Journey to Yesterday (6 page)

Alejandro darted forward and caught the woman just before
she hit the floor. Swinging her into his arms, he headed for the stairway.
“Rosa, bring her bag.”

He took the stairs two at a time. In his room, he laid the
woman on his bed, then stood staring down at her.

“I’ve never seen a woman dressed like that,” Rosa said. “Who
is she?”

“Damned if I know,” Alejandro replied, but he couldn’t shake
the feeling that he had seen her somewhere before.

“Well,
hombre,
holler if you need anything else,” Rosa
said. She dropped the woman’s valise on the floor near the door, then flashed
him a sultry smile. “Anything at all.”

Alejandro grinned as she sashayed out of the room and
quietly closed the door. Of all the doves at the Queen, Rosa was his favorite.

He frowned as he turned his attention back to the woman in
his bed. Who was she? And why did she look so familiar? And why was she dressed
so strangely? She wore some sort of sleeveless black shirt with writing across
the front and a pair of white trousers cut well above the knee. Her feet were
encased in a pair of short black stockings and blue and white shoes unlike any
he had ever seen. He eased her out of the odd-looking pack on her back and
dumped it on the floor near her valise.

He stared at her shirt, at the strange drawing of two faces,
one white, one red, beneath the words Jekyll and Hyde, also written in red and
white. But it was the woman herself who held his attention. Her skin was nicely
tanned, smooth and clear. She had a lovely mouth with a full lower lip, a
softly rounded jaw, a nice nose, delicate brows, thick lashes. He knew somehow
that her eyes were green…

And even as the thought crossed his mind, her eyelids
fluttered open and she was staring at him. “What happened?”

He shrugged. “You fainted.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never fainted
in my life.”

He shrugged again. “First time for everything, I reckon.”

Her gaze moved over him. Dark skin, long black hair, dark
brown eyes, high cheekbones. Sort of a cross between David Duchovny and Antonio
Bandaras. Not a bad combination, she mused.

“Where am I?” she asked, glancing around.

“My room. I keep one here in the saloon.”

Her mouth went dry. “Did you bring me here?”

He nodded.

“Why?

A faint smile curved his lips. “I guess I could have left
you on the floor.”

“Who are you?”

“Alejandro Valverde.”

“No, I mean who are you, really.”

He lifted one black brow. “Alejandro Valverde.”

“You don’t understand…”

“I think it is you who do not understand.”

“I know you’re playing him, but what’s your real name?”

He frowned. “Playing?”

Shaye sat up, and the room seemed to spin. The man was
instantly beside her, his hand on her shoulder, steadying her. It was a large
hand. Heat suffused her, his touch making her skin tingle, his nearness making
her heart pound.

“All right. Stay in character. I’ve got to go.”

He looked at her through narrowed eyes. “Are you sure you’re
all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Or I will be. I’ve got to go.” She couldn’t
stay there, couldn’t think with him staring at her like that. His resemblance
to Alejandro Valverde was uncanny, which was no doubt why he got the part. She
stood up, swaying, and again felt his hand on her shoulder as he steadied her.

“Sit,” he said. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

She started to protest, but he gave her a gentle push,
easing her backward until she sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Stay there.”

Something in his tone warned her not to move.

He regarded her a moment, then left the room.

Shaye tapped her foot impatiently for a few moments, then
stood up. The chair in the corner looked like one her grandmother used to have.
She moved toward the dresser across from the bed, ran her hand over the top.
She had seen similar looking pieces in her mom’s antique shop. She opened the
top drawer. Inside, she found a white shirt, neatly folded. She ran her hand
over the material, frowned as she felt something hard beneath the cloth. Moving
the shirt aside, she discovered a small revolver, and three boxes of
ammunition.

Curious, she picked up the weapon and turned it over in her
hand. It was heavier than she expected for such a small weapon, and looked very
real. The initials AV were worked into the design on the butt of the gun.

“I’d be careful with that, if I were you. It’s loaded.”

Startled, she almost dropped the gun. He was beside her in a
heartbeat. Taking the derringer from her hand, he put it back in the drawer and
slid it shut.

“Here.” He handed her a glass filled with dark red liquid.
“This will calm your nerves.”

“What is it?”

“Wine. It’s good for the blood.” He lifted one brow. “I
assure you it’s not poisoned.”

