A Chance in Time
A novella based on the characters in
Meant to Be and Restoring Hope
Ruth Ann Nordin
A Chance In Time - Smashwords Edition
Second version
Published by Ruth Ann Nordin at Smashwords
Copyright © 2010 by Ruth Ann Nordin
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes:
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Cover Photo © Copyright Shutterstock Images LLC. All rights reserved – Used with permission.
Dedicated to Danielle Watson, Cyn Goustin, Tiffany Davis, and Bonnie Steffens whose input while I wrote this is greatly appreciated.
Other books written by Ruth Ann Nordin
A Bride for Tom (novella)
A Husband for Margaret (novella)
Eye of the Beholder
The Wrong Husband
His Redeeming Bride
Loving Eliza
An Unlikely Place for Love
The Cold Wife
An Inconvenient Marriage
Romancing Adrienne
Meant To Be
Restoring Hope
With This Ring, I Thee Dread
What Nathan Wants
The Keeping of Greg Wilson (novella)
Chapter One
Late spring 1898
Loneliness. It was a constant companion out in the middle of a vacant North Dakota prairie. Vacant, that is, except for a woman. A woman who ventured out west as a mail-order bride only to have her husband die shortly after they built their home. A woman who spent a year alone with nothing for company except two horses and the howls of coyotes in the middle of the night. Their howls echoed the resounding emptiness in her heart and in her life.
Penelope Jordan packed her things. Today she’d return to civilization. She had enough of being isolated from other people. God, after all, did not create man to be alone, and after spending endless hours by herself, she learned how true that lesson was.
Loading her belongings into the wagon didn’t take long. The two geldings obeyed her command to move forward. At long last, she was leaving. She didn’t look back at the one room cabin. It was a cruel reminder of all that she’d hoped for but lost. A lifetime with someone who was to be her lover and friend.
But she wouldn’t dwell on the past. Things that could have been were better left untended to. And so she guided the geldings northeast where the nearest town was. She’d take a job. She didn’t care what that job was as long as it involved being near other people.
Twenty minutes passed before she found him. He was lying down, on his stomach, in the tall grass. She pulled the horses to a stop and set the brake before she stepped down from the wagon. She rushed over to him. He was badly burned from spending a good length of time in the sun. Blisters had formed on his hands and face. How lucky he was that his clothes covered the rest of him.
“Mister?” she called.
No response.
She tucked a rebellious strand of hair back under her bonnet and knelt beside him. “Mister.” She nudged him in the arm.
Still, no response. His blond hair ruffled from the wind’s activity, and thankfully, his beard had protected most of his face. The poor man. What he must have gone through to end up like this.
She took a deep breath to settle her sudden anxiety. What if he was dead? She glanced at the miles of grass that spanned in all directions. If he was dead, should she carry his corpse to town? He should have a proper burial, shouldn’t he? Or should she leave him to the elements and let nature take care of him?
He groaned.
Startled, she turned her attention back to him. “Mister?” She shook his shoulder. “Can you hear me?”
Instead of giving her any answers, he grew silent.
She touched his face and realized his skin was hot. Maybe it was from the sunburn...or maybe it was a fever. He really didn’t look well. She stood up and ran to her wagon where she picked up the canteen that had been resting next to her seat.
When she returned to him, she realized he was having trouble breathing. She turned him over, hoping the change in position would help.
He moved his lips as if to speak but no sound came out. She gently lifted his head and tucked it into the crook of her arm before letting the cool liquid seep into his mouth. She watched him swallow. His eyelids fluttered until they opened. He had light blue eyes, but they were unfocused. He most likely didn’t even see her.
“Can you hear me?” she asked.
He gave a slight nod, winced and then closed his eyes again.
She couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. She’d never seen a man who looked worse off than he did, except for her husband as he struggled for his last breath through fluid-filled lungs. The reminder struck a cord of panic through her. Not this time. She wasn’t going to let another man die if she could help it!
She let him sip on the water until he passed out. Setting the canteen by his side, she felt his forehead again. It was too hot. There was no way she could blame this on his sunburn, even if it was severe. How many days had he been wandering through the vast wilderness? What was he doing out here? He didn’t even have a horse...or if he did, the horse was long gone. She shook her head. Such things didn’t matter right now. She needed to get him to the cabin where he could rest.
