Bushedwhacked Groom (6 page)

“You’re lying!” accused one of her brothers.

“No, I’m not, Matthew. Ask Sanchez here. We watched this stranger crash into the gorge. He’s the
one I’ve waited for from the future. I found him there
just like Daddy found Ma.”

Her father scratched his head. “This doesn’t seem
possible, does it, Jessie?”

An attractive middle-aged woman with auburn hair
stepped up to join him, her expression awed. “Cole, do
you really think it could happen—again?”

Before he could answer, Molly yanked Lucky’s bill
fold from her pocket and handed it to her mother.
“Here, Ma, have a look for yourself. It’ll tell you all
about how he’s from the year twenty-aught-four.”

“Two thousand four!” the woman gasped.

As she opened the wallet, a brother protested, “Pa, I
don’t care where the hell this cowboy is from. Molly
can’t just hog-tie some wrangler and force him to wed
her. Ain’t she gotta win and woo him just like us boys’ll
have to do with our own chosen ladies?”

Frowning at Lucky’s driver’s license, the woman cor
rected her son. “Vance, how many times have I told
you not to say
ain‘t?”

“Aw, Ma, when we talk all educated like you, the men
in town tease us.”

“Well, the ladies you court won’t mind your display
ing an ounce or two of refinement,” she chided.

“Still, don’t—I mean
doesn’t
she got to court him fair
and square?”

As a brief silence fell, Lucky was not about to lose
his cue. “Folks, would someone
please
get me the hell off this horse before I barf all over this barnyard?”

At last everyone seemed to realize his plight. The old
woman patted him on the back. “Yep, let’s see to this
here poor fella before he hurls his biscuits.” She shook
a finger at Molly. “Granddaughter, this is no way to treat
your future husband. I should give you a good broom
ing for this.”

“Ah, Grandma, he’s hardly dying.”

“Yet,”
Lucky intoned painfully.

Molly’s dad whistled at her brothers. “All right, men,
let’s get him inside.”

Breathlessly Lucky added, “Just be right careful,
and—”

Before he could finish his sentence Lucky once
again felt his battered body being heaved—and once
again he screamed.

Chapter Four

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“Well, he looks a prime specimen, if a bit busted up at
the moment.”

Would the indignities never end? Now Lucky lay on
an old-fashioned feather bed in a front bedroom fur
nished with country-style antiques and kerosene lanterns, while the two females he’d learned were
called Grandma and Jessie pulled off his clothing.
They’d already dispensed with his boots and socks,
and now Jessie was reaching for his belt buckle.

He grabbed her hand and eyed her with menace.
“Hey, lady, I can tend to that myself.”

“Just quiet down, son,” she scolded back, matter-of-
factly unbuckling his belt. “I’ve raised four sons and
you don’t have a thing I haven’t seen before.” Contra
dicting herself, she gasped. “Ma, look at this zipper!
How amazing! I haven’t seen one of these since—well,
since before I made my journey back here.”

“Well, I’ll swan, Jessica.”

Jessica! My journey back here
. . .
At the women’s
words, Lucky felt a sudden chill. Hadn’t the professor
who had disappeared five years ago also been named
Jessica? Did that have anything to do with the fact that
these crackpots seemed to believe they all lived in the
year 1911?

Grandma was also peering downward, her eyes huge. “Why, of all the outlandish
. . .
Do you suppose Molly’s
right and this here fella really is from the future?”

Jessica, too, looked awed. “I never would have
thought
. . .
but after looking at his wallet and this . . .
well, I must admit it’s looking more and more possible.”

By now Lucky was thoroughly perplexed, not sure
what to believe. And although he was not a particu
larly modest man, his face was burning. These two
women, babbling away about the future, were likely as
crazy as the minx who had kidnapped him, and their
frank perusal and blunt talk were tormenting the hell
out of him. “Will you two ladies kindly quit staring at
my crotch?” he managed, mortified to hear his voice
crack.

Both of the ladies burst out laughing. “Full of piss
and vinegar, ain’t he?” asked Grandma. “He’ll be a right good match for our Molly”

“Possibly,” mused Jessica. She reached for the zipper.
“Now relax, son, so we can have a look at your injuries.”

