My Heart Will Find Yours (6 page)

Texanna found going through Pearlina’s things emotionally exhausting. She read old letters. Some words brought laughter, others tears. Her vanity held a variety of half-empty bottles of perfumes. She sampled every one and found each fragrance brought on fond memories of her childhood. One empty container sat alone. When she removed the lid, a trace of sweet lilac filled her senses. Funny, she never remembered Pearl wearing the scent, but for some reason, the bottle held a special place on her dressing table.

Her mahogany chest-of-drawers held underwear from the forties and fifties, some still with the tags. The woman had enough shoes, purses, and hats to open a store. Texanna decided to keep the ones she liked best and donate the rest to San Antonio’s Community Theatre for costumes.

By mid-afternoon, tired from a full day of packing, Texanna curled up on the old four-poster bed to take a nap. When she woke, the last of the day’s sunlight shone through the lace curtains onto a book on the bedside table. It was a book on the early history of Waco, Texas. She rolled over and grabbed it. As she ruffled the pages, it fell open to two pieces of stationary folded in half. She unfolded the first and read.

There is but one philosophy and its name is fortitude! To bear is to conquer our fate. (Edward G. Bulwer Lytton—1803-1873)

The second quote was longer.

Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart. (Marcus Aurelius)

Marcus Aurelius? Wasn’t he a Roman emperor back in the gladiator days? She flopped back onto the pillows. Just a month ago her life had been so simple. Now she had to deal with the fact she’d time-traveled and at this very moment sat reading antique Roman literature.

Texanna sighed and flipped through the pages to a bookmarked section about Waco’s Marshal Royce Dyson. At the words in the caption under his picture, her heart sank. It described his death at the hands of the Bass gang, but it was the last several lines that chilled her soul.

Marshal Dyson’s wife, Pearlina Baines Dyson disappeared on June 15, 1876. She returned June 15, 1880 but the following day vanished. Though foul play was suspected, nothing could be proven. The situation is a mystery that’s never been solved.

****

Texanna searched the Internet until she found mention of the Dyson family. Jason’s great-grandson Jonathan was born in 1928. His last recorded address was in Kerrville, Texas, just a short drive from San Antonio. Directory assistance gave her his phone number. He answered on the first ring.

“Mr. Dyson, this is Texanna Keith. You don’t know me, but I’ve been doing some research on the lawmen of the Dyson family.”

“Is that so?”

“Uh, yes. I wondered if I might visit with you and ask you some questions about Royce and Jason Dyson.” Her heart beat so hard she feared he could hear it through the receiver.

“Why, I’d be pleased to talk to you. When can you come?”

“Would this afternoon be all right?”

The drive to Kerrville sped by pleasantly and took her just under an hour. She followed the winding drive to the midsized ranch-style, brick home sitting on several acres of rough hill country land. The yard was nicely landscaped with beds of cactus, rocks, and the occasional steer head skeleton. When she pulled to a stop, a man in his fifties came out to greet her.

He was tall and well built. His smile displayed a dimple like the one in Royce’s cheek. “Hello, Miss Keith, I’m Alex Dyson, Dad’s oldest son. Pop’s waiting for you in the sunroom. He’s been chomping at the bit all morning afraid you’d changed your mind.”

She shook his hand and laughed. “Oh, I’d never do that. I’m anxious to speak with him.” Her expression sobered. “I know he’s not well, so I’ll try not to tire him.”

“Don’t you worry about that now. He’s been down lately and having a chance to talk about the family history is just what he needs to perk him up.”

Before they reached the room at the back of the house, a loud voice hollered. “Is that her, Son?”

Alex grinned. “Sure is, Pop, and she’s a pretty little lady too.”

They entered the room and Texanna’s eyes lit on the older man leaning back in his recliner. He held out a hand to her, and she strode across the room to take it in a firm grasp. “Why she is at that, Son.” He motioned to the chair beside him. “Have a seat here by me.”

“Would you like some coffee, Miss Keith?” Alex waved his hand. “I know you do, Pop.”

“I’d love a cup, and please, call me Texanna.”

He nodded and left the room. “Now, young lady, what exactly would you like to know about the Dyson family?” He picked up a small pile of old books and papers from the end table. Tremors shook his hand as he lowered them into his lap. “Whatever you need to know, I’ve got the answers right here.”