The task of bringing one of the geldings to him and pulling his dead weight onto it was daunting, to say the least. He must have been a head taller than her. But she managed it. The journey back to her solitary home took longer than normal, but she wanted to be careful so she didn’t cause the stranger more damage than he’d already endured. By the time she dragged him onto her bed, she was out of breath and sweating so badly that her clothes stuck to her like a second layer of skin. Still, she ignored her aching back and arms and checked his pulse. His breathing was shallow but steady. He was still alive. That’s what mattered.
The sunlight drifting through the small window hit something shiny in his shirt pocket. She squinted and took the object. She stood and examined it. Cool, metal, silver. A thin line traced it’s sides, so she dug a fingernail into it and it opened. At least, she assumed it opened. She saw numbers and months and symbols she didn’t recognize. What in the world was this thing? A small blue pulsing light startled her.
She quickly shut the thing and threw it in the small dresser drawer by the bed. Rubbing her hands on her dress, she wondered what that thing was. She glanced at the man who lay silent on her bed. Who are you? Maybe he was dangerous. Maybe she shouldn’t have brought him here.
As soon as the thought came to mind, she dismissed it. He was in no shape to harm her. But...just in case. She searched his clothes and found a wallet in his back pocket. It had some money, though not much. He didn’t have any weapons on him. She had a gun. Her husband had taught her how to shoot. She had a knife she used for skinning rabbits and deer. She decided she’d hide her gun and knife. If she needed to, she could defend herself.
Finding comfort in the reminder, she decided to turn her attention to putting her things away so she could tend to the ill man.
Chapter Two
Cole Hunter drifted in and out of awareness. At moments, he thought he was running. Then at other times, he knew it was an illusion. He hadn’t moved at all. Instead, he was lying on his back somewhere. Images of a man pursuing him haunted him. He knew the man, but for some reason, he couldn’t recall the name. He moved his legs. At least he tried to. Was he running or not? Was the man still chasing him? What did the man want?
He gulped. His mouth felt dry. Hot. Hot like fire. Wincing, he tried to touch his face, but his arms wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t be on fire, and yet, that’s what the heat reminded him of.
He took a deep breath. The air around him was warm. But there was no smoke. Relief set his mind at ease. Still, there was a question lingering in his mind. Where in the world was he? He struggled to open his eyes, and for a moment, he thought he did. A light struck his vision. He wanted to turn his head but couldn’t. It was as if he were paralyzed.
His heart sped up. He could feel the frantic beating of it. He didn’t like being helpless.
Relax, Cole. The sooner you relax, the sooner you can figure out what’s going on.
He inhaled and exhaled, counting to ten each time. It worked. His heart slowed. Good. Now he could focus. Since all he managed to catch were glimpses of light, he decided to let his other senses give him clues.
The place was silent. No. That wasn’t exactly true. There was a faint humming. It faded in and out like a radio station that wouldn’t give him a clear signal. He ordered his fingers to move and they finally inched forward. Paper. What was he doing on paper? His head was inclined on something soft. A pillow? Then what was he on? A bed made of paper? That didn’t make sense. Ignoring the oddity of it, he turned his attention to the smell. He already knew there was no smoke. The last thing he remembered, he was walking along an endless stretch of flat land that never seemed to end. But he didn’t smell the tall grass or the fresh air as the wind refreshed him from the sun’s intense heat.
The sun. That could be the source of light. It also explained the heat. But no. That couldn’t be right. He knew it wasn’t right. He wasn’t walking. He couldn’t even move his legs though he tried. He groaned in aggravation.
“You’ll be alright,” someone said in a soft tone. “Here.”
Whatever he was lying on shifted and something cool and damp covered his forehead. It reminded him of cold water. He had been swimming. The man swam after him. Why?
“Try to drink,” the voice instructed.
Whoever tended to him pressed a wet cloth to his lips. He tried to suck the water out of it but his mouth wouldn’t comply, so he allowed the water to trickle on his tongue.
He had gulped water during that cold moonlight swim. He recalled the splashing, the man shouting at him to return...something. What was it? Then he remembered what he had been holding in one hand, making sure it didn’t get wet. Time travel. He had stolen a time machine the size of a cell phone, and the man was trying to get it back. Blake. The man’s name was Blake.
But Cole had escaped. Or was he still in the water? No. He wasn’t. His mind became jumbled as he tried to focus on the water someone was giving him. Tall grass. Sun. Heat. Unbearable heat.
“Cole, come back!”
Cole knew the voice was in his mind. It was Blake calling out to him, still pursuing him. He knew he wasn’t really out in the prairie, but he ran anyway. His feet were sore, his chest hurting from the exertion of the chase, and his hand clenching the time travel device.
