Taken by the Cowboy (4 page)

"Well, I can guarantee
he won't find anything on me." And that was the truth, especially
if this really was 1881. "How much is the reward?"

"You mean you don't
know? Everybody knows about that reward. Lou was famous."

She hesitated and chose
her words carefully. "I'm from out of town."

"Well then...." He
smiled proudly. "It's five hundred dollars."

A nice tidy sum. It
might come in handy if she was stuck here for a while.

"When will I get the
money?" she asked.

"Wade'll have to talk
to the governor. It might take a few days." He walked around the
sheriff's desk, sat down in a creaky chair, and rested his elbows
on his knees. "So, how’d it feel to meet Sheriff Wade in person?
Most folks get all tongue tied and like to go home braggin’ about
it."

She sat on the cot.
"Why? Is he famous or something?"

"Darn tootin! He can
draw quicker'n you can spit and holler howdy. Lou was pretty good,
too, but I would've put my money on Wade if I was a gambling man."
Deputy Dempsey's face went pale. "But I suppose, you must be pretty
good, yerself."

Jessica shook her head
and looked down at the floor. If she wasn’t up to her ears in
anxiety, she might find some of this amusing. "How is it Sheriff
Wade became so famous?"

"Well, nobody knows the
whole story for sure. The way I heard it, he shot the outlaw who
killed the old town marshal. There was a draw, and nobody even saw
Truman go for his gun."

Dempsey drew his
six-shooter. He clumsily twirled it around his index finger and
dropped it back into the holster. "He was just like lightning they
say. They elected him county sheriff not long after that. He also
holds the office of town marshal. Dodge has been pretty quiet since
then. Nobody wants to mess with him."

"That's it? He won a
single draw?” Jessica said. “Could've been pure luck."

"Luck?” Deputy
Dempsey’s head drew back as if she had just said the sky was green.
“No, he's never missed."

"You mean he's killed
others?"

"That's what people
say. He's only been here a year, and he hasn't killed anybody else
in Dodge other than that one outlaw. Hasn't had to. People don't
risk making him want to shoot them, I guess."

Dempsey stood up and
sauntered to the window. "They say he used to be a hired gun and
killed people for money. He won't talk about it, though."

All of a sudden,
Jessica wasn't feeling too well. Ever since Gregory was shot, guns
were not her favorite topic of conversation. Yet here she was, held
prisoner by a man famous for killing people. For money.

She pressed the heel of
her hand to her forehead as the ground started to whirl beneath her
feet. That worried her because she’d had a few dizzy spells since
the accident.

"I think I need to lie
down.” She put her head down on the pillow.

Dempsey quickly averted
his gaze. “I beg your pardon, ma’am. I’ll be outside if you need
anything." He placed his hat on his head and left.

Jessica lay on the
rickety cot, trying not to make any sudden movements that might
cause her to hurl. She rolled onto her side and rested her cheek on
her hands. The sheriff's face appeared in her mind, and something
about his eyes sent her head into another spin. Maybe it was the
unusual turquoise color of his eyes that struck her with such
potency.

No, that wasn't it.
There was something else....

Jessica sat up. Sheriff
Wade was familiar. She was certain she'd seen him before. But
where? She wouldn't forget meeting a man like that.

Just then, the door
creaked open. Jessica rose to her feet.

"Miss Delaney?"

"Yes?"

Sheriff Wade entered
the jailhouse with one thumb hooked in his belt loop and the other
tipping his hat off his forehead. Those eyes gleamed in the
lamplight, and for a flashing second, she forgot about the bed
spins.

"Here's the lawyer you
wanted," he drawled.

A portly middle-aged
man wearing spectacles and a three-piece suit entered the
jailhouse. A gold watch chain dangled from the pocket of his vest,
and he carried a soft brown leather
briefcase
. The top of
his balding head didn't quite reach the bottom point of Sheriff
Wade's badge.

This was the man who
was going to help her? She was hoping for someone...taller.

"I understand you are
vehemently requesting a lawyer," he remarked.

"Yes."

