't lock me
up because of a sensational story in a newspaper, just to keep
people happy. It's not right. And who is the witness?"

"We don’t know yet.
That information wasn’t printed in the paper, but we’re working on
it. That’s why I need to take you in. Until I find out who killed
Virgil, you're the only suspect, and I can't even prove you're who
you say you are."

Jessica was tempted to
spill everything out there and then, but she resisted the urge
because he’d never believe it – not under these circumstances. He’d
think she was crazy, and it would only make her appear
guiltier.

"I was going to explain
everything to you today,” she said, “but I doubt you’d even believe
it now."

"It doesn’t matter what
I believe,” he replied. “It only matters that you come with me now,
because if you don’t, you might have to face a lynch mob – and
that’s the last thing I want. You should know that better than
anyone."

He didn’t say the
words, but when she looked into his tormented eyes, she understood
his meaning. He had already lost a wife. He didn’t want to lose
her, too.

Rising to her feet, she
wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, “Then I’ll go
peacefully.”

He held her for a long
moment, and she was astonished by the euphoria she felt, knowing
that he cared for her so deeply.

It wasn’t until much
later—when he locked her up in the jail cell to be guarded by
Dempsey—that she experienced an almost crushing urge to escape from
this place and return to her own time.

The jail cell was humid
and hot. It smelled of heavy sweat and alcohol left over from the
burping, hungover cowboy that Dempsey had recently let go. Sitting
on the cot and feeling itchy beneath her ridiculous corset – a
truly perverse instrument of torture—Jessica wondered what was
going to happen next.

A number of times she
asked to see Angus, but was told no one could find him, and as the
day progressed, she grew increasingly worried.

It was dark when Truman
finally returned to the law office. "You can go now," he said to
Dempsey. "But keep an eye on things in the streets. Make sure your
gun is loaded."

They both glanced at
Jessica. Truman’s eyes were frigid, icy blue.

The young deputy stood
and headed for the door. "You can rest easy, Sheriff. I won’t put
up with any shenanigans. See you in the morning."

Truman walked to his
desk, never meeting Jessica’s gaze. His cool indifference made her
wonder if he had somehow grown to detest her in this one, short,
traumatic day.

He paused in front of
his desk with his hands on his hips, as if thinking. For a tense
moment, he stared down at all the papers and writing utensils on
the desktop. Then he leaned forward in a sudden fit of rage and
swept everything onto the floor. The jar of pens and the inkwell
went flying. They crashed into the wall and flew everywhere.

Heart suddenly racing,
Jessica rushed forward to the cell door.

His dangerous eyes
focused in on her. Then he approached her and gripped the bars.
"God, Jessica," he whispered, closing his eyes.

The agony in his voice
caught her by surprise, and a wave of apprehension coursed through
her. "Tell me what happened.”

When he looked up, the
dark rage was gone, but deep lines of regret were creasing his
forehead. "Folks in town want to hang you."

Jessica backed away.
"You’re not serious."

"I won't let them do
it."

"How can you stop it?
If a judge says—"

"It won't come to that.
I'll take you away before it does."

"You’d help me escape?”
she asked, not sure she’d heard him correctly. “And you’d come with
me?”

He didn’t nod or say
yes, but his eyes answered the question.

“But I’m innocent,” she
insisted. “Angus will help me prove it in court. Have you found him
yet?”

He reached a hand
through the bars and touched her cheek. "No. He’s been missing all
afternoon. But it doesn’t matter. I’m going to get you out of this.
No matter what it takes."

The words came to her
in a light whisper, and she closed her eyes, almost drowning in
relief. He
did
trust her. Even without knowing her secret,
he knew she would never kill a man.

He drew her into his
arms and pressed his mouth to hers. Jessica leaned into the cell
door, savoring the velvet warmth of his kiss, barely able to
believe she could feel so happy when her whole world was falling to
pieces around her.

Truman pulled away and
went to lock the front door, then returned with the jingling keys.
He let her out of the jail cell, swept her into his arms, and
carried her to the stairs. Taking two steps at a time to the top,
he kicked his bedroom door open with his boot and set her down on
the floor.

Jessica, her mind
swimming, backed all the way inside and hit the bed. “Thank God,
Truman. I couldn’t bear to be away from you another minute.”