The chase seemed so real. The further the soft voice drifted, the deeper he fell back into his mind and before long, he lost consciousness.
***
Penelope checked her food supply in the underground cellar. She could probably make it another two months before she needed to go to town for more. At that time, the man she’d brought home would either be well enough to travel with her or dead. She sighed as she gathered some potatoes into her arms. She hoped he’d make it. She didn’t ever want to watch another man die. Once was bad enough.
She walked up the steps and shut the door, making sure it was secure. Her husband had built everything, but working with his hands wasn’t his gift. Still, she felt a smile tug at her lips as she recalled how proud he’d been to make the buildings on their property. He was a good man. Sometimes she missed him. A part of her would always love him. She glanced up at the clear sky wondering if he could look down at her. What he must think of her bringing a stranger home!
She shrugged off the thought and turned to the cabin. As soon as she crossed the threshold, she saw that the stranger had finally woken up. He tried to sit up but fell back onto the thin mattress which squeaked in protest. Quickly putting the potatoes on the table, she rushed over to him.
“You mustn’t get up before you’re ready,” she softly warned him.
She picked up the towel on the dresser. and dipped it into the bowl of water and pressed it to his forehead. Sitting beside him on the bed, she pressed her hand against his cheek. Good. His skin felt cool. When she realized he was studying her, she grinned. Naturally, he was wondering where he was.
“You’ve been unconscious for four days,” she informed him.
“Four days?” He gasped and tried to sit up but groaned and laid back down.
She wished he wouldn’t press himself so hard. He wasn’t ready to get up yet. She forced aside the admonition and said, “I found you in the fields up north that way.” She pointed out the small window. “I feared you wouldn’t survive.”
“Four days?” he asked, looking bewildered. Then his eyes drifted down the length of his naked body. “Where are my pants? Where’s my…?” He hesitated. “Where’s the thing I had in my pocket?”
“Everything you had is in the dresser drawer.” She wanted to ask him what that odd silver thing was but refrained. Maybe she didn’t want to know. Maybe he was an outlaw or something. Maybe the less she knew, the better. She cleared her throat and continued to smile at him. “You have no need to worry. I had a husband. I know what a man looks like when he doesn’t have clothes on.”
“You had a husband?”
“He passed away a year ago. We came out here to build a home and to farm, but he got sick our first winter here.” It had been a long time since she said those words aloud. The last time she said them, it was to the preacher who buried him. She shoved the memory back into the corner of her mind where it belonged. “It wasn’t meant to be, I guess.”
“Then what are you doing here? Don’t you have relatives to go to?”
“No. I didn’t have any family. I was a mail-order bride, and he lived out here, far from anywhere.”
“So how have you managed all by yourself?”
“I learned to grow a good-sized garden. I make it to town a couple times a year and I have a cellar to keep foods from rotting. It’s nothing fancy, mind you, but it works.”
“You came from back east?”
“Rhode Island.”
“That’s a lot different from here.”
She laughed. Was it ever! But in a way, being out here made her self-sufficient, and she liked that. “It’s another world out there.”
His gaze fell to his body. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “Do you make it a habit of taking men into your home and undressing them?”
She found his humor appealing. Things had a tendency to be too serious with no one to talk to. “Believe it or not, you’re the first person I’ve come across in eight months. I found you lying face down in the fields.”
“And you carried me here?”
Still grinning, she shook her head. “You are an odd man. How do you think I’d manage a feat like that when you’re a foot taller than me? I put you on my steed and brought you here. I was on my way to town. I’ll make another attempt when you’re well enough.”
He finally smiled. A gorgeous smile. “You still haven’t explained why I’m naked.”
“That’s simple. You had a fever, so I had to keep you cool. Your fever broke last night. I hoped it meant you would wake up today.” She removed the cloth from his forehead. His color had returned. Yes, he looked much better. Now she could stop worrying that she’d have to arrange for his funeral. Turning her attention to more practical matters, she asked, “Do you need to use the privy?”
His eyebrows furrowed. “The what?”
“Do you need to urinate? If you are too ill, you may use this container.” She picked up an empty jug by the bed.
“No. I can go outside.”
She nodded and stood up to help him, but he shooed her away and eased himself up from the bed. When he stumbled forward, she dropped the empty jug and caught him. Placing his arm around her shoulders, she said, “I can help you. I might be a woman, but I’m not useless.”
He glanced at her. “Of that, I have no doubt.”
He meant that, and she appreciated the compliment. Back in Rhode Island, she’d been a helpless creature. Out here, such was not the case, and it was nice to have that acknowledged by someone who didn’t know her past. She helped him to the front door and out of the house.
