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A Little Time In Texas
Joan Johnston


Angela Taylor owes her life to the Texas Ranger who rescued her from a band of no-good renegades. The problem is that he'd pulled her out of danger–and straight into the twentieth century. Now Angela's as far from Texas, 1864, as she could be, stuck with a disbelieving man too handsome from her own good. She's either a woman out of time…or completely out of her mind. Dallas Masterson isn't sure what to believe.From her crazy clothes to her feisty ways, he's almost convinced that this sassy, smart-mouthed woman fought Comanches, buried her fiance, ran from the law and stole to survive…especially when she steals his horse to try and get back to the cave where he found her.Now, both Angela and Dallas are discovering that when it comes to things like the past–and falling in love–there's no place to go but the future.









Dear Reader,

What a delight to be able to share my one and only time travel novel with you again! I’ve always been intrigued by the idea of going back in time—knowing, of course, everything I know now! When I finally sat down to write a time travel novel, it turned out that, instead of stepping back into the past, I brought my Western heroine into the future.

What made it so much fun was imagining how a nineteenth-century woman would deal with all the modern mechanisms that make our work so much simpler…and our lives so much more complicated. It also gave me an opportunity to focus on how women’s rights, women’s fashions and women’s attitudes have changed over the past century—especially in relation to men! And imagine my hero’s surprise when the beautiful woman he rescues turns out to be from another time and place.

Those of you familiar with my HAWK’S WAY series have an extra treasure in store. You’ll be seeing the first appearance of Honey Farrell, the heroine of Honey and the Hired Hand, and Adam Phillips, the hero of The Rancher and the Runaway Bride. I had no inkling at the time I wrote A Little Time in Texas that these characters were destined to have their own books. But what fun to discover they did.

Happy reading!









A Little Time in Texas

JOAN JOHNSTON








For my sister Jennifer Eloise Wilkes,

who always embraces an adventure




Contents


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




1


Angela Taylor backed away until she came up against a wall of solid rock. She was trapped. She counted the odds. Six to one. Not good. She should have gotten off the road when she’d heard them coming. A woman walking alone was considered easy prey. She told herself to calm down, to breathe deeply. These no-good sidewinders didn’t know it, but there was more mettle in her little finger than most women had in their whole bodies. She wasn’t about to give up or give in. Her eyes narrowed, her stance widened, and her hands formed into fists. The six men surrounding her might eventually overwhelm her, but they would pay dearly before they did.

“Say there, little lady,” one cowboy drawled, “you gonna cooperate, or not?”

“I’m not.”

“Ain’t hardly enough of her to go around,” another cowboy complained.

“Don’t like that look on her face,” a third said. “Plain mean.”

Another laughed. “You scared, Slim? One woman ain’t no match for—”

Angel saw the cowboy’s mouth drop and his eyes go wide. At almost the same moment a large male hand clamped around her waist and she was jerked completely off her feet. She clawed and bit and kicked, but her captor didn’t let go. Angel could have wept when she realized that she’d been caught by such an old trick. There weren’t six cowboys. There were seven!

Only this one apparently didn’t intend to share her with the others. And they weren’t too happy about it.

“Hey, there! Where you goin’ with her?”

“That girl belongs to all of us! You bring her back here!”

“Hells bells! There’s a damned cave in that rock. Look out! He’s gettin’ away with her!”

“Come on! Let’s go after him!”

Angel would have screamed but she couldn’t breathe, the seventh man had such a tight hold on her. She struggled mightily in his arms but there was no question of escaping. The arm around her was thick with muscle. From the feel of the hard male body at her back, the rest of him was equally strong. Her feet hadn’t touched ground since he’d grabbed her. They were racing deeper and deeper into the cave, through a labyrinth of tunnels in the rock. It was pitch-black, and she had no idea how the cowboy was going to get them back out again.

Suddenly they stopped. There was no sound except the man’s harsh breathing and her grunts as she struggled against his strength.

Another fear, even deeper than that of the man, took hold of her. The dark. She was terrified of the dark. Abruptly she stopped struggling. Her breathing was tortured as fear overwhelmed her and held her paralyzed. Her eyes went wide, seeking the light.

There was none.

Angel whimpered, a pitiful, plaintive sound.

“Be still,” the seventh man hissed.

But she was in the grip of a terror more powerful than the threat of mere physical harm. The whimper became a low moan.

The kidnapper’s hand clamped over her mouth just as one of the cowboys in pursuit passed close enough that she could smell a month’s worth of sweat and leather and horse. Angel felt relieved, then horrified as the sound of boots on stone faded into the distance. Better to face six men in the light than one in the dark.

“You see anything?” one of the searching cowboys yelled to another.

“Not a damned thing!”

“We’ll never find them in the dark,” a third ranted.

“I’m gettin’ outta here. This place is spooked,” another said.

The voices moved away. They were giving up the hunt. Angel could still hear them. Voices carried in the dark.

“We can’t let him get away with stealin’ her like that,” a cowboy grumbled.

“Who said we’re gonna?”

“What’s that you got there? Dynamite? What’re you gonna do with that?”

“Blow them to Kingdom Come. Or leastwise trap ’em in there till Judgment Day.”

“You can’t—”

“Who’s gonna know? They ain’t gonna tell. ’Sides. It’ll serve ’em both right. If we can’t have her, nobody can.”

“I ain’t so sure about this,” one cowboy said.

By then it was too late. Several sticks of dynamite had been lit and tossed into the cave entrance.

Angel only had a second to acknowledge the fact that they were doomed. Anger flared. She wasn’t ready to die trapped in the dark. She wrenched free and started running for the opening of the cave. She had to escape!

She heard her captor swear low and mean as he chased her. He grunted with effort as he threw himself bodily at her. His forward motion forced her down hard as he covered her with his body.

Mere seconds passed before the first explosion came, followed by a second and a third. The sound was deafening. The repercussions rocked the inside walls of the cave. Angel choked on the settling dust, but only a few pebble-sized rocks fell near them.

“Where the hell did you think you were going?” the man asked as he sat up and brushed himself off.

“I would think that was obvious.” Angel tried peering through the gloom. She coughed from the dust. “Do you think we can dig ourselves out of here?”

“Not hardly.”

“At least we’re alive,” she said. “We—”

“Shut up and listen.”

“I don’t hear—”

He clamped a hand over her mouth, and she heard it. The ominous sound of cracking rock. The man cursed vehemently as a low rumble began, sending a shudder through the cave.

Suddenly he bolted upright and yanked her to her feet. “If you want to live, you’ll run. Run like the devil is at your heels!”

He took off in the dark, his hand clamped like a vise on her wrist. Angel careered after him, her arm stretched out of the socket as her short legs valiantly tried to keep pace with his long strides.

The rumbling sound seemed to follow them, until finally it caught up with them. Angel felt herself being propelled off her feet by a blast of air. With the kind of strength she could only imagine, the seventh man pulled her into the protective circle of his arms before they were both thrown forward.

“Get ready! Here it comes!”