She took a drink, relaxing a little as she sipped the warmed
wine.

Head tilted to one side, his gaze ran over her in a long,
assessing glance. “What’s that getup you’re wearing?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

He made a gesture that encompassed her tee shirt and shorts.
“I’ve never seen a lady dressed in such revealing attire.”

“Revealing?” Shaye glanced down at her outfit and frowned. A
sleeveless shirt and a pair of walking shorts were hardly revealing.

“Your arms and legs are…exposed.”

“Exposed?” She started to laugh, then realized he was quite
serious. “You really have buried yourself in the part, haven’t you?”

He frowned at her again. “Part? What part? What the hell are
you talking about?” He shook his head. “You are obviously addle-brained. Maybe
I’d better send Rosa for the doctor.”

Shaye thrust the glass into his hand and stood up. “I am not
addle-brained, and I don’t need a doctor. Now, get out of my way. I’m leaving.”

She pushed past him, grabbed her overnight bag and her
backpack, and made her way down the stairs, careful to keep hold of the
banister. Several men turned to stare at her as she made her way to the door.
She came to an abrupt stop as the doors swung closed behind her.

Where there had once been only a few scattered buildings
decayed by weather and time, there now stood hundreds of buildings, most of
them white-washed. The street was clogged with people and wagons. The air was
thick with dust. She could hear hammering from nearby, the chiming of a clock
as it struck the hour, the crack of a whip, and a low, roaring sound she didn’t
recognize that seemed to come from the mines up on the hill.

She was suddenly aware of a presence beside her. Turning her
head, she saw the man claiming to be Alejandro Valverde.

She looked up at him, looked deep into his eyes, felt the
spark of recognition clear down to her toes.

She stared at him, her mind refusing to accept what she knew
to be true. He wasn’t a man playing a part. He really was Alejandro Valverde.
Alive. In the flesh.

She glanced at the scene before her again, and felt fear’s
cold fingers slide down her spine. It wasn’t possible.

“Do you have a place to stay?” he asked.

She shook her head as the world spun out of focus and she
fell into darkness once more.

When she came to, she was on a bed in a room. A different
room. She lay there a moment, staring at the whitewashed ceiling. She had never
fainted in her whole life, and now it had happened twice in one day. Of course,
if what she suspected was true, she had a good reason.

She sat up, her back braced against a pillow propped against
the brass headboard and surveyed the room. It was square, about ten by ten,
simply furnished with a double bed, a tall, four-drawer chest made of dark oak
and topped with an oval mirror, and the round table beside the bed. There was a
folded newspaper on the table, as well as an oil lamp. White lace curtains
covered the room’s single window. A couple of suit coats hung from pegs along
one wall; two pairs of boots, one pair black, one brown, stood neatly side by
side.

It was his room. She knew it as surely as she knew her name.
The other one was probably a place where he stayed from time to time, but he
lived here.

Overcome by a sudden, nameless fear, she stood up. She had
to get out of here. Right now. Before it was too late. Before…

Before what she didn’t know. She was trembling all over as
she opened the door and stepped into a dimly lit, narrow corridor. The walls
were covered with flowered paper. A dark green runner muted her footsteps. She
glanced up and down, then walked toward what looked like an exit at the far end
of the hallway.

The door opened onto a narrow wooden staircase that led into
an alley. She hurried down the stairs and around the side of the building. It
took her a few minutes to find Green Street, and then she was running, not
caring that people stared at her, not caring about anything but reaching her
car and going home. She knew a moment of panic when she realized she had left
her backpack and her keys behind, quickly followed by a wave of relief when she
remembered that she had an extra key hidden under the left front fender of the
Rover for just such an emergency.

She paused when she reached the corner of Green and Fuller
where the Methodist Church should have been. Had she gone the wrong way? But
no, there was the barn, looking new now. A man stood outside, currying a horse,
while two other men looked on. She could hear the ring of a blacksmith’s hammer
from somewhere in the distance.

She waited for a break in the seemingly endless flow of
wagons and carts, then darted across the street.

She started running again, faster now, turning up the hill
that led to the parking lot. Soon, she thought, soon she’d be safe in her car
and this nightmare would be over.

