Back to Tomorrow

Chapter 13

Chapter 13The dealer glanced up at Zach, picked up the watch, and hefted it.

Setting the heavy timepiece aside, he nodded and indicated a vacant chair. Without further ado, he handed Zach a stack of chips, dealt him in and the game continued.

At first, luck seemed not to favor Zach. His pile of chips diminished at an alarming rate. On what he decided would have to be his last hand, costing him at least his chain if not the watch, he won.

After that, fortune smiled. He soon had enough to retrieve his watch and his pile continued to grow. He made the one beer last for two hours, unwilling to fog his mind with alcohol when so much was at stake.

At the end of two hours, Zach had enough money to see Emily safely settled for at least a week and perhaps even to purchase a dress of a style deemed more appropriate by the Bisbee ladies. As for himself, he could ride back to Tombstone in a day and collect the money he had left in his room, so he didn’t need much more.

With a polite nod and a word of farewell to the other players, he cashed in his chips and left the saloon. Keeping alert for possible pickpockets or strong arm robbers, he made his way back to Mrs. Woodbine’s, feeling well satisfied with his evening’s work.

* * * *

May 18, 1889

For the second morning in a row, Emily awoke at Zach’s side, but today he slept, giving her the chance to watch him. He lay atop the counterpane, still fully dressed except for his boots and the now rather battered hat, which hung on the back of one of the chairs.

She had partly awakened, dimly recognizing when he entered the room, though she knew not whether it had been early or late. Her exhaustion had been too great to come fully awake. He’d been quiet, she recalled, and she’d fallen back asleep even before he lay down at her side.

From the quality of the light that seeped into the room around the drawn curtains, Emily deduced the day was still new.

Moving carefully so as not to jostle the bed, she levered up on one elbow and looked down at Zach. He lay on his back, one arm flung up over his head. Sweat-stiffened twigs of hair stuck out this way and that, giving him a boyish, innocent look. Even two days’ worth of dusky stubble on his cheeks and chin didn’t age him much past youth.

Emily wondered suddenly just how old he was. Not that it mattered—in 2000, she was twenty-six, but what was she here? Eighty-four years short of being born? Her mind simply refused to try to deal with it. She shoved the thought ruthlessly aside and concentrated on watching Zach sleep.

He didn’t seem to snore, and he kept his lips together. As her gaze centered on them, the memory of their kisses rushed to the forefront of her thoughts. Would—could—something similar take place today, soon, when he awoke?

At that moment, a fly buzzed at the window beneath the curtain, which rippled slightly, catching a bit of morning up-canyon breeze. The sound triggered irresistible mischief in Emily’s mind. Extending one finger, she trailed the tip of it across Zach’s nose, down over his mouth, and back around his nose once more.

Wrinkling his nose, he shook his head fretfully, as if to dislodge a pesky fly. She waited a moment, while he settled into quiet once more, before she repeated the action. This time, his eyes flew open. He caught her with her hand not quite back at her side.

“You little imp! That was you,” he sputtered. “I thought it was a fly.”

Emily fell back on her pillow, giggling helplessly at his indignant expression. “I just couldn’t resist,” she managed between spasms.

“When I heard a fly in the window, the devil made me do it.”

For a moment, weak with laughter, she forgot the sheet had slipped to her waist. Zach had already started moving, grabbing for her shoulders in preparation to inflict his own tickling form of revenge, when he realized the degree of her dishabille.

The widening of his eyes and his sudden intake of breath alerted Emily to the picture she made. Since all she wore was her bra, which left a great deal of skin exposed and showed off her feminine curves to the best advantage, she certainly would appear a fancy woman. But they were both already moving, coming together, too late to change course.

In that instant, Emily knew she wanted this, had wanted it from the moment she awoke and realized Zach lay beside her. Zach’s warm hands settled on her shoulders only to slide quickly down to her elbows, release, and move around her body to draw her close to him.

Emily moved willingly into his embrace and tipped her face up to meet his. His flannel shirt felt soft and warm on her skin as she pressed against his chest, his arms enfolding her. The stubble of his beard prickled her cheeks, but caused no pain. The slight abrasion simply heightened the contrast of his smooth, soft lips. He certainly knew how to kiss…whatever his age might be.

This time there was no horse to interrupt, no urgency to rise and flee from potential danger. Emily stored those thoughts in the back of her mind as she gave herself completely to the moment.