Angel wanted to ask “Here what comes?” but it was already too late for that. There was no way she could have prepared for what followed. Behind them the cave began to collapse. Thousands of tons of rock fell, blocking their way out and sealing them in what had become their tomb.

When the dust settled again, Angel was surprised to realize that she could breathe easily. She wondered how long the air would last…and whether her kidnapper would take advantage of their remaining time alive to take what he had risked both their lives to get.

The man sat up and put a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

“Of all the stupid, shallow-pated, lack-wit questions I ever heard, that one—”

“Whoa, there, lady. That’s no way to talk to someone who just saved your life.”

Angel sat up abruptly, scooting backward out of range of his hand and stared into the dark. She knew he was there, she just couldn’t see him. “You have me all to yourself now,” she said bitterly. “For all the good it’ll do you. I have no intention of relinquishing my virtue to some varmint who—”

“Whoa, there,” he said. “I have no designs on your, uh, virtue.”

“Then why did you drag me in here?” she demanded.

“I was rescuing you, dammit!”

“Rescuing me! In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re trapped in here. We’re going to die! We’re—”

“Whoa, there, lady.”

“If you say that again, I’m going to scream,” Angel warned.

When the cowboy chuckled she said, “I’d like to know what you find so funny about this situation. We’re going to die. We’re trapped.”

“No, we’re not.”

“I don’t know where you’ve been for the past few minutes. To refresh your memory, this whole cave just came down practically on our heads. There must be tons of rock between us and the only way out of here.”

“That wasn’t the only way out.”

Angel was afraid to hope that she’d heard him right. “What?”

“There’s another way out. I’ve been in this cave before, but I’ve never come in this direction. Today I wasn’t paying attention and I took a wrong turn. I didn’t realize there was another way to daylight. You have no idea how surprised I was to see you.” He whistled long and low. “Sure looked like you planned to give those cowboys a run for their money.”

“I wouldn’t have made it easy for them,” she agreed. “You’d best be warned and watch out yourself.”

He laughed then, a rich, full sound. “Lady, I wouldn’t dare make a move on a hellcat like you. By the way, what’s your name?”

“Angel.”

That made him laugh again. “Far as I can tell, you’re anything but.”

“Now, look here, Mr.—”

“Name’s Dallas. Dallas Masterson. Pleased to meet you, Angel—Angel what?”

“Taylor.”

“Pleased to meet you, Angel Taylor.”

She imagined him tipping his hat. Only she was pretty sure he wasn’t wearing one. “If you know the way out, why are we still sitting here?”

“There is a slight problem.”

Angel tensed. “What’s that?”

“I lost all my gear back there at the entrance—exit—to the cave. I don’t have any light. So while I know there’s another way out, we may have a problem finding it in the dark.”

Angel had forgotten about the dark. Now the blackness rose again to suffocate her. “Oh, dear God.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid of the dark,” Angel whispered.

An instant later strong arms embraced her. Dallas tucked her head down under his chin. As he did so, at least a day’s growth of whiskers scraped against her temple. Pressed up so close to him, she could hear his heart thumping against his chest.

“Better?” he murmured.

To Angel’s surprise, she did feel better. The dark was not nearly so frightening within the cocoon of warmth he had created.

“How long have you been afraid of the dark?” Dallas asked.

“Since I—” She stiffened in his arms. “That’s none of your business. Look, are you going to just sit here, or are we going to try to find the way out?”

He didn’t answer with words, simply stood and took her along with him. “Let’s go,” he said curtly.

Angel heard the irritation in his voice. She hadn’t meant to be so rude, but she couldn’t explain something so personal to a perfect stranger. Still, she couldn’t help feeling grateful when he took her hand in his and didn’t let go of it. Of course, he probably only held on because he didn’t want to lose track of her in the dark. But she found comfort from the contact, all the same.

“Coming down,” he said.

“What?”

“The ceiling’s getting lower. Duck your—”

“Ouch!”

“You okay?”

“Of all the dumb, noddy-polled, loplolly questions I ever—”

Dallas chuckled. “You’ve got a quaint way of expressing yourself, Angel. But I get the message.” He reached back and found her hand where she had pressed it to her forehead. “How bad is it?”

“I’ll live.”

“Good girl.” He patted her on the back and pushed her head lower. “Keep your head down. It gets worse.”

So much for sympathy, Angel thought.

He was right, though. Things did get worse. Soon they were crouching, then crawling on their bellies.

“How much farther?” she asked.

“Another hour. Maybe two.”

Five minutes more would have been too long. Another hour—or two—seemed an eternity. She was exhausted. There was a hole in the knee of her trousers, and skin was scraping off every time she moved. “Can we stop and rest a minute?”

“There’s a place where we can sit, just a little farther on.”

That sounded more appealing than stopping on her belly, so Angel kept crawling. A few minutes later they were sitting up across from each other. There wasn’t enough room for Angel to stretch out completely, so she sat with her knees upraised. The stone was cool behind her back, and she thanked whoever was responsible for the dry rock floor and the apparent lack of animal life in the cave.

“How could your friends do something like this to you?” Angel asked.

“They weren’t my friends.”

“Then why did you get involved?” Angel asked.

“It’s my job to help damsels in distress.”

Angel smiled despite the awfulness of the circumstances. “What are you? A knight in shining armor?”

“No. I’m a Texas Ranger.”

“Of all the tom-doodle, gim-crack things I ever heard—why didn’t you just say so in the first place?”

“I never got the chance.”

“When I think how scared I was of you—and all for nothing.”

“Does that mean you aren’t scared of me now?”

There was a long pause. “Should I be?”

He snorted. “Not hardly. All I want to do is get you out of here and headed safely home. Then I plan to wash my hands of you and forget I ever met you.”

Absurdly, Angel was irritated by his attitude. So, he couldn’t wait to get shuck of her. Well, it wasn’t any skin off her nose if he did. She would be glad to be shed of him, too.

“What were you doing out there all alone?” he asked.

“Walking.”

“Maybe I should have asked where you were headed.”

“San Antonio.”

“That’s quite a walk from the hill country southwest of Austin, especially for a sprite of a woman like you.”

“I’m stronger than I look.”

“I won’t argue with that,” he said, chuckling. “It’s still a long way for a woman to be walking by herself.”

“It’s either travel alone or not at all,” Angel said.

He paused, then asked, “No husband?”

Angel sighed. “No. No family at all.”

The thought of all the walking alone she had yet to do reminded her about her skinned knee. “Do you by any chance have a bandanna?” she asked.

“Sure. Why?”

“My trousers are ripped and my right knee’s getting scraped worse every time I move. I wanted to try and bandage it.”

“I’ll do it.”

Before Angel could protest, Dallas had reached for her. Only he missed her knee and found her thigh. She tensed at the touch of his hand. His fingers walked their way down her leg to her knee.

“Found it,” he said. “Feels like you skinned it pretty bad.”

