With a sigh, she tiptoed out of the room and closed the door behind her.

  Chapter 7

  Rusty blew a damp wisp of hair away from her forehead. She hadn’t ironed anything in years until today. She remembered watching her grandmother iron dresses and grandpa’s shirts and trousers. Sometimes, grandma had let her iron grandpa’s hankies, which had been fun when she was seven. But heating and using the heavy iron Jay had was no fun at all. She sincerely hoped she’d soon be back in her own time—where ironing was practically unheard of—before wash day came again.

  Waiting for the iron to reheat, she found herself thinking about last night’s attack. Except for the time in high school when she’d slapped Brian Anderson for trying to put his hands where they didn’t belong, she had never hit anyone. Last night, she’d whacked two men over the head with a shovel. And enjoyed it.

  At breakfast, Jay hadn’t said a word about what happened last night. But she’d noticed he was wearing a gun on his hip when he went outside to feed the stock. Was he expecting more trouble?

  She glanced out the kitchen window. Surely those men wouldn’t come here. Idiots. What gave them the right to tell Jay who he could be seen with? And yet, hadn’t she seen numerous similar scenes in old westerns, where white men beat or killed Indians for daring to be seen in the company of a white woman? Or where women were shunned by friends and family alike for having been captured by one tribe or another, or for having the unmitigated gall to fall in love with an Indian man?

  She shook her head as she ironed the last of Jay’s shirts. Prejudice was an ugly thing, no matter what century you lived in.

  She folded Jay’s shirt, set the iron aside to cool off, and put the ironing board away. At the sink, she filled a glass with water from the pump. She’d taken so many things in her time for granted, like hot running water and electricity, permanent press clothing, washers and dryers, refrigerators and microwaves. And especially whirlpool bathtubs and toilet paper.

  She drained the glass and set it in the sink, then went out on the front porch.

  Jay was down by the barn, shirtless in the hot sun, as he fit a new shoe to the palomino’s front hoof. He’d mentioned shoeing the mare a couple of days ago, but hadn’t gotten around to it.

  The bruises on his face and his black eye looked even worse this morning. There were ugly bruises on his rib cage, too. She noticed he moved cautiously, but she couldn’t blame him. No doubt his ribs were mighty sore.

  He set the last nail, filed the edges of the hoof, then patted the mare on the neck. After putting his tools away, he turned the mare loose in the nearest corral, then grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face and chest.

  Rusty grinned inwardly. Despite the colorful bruises, it was quite an impressive chest. It went well with his muscular arms and long, long legs.

  As though feeling her gaze, he looked up.

  Rusty blushed, then shrugged, at being caught staring.

  He grinned at her as he reached for his shirt. “Should I leave it off?”

  His words made her cheeks grew hotter. “Do whatever you want,” she said, with an airy wave of her hand. “I’m sure I don’t care.”

  He lifted one skeptical brow, which made her burst out laughing.

  His laughter, deep and rich, filled the air as he walked toward her. Draping his shirt over his shoulder, he said, “It’s too hot to work the mustang. I’ll do it tomorrow. How do you feel about a swim?”

  “Where?” Rusty glanced around. “I don’t see a pool.”

  “There’s a small lake not far from here.”

  “I don’t have a bathing suit.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You know, something to swim in.” Surely they had bathing suits in the eighteen hundreds, she thought, then frowned as she remembered seeing photos of old-fashioned bathing suits which covered a woman from her shoulders to her ankles. Many women reportedly had sewn weights into the skirts to keep the hems from floating up and revealing their legs. “What do you wear when you go swimming?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Oh.”

  “Come on,” he said. “I’ll leave my jeans on if it’ll make you feel better.”

  “Good idea,” Rusty said, thinking she’d wear hers, too. She briefly considered wearing her bra and panties, which covered more than most of the bathing suits in her time, but decided against it. “All right, let’s go.”