Only the parking lot was gone. The blacktop was gone. Her
Rover was gone. There was nothing there but dirt and sagebrush and the backs of
several buildings that hadn’t been there before.

She shook her head. “No. No. This can’t be true!” She turned
around, looked down at the town below, at the flood of wagons in the street, at
the hundreds of people milling about. She heard what sounded like an explosion,
the echo of gunshots, which didn’t sound nearly as loud as they did in the
movies, the clang of a blacksmith’s hammer, the rumble of ore carts carrying
ore to the mill. Dozens of men in red shirts could be seen scurrying over the
hillsides. She knew then why the church wasn’t there. It hadn’t been built yet,
hadn’t been built until 1882.

It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was real, and
she was part of it. Part of a boom town that had been dead for over a hundred
years.

Alejandro stared at the empty bed, wondering where the woman
had gone. Not far, he mused, since she had left her belongings behind.

He stared at the strange dark-green cloth bag she had worn
on her back. Curious, he picked it up, looking for an opening, but found none.
He ran his finger over a thin row of metal, toyed with the small bit of metal
dangling at the end. He took hold of it, wondering what it was. He wiggled it
back and forth, surprised when, with a faint ripping sound, it made a small
opening. Lifting one brow, he drew the tab back further, still further,
disclosing the inside of the bag.

Sitting down on the foot of the bed, he dumped the contents
onto the mattress, only to stare at them in complete bafflement. The only
things he recognized were a ring of what he thought might be keys, although
they were much smaller than any he had ever seen before, a comb made of some
strange slick material, and a bright-red hair brush. He had never seen a hair
brush that color, never seen a brush made of anything but wood and boar
bristles. There was a small, round tube of something called Wine With Everything,
a box-like thing with a tiny glass window showing the number four, a small gray
canister, three containers with blue, white and pink labels that read Evian
Natural Spring Water. From the French Alps. He tapped on the container. It was
clear, like glass, but it wasn’t glass. He picked one up and turned it around
in his hands.

“Sodium Free. Bottled by S.A Evian Co. at Evian 74503
France.” He frowned, wondering if she was French. There was some other writing,
some numbers, an odd looking symbol. “Recyclable. Check to see if facilities
exist in your area.” He shook his head. “What the deuce does that mean?”

He put the container down and examined the other items.
There was a pair of spectacles with blue frames and dark gray lenses. There was
also a small purple object with the word Nokia across the top and buttons
numbered one through zero, and other buttons labeled Pwr, Send, and End.

He tossed each item on the bed after he inspected it, then
picked up a leather wallet unlike any he had ever seen. Inside, he found
several small cards made of some strange hard paper. He pulled one out of its
slot. It had the woman’s photograph in one corner. The word California was
printed across the top in large blue letters. Below that he read “Driver
License Class C” and below that, some numbers. A line printed in red ink said,
“Expires 03-19-04”, and, in very small print he read, “This license is issued
as a license to drive a motor vehicle. It does not establish eligibility for
employment, voter registration, or public benefits.” Below that was a name.
Shaye Montgomery and an address of some kind. And below that, two more lines of
print:

Sex: F Hair: Brn Eyes: Blu

HT: 5-05 WT: 130 DOB: 03-19-73

He grunted softly, wondering what the words and numbers and
letters meant. There were more cards made of the strange hard paper and
emblazoned with names that, for the most part, meant nothing to him: America
OnLine Platinum VISA; Automobile Club of Southern California; Robinsons May;
Nordstrom. They all had numbers on them, and the name Shaye Montgomery. Another
section held greenbacks of some kind, but they were smaller than any he had
ever seen. There were several small photographs encased in some kind of clear…
He shrugged, having no name for it.

He looked through the pictures. One was of the woman, Shaye,
holding a child on her lap. One was of Shaye with an older couple. Her parents,
he guessed, for there was a remarkable resemblance between the two women. There
were other photographs. A little boy holding a baby, a young woman.

He glanced at the other items, puzzled. Putting them all
back inside the pack, he stood up, wondering where the woman had gone.
Wondering if he should go look for her. She was obviously a stranger in town.
Remembering how she had fainted, not once but twice, he began to worry about
her health.

He glanced at the other bag sitting on the floor near the
door, wondering what strange things it might hold, but worry for the woman
overrode his curiosity.

Damn. She hadn’t gone out the front door. He would have seen
her. The back door?