He unbuckled his gun
belt and tossed it to the floor, then took off his shirt to reveal
the most magnificent naked chest she’d ever seen in her life, and
strode toward her. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her
deeply.

Jessica ran her palms
over his deliciously smooth, contoured chest and down to the
rippled muscles of his stomach. He flinched, but a faint murmur of
encouragement prompted her to continue. He kissed her again, his
hands roaming urgently over her dress.

All she knew in that
moment was a need to feel his skin next to hers, a need to feel his
lips and hot breath caressing her.

He unfastened her
bodice and slid it off her shoulders. His lips were demanding, and
his tongue probed her mouth in a slow, intoxicating rhythm.

Truman unbuttoned the
top of her skirt and petticoats and let them fall gracefully to the
floor at their feet. His fingers touched her corset, and he stepped
back, leaving Jessica wobbling with impatient desire. Focusing
closely on the task, he unhooked each hook. Soon, the tightness
gave way, and she could breathe again. At last. The corset dropped
to the floor, landing quietly on top of the skirts.

His arms came around to
massage her back in a tight embrace, his breath moist against her
neck and shoulder.

Flames of impatience
licked within her. Truman guided her gently onto the bed. She sank
into the soft, feather mattress, then inched back toward the
pillows. Truman came upon her, moving. His hand wandered down her
side, over her hips and to her leg, still covered by the cotton
drawers.

"Take these off," he
whispered.

She eagerly untied the
ribbon at her waist, delighting in the cool air dancing across her
skin, as Truman slid the drawers down her legs, then slowly rolled
each stocking from her uplifted knees, dropping open-mouthed kisses
down her thighs and calves. A deep, sensual ache enthralled her—a
need to feel him inside her, to feel the sudden, shocking pleasure
of his entry. "Please," she murmured.

Truman rolled away from
her, kicked off his boots, and removed his trousers. Soon, as if in
a dream, he was upon her.

"I can't wait anymore,"
he said.

She groaned as he
filled her. All sense of time and place left her, and she could
barely remember anything of her life before this exquisite moment.
All she knew was the glorious feel of Truman driving into her again
and again. Her former existence was consumed by the pleasure that
rolled over her.

Together they reached
an explosive climax and released everything to each other. He
shuddered in her arms. She arched her back and drew in a deep
breath.

In that wild, raging
moment, Jessica knew that she would never—in all this peculiar,
entangled eternity—be able to leave him. Nothing could take her
away from him now. She belonged to him. This was meant to be.

She understood it
now.

It’s why she was sent
here.

* * *

Later, still wrapped in
each other’s arms, Jessica and Truman resisted sleep. Outside,
distant saloon pianos played over the faint laughter and rowdy
hollering from the street. Closer to their window, crickets chirped
in the darkness, smothering the cruel realities that faced
them.

"What’s going to happen
next?" Jessica asked, as she rested her cheek on his shoulder.

"Everything will be
fine," he whispered.

"You always say
that."

"I've been right so
far, haven't I?"

A quiet moment passed
as Truman's thumb brushed over her shoulder, back and forth...until
she felt almost hypnotized by it.

Yet still, that
relentless ache in her chest persisted—the ache that came from
wanting two different things at the same time. Now that she had
surrendered to the love she felt for Truman, she would have to
accept, once and for all, that she would never see her family
again, or her dog, George. Her life in the twenty-first century was
lost to her now, and she couldn’t help but grieve for it.

Nevertheless, she
couldn’t imagine leaving this new life behind—most important…this
love she’d found. Or rather, the love that had found
her
.

She never dreamed she
could feel so close to anyone, that she could love a flesh and
blood man with more than just her heart and body. They were
connected somehow in a soulful, profound way, and the connection
was beyond physical. It was not something she could touch or feel,
yet it was very real. More real than anything she’d ever known back
home. The depth of her love for Truman Wade ran too deep to even
understand.

If only she could live
two parallel lives.

If only she had all the
answers and knew what was happening right now, at this very moment,
in the future. What had become of her life there?

Did her parents believe
she was dead?

"Truman?"

"Mmm?"

She rolled on top of
him, laced her fingers together on his chest, and rested her chin
on top of them.