My Heart Will Find Yours (11 page)

By now Royce was leaning against a porch pillar, his back to her. “I am
your
Pearl’s next door neighbor. I’m the child she didn’t have, someone for her to love and dote on.”

She watched Royce’s rigid back. He didn’t move a muscle. “Pearl sent me so you’d know she didn’t abandon you and Garrett and wasn’t killed in some horrible way. She wanted to set you free to go on with your life.”

He whirled around to face her. “You expect me to believe you traveled back in time to give me this message?”

“Yes, but I also—”

Curses spewed from his mouth. “Give me some proof. I want proof.”

“What about my shoes and clothes?” She stood up and with her finger punched him in the chest. “And my underwear? I still want it back.”

“It’s indecent. No woman but a whore would wear such.” He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look up at him. “Have you been working in a brothel? Did someone kidnap you and force you into that type of slavery?”

Texanna was shocked speechless. Furious, she tried to knee him in the groin. When he jumped back she smacked him across the face before he had a chance to deflect her blow. “You think I’d work in a brothel? Why would you think such a stupid thing?”

He swore and muttered. “That damn French underwear. What do you expect? No decent woman would wear such skimpy unmentionables.”

“In 2008, all women wear underwear like mine. And they swim and sunbathe in public places in bathing suits that look much like
my
underwear.”

If the situation weren’t so serious, she would have laughed at the look on his face. His mouth opened and closed trying to say something. He was so red in the face she thought he might explode at any minute.

Finally, he bit out, “I don’t believe you. No lady would go out in something so shocking.”

“Well, I’m not a lady, at least that’s what I thought we’d agreed upon in the kitchen.”

His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked at her breasts. Why, the man was straining to see if she wore a chemise. She backed away from him. His eyes flashed up to hers. She turned and dashed into the house. He was on her before she made it through the door. Turning her in his arms, he locked hers down by her sides. Pressed against his chest, his forehead touched hers.

“Don’t do it, Royce. I’m warning you.” His hand grasped a handful of her skirt and gathered until she felt air on her bottom. Tears pricked her eyes. “Please, don’t do this.”

His big, warm hand cupped her bare buttock—her flesh quivered, his touch evoking feelings foreign to her. At her body’s response, his hand stilled, and then he groaned low in his throat and covered her mouth with his. Unable to resist, she returned the kiss, clutched his waist, and pressed her body into his.

Texanna was melting, her body screamed for more of this man’s touch. And she wanted to touch him in return—reach inside his shirt and run her fingers through the hair on his chest, feel the muscles of his back and his taut butt.

So, this is what it’s all about—the fire that ignites between two people. She shoved at his chest. “Stop. We can’t do this.”

He froze and moved his hand to her head and held it to his chest. Voice hoarse, he rasped. “Why, Texanna? Tell me why.” He forced her to look at him. “You want me too, I know you do.” He planted soft kisses on her cheeks, her lips, and under her jaw. “Say it.”

She swiped at the tears on her cheeks and cried. “Yes! I do. You’re the only man who’s ever made me feel this way, but it can’t happen.”

“Give me a reason, dammit.”

“Because I’m not your wife, and you don’t love me.”

His face buried in her hair, he spoke softly in her ear. “You could be my wife. I need proof you’re not. You’re so like her, yet so different.” He yanked her head back and fixed her with a stare. “What does it matter anyhow? In a brothel, one customer is as good as another.”

Blood pounded in her head, and flashes of light danced in front of her eyes. Shrieking like a mad woman, she struck out at him with both hands. Faster this time, he caught both fists and shoved her back, not releasing her hands.

“Stop it. You’re acting like a child.”

She jerked free and batted at the tears on her face. “The only proof I have I’m not your wife or a whore is the fact I’ve never been with a man. I may not be a lady, but I’m a virgin.”

Holding in her sobs, she moved toward the door, and then turned back toward him. “Stay the hell away from me.”

Chapter Eight

Royce sat on the front porch pondering Texanna’s words. Her declaration left him flabbergasted, and he’d been unable to come up with a rebuttal. Was it possible Texanna was a virgin?