She pointed to the small wood barn, the well, and the cellar. If he was going to stay here to heal, then he’d need to know where everything was. The cabin itself was self-explanatory. A couple of chairs, a table, a cook stove, a bed and a dresser. It didn’t get any fancier than that. She hoped he wouldn’t mind the meager accommodations. If he was used to what she had in Rhode Island, he was bound to be eager to return to civilization. But he didn’t show any outward signs of disgust or dismay, so that was a good sign.
As soon as they reached the outhouse, she waited by the door while he did his business. It felt strange to do something this familiar with someone she hardly knew. And what did she know about him? Nothing really. Though she suspected she could trust him. Something in his expression told her that deep down, he had a good heart.
The door to the outhouse opened. “Can I get dressed?” he asked.
“Of course. I’ll help you back to the house and then you can get your clothes. Then I’ll make you some soup.”
“Will you take me to town? I need to get on a train to Fargo.”
Oh. So he had some place to go. Well, of course, he had some place to go. He wasn’t seeking her house out as he walked across the prairie. “I’ll take you but I need you to rest up first. You’re in no shape to travel for two days.”
“Two days?”
“That’s how long it takes me to get to town. That’s why I don’t make the trip very often.”
He sighed, looking disappointed.
She didn’t know what else to say, so she let him wrap his arm around her shoulders and helped him back to the house where he got dressed. He spent the rest of the day in bed and let his body heal.
Chapter Three
Cole watched Penelope as she cut up potatoes for the soup. He wondered what she thought of the time travel device. She saw it. That was the only explanation for it ending up in the drawer. He had slipped it into his pocket while he dressed. Thankfully, she allowed him privacy to do that. But she had returned before he had a chance to check the location of the missing chip. Without it, he was stuck back in this time.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.
She glanced over her shoulder. Stray strands of her blond hair fell over her blue eyes.
He had the urge to go up to her and brush them away but didn’t dare.
“You need to rest. You’re still not well,” she said in a soft voice that he likened to an angel. “You’ll need your strength before you’re up to doing anything.”
She was right, of course, but he didn’t like feeling helpless. He wanted to contribute something. “I think I’ll walk around for a bit. I need to stretch my legs.”
Even as he said the words, he wondered if his body was up for the task. As it was, he was doing good to stand. But he couldn’t rest until he checked that location of the chip. Was it still in Fargo? If he didn’t get the chip, he’d never get back to the 21st century where he belonged.
“Alright,” she replied, “but I’m going to get you something first.” She put her knife down and went out the door.
He wondered what she had in mind. Considering the fact that she saved him from an early grave, he knew she wouldn’t do him any harm. His gaze drifted to the open window and he saw her enter the barn. That meant he just bought some time. Well, he wasn’t about to waste this opportunity. He quickly dug the time machine out of his pocket and flipped it open. The energy signature revealed that the chip was still in Fargo. Breathing a sigh of relief, he closed it. Good. It hadn’t budged. That had to mean that no one else had it. If someone was in possession of it, then it would be changing locations.
His body felt weak as he limped forward. He sat in one of the two kitchen chairs and wiped his forehead. He couldn’t believe the simple walk across the room made him break into a sweat. Yes, he was bad off.
She returned a minute later with a tall branch that reached up to her nose. “This might help you. If you get weak, you can lean on this.”
His heart warmed at her thoughtfulness. “I’ve decided you’re right. I’m not up for it yet.”
She nodded and placed it next to the table. “If you need it, it’s here.”
He considered his next words with great care. He didn’t wish to upset her, but he wanted to know why a lone woman out in the middle of nowhere would dare nurse a stranger back to health. For all she knew, he could be a cold blooded killer. But are you that much better? You are a thief. The time machine isn’t yours. He shoved the self-accusation aside. He’d deal with his sin later.
“May I ask why you brought me here?” he finally asked.
She didn’t make eye contact as she returned to the small table by the cook stove and resumed her work on the potatoes. “I saw you and knew that you’d die if I didn’t help. There’s nothing close by, and I couldn’t risk the journey to town.”
What could he say to that? She didn’t know his past. Here she was, a good Samaritan, someone who saw someone in need and didn’t hesitate to help. He decided against telling her that she would have been better off leaving him for dead. Instead, he said, “Thank you.”
She smiled in his direction, and he sensed that, in some way, she was actually glad he was there. “My name is Penelope.”
“Cole.”