Leaving his room, he went out the back door. Standing on the
landing, he glanced up and down the alley that ran behind the hotel. Paddy
Sullivan, one of the town’s two blacksmiths, was shoeing a horse across the
way.

“Hey, Paddy,” he called, leaning over the railing, “did you
see a woman leave the hotel?”

Paddy nodded. “About half an hour ago, Rio. Who was she?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Odd attire, she was wearin’. Never seen anything like it.”

“Which way did she go?”

Paddy jerked a finger over his shoulder. “That way. And she
was in an itching hurry.” Paddy grinned. “Never seen a woman running
away
from
you.”

Muttering an oath, Rio descended the stairs and made his way
around to the front of the building. Which way would she go?

“Hey, Rio, honey, when are you coming to see me again?”

He looked up, grinning at the girl hanging over the balcony
of the adjoining hotel. Her hair, waist-length and dyed red, fell over her
shoulders. “Not right now,” he replied. “I’m looking for someone.”

She pouted prettily. “Another woman, I’ll bet.”

He grinned. “She’s not near as pretty as you are, Frenchy.”

“Then why are you looking for her?”

“Because she’s lost, darlin’.”

Frenchy batted her eyelashes at him. “If I was lost, would
you come looking for me?”

“You know I would.”

“Then maybe I’ll have to get lost,” she replied with a
laugh. “So, who’s the lucky girl?”

“I’m not sure. But you’d know if you’d seen her.”

“Oh, that one!” Frenchy exclaimed, pointing down the street.
“She went that way.”

“Thanks, Frenchy.” He pulled a silver dollar from his pocket
and tossed it to her.

She caught it and waved her fist in the air. “Thanks, Rio.”

He winked at her, and continued on down Green Street, making
inquiries as he went. Everyone who had seen her remembered her.

A short time later, he passed the church. Pausing, he
glanced around. She was nowhere in sight. He rounded a curve in the road, and
then he saw her, standing on the rise at the head of the path that led to
Miller’s Stable.

With a shake of his head, he climbed the hill.

Shaye blew out a breath as she watched Alejandro Valverde
approach. He moved effortlessly, she thought, and was struck again by his
rugged good looks, and by his resemblance to Antonio Bandaras a la
Desperado
.
He wasn’t wearing a coat now, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his
white shirt emphasized his dark good looks, or the way the material stretched
across his broad shoulders.

“What are you doing up here?” he asked curtly.

“Looking for a way home.”

“The stage depot is that way,” he said, jerking his thumb
over his shoulder. “but there aren’t any stages leaving today. Where’s home?”

“Los Angeles. And I wasn’t planning to take a stagecoach.”

“No?” He lifted one brow. “You weren’t thinking of walking?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, the stable’s at the other end of town.”

“I don’t need a horse. I’ve got a car.”

“Car?”

She shook her head at his look of confusion. “Never mind.”
She laughed abruptly. “Doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere.” She stared down
at the town. What was she doing here? More importantly, how was she going to
get back where she belonged? And where was she going to stay until she figured
it out?

“It’s about time for supper,” Alejandro remarked. “Let’s go
get something to eat.”

She didn’t want to go anywhere with him. He scared her in
ways she didn’t want to explore. She was about to say she wasn’t hungry, thank
you, when her stomach growled. And as much as she hated to share a meal with
him, she didn’t see as how she had much choice. Her money probably wouldn’t be
accepted any more than her credit cards.

“Shaye? That is your name, isn’t it?”

“Yes, how did you know?”

He shrugged. “I saw something with your name on it.”

“Did you go through my things?” she asked indignantly. “You
did, didn’t you?”

“Yes, and maybe after we’ve had something to eat, you will
explain them to me.”

He took her to the U.S. Hotel on Main Street for dinner. It
was a large two-story building with a peaked roof and a railed balcony
upstairs. Shaye was acutely conscious of the stares she received as they
entered the dining room and took a table near the window. Every table was
occupied, most with red-shirted miners discussing the day’s events, speculating
on the new mine that had just opened, the new mill being built.

Alejandro leaned back in his chair. “So, how long are you
planing to stay in Bodie?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where are you staying?”

“I don’t know.”

He grunted softly. “You don’t know much, do you?”

“I used to,” Shaye muttered.