  Minutes later, they were mounted and riding along a narrow path behind the barn. Jay had tied a blanket behind his saddle and stuffed a couple of towels into one of his saddlebags, a couple hunks of jerky and two apples in another; a canteen hung from his saddle horn.

  They passed several cattle along the way. Further on, Rusty spied a herd of horses. “Are they yours?” she asked.

  “No, they’re wild, like that buckskin in the corral. I’ve been trying to break that bronc for almost two weeks. I’m about ready to turn him loose.”

  “He’s beautiful.”

  “Yeah. I think he’s got some Quarter horse blood in him somewhere, along with some Missouri mule. It’s not funny,” he growled when Rusty laughed.

  “Sorry. Isn’t there a saying, something about there ain’t a horse that can’t be rode, there ain’t a cowboy that can’t be throwed?”

  “I don’t know about that, but if it’s true, I think I found the bronc that can’t be rode.”

  They traveled in silence for a short while and then Rusty saw the lake. It was nestled in a small green valley, surrounded by cottonwoods and a scattering of wild flowers.

  At the scent of water, the horses picked up their pace.

  “What a lovely place,” Rusty exclaimed as she reined the mare to a halt.

  Jay nodded. Dismounting, he lifted Rusty from the back of the mare, then hobbled the horses on a patch of bunch grass.

  Moving to the edge of the lake, Rusty knelt and tested the water with her hand. She had expected it to be cold, but it wasn’t.

  Jay spread the blanket on the ground. Sitting down, he peeled off his shirt, tugged off his boots and socks, removed his gunbelt.

  Sitting beside him, Rusty removed her boots and socks. She had planned to leave her shirt on, but decided to swim in her bra instead.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Get in the water,” she said. “But don’t turn around.”

  Frowning, he waded into the lake, stopping when the water reached his chest.

  Rusty took a deep breath, then, before she could change her mind, she removed her shirt and plunged into the lake. The water had been warm near the shore. Further out, it was a bit colder.

  “Can I turn around now?” Jay asked.

  “I guess so.” The water was just deep enough to cover her breasts.

  “Do you want to swim to the other side?”

  “Sure.”

  With a nod, he struck out for the opposite bank.

  Rusty followed a moment later. The water got colder as it got deeper, then warmed up as she neared the opposite shore.

  Jay was waiting for her when she reached the other side. She stopped while the water still covered her breasts. She knew she was being silly. She was decently covered, but she couldn’t help it. She just wasn’t ready to let him see her half-dressed.

  “Aren’t you coming out?” he asked.

  Rusty shook her head. “I’m going back,” she decided.

  “Do you want me to go first?” he asked, obviously puzzled because she wouldn’t get out of the water.

  “Yes.” She waited until he was several yards ahead of her, then swam after him, noting how the sun’s light glinted blue-black in his ebony hair, how water droplets sparkled against his tawny skin.

  He reached the shore a few minutes before she did. Again, she called, “Don’t turn around,” before she staggered out of the lake.

  She was reaching for one of the towels when he did the unthinkable. He turned to face her. Rusty couldn’t help it. She had to laugh at his open-mouthed look of astonishment when he got a look at her hot pink strapless bra.

  “What the hell are you wearing?”

  “It’s called a bra and it’s very popular in my time.”

  “Well, damn, I’m not surprised. Do all the women wear those things?”

  “Yes.”

  Head tilted to one side, he whistled under his breath.

  “Typical male,” she muttered. “I thought I told you not to turn around.”

  “Typical male,” he agreed with a wry grin.

  “Seen your fill?”

  He shook his head. “I could look at you all day.”

  Rusty had been admired by men before, but none of them had ever looked at her quite like this, with mingled awe and appreciation.

  Jay cleared his throat. “I guess touching is out of the question.”

  “Depends on what you want to touch.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she could call them back.

  “Your cheek?”