* * * *

Zach went from aggravation to arousal in a heartbeat. Tickling forgotten, he gazed at Emily’s lovely body, barely concealed by the wisps of lacy fabric cupping her breasts. Surely no angel could be more beautiful, no courtesan more tempting.

His hands scooted down her arms, stopping at her elbows. Looking at her made him dizzy with temptation, but looking alone wasn’t enough. Could her skin be as silkily enticing as it looked? He had to find out.

The momentum of their bodies seemed to continue without either of them willing it. His arms moved to enfold her, bringing her close against him, his hands spreading to savor the smooth texture of her warm back. She smelled of cider and lavender, a sweet-tart mixture that seemed to embody perfectly the person she was.

This, their third kiss, seemed to begin exactly where the last one had ended, in the midst of a demanding urgency, a hunger, thirst, and need too great to be denied. As if the past twenty-four hours had simply not existed, Zach took Emily’s mouth, ravishing and cherishing it with his.

He explored the curves of her lips, the fine edges of her teeth and the moist heat inside with his tongue, tasting and savoring the textures and flavor of her. Every direction their mouths could fit together demanded to be tried, every inch of her skin required touching and tasting.

She clutched at his shirt, tugging it free from his belt to slide one hand up inside. The touch sent fire and ice careening through his blood.

Her small hand, with surprising strength, shaped around his side and traced the curves of his ribs above his waist. Exerting no effort at all, she seemed to be welding them together with the heat and power of her touch.

Reaching between their bodies with her other hand, she attacked the buttons of his shirt. “Please,” she cried, “It’s not fair. I want to feel you, not this flannel.”

He eased his hold to allow her to access the buttons. Once they were all undone, he drew one arm at a time from the sleeves, keeping her close with the other all the while. When she put both hands on him, moving them over the planes of his chest and back, he thought he would explode, as if his skin could no longer contain him.

“Do you know what you are doing to me, Em?” He almost groaned aloud at the sheer pleasure. Driven to offer the same sort of delight to her, he shifted his hand first to the curve of her waist and then slowly up to cup her breast. Shaken by the urgent rhythm of her heartbeat, the soft flesh quivered beneath his hand. The n****e hardened, thrusting against its lace covering.

He eased her onto her back and rolled to lean over her, raining kisses on her shoulders, her throat and down to the darker centers of her breasts, shadowed through the lace.

“You have to be a fairy or an angel,” he said, between those kisses.

“Something magical and not of this world. Whether you truly came from the future, I don’t know, but you’re surely not part of this mundane place in time.”

She pushed on his shoulders, forcing him back so she could look into his face. “No! I’m flesh and blood, as human as you are. A very ordinary person, really, just one who’s having an extraordinary adventure. Don’t try to make of me something other than that, please.”

Torn by reluctance, Zach released her, rolling away. He struggled to control his breathing and slow his racing heartbeat. That was twice, two times too many, and each time it got harder to call the halt that he knew he must.

“I’d be the worst sort of cad to take advantage of the circumstances that have thrown us together.” He spoke from a seat on the edge of the bed, looking not at Emily but at the floor. “As much as I desire you, I have nothing to offer, not even a home. I’m barely able to support myself for now and I have to keep my promise to save Mary Ann. But I have to keep reminding myself…you’re enough to tempt a saint!”

He glanced back at her, unable to deny himself that much. The stricken expression on her face nearly undid his resolve. He heaved himself off the bed, turning his back to the enticing sight she presented.

“Get dressed, Emily. We have many things we must do today.

Tempting fate and each other by remaining here is both foolish and wicked. I will not dishonor you, however much I desire you. But don’t make it any harder!”

Emily blinked back tears of frustration, embarrassment, and anger.

Why did he suddenly have to get so righteous, so totally nineteenth century on her? She threw the sheet aside and swung her legs off the bed, tugging her wrinkled petticoat down to conceal as much as she could. Although she was tempted to drag the coverlet off the bed and wrap it around herself in a cocoon, she didn’t.

The tingle and itch that danced over her skin wasn’t all sunburn.

Calming down was going to take a while. She hugged her arms around herself and hunched over, trying to sort out what had just occurred.

Damn it, I’m not a slut, not a—a fancy woman! But darned if I’m going to turn into a Victorian professional virgin just because I landed in 1889! This is ridiculous!