Angel hissed in a breath of air as his fingers gently probed her wounded knee. She stiffened as he straightened her leg out across his lap and began tying the bandanna in place. She wasn’t used to being touched by anyone, and most especially not by a man.

“That ought to do it,” Dallas said, patting her leg.

Angel suddenly wished it wasn’t so dark. Maybe if she could see the face of this stranger, she wouldn’t feel so awkward in his presence. But there wasn’t any light and wouldn’t be for at least another hour—or two.

“What do you look like?” Angel asked.

There was a long silence. Dallas drew in a breath of air and huffed it out. “I don’t know what to say.”

“What color eyes do you have?”

“Brown.”

“Hair?”

“Brown.”

“How would you describe your face?”

“It’s just a face,” he said curtly.

“You’re not being much help!” Angel snapped back.

“What do you want me to say?”

Angel realized it had been foolish to ask him to describe himself. But she was glad he hadn’t bragged he was handsome…or admitted he was plain. Still, she was curious.

If the situation were different, she would never have asked; but if the situation were different, she wouldn’t have needed to. “Could I touch your face? I think I could tell by feeling, what you look like.”

He hesitated so long she was afraid he was going to refuse. At last he said, “All right.”

To her surprise he lifted her up and set her on his lap facing him, so her legs straddled his waist. It was a far more intimate pose than she would have liked, but she was afraid to complain lest he withdraw his permission for her examination. She was conscious of her breasts inches from his chest, of the heat of his thighs under hers. She could feel his breath on her face. An uncontrollable shiver ran down her spine.

“Anytime you’re ready,” he said.

Angel held her breath as she reached out tentatively in the dark. She found his chin. There was a small cleft in it.

“When was the last time you shaved?” she asked, testing the rough bristle of beard under her fingers.

“Three days ago.”

She slid her hand along his jaw and felt the muscle work under her hand. It was a strong jaw and led to prominent cheekbones. His nose was straight and not too big, but it had a bump along the bridge.

“What happened here?” she asked.

“Broke it in a fistfight. Twice.”

There were wrinkles on his forehead and crow’s-feet at the edges of his eyes. He had done some living.

“How old are you?”

“I’ll be thirty-four next month. How old are you?”

“A lady never tells her age,” she said, then added, “Twenty-two.”

He had a widow’s peak. His hair was thick and soft, and she let her fingers slide through it all the way down to where it curled over his collar.

“You need a haircut.”

“I like it the way it is.”

Apparently he was used to getting his own way.

His eyes were wide-set and large, and the lashes were ridiculously long and curled up from his cheeks where they lay. His eyelids were softer than the skin on the rest of his face, which felt not quite smooth, but not leathery, either. The scar on his cheek intrigued her.

“What happened here?”

“Knife fight.”

She frowned. “Seems you get into a lot of fights.”

“Hazard of the job.”

Angel had left his mouth for last, because it seemed the most personal of his features. There were deep slashes on either side of it. She wondered if he dimpled when he smiled.

“Smile for me.”

“Why?”

“Please.”

What she felt under her hand was more like a grimace, but yes, there were dimples there. “You can relax now,” she said.

She felt a genuine smile form under her hands as he said, “Thanks.”

His mouth, when he relaxed it, was wide, the lips thin, although the lower lip protruded slightly. She traced it with her fingers and felt him stiffen.

“Does that tickle?”

“No,” he said in a husky voice.

Suddenly his hands tightened on her waist.

“Angel?”

She felt his breath on her face, felt him closing the distance between their bodies. What did he want?

“You can tell a lot more about my mouth this way,” he said.

Suddenly she felt his lips on hers. Soft. And damp. And insistent. And yes, the bottom lip was full. It was an altogether wonderful mouth.

His tongue brushed against her closed lips, seeking entrance. The feeling was so exquisite that Angel waited for it to come again. His lips teased hers, coaxing. His tongue brushed her mouth again, and she gasped at the pleasure. His tongue slipped inside and retreated just as quickly.

Angel felt her heart pounding; it was hard to catch her breath. She grabbed handfuls of Dallas’s shirt.

“Dallas, I—”

His mouth captured hers again. She kept her lips sealed, afraid of what might happen if she relented to his probing tongue. This was all forbidden territory. Virgin territory.

Suddenly Angel realized she was kissing a perfect stranger. She pushed against his chest with the heels of her hands, and her mouth was abruptly released.

Angel had been so wrapped up in her own reactions to the kiss she hadn’t noticed what was happening to Dallas. Now that they were no longer kissing, she realized his breathing was as tortured as hers, and his heart was pounding under her fist.

“Did you find out everything you wanted to know?” Dallas asked in a voice harsh with restrained need.

“Yes,” Angel gasped.

He set her away from him. “Then I think it’s time we got started again.”

He headed away from her, and she had no choice but to follow, unless she wanted to be left alone in the dark. To her relief the cave ceiling almost immediately rose again, so they could walk upright. When it did, he reached back for her hand.

“I don’t want to lose you now,” he said.

“I want to thank you for rescuing me.”

“We’re not out of here yet.”

“What could possibly happen now?” Angel asked. “I mean—”

Angel was in his arms so fast, it was as though an unseen force had shoved her there. One of his hands fisted in her hair, the other held her hips hard against his. They were aligned from breast to belly, and there was no mistaking his arousal.

“Does that answer your question?” he demanded.

“Of all the dim-witted—”

“Don’t start,” he warned. “I was doing just fine until you started all that touching. I had put every picture I had of you out of my mind and—”

“What pictures?”

“You backed up against a sheer rock wall, that white gold hair of yours flying in the wind. The way your breasts looked straining against that damned excuse for a shirt you’re wearing. The sight of those blue eyes of yours flashing defiance against impossible odds. I haven’t stopped wanting you since the first moment I laid eyes on you, lady. If you’re smart, you won’t provoke me into taking what you’ve got to offer.”

“I should’ve known you were just like all the others,” she hissed. “Texas Ranger, my eye. Where’s your badge, Dallas? I had hold of your shirt pocket, and it wasn’t there.”

“I took it off.”

“What for?”

“I’m on a leave of absence.”

“Why?”

He hesitated, then said in a stark, quiet voice, “A friend of mine, another Texas Ranger, was killed three days ago saving my worthless hide.”

“I’m sorry,” Angel murmured.

His grasp tightened on her. “Sorry doesn’t help, Angel. If I’d been the one who was killed, there was nobody to give a damn. Cale left a wife and two kids behind. And I lost a friend who was like a brother to me.

“I walked into this cave trying to figure out some reason why he’s dead and I’m still alive. Alive enough to want a woman. Alive enough to want you!”

“Dallas, I—”

It was too late for words. His lips found hers in the dark, and this time he wasn’t gentle. The same mouth that had been so soft was hard with unrestrained need. Ravaging. Plundering. Taking instead of giving.

Behind the need Angel felt his anguish, and she responded to it. Her arms circled him in comfort. Her body softened against his, offering solace. As suddenly as it had begun, the desperation receded, leaving only the need.