  She might have laughed, but he looked so serious, she blushed instead, felt her heart skip a beat as he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

  Rusty closed her eyes as his mouth covered hers, shivered with pleasure when his arms wrapped around her, drawing her body up against his.

  Somehow, they were lying on the blanket in a tangle of arms and legs, damp flesh pressed eagerly to damp flesh.

  Rusty didn’t know what would have happened next if one of the horses hadn’t whinnied.

  Reaching for his gun, Jay bolted upright, his gaze sweeping left and right.

  “What is it?” Rusty asked anxiously.

  He jerked his chin toward the far bank. “We’re being watched.”

  Rusty’s gaze followed his. “I don’t see anybody.”

  “There, behind the tree with the blackened trunk.”

  Shading her eyes, Rusty stared at the tree, then shook her head. “I still don’t see anyone.”

  “It wasn’t a somebody,” Jay said, sliding the Colt back into his holster. “It was a an old grizzly. He’s gone now.”

  Rising, he took her hand and lifted her to her feet. “We’d best head for home.”

  Rusty grabbed her shirt and slipped it on, then reached for her socks. “Do you think we were in danger?” Grizzly bears had been known to attack people. She’d read of a recent mauling that had taken place in Yellowstone National Park.

  “I don’t think so. If we don’t bother him, he probably won’t bother us.” But he wasn’t willing to take a chance, not with Rusty’s life. He pulled on his shirt, socks, and boots, strapped on his gunbelt, rolled the blanket into a tight cylinder and tied it behind his saddle while she gathered the towels and put them in his saddlebag. “Ready?”

  Rusty nodded, felt a tingle of awareness skitter up her arm as he helped her into the saddle. It was probably a good thing they’d been interrupted, she thought as they left the lake behind. It would be foolish to get involved with Jay when she had no idea how long she would be here.

  And then she frowned. She had been certain she would only be here for a few days at the most.

  But what if she was here to stay?

  Chapter 8

  What if I’m here to stay? It was Rusty’s first thought when she woke in the morning. What would she do if she never saw her home again? How would she earn a living? What would her parents and friends think? She was happy in her job and with her life. No one would believe she had just walked out of her house and left everything behind. Or that she would leave without a word. When months went by and they didn’t hear from her, would her mom and dad assume she had been kidnapped? Murdered? How long would they look for her before they gave up?

  Where was Relámpago? If she called him, would he come and take her back where she belonged?

  She waited until Jay went down to the corral, then she slipped out the back door. Finding a place where he couldn’t see her, she called Relámpago’s name. Once, twice, three times. But there was no sign of the white stallion. She waited five minutes, then tried again. And then again.

  With a sigh of resignation, she rounded the corner of the house, came to an abrupt halt when she saw Jay. He was in the corral, mounted on the wild buckskin stallion and the horse was bucking and pitching for all it was worth. She gasped as Jay went flying over the stallion’s head, pressed a hand to her heart when he rolled to his feet, grabbed the reins, and vaulted into the saddle.

  She watched for what seemed like hours, amazed at the horse’s stamina and Jay’s dogged determination.

  The stallion’s neck and flanks were lathered with foam when, at last, he gave up the fight. Head hanging, he stood in the middle of the corral, nostrils flared, sides heaving.

  Grinning, Jay leaned forward and scratched the stallion’s ears. Then, giving the horse a pat on the neck, he dismounted, and removed the saddle, blanket, and the hackamore, which he draped over the top rail.

  With a shake of its head, the stallion rolled in the dirt, first one way, then the other. Scrambling to his feet, he shook himself all over.

  Jay looked mighty pleased with himself when he left the corral. Not that she could blame him. It had been a heck of a ride.

  He grinned when he saw her. “I didn’t think that bronc would ever give up.”

  “Neither did I.” She glanced at the sweat that stained his shirtfront and trickled down his neck. “Are you sure it was worth it?”

  “Hell, yeah. I’m gonna breed him to that little palomino mare.”

  “You didn’t have to break him for that.”