Reason told her Zach was behaving in a manner appropriate to his time, but that didn’t make her feel any better. She was twenty-six years old—at least her body was—and for her era, she was amazingly chaste and modest. But with attraction sizzling between them like an electric arc, what was she supposed to do?

She had to admit Rich had never awakened anything like this in her, no sizzle, no spark, no shocking intensity of arousal. But she’d loved him, surely she had, so what was happening here? Was it her or was it Zach or was it just the shock of waking up one-hundred-eleven years into the past? Had Rich’s death somehow unhinged her mind to the extent this was all some kind of weird hallucination or fantasy?

Well, she wasn’t going to solve anything sitting here, sulking, wondering, and doubting her own sanity. She surged to her feet, threw Angelina’s skirt over her head, dragged it to her waist and fastened the band, pulled on the blouse, and stuffed her feet into her shoes.

“All right, I’m dressed. Now what?” She hurled her challenging words at Zach’s back. He teetered on one foot, struggling into his boots. Hopping to keep his balance, he wheeled to face her. With a grunt, he shoved his foot into the boot and settled it to the floor.

“Breakfast first, I’d say. I’ll explain my plan while we eat.”

Scooping up his hat, he opened the door and stepped into the corridor.

Emily had to hurry to keep up, taking almost two steps for every one of his. Sometimes being short was a real pain.

Curiosity burned in her mind, but she refused to ask. Had Zach somehow come up with more money, enough so they could afford to eat and do who-knew-what else? At any rate, he ordered breakfast for them without paying a lot of attention to the prices on the menu. Emily found she was still hungry in spite of her pique—or maybe because of it. At any rate, she ate every bite on her plate and washed the whole mess down with two cups of strong, black coffee.

“I’m going to head back to Tombstone today.”

Zach’s announcement caught Emily off guard. “You? Just you? Not we?”

He concentrated on his coffee cup, avoiding her eyes. “I think it would be best if you stay here, for a few days at least. I can pay for the room for a week and leave you enough to eat on. Once I see how things are going in Tombstone, I’ll either come back for you or send you a stage ticket to return.”

“No way! For one thing, it isn’t fair to Nellie. I just vanished on her, and she needs the help, especially with Mary Ann to care for. She wasn’t getting much sleep as it was. If you’re going back, I am too!”

Now he did look at her, his eyes dark and stern, his mouth drawn into a straight line. “Rusty can’t carry both of us all that way. I’m not going to abuse my horse unnecessarily.”

Folding her arms, Emily matched glares with him. “So? Rent another horse, or put me on the stage, or leave him in the stable and we both take the stage.”

“No. You aren’t going back to Tombstone until I’m sure you’ll be safe.” He had a mulish expression, one that almost shouted, “Don’t try to confuse me with your opinions, my mind is made up.”

“You really just want to get away from me,” Emily challenged. “As if you were afraid I was going to seduce you or something.”

Shock replaced the stubborn resolve in his expression. “Shush! If anyone hears you talking that way, they’ll really brand you a fancy woman!”

“But that’s the truth, isn’t it?”

He looked away, shifted in his chair. “No, of course not. What nonsense.” After a moment, he looked at her again, a pleading tone in his voice as he spoke. “Please, Emily, don’t be difficult. I’ve planned very carefully and I’m trying to keep you safe. I—I won’t abandon you here in Bisbee without funds. I’ll either come back for you or send you the ticket in a few days. I’ve just got to find out what Jake is doing, if Mary Ann is recovering.”

Emily sighed. She wasn’t going to change his mind. Her best bet was to play along and then take matters into her own hands as soon as she could. “All right,” she said, striving for a defeated and acquiescent tone. “I’ll go along with your wishes. If you’re sure it’s the best, the only way…”

Seeing the relief in his expression, she struggled not to laugh out loud. She just hoped she hadn’t given in too quickly, arousing his suspicions. And that the money he left her to eat on would be enough to either get a ticket on the stage or to rent a horse.

Zach had barely disappeared up Tombstone Canyon when Emily went into action. Rusty had made an amazing recovery overnight and was again eager to go. The bay pranced off proudly, clearly none the worse for his ordeal.

Emily managed to persuade Zach to let her talk to Mrs. Woodbine about keeping the room, so she had that money as well as her food money for a whole seven days. The combination made a substantial sum.

Zach had been vague about how he’d come by the funds, but Emily knew him well enough to feel certain he’d obtained the coins honestly.