He couldn’t help but be struck by her beauty. Women in his day didn’t usually pull their hair back into buns like she did, but even so, she was much more pleasing to look at. He looked away from her, ashamed that such thoughts would come to him. Surely, she’d be better off with a more respectable man, one who didn’t lie and steal to get what he wanted.
“So,” he began, wishing to break the awkward silence that hung between them, “you’ve lived here all by yourself for how long?”
“About a year now.”
“You mentioned that you had a husband. What happened to him?”
“He got sick. It was a hard winter, and neither of us were prepared for it.”
But she’d survived and carried on in this place. “It must get lonely out here.”
She simply nodded as she stirred the potatoes in the pot.
“Are you able to keep track of the days?”
“I have a calendar. At the end of each day, I make a mark on the day.”
“What is today?”
“June 2.”
He slowly exhaled. It had been April 23 when he went back into the past, and he was no closer to returning to the future than when he started searching for that missing chip. Time. Time wasted running from Blake, time wasted arguing with lawyers over alimony checks, time wasted with a woman who made him miserable, time wasted in believing that tomorrow would be better than today. He shook of his mental check through his past. Or his future...depending on how one decided to look at it.
“Do you make it to town often?” he asked, recalling that she mentioned it being a two day journey.
“I go about twice a year.”
“By yourself?”
Her lips curved in amusement. “Who else would accompany me?”
He returned her smile. “Of course. But you must know someone in town, someone you can visit while there.”
“There is my husband’s sister. I don’t know her very well though. As soon as I came off the train, he married me and took me out here.”
His ears perked up. “There’s a train station in town?”
“Yes. New Rockford is a good-sized place. At least, it is compared to here.”
New Rockford? He’d never heard of that place before. He wondered how far it was from Fargo.
“You don’t have much money,” she said. “You’ll need new clothes. The ones you have on are torn.”
He glanced at his ripped jeans and shirt. “You’re right.” Clothes were the least of his concerns, but he couldn’t tell her that.
“I have some money saved. You can use that to purchase some.”
He blinked in surprise. Why in the world would she do that? “That’s not necessary.”
“I know. But I want to do it.” Before he could reply, she motioned to the large trunk in the corner of the cabin. “My husband’s clothes are in there. You can wear those for the time being.”
In a way, it felt odd to be granted a dead man’s clothes, but he could see her logic. They weren’t doing her husband any good. “Thank you.” Again.
It seemed the list of things to thank her for was a mile long, but he’d find a way to repay her for her kindness.
“Are you hungry?” she asked as she added salt to the soup.
“A little but not much. Actually, I’m more thirsty than anything else.”
She set the ladle aside and grabbed a cup from the shelf. She picked up a pitcher and poured water into the cup.
“I could have done that,” he told her. He hadn’t expected her to run to fetch him some water. He’d just been making conversation.
“You need to rest up. When you feel like you can move around without getting dizzy, then I won’t baby you so much.”
“If that’s the case, I may be dizzy for a long time,” he joked. It wasn’t every day a man got treated like royalty.
“Well, if I catch on that you’re fibbing, then I’ll have to stop.”
He liked the twinkle in her eye as she handed him his cup. “Thanks. Yet again.”
She sighed. “I should thank you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And what have I done?”
“You gave me someone to talk to other than myself.” And with that, she turned back to the soup, signaling that this particular conversation was at an end.
Chapter Four
Two days later Penelope was in the barn feeding the two horses when it started to rain. She had just finished filling the trough when something wet hit her arm. Glancing up, she was rewarded with two fat raindrops that nearly hit her eyes. She quickly backed up so she could get a good view of the hole in the roof. It wasn’t a big one, but it could become a problem if she didn’t do something about it right away.
She hastened to the nearest wall and retrieved the ladder that her husband had left there. She feared that Randy had rushed through building this barn, and now she was proven right. Never mind that he hadn’t listened to her. She was a woman. What did she know? Rolling her eyes at his joke, she strode out of the building. As much as she had loved him, she had to admit the man wasn’t perfect. But then, what man was? Men, after all, were human.
Sighing, she examined the structure and estimated where the hole was on the roof. The rain came down harder. It was as if someone had dumped a bucket of water on her. Had she been alone out here, she’d take this opportunity to actually bathe. She did that when it rained like this. It was easier than dragging water from the well and heating it up for the tub. But she didn’t dare bathe this time. Not with Cole in the cabin, resting up after nearly passing out that morning.
