Time Passage: A Time Travel Novel, page 20
“I went to see Dr. Broadbent this morning,” I said. “He treated Tara when she was ill, and he said he’d see what he could find out. I’m hoping he’ll go to the mansion and ask Mrs. Grieve. If anybody has a good relationship with that woman, I think Dr. Broadbent does.”
Bryce ran a hand across his jaw. “Don’t count on Mrs. Grieve telling anyone anything. She’s as vicious as a hungry wolf and as venomous as a rattler. It’s not commonly known, but she still has an eye for John Gannon, and her hatred of Marie was obvious.”
I took a drink of the hot, strong coffee, the strongest I’d ever had, and I tasted whiskey. “Is there booze in here?”
“Oh, yes, of course there is. Rye whiskey. It’s Tappy’s special coffee. Do you like it?”
“Well, it certainly has a kick.”
A moment later, Tappy brought the food on dented, round, tin plates, and the aroma was indescribable. The corn pudding was a rich, golden brown around the edges and slightly jiggly in the center. I tasted butter and cream and sweet corn. It was truly awesome, as was the hot skillet bread and the beans and ham hocks.
“This is fabulous!” I said. “Where I come from, Tappy’s would be one of the hottest places in town.”
“You mean in New York?”
“Yes, in New York.”
“And you are truly from New York, Cindy?”
I glanced up. “You doubt me?”
“It’s not doubt, exactly. I suppose I want to know you better, and I want you to trust me.”
I swallowed a bite of the bread. “Why should I trust you?”
His eyes were bold and then they were soft. “Because I find myself unable to put you out of my mind for any length of time. Because I want to protect you, and I feel the pull of you, and I feel all those things that a man feels when he wants a woman.”
I kept eating, not looking up, but feeling his words throb my pulse in a low, sexy drumbeat.
Bryce continued. “I am going to be as honest with you as I have ever been with any woman. I’ve been alone most of my life, Cindy. I am nearly thirty-six years old, and it had not occurred to me, until I saw you in that telegraph office, that I am lonely, but not lonely for just any woman. I suddenly realize I’m lonely because I have seen you, and talked to you, and been close to you. No, it never once occurred to me that I was lonely. And then, there you were, quite beautiful and fascinating, not words my lips are accustomed to uttering. You have mystery and fight in you, Cindy, and these are qualities needed in this new, Western, spreading-out country.”
I brought the tin cup to my lips and hesitated. “You must have many women who bat their bright, Colorado eyes at you, Marshal Vance. You must know you’re crazy handsome, and for lack of better words, totally masculine.”
“I will not lie about what I have done, Miss Downing… Cindy. I am a man who has often sought the company of a woman, like any man.”
I grinned at him. “I’m glad to hear it. I’ve never been attracted to saints.”
“Then are you attracted to me, Cindy?”
My voice was a silky caress. “Yes… Yes, Marshal Bryce Vance, I am, and you know it.”
He leaned back with a little sigh of relief. “Then I am pleased that my instincts were right.”
“Only pleased?” I smiled flirtatiously.
He reached for his tin cup of coffee and took a generous drink, keeping his warm gaze on me. “I have a cabin. I built it myself. It is private, and it is warm, and it is not so far from here.”
My excited gaze traveled over his face. “And I bet you want to show it to me?”
“Yes, Cindy, I do. I want to show it to you, and I want to share it with you.”
I smiled, and he returned my smile.
“You do have a way with words, Marshal Vance, and I’ve always been excellent at reading between the lines. Don’t you have to work?”
“If there’s any real trouble, Deputy Clay Fallon knows where he can find me. But I don’t think there will be trouble at this time of year. In the spring and summer during the cattle drives, yes, but not so much now.”
“I’m so glad to hear it,” I said, feeling my body heat up.
Marshal Vance kept his eyes on me, and I gave him a teasing smile.
“Can I trust you, Marshal, all the way out there in the wilderness, in a cabin? Just the two of us?”