"I'm Angus Maxwell." He
crossed the room with his hand outstretched. She immediately put
her own through the bars and gave him a firm handshake. He stared
into her eyes for a moment.

"Why are you looking at
me like that?" Jessica shivered.

"Sheriff, will you
excuse us please?” Maxwell asked, turning. “I’d like some privacy
with my client."

Wade nodded and
disappeared out the front door with Dempsey. Mr. Maxwell set his
briefcase on the floor.

"What is it?" Jessica
asked again. The man's silence was unnerving. Something was wrong.
She feared he was about to deliver terrible news.

“I understand you shot
a man.”

“No. That’s what I need
to talk to you about.”

"Sheriff Wade also said
you were in a car accident."

"That's right,
but—"

"How long have you been
in Dodge?" he asked.

"That depends on what
Dodge you’re talking about. This sure isn't the Dodge I know."

He narrowed his
bespectacled gaze. “How do you mean?”

"You wouldn’t believe
me if I told you.”

For a long moment, he
squinted into her eyes, then looked down at her outfit. “Sheriff
Wade got me out of bed to come here and talk to you. He said you
were desperate, and I’d like to know why.”

She thought hard about
what she should say. “Is client confidentiality invented yet? I
mean, you’re sworn to secrecy, right?”

“I assure you, I am
very discreet.”

She paced back and
forth in the cell. “Well, in that case…I’m going to tell you
something that’s going to sound a little crazy.”

He quirked a brow.
“Believe me, I’ve heard it all. Nothing you say will surprise
me.”

Jessica continued to
pace, but watched his expression carefully as she began to
explain.

“I think I might
have...I know this sounds unbelievable, but...” She leaned closer
and whispered. “I’m not from here, and I think I might have
traveled back in time. In my world, it’s 2011.”

His stunned expression
silenced her.

“You don’t believe me,
do you?” she said. “I knew it.”

Mr. Maxwell cleared his
throat, as if he had no idea how to respond.

“Nothing’s the same
here,” she continued. “I’m used to telephones and lights and...well
you probably wouldn’t understand. Sheriff Wade just told me that
it’s 1881, and I’m having a hard time accepting it myself. Maybe
I’ve lost my mind, or I’m hallucinating. I don’t know. I just want
to go home."

His eyes narrowed as if
he were struggling to understand. "When did you arrive here?”

“About an hour ago, or
maybe it was longer. I don’t know. It was a bit of a walk, and I
was disoriented.”

“What happened to the
car?”

“I have no idea. It
seemed vanish into thin air, but I think I blacked out for a while.
When I woke up, I was lying on the prairie.”

He stared at her. “This
is inconceivable.”

Jessica turned away
from him and crossed the cell to the crude square mirror that hung
over the wash basin. She looked at her reflection carefully. "Tell
me about it.”

“But you don’t
understand…” he began to say.

Just then, the door of
the jailhouse opened and Wade entered with Deputy Dempsey. Mr.
Maxwell swung around to face them.

"You two about
finished?" the sheriff asked.

Maxwell stepped
forward. "Sheriff Wade, my client was doing her duty as a U.S.
citizen. Her intention was to bring in Left Hand Lou in response to
your advertisement."

Jessica opened her
mouth to object, but Mr. Maxwell held up a hand to silence her.

"Fine," Wade said.
"I'll arrange for the reward money in the morning."

Jessica stared at him
in astonishment.

"But I want to hold her
for a while,” Wade added, “until I do some checking on my own."

"That's fine, Sheriff."
Mr. Maxwell approached the bars again and whispered to Jessica,
"Come and see me when he releases you. I'll provide you with a
place to stay." He slipped a card to her with his name and address
written on it. “And don’t tell anyone what you’ve just told me.
There’s more you need to know first. I’ll explain when I see
you.”

Turning away, he tipped
his hat at the sheriff, and left Jessica standing there with her
mouth agape.

Sheriff Wade unbuckled
his gun belt and hung it on the hook next to his hat. "You can go
home, Dempsey. I'll look after Miss Delaney for the night." He sat
down in the chair and threw his long legs up onto the desk. Jessica
looked at Deputy Dempsey for help, but he'd already disappeared
through the door, which was bouncing on its hinges.