She found the right spot along the edge of the barn and set the ladder against it. Testing it to make sure it was sturdy, she decided it would work. She hurried back into the barn and found the material her husband had used to make the roof. She dug out some nails and a hammer. Fortunately, she had taken the time to watch him. As she headed out the door, she noticed the growing puddle on the floor. If she didn’t take care of this roof immediately, there’d be further damage, and who knew if she could handle that much repair?
After she put her supplies in a bag, she swung it over her shoulder and made her way to the ladder. She was halfway up when someone called out to her.
“What are you doing?” Cole demanded.
She stopped and looked down at where he stood at the foot of the ladder. “There’s a leak in the roof. I have to fix it.”
He looked appalled. “You’ll do no such thing. Get down here. I’ll take care of it.”
She hesitated. Fixing it wasn’t something she wanted to do, and if he could...If he knew how...
“I use to work in construction when I went to college,” he informed her, as if he could read her mind. “I know how to do this.”
His offer was tempting. She wouldn’t lie. But...“But you’re still sick.”
“It’s better for me to be sick than for you to be dead. Now, please get down before you fall and break your neck or something.”
Relieved, she obeyed. She didn’t realize her body was shaking until her feet landed safely on the ground and she handed him the bag. “Everything you need is in here.”
“Good. Go to the house and dry up. There’s no sense in both of us being sick.”
“Alright. And I’ll make some coffee so you can warm up when you’re done.”
He nodded and didn’t look back as he climbed the ladder.
She waited until she was back in the cabin before she peered out the window to see what progress he was making. He was already on the roof, looking as if it was perfectly natural for a person to climb up on a roof and start patching it up.
“I hope he doesn’t get worse,” she whispered.
She shrugged off her wet clothes and dumped them in the corner of the room. She’d wash those later. Right now she had other matters to tend to. She went to the dresser and pulled out dry clothes. At one time her yellow dress had been vibrant and decorated in finely sewn flowers. Now it was faded and some of the flowers had fallen off. It was slightly tattered along the hemline. She realized it was proof of how different her life was on the prairie. Back in Rhode Island, she’d never put on anything so shabby.
She finished buttoning the top button of her dress and stood still for a moment, wondering if she should entertain foolish notions of looking attractive for a man she hardly knew. Her husband got to see her at her best when he met her at the train station. She’d worn a brand new pink dress and had her hair nicely done for him. That dress had since become rags.
Her hand settled on the knob on the drawer next to her undergarments. It’d been a long time since she gave any concern to her appearance. She slowly opened the drawer and studied her brush, hand mirror, ribbons, barrettes, and her two necklaces. Diamond necklaces. They were expensive. They had no use out here. She realized she could sell them but hated the thought of giving up a part of her past. The gold and diamonds would last her a lifetime of memories while the clothes wouldn’t. She needed something tangible to connect with the person she once was. Had her parents not threatened to marry her to that awful Don Fergeson, she wouldn’t have become a mail-order bride.
Closing her eyes, she recalled the morning she told her parents the news:
Her father bolted from the breakfast table, nearly upsetting the orange juice. “You what?”
“I answered an ad to be a mail-order bride. I can’t marry Don,” she replied in a shaky voice. “He keeps a mistress. I don’t want to be married to a man like that.”
Her mother sighed and settled back in her chair. “It’s common. Your father has had several over the course of our marriage.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?” she demanded, appalled to find this out...and like this!
Her mother shrugged. “It is the way it is. Marriage is a contract binding wealth. Don’s financial standing will make you one of the richest women in the country.”
“I don’t want to be rich. I want to be happy.”
Her father laughed. “Happy? You think struggling to make ends meet will make you happy? You’re nothing but a dreamer, Penelope. Dreams were fine when you were a little girl, but now it’s time to be a woman. You are marrying Don and that is that.”
“No. I’ve already packed. I’m leaving today.”
He stopped laughing and stormed over to her. “You ungrateful brat. Your mother and I have raised you in the best schools and given you everything you’ve ever wanted. And this is how you repay us?”
Her mother quickly stood up and ran over to them. “Penelope, don’t go,” she pleaded. “If you wish for love, then find a lover. Just be discreet about it.”
Penelope took a step back. She blinked back the tears from her eyes. “That sounds like a miserable existence.”
“Do we look miserable?” her mother asked.
She took a good look at them. Her mother offered her usual charming smile. Her father glared at her. It suddenly occurred to her that her mother’s smiles had been faked. Her laughter had an undertone of sorrow to it. Her father was perpetually angry. Yes, she decided. They looked like the most miserable people she’d ever seen, and if she married Don, she’d end up the same way.