  “True,” Jay said, laughing. “But he’s gonna make a great cow pony, too. He’s young and full of vinegar.” He swiped a hand across his brow. “I need to wash up.”

  * * *

  Rusty sat on the front porch steps, her elbows resting on her knees, her chin cradled in her hands as she gazed into the distance. Overhead, a full moon shed silver light on the mountains. The air was cool, the night quiet save for the stamping of a horse’s hoof and the occasional lowing of the cattle.

  They had finished dinner a short time ago. Jay had gone down to the barn to check on the wild stallion while she cleaned up the kitchen.

  Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him striding toward her. She liked him way too much, she thought, remembering the heat of his kisses, the temptation of his body against hers.

  He smiled as he dropped down beside her. “Been a hell of a day.”

  She nodded. “You’re lucky that stallion didn’t break your neck.”

  “Yeah. I’ve ridden some wild broncs in my time, but none as wild as that one.” He shifted his position, his thigh brushing hers as he did so.

  His touch went through her like wildfire. She slid a glance in his direction. Had he felt it, too?

  “Rusty?”

  Anticipation coiled in the pit of her stomach as he leaned toward her. She met him half-way, her eyelids fluttering down as his arm went around her shoulders, drawing her closer as his mouth slanted over hers.

  He kissed her until she was breathless, lifted his head for a moment, then kissed her again, his hands moving restlessly over her back, his fingers delving into the hair at her nape, cupping her cheeks as his tongue tangled with hers.

  Her head was spinning when he drew away.

  “Damn, girl,” he muttered. “Kissing you is like putting a match to dynamite.”

  “I hope you’re not complaining, mister. Because you’re the match.”

  “And you’re dynamite,” he said with a grin. “And believe me, woman, I am not complaining.”

  “Then kiss me again.”

  She closed her eyes, let out a little shriek of surprise when he lifted her into his arms and carried her into the house.

  “The steps aren’t very comfortable,” he explained as he sat on the sofa and cradled her in his arms.

  It was dark inside the house, with only the faint glow of the moon coming through the front window for light.

  She snuggled against him. He smelled of horses and hay, of fresh air and sunshine and lye soap. And man. She loved the feel of his arms around her, the sense of safety and security she felt in his embrace.

  He kissed her again and yet again, each one longer and deeper and more intimate than the last.

  Time lost all meaning and there was only Jay, his mouth on hers, his hands caressing her.

  She felt bereft when he lifted his head. “You’d best tell me to stop,” he said, his voice thick with desire, “or I’m gonna carry you to my bed and keep you there ‘til sunrise.”

  It was tempting, she thought. Far too tempting. But what if Relámpago showed up in the morning? It would be hard enough to leave as it was, but if they made love…She felt him withdraw from her even though he still held her in his arms. “Jay…”

  “It’s all right.” He kissed her again, lightly, then let her go. “I think I’ll take a walk,” he said, rising. “See you in the morning.”

  She fell back on the sofa when he left the room. How could she be falling for him love so fast? It would be crazy to make love to Jay when Relámpago could show up any time and whisk her away. She pressed her fingertips to her lips. If she found herself back home tomorrow, would she be glad they hadn’t made love.

  Or would she regret it for the rest of her life?

  * * *

  In the morning, she was still searching for an answer to her question, one she quickly forgot when Jay announced they were leaving for his family’s village just as soon as she packed whatever she thought she’d need for the trip.

  “Leaving?” she exclaimed. “Now? Today? But…what if Relámpago comes back and I’m not here?”

  “I’m sure he can find you, wherever you are.”

  She stared at him, hands fisted on her hips, then shrugged, thinking he was probably right. And wondering why the thought of going home didn’t seem as appealing as it should have.

  After a quick breakfast, she packed her clothes in her saddlebags, along with her brush and comb and nightgown and she was ready to go. She wished she had a book to take with her. She had never left on a vacation—however long or short it might be—without something to read.

 

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