He could easily have taken what he wanted from her. She couldn’t have resisted him; he was much bigger, much stronger than she. But as reason returned, his mouth left hers. His arms surrounded her, and he lifted her off the ground as he hid his face in the fall of silky hair at her shoulder.

Angel felt the strain in his body as he fought his grief. He shuddered once, and she felt him swallow hard. She reached up a hand and smoothed his hair back from his brow.

“It’s all right,” she crooned. “It wasn’t your fault. I know you must have done everything you could. Why, you rescued me today without a whisker of thought for your own safety.”

He didn’t answer her, but he didn’t push her away, either. She murmured comforting words, words she knew would not bring back his friend, but which might make him believe his was not such a worthless hide, after all.

For the first time in her life Angel was grateful for the dark. It had allowed this stranger to seek her out; it had allowed her to comfort him. Yet neither had to face the other when he at last lowered her to the ground and stepped away from her.

“Thanks,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

Dallas took her hand again, and they began to walk. He kept close to the wall to maintain his bearings, until at last the darkness gave way to gray shadows.

“I can see light,” Angel said.

Dallas began to move faster, but Angel wasn’t about to be left behind now. They were almost running when he suddenly stopped.

There it was. The entrance to the cave. The sun was shining. The grass was bright green except where spring wildflowers left splashes of orange and yellow.

Angel’s heart skipped a beat. That was wrong. There shouldn’t be any spring flowers. It was fall. An unusually early frost had already turned the grass brown. But perhaps these were fall flowers; and maybe the frost hadn’t caught this particular glen.

She stayed beside Dallas as they left the cave. Bees buzzed. Birds sang. The mesquite blossomed.

Angel held tightly to Dallas’s hand. “It’s very pretty here.”

“It’s always like this in the spring.”

Angel frowned and looked up at Dallas…and caught her breath when she saw his face in the light. How could he have called those eyes brown? They were hazel, dancing with flecks of green. His hair might have been brown once upon a time, but the sun had streaked it with chestnut and gold. His face wasn’t handsome, nor was it plain. But the wide-set eyes, the cheekbones, the strong jaw were undeniably appealing. And the mouth…

“Don’t look at me like that,” Dallas said. “Not unless you’re willing this time to finish what you start.”

Angel’s gaze left his mouth and met his eyes with their ridiculous curly lashes. “I know this has been a trying few hours. But did you just say that it’s spring?”

“It is,” he said.

“It’s not,” Angel contradicted.

His brow furrowed. He reached out and gently brushed aside the hair that covered her bruised forehead. “Are you all right?”

She brushed his hand away. “When you carried me into the cave it was October.”

“It’s April.”

“October,” she argued.

He shook his head. “No, Angel. I’m afraid not.”

“I don’t understand.”

He thrust a hand through his sun-streaked hair. “Maybe you blocked things out—the shock of being attacked and all,” he suggested.

She shook her head. “I remember everything that’s happened to me since the minute those six cowboys cornered me against that rock.”

“Look, maybe I’d better get you to a doctor.”

“I don’t need a doctor,” Angel insisted. “You do.”

“Yeah, well, maybe—”

Dallas had been urging Angel forward beyond the hills that framed the cave opening. As the terrain leveled, she stopped dead at the sight of something extraordinary in front of her. “What’s that?”

“What?”

She pointed. “That thing. What is it?”

Dallas looked worried. “Look, maybe you bumped your head in there worse than you thought.” He reached out to the small lump on her forehead.

“No. I’m fine,” she insisted. “It’s just a scratch.” She stared at him expectantly, then looked over at the strange black object.

“You really don’t know what that is?”

“No. I really don’t. Do you?”

“It’s my pickup truck.”

“So? What is it?”

Dallas stepped away and looked long and hard at her. “If this is some kind of joke, it isn’t funny.”

“Why would I joke about something like this?” she demanded.

“Where have you been living? This is the twentieth century. Everyone knows—”

She grabbed his arm so tight her nails dug into his flesh. “Did you say the twentieth century?”

“Yes. So?”

Angel swallowed hard. “That isn’t possible.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s 1864.”

This time it was Dallas’s turn to stare. “It’s 1992.”

Angel shook her head in denial. “You’re wrong. When you dragged me into that cave, it was October 3, 1864,” she insisted.

“When I stepped in from this side, it was April 14, 1992,” Dallas countered.

Angel’s eyes went wide as she backed away from him. “How could that be?”

“I don’t know,” Dallas said. His lips flattened into a thin line. “But if what you’re saying is the truth—” he paused, and it was clear he wasn’t sure whether to believe her or not “—there’s sure as hell no going back the way you came. If you are from the past, it looks to me like you’re trapped here with me—in the future.”

Angel felt the sunlight dimming around her, forming a single tunnel of darkness. It sucked her down, like a whirlpool, and she felt herself surely, inexorably sliding into it.




2


Dallas had faced a loaded gun with calm, but when Angel fainted, he panicked. Somehow, in the time they had spent together in the cave, she had touched some inner part of him that had been held inviolate since his youth. When he saw her collapsing, it was as though something dear to him, something necessary to his very existence, was threatened. Adrenaline flowed, and with superhuman effort he leapt forward and caught her before she hit the ground. Unsure what had caused her to lose consciousness, terrified that she had hurt her head far worse than either of them had suspected, he lifted the slight weight of her limp body into his arms and held her close.

“Angel?”

As he stood staring down at her, he realized that he was in serious danger of stepping over some invisible boundary. He felt the threat. And the temptation.

He fought his inclination to succumb and managed to bring himself back to a more objective state of mind. She was just another victim he had rescued from the forces of evil, nothing more and nothing less. She meant nothing to him. No woman did. No woman ever would.

Still, he couldn’t shake his concern when she didn’t immediately regain consciousness. He quickly carried her to his pickup, and after one-handedly arranging a blanket, he lowered her onto the back seat of the extended cab of the truck. He smoothed the hair off her forehead, exposing a bruise.

When you dragged me into the cave it was 1864.

Either she was the best liar he’d ever met, or she’d hurt herself worse then either of them knew. It was impossible to think she had somehow crossed over a threshold from the past. Wasn’t it?

Right now he had to get her to a doctor as quickly as possible. As he slid behind the wheel and headed the pickup toward San Antonio, he realized he was in something of a dilemma. No doctor was going to believe Angel if she told him she was from the past. Most likely she’d end up committed to some mental institution. And if the doctor did believe her? She’d end up under a microscope in some top-secret government laboratory.

The possibility that Angel had come from the past seemed slight to nonexistent. The only thing in her favor was the quaint language she used. It had been in evidence long before there had been any discussion of where—or when—she had come from.

Unfortunately the cowboys who had surrounded Angel hadn’t looked much different from cowboys today. It was unusual that they’d been on horseback, but not entirely unlikely even in this day and age. Dallas tried to remember distinguishing features about the men who had held Angel at bay. It was hard because once he had caught sight of Angel, he hadn’t been able to drag his eyes off her.