His eyes shined with playfulness. “No, Miss Downing, I do not for a minute think you can trust me.”
“Good… then as soon as we finish this delicious lunch, let’s go.”
CHAPTER 40
A half hour later, we were back in the buggy, trotting off on a side dirt road with a breath-taking view of towering, snowy mountains on one side and thick groves of glorious trees on the other.
We didn’t say much as the sun lowered, the cold wind circled, and the howling sounds of wolves echoed across the land. The road angled left; we rounded a bend, and I saw a single-story log cabin loom in the distance, nestled in firs and birch. Next door was a log barn and a cord of wood, neatly stacked and sprinkled with snow.
“There it is,” Bryce said.
“Wow, it really is a log cabin out in the middle of nowhere, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t say this is nowhere, Cindy. The cabin sits near a clear, sparkling stream, and it’s tucked away in a forest of magnificent trees, with God’s own view of those majestic mountains.”
I looked at him, impressed. “You’re a poet, Marshal Vance.”
He grinned. “And I believe that you are having a jolly old jest at my expense, Cindy.”
“Not at all. I think spending time out here would make anyone a poet. I love it.”
Bryce tied up the horse, helped me down, and led the way up the four stairs and across the porch to the front door. To our right, firewood was neatly cross-stacked in rows using irregularly shaped logs; to the left, a simple rocking chair sat facing the distant mountains.
Inside the cold cabin was a knotty pine interior, handcrafted windows and doors, and an impressive stone fireplace enclosed by a fire shield. The furniture was solid wood, beautifully handcrafted, with pillows of dark green and rich burgundy. Beside the fire was another rocker, and on two side tables were oil lamps, with a large, mother-of-pearl wall lamp near the front door.
On the wall above the fireplace hung an unexpected sepia photograph in an oval frame, featuring a stern, square-jawed woman in her fifties, with a determined stare and braided hair arranged tightly on the top of her head.
“Who is that?” I asked.
Bryce wandered over, placed his hands into his back pockets, and gazed up at it. “That is my mother, and though she doesn’t look to be so friendly in that likeness, she was as kind-hearted a woman as there ever was. My father was killed at the Battle of Cold Harbor in 1864, and she was never quite the same after that.”
“Was?”
“My dear mother died of consumption only three years after that image was composed.”
I turned to him. “I’m sorry. You must have been so young when you fought in the war.”
“I was, indeed. Just a kid who took too many chances and had more luck than was due him.”
“And your father must have been relatively young.”
“Yes, I was born when mother was but sixteen and he was seventeen. He insisted on getting into the fight, against my mother’s wishes, and I think she never forgave him for it.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“I have a sister, Lydia, who is married and lives in Indiana with her good husband and four children.”
Bryce returned his eyes to his mother’s photo. “I think you would have liked her, Cindy. Mother had fight in her, too, as you can see in her eyes. She fought that dreadful disease with all her strength, but when the damned thing won, she just laid back, let go and said, ‘It’s time for me to see Adam again, and give him the devil’s own, for running off to that war and leaving me.’”
I touched Bryce’s arm. He looked at my hand and smiled. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me, too.”
I turned to my left and saw an iron-framed double bed in the back corner, covered by a heavy, patchwork quilt. Opposite the bed was a wood-burning stove, hanging pots and pans on hooks, a wooden kitchen table and chairs placed near a bare window.
“This place is awesome, Bryce. Totally awesome.”
Bryce laughed a little. “Awesome? Well, why not awesome? The walls are five-inches thick,” he said with pride. “I built it to be simple, comfortable and peaceful, but I didn’t build the furniture. That was made by a craftsman in Denver, the best I’ve seen anywhere.”
I sat in the rocker while Bryce made a roaring fire, and within a few minutes, the cabin was warm and cozy.
“So, what do you do here all by yourself?” I asked, gently rocking, while he stood near the fire warming himself.
“I come here to let my mind ease and stretch. I come here to get away from the rough and tumble of the town, and the people.”
“So you’re a loner?”
“When I can be.”