“You’re welcome to stay in my room at the hotel.” He grinned
at her. “Unless you’d rather stay at the saloon.”

“No, thank you, I’ll find a place of my own.”

“Use my room at the hotel,” he said. “I’ll stay over at the
Queen.”

She wanted to refuse, but she needed a place to stay and she
wasn’t likely to find another. “Thank you.”

A waitress came to take their order. There were two choices:
steak and potatoes or chicken and dumplings. Alejandro ordered steak, Shaye
opted for chicken.

She tried not to stare at him, but her gaze was drawn to his
face again and again. He was quite a handsome man. Not smooth and pretty like
so many of the men of her day, but rugged. Wild and untamed. And utterly male.
She pushed such thoughts from her mind. She didn’t want a man in her life
again. Didn’t need a man in her life.
A woman without a man is like a fish
without a bicycle.
She had read that somewhere and used it as a mantra
whenever she was tempted. She been had badly burned once; she didn’t intend to
subject herself to that kind of agony again. But she couldn’t stop looking at
Alejandro, couldn’t deny the attraction she felt for him. Couldn’t keep from
wondering…

Alejandro returned her gaze, one black brow arched.
“Something wrong?”

“No. Why?”

“You look at me as if you’ve never seen a man before.”

A faint smile tugged at Shaye’s lips. “Well, I’ve never seen
one like you, that’s for certain.”

“Like me? What the hell does that mean, like me? A man’s a
man.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You’d be surprised.”

“What’s that mean?” he asked, pointing at her shirt. “Jekyll
and Hyde.”

“It’s the name of a play. You know, a theatrical
production.”

Their food came then. Shaye turned her attention to the
meal, glad to have something else to focus on besides Alejandro Valverde.

When dinner was over, Alejandro paid the check and they left
the restaurant. The streets were as crowded at night as they had been during
the day.

“Nice night for a walk,” Alejandro said.

“Yes.” It was warm and clear. A million stars twinkled
against the dark blanket of the sky.

They passed a casino at the corner of Main and Green Street.
Music and laughter poured out of the swinging doors. It seemed every other
building was a saloon, and they were all running at full steam.

“It’s a hell of a town,” Alejandro remarked.

“How long have you been here?”

“A year, more or less.”

“How long are you going to stay?” she asked, then bit down
on her lower lip. She knew how long he would be here. Knew he would never
leave.

Alejandro shrugged. “Until the mines play out, I guess. Must
be close to thirty mining properties here, and new ones opening every day. Men
getting rich practically overnight.”

“But you’re a gambler, not a miner.”

He laughed softly. “Mining is hard work. Those men work
twelve-hour shifts six days a week. And for what? Four bucks a day. Hell, the
chief engineer only gets six dollars.” He shook his head. “It’s a hell of a lot
easier to take the gold after it’s been dug out of the ground.”

“Yes, I guess so.”

“You don’t approve?”

“It’s none of my business.”

“Here we are,” he said.

Shaye stopped beside him. A large sign proclaimed they were
at the Palace Hotel. “Ah,” she murmured. “Home sweet home.”

“I’ll walk you up,” he said.

She was going to tell him there was no need, but it was,
after all, his room. Without his generosity, she would have had no place to
spend the night.

Alejandro held the door for her and they crossed the lobby
to the staircase. When they reached his room, he pulled a key from his pocket.
Unlocking the door, he opened it for her, then handed her the key.

His fingers brushed hers, sending a little frisson of heated
awareness skittering up her arm. Her gaze flew to his, and he grinned at her.

“Why do you look so surprised, darlin’?” he asked.

His question, and her unexpected response to his touch, left
her speechless.

Not knowing what to say, she slipped the key into her
pocket, turned, and went into the room, felt her heart skip a beat when he
followed her.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I told you,” he said, gesturing at her backpack, “I want to
know what those things in your pack are.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” she retorted.

“I reckon not, but you will.”

She started to protest, then shrugged. She couldn’t blame
him for being curious. Sitting down on the bed, she reached into her backpack
and withdrew the first thing her hand touched. “This is a lipstick.” Opening
it, she applied it to her lips, then dropped it on the bed. “This is a hair
brush.” She held it up, then dropped it beside the lipstick. “This is my
wallet. This is bottled water…”