“Uh, I guess I’d like to know about your grandfather Jason’s life, what it was like after his brother died.”

The older man scratched his chin. “Don’t suppose you could tell me why you’re interested, now could you?”

“I’d rather not because you probably wouldn’t believe me. It’s a really weird story.”

Alex brought their coffee and left them to talk. Mr. Dyson blew on his coffee to cool it before taking a healthy swig. “Well, I truly love stories, the weirder the better.”

She couldn’t think of a reason why she shouldn’t tell him everything. After all, the worst that could happen is he’d believe she was crazy. “A friend of mine, an elderly woman named Pearlina Baines married Marshal Royce Dyson in 1872. In 1876 she boarded a train for San Antonio and...”

Mr. Dyson didn’t interrupt. His keen blue eyes watched her with interest and curiosity. As he listened, he’d nod his head from time to time. When she finished, she waited for him to make a derogatory remark, but he didn’t. He settled back in his chair and studied her for a minute. “During my early years, after great-granddaddy Dyson retired, I used to sit at his knee and listen to stories. There was one in particular I begged to hear time and again. It was about a crazy redheaded woman named Texanna.”

She held her breath as he continued. “Seems she told a wild story about time-travel. Of course no one believed her, but before he died in 1940, Pappy Dyson decided the woman might have been telling the truth.”

He opened a diary and pointed to a specific entry. Texanna took the journal from him and read. The words were faint from age, but she had no trouble deciphering them.

August 9, 1880

Today we laid Royce to rest. My heart is heavy with grief and remorse at sending Texanna away. If only I’d listened to Texanna, Royce would be here today and Garrett wouldn’t be without a father. God forgive me for I’ll never forgive myself. Nor did Royce.

Texanna looked at the front of the journal. It belonged to Jason Dyson.

Voice gravelly, he asked, “Is that what you needed to know?”

Blinking back a tear, she nodded and passed the open book back to him.

“Great-granddaddy never got over his brother’s death. A week before, his oldest brother Matthew’s wife delivered twins. The baby girl was healthy, but the boy never took a breath. Lots of babies died back in them days. Doctors didn’t know near what they do today.” He closed the journal and lovingly ran his hand over the cover. “Then when the boy Garrett died, he took his death to heart as well. Jason Dyson was a fine man, a good lawman, too. Unfortunately, he carried that guilt all his life, put a damper on his happiness.”

“That’d be a hard load to bear. How old was your great-granddaddy when he died?”

“Eighty-two, died just one year after his wife Sally passed on.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dyson for sharing this with me.” She stood to shake his hand.

He reached for both of hers. His large hands swallowed hers as he squeezed gently. “You’re welcome. I enjoyed our visit.” His blue eyes bored into hers—a wealth of knowledge radiated from them. “God keep you and bless you.” He winked. “Safe journey, Texanna.”

****

It was clear what she must do. The robbery wouldn’t occur for just over a month, but she feared if she didn’t go now, something might prevent her from going back. She needed to be there to make sure Royce lived.

Texanna called her father to let him know she’d be vacationing and be gone probably a month. Pauline dropped her at the depot, and carpetbag in hand, she boarded the train for Waco. Just before the train reached Austin, she went into the restroom, sat down on the toilet seat, and leaned back with her tennis shoes braced against the adjacent wall. She focused her mind on June 29, 1880 and clutched the turquoise locket. Though expecting it, the jolt still rattled her bones and her head bounced off the back wall.

She changed clothes before leaving the lavatory. Dressed in her gray serge Victorian dress and the ratty straw bonnet, she rejoined the other passengers. Hands trembling slightly, she folded them in her lap and concentrated on stilling her galloping heart.

When the train slowed and pulled into the station, she waited until everyone else disembarked before getting up. The streets and sights were the same as she remembered them. Taking a deep breath, straightening her shoulders, she struck out across the street toward the marshal’s office. Men tipped their hats, ladies smiled and nodded, but no one spoke and called her Pearl. But some looked curiously at her, and she saw heads together whispering. A few people fell in behind her.