He shook his head. No, time-travel wasn’t possible. It had to be a made-up story, fiction like that book by Jules Verne,
Journey to the Center of the Earth.
That’s what Royce wanted to believe, but doubts worried him. If folks thought he’d even considered her tale, they’d think him crazy as a loon. What scared him the most was her cock and bull story began to make sense.

Ah, hell. Sitting here worrying about it wasn’t going to change things. He stood and started for the door when he noticed the book on the table between the rockers. The title read
Early History of Waco, Texas 1837-1955.
His eyes must be playing tricks on him. He picked it up and flipped it open to read the publishing date—1962.

Legs feeling like rubber, he eased down into a rocker. The book could be a fake. It wouldn’t take much to put the wrong date in a book. He ran his finger over the dates on the cover, noting the frayed edges of the book.

Heart hammering in his chest, he sat the book in his lap and let it fall open to a place marked with a photograph. He picked it up and immediately noticed it was clearer and sharper than the tintypes he’d seen. A man and woman stood together, his arm around her shoulders. She wore a two-piece suit with the skirt hitting just below her knees. Her hair was short like Texanna’s and curled around her face. A hat with a feather sat cockily on her head. She looked amazingly like Texanna, but with a fuller figure. Even the smile on her face was similar. He turned the picture over. Written in ink were the words—
John Thompson and Pearlina Baines Dyson on the courthouse steps on their wedding day, September 21, 1940.

Hands shaking, he turned to another section marked with one more likeness. An older woman, her pink scalp showing through her thin white hair, sat in a high-backed chair in front of a fireplace. Though wrinkled, her pale face had added color with paint on her cheeks and lips. His stomach clenched in alarm. The blue eyes that stared out of the photograph were Pearl’s.

****

With the book tucked under his arm, Royce ambled into the kitchen where Texanna stood looking through a cookbook. Her back was to him, and she didn’t turn. From the square set of her shoulders, he knew she was still upset. He suspected she’d been crying, which made him feel lower than a skunk.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for those things I said. This crazy situation has got me flummoxed.”

She turned and nodded. “I can understand that.”

“I found this on the porch.” Her eyes followed his hand as he laid the book on the table. “Saw the pictures, but I’m not ready to believe my eyes. My mind just can’t grasp it.” He pulled out a chair and sat down.

“I need to tell you something else.”

Royce propped his elbows on the table and clasped his hands. “Oh, Lord. What now?”

Her expression was sympathetic. He saw a glitter of tears in her eyes. “When I returned to my time, Pearl had passed on. We buried her two days later.”

He didn’t know what to say, how to respond, or how to feel. A month ago, before Texanna’s arrival, if Pearl’s body had been found, he’d have known how to grieve. Her death was a fact he’d lived with for four years. But this was different. If the woman in the picture was his wife, how could he deal with it?

Texanna asked. “Did you look through the book and find the pictures of you and Garrett?”

“No.” He stood shoving his chair back. “I didn’t get past the pictures of Pearl...the pictures of the woman.” He couldn’t deal with anymore right now. He wasn’t sure which was worse, accepting Texanna’s story of time-travel or thinking the woman in those pictures might be Pearl.

Grasping to change the subject, he muttered. “You want to take those guns out back and give ‘um a try? See if you’re as good a shot as you claim?”

“Really?” Her eyes rounded with hope.

“Sure, why not?”

“What about lunch? You need to eat before you leave.”

“I’ll help you throw something together when we finish, then you can ride into town with me.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it. Find a hat and some gloves while I fetch the guns.” He looked at her skirt. “And put on your riding skirt and a chemise. You can’t go into town with nothing under that blouse.”

Her chin raised an inch, and for a minute he thought she’d decline his invitation. Then she turned and walked ahead of him to the stairs.

“If you don’t want to have chapped legs, you better put on those bloomers.”

At his statement, her step faltered, but she continued up the stairs. His eyes locked on the movement of her hips and rounded butt, and he couldn’t keep from noticing she had a fine-looking rear end.

He stood at the back door with the Remington and the Colt, cartridges for each in his pockets. A feed sack filled with empty cans sat by his feet. Since he and Garrett had been alone, many of their meals came from tin cans. They’d stacked them in a box on the porch.