“Have you ever brought anyone else here?”
He studied me while he rubbed his hands together near the fire. “No… I haven’t.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Well, bears come wandering in now and then, snooping around, and a bobcat or two has stopped by to say hello, but no humans to speak of.”
I looked at him meaningfully. “Then, I’m very… flattered. Why me?”
“I told you. We seemed to know each other at our first meeting.”
I couldn’t deny it.
“Are you still cold?” Bryce asked.
I faced away. “No. I’m just… I don’t know.”
“Why did you agree to come, Cindy?”
I ignored the question. “I don’t know if I can stay here,” I said. “I mean, in Denver.”
He stared into the fire for a moment. “Cindy, a woman of class and deportment, as yourself, would do well opening a ladies’ shop. I know you’d do well. Denver is growing very fast, and you could grow along with it.”
“I’d prefer real estate,” I said, staring into the crackling fire. “I like it, and I know I’d be good at it.”
Bryce lowered his head. “That would prove difficult.”
“Because I’m not a man?”
Bryce sighed. “Men steal land, Cindy, and they fight over land, and they kill for it. It is not a respectable occupation, nor a safe one for a lady, I fear.”
I let out a sigh. “And I fear I’m not living at the right time.”
“I don’t get your meaning, Cindy.”
When I looked at him, I really looked at him, as if he were an unsolved mystery, or a fantasy, or some watery vision from a lucid dream. Had I already fallen in love with this guy? There was an easy, electric magnetism between us, a full moon kind of primal attraction that was hot and a little scary. How could I leave this guy? He was everything I’d ever dreamed of, and not dreamed of, because I’d never thought that a guy like Marshal Bryce Vance existed.
A simple movement of his big hand, the tilt of his head as he removed his hat, and the cut of his jaw, all nudged me to be reckless. His wide chest, taut waist, and long, sturdy legs brought the impulse to reach for him, this dream of a man from 1880.
And then he left the cabin for the stable to water and feed the horse, returning about a half hour later.
I’d removed my coat and hat, and I was standing, facing the door, when Bryce entered, shuddering from the cold. My emotions churned, and I felt distant from myself, and I felt disoriented, and I felt fearless, as if time would never own me again. Time was a plastic thing, a malleable thing and, when it was all said and done, maybe it was a false thing.
That sharp thought drove me to step fully into this time—this wonderful moment—and embrace it with radical emotions. To my surprise, I bravely considered the possibility of marrying Bryce Vance.
Yes, I could marry him, find Tara, open a ladies’ shop, and live happily ever after in Denver, Colorado, in 1880.
I looked directly into Bryce’s eyes as I plotted my next move. And then there was the call of a bird nearby, and Bryce came to me, and our breath seemed loud in that private silence. When we touched, it was natural. We were new lovers, but old soulmates. With my eager fingers, I explored his face, his hot eyes searching my lips and neck, his hands finding my breasts.
His muscled arms wrapped and held me, his kisses brought heat, and his hands, tangling my hair, brought shivering spasms and an urgency to move to the bed.
As we made love, a kind of glory lit up the moments, lit up my emotions and my body. I reached and touched him, and his strong hands and firm control had me gasping, lost in a timeless pleasure. There was heat and rapture, and each intake of my startled breath was sweet, each kiss a brand new thrill.
Bryce Vance had the power and the stamina of a wild thing, but he also possessed a tender grace that ignited my passion, boosted my fantasies, and melted any resistance.
Darkness crept in slowly, and by the time I was aware of it, I awoke with Bryce asleep beside me, our legs tangled, my hair scattered, my body weary from sexy play.
I’d spent my life in the gray areas of love, in the cold shadows of love, and in the dark caves of love, asleep and wanting. I hadn’t even been aware of it until Marshal Bryce Vance came along, awakening me from that deep, unhappy sleep into a vibrant world that offered unimaginable delight. A world I’d never experienced and never thought was possible.