"Don't expect me to
answer any questions without my lawyer present," she said.

Sheriff Wade studied
her intently. "I've never met anyone so fixed on having their
lawyer around."

"I know my rights."

"You certainly do
advocate that." He looked down at her belted jacket and noticed the
torn pocket. "Do you have any other clothes? You're covered in
mud."

"No," she replied and
gave a little shiver.

"I'll see if I can get
something else for you to wear."

Wade rose from the
chair and crossed the room toward the staircase. The flame in the
kerosene lamp flickered as he passed by, and Jessica breathed a
sigh of relief to be out from under his concentrated scrutiny.

A few minutes later,
his black leather boots came tapping heavily down the stairs.
Jessica stood up and watched him approach with a pale blue calico
dress and some white cotton petticoats draped over his arm.

Just before he passed
the garments to her, he ran his hand gently, almost tenderly,
across the lace neckline. "This should fit,” he said, “though it
may need hemming. You're not as tall as...as my wife."

Jessica reached out to
take the garments from him and pulled them carefully through the
bars.

She noticed there was
no corset, but he probably assumed she was already wearing one.
"Your wife won’t mind?"

He leaned one elbow on
the tall cabinet and glanced out the window. "I doubt it."

Jessica held the dress
up in front of her. It was like something out of an old movie. "I
don’t know about this. Look at this petticoat.
Geez
. I’m
going to get all caught up in it. I'll be tripping all over the
place."

"Put it on," he said.
"At least you'll look like a lady, even if you can't sound like
one."

“I assure you, Sheriff,
I'm every inch a lady."

He gave her a quick
once over from head to foot, as if studying all those inches she
had just referred to, then he lifted the black hat from its hook on
the wall, placed it on his head and buckled his gun belt around his
hips.

Slowly, with a wildly
sexy lawman’s swagger, he walked toward her.

A dizzying current of
heat shot through her veins, and she took an instinctive step back,
forgetting for a moment that there were bars between them.

"Blue's your color," he
said, his voice silky smooth.

Jessica tried to ignore
the sudden rush of adrenalin that fired her blood. "I appreciate
the compliment,” she said. “But I have a question for you, Sheriff
Wade.”

He lounged casually
against the bars and waited.

“Are you a
gentleman?”

He paused. “I like to
think so.”

“Then how about looking
the other way?” she suggested. “I’d like a little privacy before I
unbutton my blouse, if you don’t mind."

For a brief second, his
eyes seemed playful. Then he chuckled. "Everybody wants privacy
tonight. What a shame, in your case.” He politely fingered the brim
of his black hat, then turned to go. “I'll be right outside."

Jessica paused a
moment, her mood softened by the warm blush of heat that rose to
her cheeks.

Sheriff Wade was one
seriously handsome man—and as she’d just discovered, a bit of a
flirt, too.

She had best be careful
around him, because she always did have a thing for gorgeous hunks
in cowboy boots.

"No peeking through the
window," she said.

“I’ll try to restrain
myself.”

When Sheriff Wade
stepped out, Jessica watched him through the open door. He hooked
his thumbs in his belt and pushed back the long slicker. He looked
up and down the street as if to ensure there were no vandals
causing a ruckus, then shut the door behind him, and stomped down
the stairs with those heavy black boots.

As soon as he was out
of sight, Jessica quickly shed her twenty-first century clothing
and slipped into his wife’s dress.

Which fit
perfectly.

* * *

"Good morning. Hope you
slept well." Sheriff Wade lowered his legs from the desktop and
slammed his black boots onto the floor.

Still half asleep,
Jessica sat up and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. She
felt like she'd slept for days. Remembering what had happened the
night before, she shook her head in disbelief. Was this for real?
Had she really traveled back in time?

If she had, she needed
to find a way to get home. Her parents needed to know she was all
right.

"How long have you been
here?" she asked, smothering a yawn with her hand.

"All night."

He stood and jingled
the keys in his hand as he made his way to the cell door.
"Normally, Dempsey would've stayed, but I told him it wasn't
necessary. You wouldn't be going anywhere."