Texanna flew into the kitchen in a whirl of red hair, gloves and hat in her hand. Her face was rosy from rushing, and her blue eyes danced with excitement. She was so naturally beautiful, and her cocky attitude enhanced it. He could only stare and soak up the warmth she radiated.

Her smile faded. “What’s wrong? I put on that tacky underwear if that’s what’s bothering you.”

“Just lost in thought there a minute. Let’s go.”

Royce made sure the horses and the cow weren’t in the line of fire and set five cans in a row about twenty-five yards from where he and Texanna took up position. He handed her the Colt and six cartridges and watched her load the Peacemaker.

“Alright, let’s see if you can hit one of those cans. Remember, it’s gonna have a hearty kick.”

She nodded and took aim using her left arm for a brace. When she fired, the can popped into the air, and she stumbled back several steps. He reached out to catch her before she fell.

Laughing, she grinned. “Wow! That was awesome.”

“You did good.”

“Thanks. Piece of cake.”

“You want cake?”

She chuckled. “Uh, no, that’s just an expression. It means that was easy. You know, a piece of cake.”

“Uh, huh.” No, he didn’t understand, but decided to drop the subject. “You want to shoot the rest of those cans or move on to the Winchester?”

“I think once is enough with the Colt.” She removed the remaining cartridges and dropped them in his hand before handing him the firearm.

He took the Colt and handed her the Remington Repeating Rifle. She loaded the rifle with ease and sat it on her hip, barrel facing skyward until he returned from moving the cans farther back. When he returned, she lifted the rifle to her shoulder and fired. From fifty yards, she hit all five cans and immediately turned the barrel skyward. Someone had taught her well. Not only was she a good shot, she was careful.

“Who taught you to shoot like that?”

“I learned in the 4-H club. By the time I entered high school, I was competing across the state with other kids my age.”

“Hmm. What is this 4-H?”

“It’s a club where kids learn all sorts of important skills like shooting, judging animals for competition, cooking, sewing, and archery to name a few.”

“Guess you didn’t take to the cooking and sewing part, huh?”

She shrugged and blushed. “Didn’t interest me.”

“Why don’t you take the guns up to the house while I saddle the horses? Put some ham on those leftover biscuits. We’ll eat along the way.” For once she didn’t argue. “And bring my jacket and shotgun on your way out.”

He had Samson and Josie saddled by the time Texanna returned, her stride long and purposeful as she walked to the barn. The gun belt, holding the Colt, riding her shapely hips was hard to miss. She’d tied their lunch in a dishcloth. Reins in his hand, he met her halfway.

She handed him his jacket and waited until he had it on before turning over the shotgun. When he had it securely in his scabbard, he turned and looked down at the belt riding low on her hips, a tad too low. It needed more holes punched. He’d add them for her another time, find her a more suitable pistol, and she could wear it when she rode out to see Matthew.

“You are not wearing that gun to town.” He saw that mulish look on her face.

“Why not? You’re loaded down with them. And don’t think I didn’t notice that .32 revolver in your boot, either.”

“How observant of you. Did you notice the Bowie knife in my other boot?” Aha, he’d gotten her there. “I am the Marshal of Waco, you know. I’m expected to be armed.”

“Yeah, well, I know that, but there might be a time when I need to protect your back. I want to be prepared.”

“Thunderation! I’m the protector here. There will never come a time when you need to watch my back. That’s what my deputies are for. Give me that damn gun belt or get in the house.” His wife or not, she wasn’t going into town looking like a gunfighter.

She started to argue, then bit her lip and removed the belt. On his way back from the house, two canteens slung over his shoulder, his step faltered as realization hit him. He’d never used foul language around Pearl, but in the past three days, Texanna had him spouting all sorts of obscenities—hell, damnation, and no telling what else. That had to stop. Though she irritated the hell out of him at times, she was a woman and deserved his respect.

They rode at a leisurely pace, munching on their biscuit sandwiches. Texanna’s eyes were alert as she took note of her surroundings, seemingly seeing it for the first time. They passed Aggie’s house, sitting a half-mile off the road. Her dog, Pepper, came down the lane at a run. Royce tossed him a bite of ham.