Then he realized that there had been an usual yellow stripe down the outside seam of two of the men’s trousers. Gray trousers. Confederate trousers? His memory must be playing tricks on him. He realized that he wanted to believe her, because he didn’t want to contemplate the fact that she was really hurt or crazy.

It was too bad Angel had lost the rucksack he had seen her set down outside the cave. Maybe there would have been something in it either to prove or disprove her claim. Dallas hadn’t thought to check the pockets of her trousers, but he would have her do that—or do it himself—as soon as he got her home.

Home.

Dallas shoved a hand through his hair in agitation. Where had the idea come from to take her home with him instead of directly to San Antonio? He had no business even considering it. He made the turn to take him west to his ranch on the Frio River outside Uvalde, even as he told himself it was a dumb thing to do.

“Where am I?”

Dallas looked over his shoulder and felt relieved to see Angel sitting up.

“You’re in the back of my pickup—my truck,” he explained when she looked confused.

She winced as her fingertips found the wound on her forehead. “I wasn’t dreaming?”

He shook his head ruefully. “I’m afraid not, Angel.”

Angel’s attention had been focused on the man; now it shifted to her surroundings. Her jaw dropped in amazement. She swallowed hard and said, “We’re moving awfully fast.”

“No more than sixty miles an hour.”

“That isn’t possible! What’s making this…truck…go?”

“Nowadays the horses are under the hood,” Dallas said with a wry smile. He caught a glimpse of Angel’s horrified expression in the mirror. This was no time for an explanation of the internal combustion engine, so he said, “A mechanical contraption inside the front of the truck makes it go.”

Angel waved a hand at all the dials and knobs in front of him. “What do all those buttons do?”

Dallas punched a knob and a country and western tune started playing. “Radio,” he said.

Fascinated, Angel asked, “How does it work?”

“Don’t ask me,” Dallas said, shaking his head. “I don’t understand the innards of most of the modern conveniences I use.”

He punched another button and a blast of cool air hit Angel in the face.

“Air-conditioning,” he explained.

Another button made windshield wipers scrape across the bug-spattered glass; yet another sent water spraying up to clean off the bugs.

“Things have certainly changed a lot,” Angel said, in perhaps the understatement of the century.

“Lady, you don’t know the half of it. Why, we can fly across the entire country in a couple of hours.”

Angel’s cheeks flushed with anger. “Now you’re making fun of me. We both know men can’t fly.”

“Men can’t. Airplanes can.”

“Airplanes?”

“Another mechanical contraption, like a truck with wings, only it moves in the air.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s the truth, whether you believe me or not. Stay around long enough and I’ll show you one. Hell, I’ll even take you up in one!”

“No, thanks,” Angel said vehemently.

“Whether you can accept it or not, there’s been a lot of progress in the past hundred and twenty-five or so years.”

“The clothes you’re wearing are the same,” she protested.

Dallas looked down at the chambray shirt, jeans, and boots he was wearing. “Maybe men’s fashions haven’t changed much. But women show a lot more skin than they used to. Come to think of it, that outfit you’re wearing doesn’t fit my image of what a woman in 1864 ought to have on.

“In Gone with the Wind Scarlett O’Hara was wearing something a little more feminine than that getup, as I recall.”

Angel wondered who Scarlett O’Hara was. She fingered the top button of the striped cotton, round-necked man’s shirt, its sleeves folded up to reveal her slender forearms. A hemp rope held up the too-large, patched wool trousers. On her feet she wore knee-high black boots. “I was traveling dressed as a man, so I wouldn’t be harassed on the road,” she explained.

Dallas glanced at the silvery blond hair that fell practically to her waist and said, “You’re not going to fool too many men with hair like that.”

“My hair was tucked up under a farmer’s hat. I had it off because I’d stopped for a drink of water at that pond near the cave opening. That’s when those piss-poor excuses for cowboys rode up and—” She shrugged. “You know the rest.”

“I guess the question now is, what am I going to do with you?” Dallas murmured to himself.

Angel bristled. “You don’t have to do anything with me. I can take care of myself.”

Dallas drove through a gate and across a cattle guard that led onto his property. “Maybe in 1864 you could have managed by yourself—although even that’s doubtful, considering the situation I found you in. Here in 1992, you’re as naive as a newborn. You wouldn’t last ten seconds on your own.” Dallas pursed his lips in disgust. “I guess I’m stuck with you, all right.”

“Stuck with me! Why of all the cabbage-headed, tom-doodle ideas I ever heard—”

Dallas hit the brakes and the truck fishtailed on gravel as it skidded to a stop. He half turned in the seat and grabbed Angel by the shoulders, drawing her toward him until they were nose to nose.

“Look, you—you nincompoop,” he flung at her, having searched for and found a word as quaint as any of hers. “I’m not any happier about this situation than you are. But let’s get one thing straight. I’m not a cabbage head, a tom-doodle or any of the other names you’ve called me since we had the misfortune to meet. In some convoluted way, I suppose I’m to blame for your predicament.”

“I’ll say!” Angel snapped.

He glared at her and continued, “I’ve never shirked my responsibilities, and I don’t intend to start now. I’ll be by your side every second until I think you’re capable of surviving in this century. Have you got that?”

He shoved her back into the seat, let go and stared at her, daring her to move.

If he’d known Angel better, he wouldn’t have thrown down the gauntlet quite so dramatically. As it was, she was nose to nose with him again in a matter of seconds.

“Now you listen to me,” Angel said, punctuating her speech with a finger poking at his chest. “I’ve been on my own since I was fourteen. And I travel alone—when I please and where I please. Is that clear?”

“As a pane of glass,” he said. “But it doesn’t change a thing. Until I say different, you travel with me, and you go where I say.” He didn’t give her a chance to argue, just turned back to the wheel, started the engine and peeled out so she was slung back against the seat by the force of the truck’s acceleration.

Angel stared at the swiftly passing landscape—bone-dry rolling prairie dotted with mesquite and cactus—and realized she had just missed her best chance to escape from this madman before they arrived at wherever he was taking her. She felt trapped, and she didn’t like it. But Angel had spent her life making the best of bad situations. This was no different. At least that’s what she tried to tell herself.

“Does your insistence on keeping me with you mean that you believe I’m from the past?” Angel asked.

“I don’t know what to believe,” Dallas admitted. “But until I’m sure one way or the other, I don’t intend to take any chances with you.”

“Why should you care what happens to me?”

“I’m a lawman. It’s my duty to help the helpless.”

“You told me yourself you’re on a leave of absence from duty,” Angel countered. “And besides, I’m far from helpless.”

“Then chalk it up to the Code of the West,” Dallas said. “A man protects a woman. That’s just the way things are done—even today. By the way, have you got anything on you that could prove you’re from the past?”

Angel touched her pants pocket protectively. The paper was still there. “No. Nothing.” Nothing I want to show you.

Dallas stopped the truck in front of a peak-roofed two-story white frame house. Several moss-draped live oaks shaded the house, which had a covered porch that ran across the front of it. Victorian gingerbread trim decorated the porch and the eaves. Old-fashioned forest-green shutters flanked the front windows, upstairs and down. It was not a twentieth century house—at least not on the outside.