But feeling blessed and liberated; feeling in love for the first time, I also felt fragile, and I’d never felt fragile before. Was it fear? Fear of what was to come and what I could lose?
Would I find Tara? Would John Gannon come for Bryce and me and destroy our love before it had a chance to grow?
I lifted on an elbow and, as night settled in, I wanted all the love I felt for Bryce to come bursting out and shower him, to seep into his skin and his heart and the marrow of his bones. When he was a silhouette, I watched him sleep, and I whispered into the darkness.
“Yes, Marshal Bryce Vance, I love you, and I’ll marry you.”
CHAPTER 41
Four days later, at 9:30 in the morning, the maid knocked on my hotel room door. “Miss Downing, Dr. Broadbent is in the lobby, and he wishes to speak with you.”
A jolt of hope drove me to my feet. I’d been at the writing desk, examining Rosamond’s jewels more closely, speculating as to how much each piece might bring.
Ten minutes later, I left my room and started downstairs, finding the doctor standing near the newsstand. When he saw me descending the stairs, he walked toward me, his expression grave.
“Good morning, Dr. Broadbent.”
“Yes, Miss Downing, good morning,” he said, obviously agitated.
He pointed to a golden sofa positioned to the right of the dining room doors, and we went over to it and sat, my eyes immediately coming to his.
“Miss Downing, I have found Tara O’Hanlon.”
I sat up at attention. “Where? Is she all right?”
The doctor adjusted his spectacles and then ran a shaky hand over his beard. “She is working as a maid in a hotel in Bart’s City.”
“Where is that?”
“About twenty or so miles from here.”
I heaved myself up. “Okay, I’ll go get her.”
Dr. Broadbent shook his head, lowering his voice. “Please sit down, Miss Downing. There is more I have to say.”
I eased back down, my temples throbbing, my attention acute. “Tell me, is she all right?”
“It’s a so-called hotel, owned and operated by Carson Kreet. Marshal Vance knows the man. He used to run a place not far from here until the marshal ran him off.”
“Okay… So what is a so-called hotel?”
Dr. Broadbent lowered his eyes. “It is a house of ill fame.”
A sickening dread pooled in my stomach, and then a rush of panic. “I’ve got to get her out of there! Now!”
Dr. Broadbent leaned closer to me, keeping his voice low. “I’m not saying Tara is being… well, abused in that way, but I also cannot say that she is not.”
I shot up again. “Just tell me where she is.”
“It is not that easy,” the doctor said, soberly, his eyes blinking fast.
“Why? Tell me!”
“Please lower your voice and sit down, Miss Downing.”
I hesitated, then did so, waiting for his explanation.
“Mr. Kreet is a low ruffian, and the hotel will certainly be guarded by such low men.”
“I don’t care! I’m going. I’ll catch the next train or whatever, carriage, horse, I don’t care.”
“You must keep your head, Miss Downing.”
Rage burned my face. “Did Mrs. Grieve send her there?”
Dr. Broadbent turned his sorrowful head toward the front door. “I’m afraid so.”
“I’ll kill that woman!”
“Miss Downing,” the doctor said, shocked.
“What kind of sick woman is she?”
The doctor raised both hands, like stop signs. “Please, Miss Downing. Keep your wits about you. We must focus all our efforts on securing Tara’s release and not waste our time and energy on Mrs. Grieve’s despicable character.”
I was so angry, I barely heard him. “Was Mr. Gannon in on this?”
“I do not know, and I say, once again, let us not waste our time on those people.”
“Are you sure about this, Dr. Broadbent? Absolutely sure?”
“The information came from a dependable source, who is both frightened and wary.”
I put a hand to my forehead and massaged it. “Okay, I don’t care, I’m going. I’ve got some money and jewels, and I’ll pay the man whatever he wants. I’ll give him everything I’ve got.”
Dr. Broadbent raised his narrowed eyes. “And what if he doesn’t want money or jewels, Miss Downing? He is a dark-hearted devil of a man. I treated him once for a gunshot wound.”
“Okay, fine, then what the hell will he want?”