He seized her wrist. “Hey, lady, that ain’t where I’m
injured.”

“I know” she soothed in motherly tones. “But we
can’t exactly look at the rest of you without pulling off your pants, now can we?”

Lucky was reduced to pleading. “Ma’am, please, just
show me to your phone and I’ll be out of here in two
shakes.”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid we don’t have a tele
phone out here on the ranch.”

“Though they do have some of them newfangled
contraptions in town,” added Grandma.

“Newfangled?” Lucky repeated in bewilderment.

Jessica’s lips curved with amusement. “Don’t worry
about that now. So your name’s Lucky Lamont, eh?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Much as Lucky hated to admit it, this
woman had a calming effect on him.

She carefully unzipped him and began tugging
down the tight jeans. “Well, Lucky, you seem to be one
lucky fellow.” She ran a hand down one leg, then the
other. “You’re bruised up, but no signs of anything bro
ken here.”

“He’s well endowed, too,” put in Grandma with a
grin.

“Ma!” Jessica scolded, while Lucky turned every
shade of purple.

Unrepentant, Grandma scowled at Jessica. “Well, we
need to make sure he didn’t lose none of his essentials
when he crashed into that there gorge. All his child-
making equipment looks intact to me.” She pointed at
Lucky’s briefs. “And as skimpy as that undergarment is, it leaves nothing to the imagination, if you know what I
mean.”

Both women took another look.

“Will you two
please
quit staring at my privates?”
Lucky implored.

The ladies only laughed again, then removed his
shirt and began seeing to his many cuts and scratches,
cleaning them with soap and water. Although at first the soap stung, causing him to grimace and grind his
teeth, once the cool compresses were applied, Lucky
had to admit the ladies’ ministrations felt good.

Their touch was a damn lot more soothing than that
of the hellcat who had hauled him back here.

Afterward, Grandma dried her hands. “He’ll live but
could use a good soaking in Epsom salts. I’ll go ready a bath for him while you tug off that underwear.”

The woman lumbered out of the room, and Lucky glowered at Jessica, pressing his hands to his crotch. “
Touch it and I’ll kill you, lady.”

She winked. “Don’t worry, son, we’ll allow you a little
dignity.”

Scant little,
Lucky grumbled to himself.

As if reading his thoughts, she touched his arm and
spoke solemnly. “Lucky, I know a lot has happened to
you, a lot of bizarre things you can’t possibly under
stand right now. In time, I’ll try to explain it to you. You
see, it all happened to me, too. It has to do with your
destiny.”

Lucky eyed her askance. What the hell was going on
here?
Was
she the same Jessica he had heard about, the one who had disappeared? If so, had the same
wacko cult kidnapped her, as well?

***

“I had a bath, too, right after I first arrived here.”

Half an hour later, every step was torture as Lucky
hobbled through the bedroom toward the back door,
leaning on Jessica, a skimpy towel tied at his midsec
tion the only barrier between propriety and the alto
gether. He couldn’t figure out which smarted more, his
body or his pride. At least Jessica had allowed him
some measure of privacy when she’d returned for him,
turning her back while he slipped off his briefs and
donned the towel.

Much as he found his current situation absurd, he
remained amazed that this slender, middle-aged
woman had such a soothing effect on him. She was
pretty, too, with her graying auburn hair and classically
lovely features. She seemed well educated.

Just like the Jessica Garrett who had disappeared would have been, he thought with another chill. But
hadn’t that Jessica been much younger—still in her
twenties, if memory served?

She swung open the back door and helped him step
down onto the porch. With a grimace he glanced
about. The expanse of gray-blue deck was large and
sheltered, protected on two sides by the whitewashed
back walls of the house and on a third by a huge trellis teeming with fragrant honeysuckle.

Then he caught sight of Grandma, who stood
proudly grinning in the center of the porch next to a
steaming tub.

“Well, there you are,” she greeted.