Dallas stepped out of the truck and helped Angel down. He held on to her hand as he led her up the front porch steps and into the house. He told himself it was because she might need his support. The truth was he felt an unusual sense of possessiveness that made him never want to let her go. He labeled it a delayed reaction to saving her life and tried not to think about it.

Angel stared at the room, which was a mixture of both strange and recognizable objects. “Do you live here alone?”

“I have since my father was shot and killed ten years ago.”

“I’m sorry.” She turned and her blue eyes met his hazel ones, full of sympathy and understanding. “Indians? Or outlaws?”

Dallas stared at her for a moment. That was the sort of instinctual response that could only be made by someone to whom marauding Comanches were still a threat. Someone from the past. “Outlaws,” he said at last. “My father also was a Texas Ranger. He was shot trying to save a child who’d been kidnapped.”

By now Angel had touched almost everything in the room with which she was familiar—the Victorian sofa, the pine trestle table and four chairs, the sideboard, the standing hat rack, the shelves full of leather-bound books and the mantel over the stone fireplace. She had avoided everything else.

Dallas picked up a black object and punched buttons on it. “Hi, Doc,” he said into one end of the object. “I wondered if you could make a house call. I don’t know if you’d call it an emergency. More like a necessary visit. I can’t explain on the phone. Good. I’ll be here.”

“What is that you’re holding?” Angel asked. “Why were you speaking into it?”

“It’s a phone. It’s used to talk to people who are somewhere else.”

Angel frowned. “Magic?”

“No. It’s mechanical. Although I don’t know if you’d call fiber optics exactly mechanical,” Dallas said with a humorous twist of his lips. “Maybe magic is the better word.”

“How does it work?”

Dallas grimaced. Every question she asked pointed out his ignorance of the technical world in which he lived. “I just know how to work it, not how it works,” he admitted. “The world’s not a simple place anymore. There’s a lot we accept on faith. Like, if I turn on the stove I get heat. The refrigerator keeps things cold. I turn a spigot and water comes out, punch a button and the television works. These days people learn specific jobs and don’t know much beyond their own particular skill.”

“Sort of like the butcher and the baker and the blacksmith each has a trade?” Angel asked.

“Exactly the same,” he agreed. “Only things have gotten a lot more complicated since computers were invented.”

Angel didn’t understand a tenth of what Dallas was saying. The words he used meant nothing, provoked no images of anything with which she was familiar. It was hard not to feel overwhelmed. And frightened. Much as she hated to admit it, perhaps staying with Dallas wasn’t such a bad idea—at least until she could absorb and understand some of the shocking changes the world had undergone. Or until she could figure out some way to get back to her life in the past.

“Would you like to see the rest of the house?” Dallas asked.

“I suppose.”

Dallas showed Angel the kitchen, demonstrating modern appliances that kept her eyebrows perpetually raised in astonishment. The bathroom had a sink, toilet and tub, all of which she longed to use. There were three bedrooms. The two bedrooms upstairs were filled with furniture he called antiques, but which she found achingly familiar. The downstairs bedroom had been converted into an office. Besides what Dallas described as “a bed hidden in the sofa,” the room contained more mechanical devices, including a mystical “computer” that had apparently revolutionized the way things were done in the modern world.

“Would it be all right if I take a bath?” Angel asked, looking longingly in the direction of the large indoor tub she had seen.

Dallas frowned. “I’d feel better if Doc Philips checked you out before I leave you alone behind a closed door.”

“How long before he gets here?”

A knock on the door answered her question. “I suspect that’s him now.”

Dallas opened the door to a handsome young man, not much older than he, wearing a white Oxford cloth shirt and jeans with a denim jacket. His eyes were a startling blue and openly curious when he spotted Angel.

Dallas put a protective arm around Angel’s shoulders and pulled her forward. “Angel, this is Dr. Adam Philips. We grew up as neighbors. Adam, this is Angel Taylor.”

“You both look pretty healthy to me,” Adam said. “Why the urgent call?”

Dallas’s gaze slid to Angel and back to the doctor. “Everything isn’t always what it seems.”

“Meaning?”

“Angel has a bump on her head. I’d like you to check it out.”

Dallas met Adam’s questioning gaze but shook his head slightly to indicate he didn’t want to talk.

“All right,” Adam said. “Let’s get to it. How about if you lie down on the couch, Angel, and I’ll look you over.”

Angel eyed the doctor’s black bag anxiously. She had never had much use for doctors. She tensed as he pulled a small object out of the bag. He pushed a button and the contraption in his hand lit up. She sat up abruptly. “What’s that?”

Adam looked at her and then at Dallas before he answered. “A sort of flashlight, so I can see into your eyes.”

“What’s a flashlight?” Angel demanded suspiciously.

Dallas saw in Adam’s expression the concern about Angel that he had been feeling himself for the past several hours. He listened as Adam calmly explained the inner mechanism of a flashlight, down to how a battery worked, and found himself chagrined to be learning along with Angel. All the time Adam talked, the doctor slowly but thoroughly examined his patient.

Angel was relieved when the doctor took an ordinary stethoscope from his bag, but became concerned again when he withdrew what he said was a blood-pressure cuff. He was straightforward in his explanations of everything he did before he did it, answering her questions as though they weren’t at all unusual. Though his instruments frightened her, nothing he did in his examination hurt her. He cleaned her skinned knee using something from a unique spraying can, then covered it with gauze and tape.

When Adam had finished with his medical examination, he stood up and walked over to talk privately with Dallas. “The skinned knee is superficial. As far as I can tell, the bump on her head is just that—a bump. There’s no sign of concussion. Or anything else I can find to explain why she doesn’t seem to recognize some very ordinary objects when they’re presented to her. That is why you called me, isn’t it? There’s something wrong with her memory. Some kind of selective amnesia?”

“Not exactly,” Dallas hedged.

“If that’s all you’re going to say, I can’t be any more help to you.” Adam headed for the door, medical bag in hand.

Dallas caught up to his friend on the porch. “I can’t tell you any more right now.”

“Fine,” Adam said and kept walking.

Dallas let Adam get into his car before he finally came striding after him. He leaned down so he could see in the window of the low-slung sports car. “Do you think Angel is crazy?” he blurted.

“What do you mean? Clinically nuts?”

Dallas nodded curtly.

Adam brushed his thumbs across the black leather cover on the steering wheel. “That’s hard to say without a psychological examination. Do you think she’s crazy?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“To tell you the truth, I was more than a little surprised to find a woman—any woman—in your house. I didn’t think you brought them here.”

“I don’t,” Dallas said flatly. “Angel is different.”

“Where did you find her?”

“I rescued her from some cowboys who were giving her a hard time.”

“At least that’s in character for you. Look,” Adam offered, “I can set up an appointment for Angel with a psychiatrist, if you like.”

“Not right now,” Dallas said. “Maybe later.”