“I’m sorry but I can’t marry him,” she softly replied. She turned around and stiffly made her way to her luggage.
Randy warned her not to bring more than one bag. He’d warned her that life out west was completely different from what she was used to. In fact, he’d tried to talk her out of going when he found out she came from money and would have to give it all up to be with him. But she loved the way he wrote and thought they would do well together. At least his plan of being out on the prairie involved no one but her. He’d be too far from town to take a mistress. And that appealed to her more than anything else he’d said.
She picked her travel bag, wondering just how different her life was about to become. She took one more look at her parents. “I love you both.”
Her mother pressed a hand to her mouth to hold back a sob.
Her father’s face grew bright red. “If you walk out that door, don’t you dare come back.”
She almost tripped as she crossed the threshold. Tears stung her eyes and her body trembled. Never did she think the day would come when she’d have to leave everything she ever knew behind. Deep in her heart, she knew she was doing the right thing. There was a peace that she couldn’t explain.
The last thing she heard her father yell as she walked down the porch steps was, “Don’t come back!”
She opened her eyes, her body slightly shaking from the memory of that day over two years ago. There was no going back. But she didn’t want to return either. She learned to love the prairie, even if it did come with its moments of loneliness.
Her fingers brushed her wedding ring. The small gold band was not as fancy as her necklaces, but it was the best he could afford. Randy had been a good husband to her. She didn’t regret coming out here to meet him. She’d loved him and he’d loved her in return.
And now for the first time, she was beginning to care for someone else. It’s foolishness, Penelope. You don’t know Cole. But you didn’t know Randy either and look how that turned out. She finally closed the drawer. Maybe another day she’d worry about how she looked. For now, she’d take it one day at a time and see what happened.
Chapter Five
Cole went through another round of coughing. The phlegm finally came up into the handkerchief that Penelope had given him. He gagged at the sight of it. Being sick...again...was not his idea of a good time. He laid back on the bed and took a deep breath, his lungs thrilled with the temporary reprieve from the congestion. Even if he did feel like he’d been pulled through the wringer, he was glad the roof was repaired. He vowed to fix the whole thing once he was well enough.
He stared at the ceiling. He needed to rest if he wanted to get out of here. He had to get to Fargo, and the sooner he did that, the better. Who knew where Blake was? For all Cole knew, he was making his way to Fargo right now. But there was no way Blake could know the location of the chip. That simple logic reassured Cole enough so that he didn’t do something stupid...like take off right away.
Rest. Yes. He needed rest. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out, letting the action calm him.
At least the rain had finally stopped. It had rained the entire day and then most of that morning.
The door opened so he opened his eyes and turned his head in Penelope’s direction. He smiled at the concern in her eyes.
“It looks worse than it is,” he assured her before he went into another coughing fit.
She quickly placed the bucket of water on the table and dipped a cup into it. When he stopped coughing, she held the cup out to him. “This will help.”
He tried to say thanks but the tickle in his throat made him think better of it. Accepting the cup, he sat up and drank the cool liquid and handed it back to her. “Thank you.”
To his surprise, she leaned forward and touched his forehead. “Good. Your fever hasn’t returned.”
He liked the feel of her hand on his skin. He liked it too much. Clearing his throat, he said, “I’ll be fine. This is just a common cold.”
“As long as you keep getting better, I won’t complain.” She removed her hand and went to the table where she set the cup down. “I never should have let you fix the roof while it rained. You would have been better off to wait until now.”
“If I had waited, you’d be looking at a hole the size of my hand instead of the small crack. That roof was falling apart fast.”
“Maybe so but a roof can be repaired. Life is much more fragile.”
She meant her husband, he realized. He guessed that being a bride for only a year had taught her that lesson. “At least you two were happy.”
It was better than he and Evelyn had done. Five years he stayed married to her, only to find out she and his brother had been playing him for a fool. Why didn’t he notice the uncanny resemblance between the boy he thought was his son and his brother? Because my brother and I share the same genes. How was I supposed to put two and two together until I dug out that birth certificate and confronted them? And what a way to confront them—while they were in bed together.
He forced the memories aside. That was all in the past. Well, in his past anyway. “Tonight, I’m going to sleep on the floor. You need to get your bed back.”
She glanced his way as she crossed the room to a trunk. “I’m fine on the floor.”
“Maybe. But you’re a woman. It’s not right for me to take the bed.”
“You’re sick.”
“I’m well enough to sleep on the floor now.”
She sighed as she opened the trunk. “Alright. I’m too relieved you’re alive to argue with you.”