Taking in the small proportions of the tin tub, he
managed a pained grunt. “You expect me to take a
bath in
that?”

“Sorry, son, but we ain’t got any of the so-called
modern
stuff they got in town,” Grandma replied.
“
No
indoor plumbing, no electricity and none of them godless horseless carriages, neither.”

Lucky was stunned. “Damn—how far out in the
country do you folks live?”

Jessica laughed. “Don’t worry, Lucky. You’ll catch on
to everything in due course. Now go have a good soak
in the tub.”

He eyed her askance. “Looks more like a torture
chamber to me.”

“We’ll help you in,” she offered.

He grabbed his privates. “Not on your life!”

“If we leave, will you promise to get in?” cajoled
Grandma.

Lucky glanced from her fiercely determined face to
Jessica’s. “Okay, then.”

“Okay?” Grandma stepped forward to elbow Jessica.
“Ain’t he a hoot! He’s talking that new slang like they
do in the Springs, eh?”

Lucky rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Ma,” urged Jessica. “Let’s give the poor
man some privacy.” She turned to give him a quick
once-over. “Looks like you’re about the same size as my
Vance. I’ll lay out some clean clothes for you in the
bedroom. After you’re done, I imagine Mr. Reklaw and
I will want to have a word with you.”

“Yeah,” Lucky muttered.

“Call if you need anything,” Grandma added pleas
antly.

Lucky flashed the women a stiff smile. “I think you
folks have done enough for me already.”

After they left him, Lucky struggled to gather his
wits. These people were clearly whacked as hell, living
in primitive squalor with no electricity, indoor plumb
ing or phone. He needed to get his butt away from this funny farm, pronto.

But how? After that jarring upside-down ride on the hell
cat’s horse, he wasn’t sure exactly where he was. Plus
he couldn’t just hightail it for the hills in his current
state of undress. Though Jessica had mentioned laying
out some clothes for him.

He tiptoed over to the bedroom door and eased it
open. He froze. Jessica was there, gathering up his
dirty duds, placing his wallet on the dresser; but so far
she hadn’t yet laid out any fresh garments. He might as
well take a quick bath and soak his wounds in the Ep
som salts. Then he’d sneak in, grab the clothes and
make tracks before anyone caught on.

He hobbled over to the tub, dropped his towel and
painfully lowered his large body inside. The position
was awkward and hellish, with his knees folded up
practically to his chin, but the hot, medicated water felt
wonderful on his scratches, cuts and bruises. No doubt
this would help limber him up to make a run for it.

Of course he had no transportation, and according
to the lunatic Grandma, they didn’t even possess a car
on this primitive farm. Should he steal a horse from the
barn? He grimaced. To this day, horse thieves were
looked on poorly everywhere in the West. At least they
weren’t lynched on the spot anymore, although he
didn’t doubt these kooks might string him up.

Then he remembered about his wallet. He knew he had at least fifty dollars; surely he could leave that as
“horse rental,” with perhaps a note promising to return the animal as soon as he got back to the Flying T. Yes,
that was the best way to handle this crazy predicament.

Lucky was still plotting his escape when he heard a
shrill feminine voice yell, “You’re letting him
what?
All
by his lonesome?”

Without even contemplating the matter, Lucky
knew
this was the voice of his she-devil tormentor, Molly. A
second later she burst out onto the porch, only to
freeze at the sight of him in the tub. Lucky was tempted
to jump up and strangle the minx; then he felt himself
harden at the sight of her. She stood there so flushed and breathless, tendrils of auburn curls framing her
face, her tight pants and shirt clinging to her shapely
body. His outrage and horror were soon replaced by
fascination and lust. Could she spot the heat in his
eyes? He prayed she’d mistake it for anger.

She recognized something all right, for she gulped,
then drew her chin up proudly. “Don’t you go getting no thoughts of hightailing it, mister. I’ve got plans for
you.”

“You can take your plans and—”

Even as Lucky was blessing her out, Grandma rushed
out onto the porch with broom in hand. “Granddaugh
ter, have you no sense of decorum?”

Molly turned on her. “You left my affianced here
alone where he could escape.”