“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

“I’ll explain everything later,” Dallas promised. He stroked the sleek finish of the sports car. “Don’t fall into any potholes with this baby car of yours on the way out.”

Adam grinned. “You’re just jealous. Call me if you need me.”

“Sure.”

Dallas stood and watched until the dust settled, before he turned and walked back into the house. Angel was no longer lying on the sofa where he’d left her.

“Angel? Where are you?”

There was no response.

Dallas quickly began a search of the house, going from room to room, slamming open doors, checking into closets and finding nothing.

At last he approached the bathroom and shoved open the door. There she stood, staring at him with startled blue eyes.

His breath caught in his chest. His heart skipped a beat. His mouth suddenly went dry.

She was wearing a different sort of underwear. The camisole top had been loosened where it laced up the front, and he could see the creamy swell of her breasts through the white laces. He watched a bead of water slide down her skin and dampen the cotton.

Below the waist she was wearing some kind of loose knee-length pants that were strictly puritanical. She quickly crossed one arm over her breasts and the other over the delta between her thighs. But it was far too late to keep his imagination from running wild.

“Why didn’t you answer me?” he rasped.

“I didn’t hear you. The water was running. I just wanted—needed—to rinse off some of the dust.”

“Go ahead,” he said. But instead of leaving, he stood there, staring at her.

Angel had seen that kind of hunger in a man’s eyes in the past, but never before had she felt compelled to appease it. She wasn’t sure exactly what was happening to her. It was as though she were caught in another kind of time warp, one where each moment was held suspended, giving her the time to identify each and every thrilling sensation as it occurred. And equal time to become aware of Dallas’s avid response to her slow but steady arousal.

Her breasts felt full and achy.

His eyes lowered and his gaze caused her nipples to harden.

Her mouth felt dry. It was hard to swallow.

His lips parted slightly, to ease breathing that had become harsh to the ear.

She pressed her thighs together, to hold on to the warmth and wetness that had mysteriously appeared between her legs.

His nostrils flared for the scent of her. A muscle worked in his jaw as he clenched his teeth.

She felt her body arching toward him, thrusting breasts and hips forward in a way that begged him to touch.

His lids lowered over lambent eyes. His body tensed, muscles tautening with barely restrained need.

Dallas was a man who appreciated beautiful women. But never had he wanted a woman as much as he wanted Angel. His hand reached out and cupped her breast, and he had the satisfaction of hearing a groan of pleasure deep in her throat.

His thumb brushed across her nipple, creating a vivid peak beneath the cloth. “I can’t believe this is really happening,” he murmured. “What force of nature brought you here?”

Angel came to her senses and took a step back. When Dallas started to reach for her again she warned, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’ve had to defend myself from forward men once or twice in the past. You wouldn’t escape unscathed.”

Dallas throbbed, he was so aroused. But the hellion before him had made it plain he would be lucky to escape with his life if he tried touching her again.

“It seems a tease is still a tease whatever century she comes from,” he accused.

Angel had pushed reality away for a moment, but now it was back with a vengeance. Before her stood a very angry, very frustrated man. “I’m not a tease! I came in here alone to rinse off some of the trail dust. If you’ll recall, you’re the one who came barging in unannounced.”

“You didn’t send me away,” he pointed out.

“You’re right. That was a mistake I won’t make again. I’ll have your apology and you can go,” she said.

He swore under his breath. “When hell freezes over.”

They were at a stalemate.

It was plain from the look on Dallas’s face that he didn’t believe Angel was innocent of purposefully trying to entice him. But it was the truth. Angel had no explanation for her unusual behavior. Exactly what had happened, anyway? Was it possible the Texas Ranger had cast some sort of spell over her? Had something been invented in the twentieth century to aid in the seduction of innocent virgins? She shuddered at the thought.

“You’re cold,” Dallas said, misinterpreting her reaction. He reached to grab a man-sized towel from the nearby rack, and she stepped back until she hit the tile wall. It wasn’t nearly far enough.

“Keep your distance, Ranger, and we’ll get along fine.”

A flash of irritation crossed his face. “I only thought you might want to dry off a little,” he said, extending the towel at arm’s length.

“Thank you,” she said, taking it from him with exaggerated dignity. “You may leave now.”

Dallas had already turned his back when he realized that she had dismissed him. Perversely he wasn’t about to let her have the last word. He stuck out his hand to catch the door before she could shut it in his face.

“I like that mole on your right breast,” he said.

Angel gasped. “You clunch! How dare you—”

“One day I’ll wash it myself. With my tongue.”

He let go, and the door slammed in his face. Dallas grinned as he listened to the unique imprecations she muttered behind the door. She was stubborn, all right, and opinionated. She also had gumption. That didn’t mean he was going to take any more guff from her. He was responsible for her, and by God she was going to do as she was told!

Angel leaned her forehead against the door, fistfuls of the towel clutched against her bosom. What an impossible man! How could he have mentioned something so personal? She couldn’t stand him! He was horrible! Dealing with him was like being up the same tree as a grizzly. How could she be so attracted to someone so intolerable?

She sighed and turned to look at herself in the mirror. The problem was, sparks flew whenever she got near him. That was going to have to stop. She wasn’t sure how she’d been propelled into the future. But she had business that needed finishing in the past.

Angel reached down and pulled a paper out of the pocket of her trousers. She unfolded it and looked at the image printed there. Across the top of the paper was the caption WANTED. She stared at it for another moment, her lips flattened in a bitter line. Then she folded the poster and put it away again. Likely the Ranger wouldn’t approve if he found out where she had been heading. But what Dallas Masterson didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

She twisted the knobs on the tub the way Dallas had shown her. As long as she was in the future, she might as well take advantage of the opportunity to get a hot indoor bath. Sometime soon she was going to have to go back where she had come from.




3


Dallas paced the floor of the living room most of the night, trying to decide what he should do next. The several times he checked on Angel, she was sleeping like a baby in his bed. It was easy to see how serene she was, because she had asked to keep the bedside lamp on. He wondered why she was so afraid of the dark and whether there was any way to help her get over her fear. The fact he was so concerned worried him. It wasn’t a smart move to get any more involved with her than he already was.

Unfortunately, knowing the smart move and making it were two entirely different things.

When Dallas awoke in the morning, he was draped half on and half off the Victorian sofa. Someone—it must have been Angel—had thrown the quilt from his bed over him. The smell of perking coffee permeated the room. He slowly sat up, stretching kinks out of knotted muscles as he went.

“Oh. I didn’t know you were awake. I borrowed some of your clothes. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

Angel stood before him wearing a western shirt from his closet and a clean pair of his jeans, folded up at the ankle and tied with the same rope he’d seen around her waist the previous day. Her hair fell over her shoulders practically to her waist. She looked more fragile this morning, dressed in his oversize clothes. The feeling of protectiveness arose even stronger than before. He ignored it and focused on the coffee cup she held in her hands. “I see you figured out how to work the stove.”