She simply couldn’t imagine him stealing or working some devious scheme. He might have gambled for it, but in this place and time, no one thought ill of a good-natured poker game.

She tied the coins in the handkerchief Zach had given her and tucked the little bundle into her blouse. Although they hadn’t checked out from Woodbine’s Lodging House, they’d only paid for one night, so there was really no reason to return there.

Coming down the canyon the previous evening, she’d seen a sign advertising the stage station. Now where had that been? She started off up the canyon, following the winding rubble-paved road. Not too far past the Woodbine Lodging House, she located the stage station.

A lazy looking fellow sat at the counter, scanning a copy of The Bisbee Review. He barely glanced up as Emily stepped through the door.

“Excuse me, when is the next stage to Tombstone?”

Shifting his attention from the paper to her, he looked her over rudely, making no effort to hide his leer. “Not ‘til tomorrow, sweetheart. Hope you aren’t in a hurry.”

Emily didn’t bother to reply. Tomorrow was definitely not soon enough to suit her. She whirled and flounced out—hanging around Bisbee that long didn’t match her plan. Instead, she hurried back down to the stable where they’d kept Rusty. The proprietor there seemed nice enough, an older man with a drooping moustache and faded blue eyes.

He didn’t show any surprise when she appeared at the door of the small room that served as his office. “Mornin’, missy. What can I do for you?”

No use beating around the bush. Squaring her shoulders, Emily simply asked a direct question. “Do you rent horses?”

“Not as a rule, but I have a few I let someone borrow now and again. Are you in need of a steed?”

“I am. I just found the next stage to Tombstone doesn’t leave until midday tomorrow and I hope to be there well before that. It looks as if riding is my only option. Problem is, I’m not sure I can get your horse back to you right away. Since I don’t want to be labeled a horse thief, what do you suggest?”

The old man smiled. “Don’t you worry none, missy. Jest deliver the horse to Stephens’s stable in Tombstone. Let ‘em know where you got ‘im, and they’ll see he makes his way home. We work together that way. Jim Stephens is my brother-in-law.”

Emily nodded, finding that arrangement most practical. “Oh, good. I’ve got to take care of a bit of business, but I should be ready to go in about an hour. If you can have a horse saddled for me, I’d be most appreciative.” She gave the stable owner a dazzling smile as she went ahead and paid him for the use of the horse. The cost was reasonable, so she had enough left over to carry out the rest of her plan.

She returned to the stable about forty minutes later with a bundle in her arms, which she tied onto the back of her saddle. Her mount was a small, fine boned buckskin, which moved as lightly as a cat. She loved the little mare at once. Soon she was trotting up Tombstone Canyon, just a long hour behind Zach.

Once she got out of town, she stopped the horse, went behind a thick clump of bushes, and changed into the trousers and heavy shirt she had bought at the Miner’s Mercantile. She’d chosen boys’ clothing, so they were only a little bit oversized for her. Plopping the floppy straw hat on her head, she felt a smug sense of satisfaction. This was a lot more practical than Angelina’s dress, now worn almost to tatters. At least she could now ride astride without fighting the voluminous skirt.

Although the coarse fabric of the shirt rasped her sensitive skin, at least she was protected from further burning. Unless someone looked closely, she also might be able to pass as a boy and avoid the leering stares and rude comments she’d been getting. Swinging into the saddle, she clucked to the buckskin and started off along the trail back to Tombstone.

Even at the shortest setting, the stirrups were a bit long, but she could put her weight on first one foot and then the other by shifting back and forth. That would have to do. She just wouldn’t trot very much. With any luck at all, she’d be back at Nellie Cashman’s tonight, the closest thing to a home she currently had.

She could just imagine the look on Zach’s face when he next saw her. He thought she’d stay put like a nice, docile little nineteenth century lady, waiting for him to come and spell out her next moves.

Well, Mr. Zachary Tremaine was due for a surprise! Perhaps once he realized just how able she was to take care of herself, he’d lose a bit of his misguided urge to protect her, even from himself.

She really couldn’t deal with many more aborted sessions like the past two mornings. Zach was going to have to decide whether to treat her like a goddess on a pedestal, remote and untouchable, or forget his morals and manners and treat her like a real woman.

Although her experience in the arts of love was seriously limited, she’d just have to get up nerve to take matters in hand. Could she get Mr. Tremaine so hot and bothered he’d forget to call a halt? The thought curved her lips into a smug little smile. She’d certainly have fun trying!