Jason sat at the desk in the jail’s outer office. His brow wrinkled as he squinted trying to read the words on a small poster. She cleared her throat, and he looked up. His mouth fell open in shock. It quickly turned to anger and settled on resignation. His face was blue from fading bruises, and one eye was purple.

“What happened to you?”

He stood up and came around the desk. “My brother wasn’t particularly happy I let his prisoner get away. Didn’t take kindly to having his brother betray him and not follow orders.”

“Why I never...” She was too shocked to say more.

Ignoring her search for words, he took her arm and led her toward Royce’s office. Jason knocked once, opened the door, shoved her inside, and quickly closed it behind her.

“What is it, Jason?” When Royce didn’t receive an answer, he looked up and saw Texanna. His eyes widened in surprise, and then he grinned. “Well, well, what have we here? My errant wife has returned once again.” He stood up and walked around the desk.

“Your wife my ass.”

Chapter Five

Texanna dropped the carpetbag and plopped her hands on her hips, her face red with anger. Her breasts heaved with righteous indignation. Lordy, she was pretty with her dander up.

“What do you mean by hitting that boy out there? The only reason he let me go was to keep you from getting hurt. He tried to help you—the big brother he dearly loves.”

“That
boy
is a deputy of the state of Texas and paid to do what I tell him to do. He’s lucky I didn’t fire him for helping you. May yet.”

She snorted. “That’d be a shame. He’s going to be a good lawman, almost as good as you. I—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” That’s all he needed—another cock and bull story that didn’t make a lick of sense. He walked around the desk and stood in front of her. His closeness unnerved her, and she moved back a step. The knowledge pleased him. “What prompted you to come back?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so I’ll just keep my reasons to myself.”

He couldn’t hold back a grin. “Ahh, you’re anxious to resume our marriage. Missed my loving, huh?” The expression on her face was priceless.

“Why you puffed up buffoon.” She poked him in the chest emphasizing each word. “It’ll be a cold day in hell when I enjoy your loving.” He’d maneuvered her back against the wall. She shoved at him. “I’m here to save your life, and that’s all, so keep your hands to yourself.”

Hands to each side of her head, he looked down at her pink lips. They called to him, and he wanted to bend down and taste them. He cleared his throat and pulled back. “Since you’re not my wife, just where do you plan to live while you’re doing this life saving? Who’s going to pay the bills?”

Texanna couldn’t think with him so close. The heat from his body, along with his bay rum aftershave settled over her making her woozy. His nearness was just a little too tempting.

The gleam of amusement in his eyes doused her desire. Smiling sweetly, she said. “I’ll get a job doing something. If the bank will give me a loan, I’ll paint portraits.”

His eyes lost their humor. He stepped back. “You paint?”

“Yes, I’m relatively well-known for my portraits in San Antonio. As a matter of fact, I’m acquiring clients all over the state now, some in other states. My latest portrait commission paid five thousand dollars.”

His snort of derision said he didn’t believe her.

“Buy me some paints, and I’ll prove it.”

“Why didn’t you bring money or supplies with you?”

“You know why. I couldn’t bring money from the future back here. People would think it was counterfeit. They’d think I was crazy or have me arrested.”

He shook his head. “You are crazy woman, or you’re up to something. Until I find out why you’re here, where you got Pearl’s things, and what you’re up to, you’ll be staying at my house as my wife.”

“I’ll do no such thing.”

“It’s either with me or here in a jail cell.”

What had she been thinking coming here without a way to support herself? She could have scoured the antique stores, located some old money, and stayed in a boarding house. Shoot, Royce probably would’ve arrested her anyway.

“I’m not sleeping with you, Mr. Dyson. If I come, it’ll be an ‘in-name only’ situation.”

“Suit yourself.” He looked her up and down. “I’m glad to see you’re suitably dressed today. The marshal has an image to keep up, you know.”

The man was baiting her. She smirked at him. “As long as I’m here, I’ll be a model housewife and not embarrass you. But I’m here to tell you, I don’t know how to cook.”

“We’ll see about that.” He grabbed his shotgun and hat, and taking her arm, escorted her out of his office. Jason sat at the desk, a look of resolve on his face. “I’m taking Texanna home. Send someone for me if there’s trouble.”