She grinned. “It sure beats gathering kindling for a fire. The coffeepot was on a back burner, and I found the coffee grounds by opening cupboards and sniffing. Would you like this cup? I can get myself another.”

“That’s all right. I can get a cup for myself.”

Before he could stand, she laid a hand on his bare chest. “Don’t get up.”

Dallas couldn’t have moved if his life depended on it. Even though she was barely touching him, he was distinctly aware of her fingertips on his flesh.

Angel was amazed at how hot his skin felt. She was intimately aware of the crisp hair under her fingers, of the firm muscle that tensed beneath her touch. She withdrew her hand ever so slowly, as though she were escaping a trap that might spring closed if she weren’t extremely careful.

She set the coffee cup on the low wooden table beside the sofa, said “I’ll be right back” and turned to go.

Dallas stood and caught her wrist before she had gone two steps. “Don’t leave.”

Angel glanced over her shoulder and froze at the sight of him. The hair on his chest arrowed toward his belly. Her eyes followed the dark line down until it was cut off by his jeans. The top button was undone, and they had slid down his hips. Beneath the worn blue denim was the unmistakable proof that he was as aware of her as she was of him.

Angel didn’t resist his hold on her wrist, merely poised herself to flee or fight, whichever alternative should offer her the best chance of survival.

Only, to her surprise, Dallas released her.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said.

“You didn’t,” Angel lied. She saw him wince as she rubbed her wrist where he had held her.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” He hadn’t, she realized. But she could still feel his flesh on hers. The sensation had been stunning.

They weren’t touching now, but an invisible bond seemed to hold them in thrall. Neither moved, neither broke the spell until finally Angel realized that she was waiting for him to make the first move, to touch her again. That wasn’t fair to him…or to her. She had gone her whole life without being touched by a man as much as Dallas had touched her in the past twenty-four hours. It was foolish to get embroiled in something she wouldn’t be around to finish.

“Can I—” She had to stop and clear her throat before she could continue. “Can I make you some breakfast?”

Dallas smiled. Trust a woman to think of a man’s stomach at a time like this. “A couple of fried eggs and some bacon would be fine,” he said. “I’ll come along and show you where things are.”

Angel hesitated and then nodded.

Once they had something to do, it wasn’t so hard being in the same room with each other. The tension was always there, but they could channel it into action and thus defuse it.

Angel found the contents of the refrigerator a marvel. Imagine the convenience of a dozen eggs in a plastic carton and bacon already sliced and ready to fry! She laughed when Dallas showed her the pre-made biscuits in a cardboard cylinder. They weren’t half-bad.

Dallas didn’t say much while they ate, but it wasn’t a peaceful silence. Angel knew he was agitated. He opened his mouth several times to speak, then snapped it shut again. She didn’t press him. In her experience it was best to let a man do his thinking without interruption. When he was ready, he would talk.

Only, when Dallas finally spoke she wasn’t at all pleased with what he had to say.

“I made a mistake bringing you here, Angel. I should have taken you to San Antonio, to a hospital or somewhere they can take care of you.”

“You don’t believe me,” she said flatly. “I mean, that I’m from the past.”

His eyes were bleak. “No, I don’t.”

“Then take me back to the cave,” Angel said.

He shook his head. “That wouldn’t solve anything. The tunnel’s gone. If—and it’s a big if—you did come from the past, there’s no going back.”

“There must be another way, another tunnel. I have to get back where I came from,” Angel said, her voice strained with the effort to remain calm. “There’s someone—”

“You said you don’t have any family,” Dallas interrupted.

“It’s not—You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

Angel took one look at the implacable man sitting across from her and realized he wasn’t going anywhere until she talked. “All I can say is that I have business, unfinished personal business, that needs tending to in San Antonio. In the past.”

Dallas wondered whether her personal business involved another man. He felt a stab of jealousy at the thought. “Anything you can share?”

“Believe me, I’d tell you everything if I thought it would make a difference,” she said. “But there’s nothing you can do to help—except get me back to the past.”

Dallas scratched the dark beard on his jaw. He really ought to shave. With that thought came the memory of why he hadn’t shaved, why he had been in the cave in the first place. He realized that somehow his guilt over Cale’s death had eased. Angel had done that for him in the darkness of the cave. So maybe he owed her the chance to prove to him that she was from the past, and perhaps to help her find her way back to wherever she came from.

“All right,” he said. “We’ll go back to the cave. We’ll look for another exit. But if we don’t find it—”

“We’ll find it,” Angel said. “We have to.”

“And if we don’t?”

The air in Angel’s lungs hissed out, but she managed a tremulous smile. “Then I guess you’re stuck with me.”

Dallas liked that idea too much to spend time contemplating it.

They didn’t say anything more, just finished the food on their plates. Angel offered to wash the dishes before they left for the cave, but Dallas grinned and opened a door under the sink. “Automatic dishwasher. All you have to do is stack the dishes inside and the machine does the rest.”

“Now that’s something almost worth staying in the future to have,” Angel said. “Almost,” she repeated, when it looked like Dallas was going to suggest she do just that.

The drive back to the cave was no less harrowing in Angel’s eyes. She couldn’t get used to the speed of Dallas’s truck. Somehow everything in the future seemed geared to happen in a hurry. It was like landing on a bucking bronc. She wanted off. She wanted things to slow down, so she could breathe easily again.

“I lost most of my gear in the cave-in, so all I’ve got is a couple of flashlights,” Dallas said. “We’ll stay together. At least you won’t have to worry about the dark. There’s only one other tunnel I haven’t followed, and that’s because it starts wet and stays that way.”

“Wet?”

“An underground river runs through the tunnel. It’s shallow—what I’ve seen of it. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t get deeper. Or end up going underground.”

Dallas didn’t believe they would come out of the cave in another century, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He carried all the usual cavers’ supplies—and brought along his gun. He carried the same .45 Colt revolver his father and his father’s father had carried, rather than the automatic weapon the department issued.

“Expecting trouble?” Angel asked as he slipped the gun into a holster at his side.

“Never hurts to be prepared,” he said.

The way back through the cave didn’t seem to take nearly so long with flashlights. Dallas took Angel directly to the spot where the cave had come crashing down behind them.

“There’s no going back that way,” he confirmed. “But over there—” he shifted his flashlight to expose another opening in the rock “—that’s the other tunnel I mentioned to you.”

Angel hadn’t noticed the sound of running water before, but it was clear to her now. “Do you have any suggestions how we do this?”

“I go first. You follow me. I decide whether we keep going or turn back.”

“All right. Let’s go.”

Dallas hadn’t expected her to agree so readily, but he was glad she hadn’t argued. He had enough bad feelings about doing this. He didn’t like the idea of heading into the dark in ankle-deep water with nothing more than a couple of flashlights to show the way.

The water was cold, but it stayed shallow for the first half hour. There was a slight current, but hardly enough to cause a ripple. Angel was nervous; the flashlights didn’t provide quite enough light to make her comfortable in the dark. She eased her fear by talking, asking Dallas questions.




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