A smile crossed his lips. She was probably the only person who cared about that, and it made him feel good. It made him feel like he actually mattered.
She pulled out a rifle.
“What’s that for?”
“We need meat. I’m going to hunt.”
“You hunt?”
“My husband taught me shortly before he got sick. He insisted that I needed to know how to take care of myself if something were to ever happen to him.”
“Smart man. I’m sorry he died.”
She stared at the rifle in her hands and took a deep breath. “I am too.” She looked up at him. “But I can’t bring him back. I have to move on.”
He nodded. What else could she do? All of life was about adapting to whatever crap came someone’s way. Whether it was him and his crummy marriage that ended in a divorce or her happy marriage that ended in death, they had their own difficulties to overcome.
“Good luck hunting,” he said as he settled back onto the bed, suddenly feeling tired. “And I promise to spend my time resting.”
She smiled before she left.
A beautiful smile. Much too beautiful for a thief.
Chapter Six
Two weeks passed and, to Penelope’s relief, Cole returned to full health. She wouldn’t lose him like she’d lost Randy. She blinked. Lose him? That was an odd thought for someone she hardly knew. She forced the observation aside and finished making breakfast.
Cole returned from feeding the horses, looking silly in clothes that were much too tight on him. His steps halted and he raised an eyebrow. “Something funny?”
Clearing her throat so her chuckle would cease, she said, “You’re taller than my husband was. His clothes don’t fit you very well.”
He grinned and shrugged. “Who am I to complain? At least they stay on.”
She set the biscuits and pancakes on the plates before turning to the small table where she placed them. “I hope you brought your appetite.”
“I did. You better watch out though. It seems like I’m hungry all the time now.”
“That’s because you need to get your strength back. I have extra food prepared.”
He sat at his place at the table. “I’ll try not to eat you out of house and home.”
“Eat as much as you want. I’m just glad you’re alright.”
“You may not be saying that when you realize how much I’m capable of wolfing down.”
She smiled at his joke and joined him at the table. He sat in front of her, which she privately enjoyed since it gave her liberty to look at him without being obvious. Now that his sunburn had healed and he had shaved, she could see his face clearly. He was a handsome man with his dark blond hair with bangs that fell over his forehead. He pushed them back, but they usually ended up falling forward again. He had kind eyes, a nice nose, and full lips. His shoulders were broad and his body strong. Yes, she did enjoy looking at him.
She touched her bun. What did she look like? She knew she’d let herself go since her husband died. Did she let herself go too far? Randy used to like her hair when it was down. Maybe she should do that again.
He picked up a biscuit and put butter on it. “Do you make your own butter?”
She nodded and took her hand off her hair.
“Isn’t it a lot of work? Don’t get me wrong. This stuff tastes better than anything I bought from the store, but it can’t be easy. Don’t you have to churn this stuff?”
He had an odd way of talking, but she liked it. Smiling, she replied, “I don’t notice how much work it is. I did when I first came here. But I don’t anymore. I guess I got used to it.”
“That’s only natural.” He took a bite and swallowed. “This is really good. I’m glad I have enough of an appetite to enjoy it.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you’re well enough to enjoy it too.” She picked up her biscuit and decided to butter it as well.
“Today I want to teach you how to repair a roof.”
“Why?”
“Because you might need to know how to do it in the future.”
She glanced at her uneaten biscuit. Suddenly, she had lost her appetite. That meant he planned to leave, didn’t it? Of course, he’d leave. He had a life somewhere. Fiddling with the napkin in her lap, she asked, “May I ask what your life is like? I mean, before you came here?”
He frowned for a moment then shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. I worked hard. I rarely slept in. I was just there. Just getting by.”
That was such a vague answer that she didn’t know what to make of it.
“It’s peaceful out here,” he continued before he put the rest of the biscuit in his mouth and chewed.
“Yes, it is. I enjoy it.”
“I do too. I feel as if everything is right with the world. I would like to build a fence for the horses, if that’s alright with you.”
“My husband never got around to that. I would like it. The horses need a place to roam.”
“I’ll do that after I replace the roof. I forgot to ask. Do you have enough supplies to make a roof?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll take you down to the cellar and show you everything. Then you can decide what you can and can’t do. I know my husband wasn’t the greatest builder around, and some of the things around here need fixing.”
He smiled at her. “I like to help. This way, I get to pay you back for all you’ve done for me. You know, saving my life and all.”
She returned his smile. “I like the fact that you’re here.”
Her heart thumped loudly in her chest. Did she just say that? It was such a bold thing to do. And yet, losing a husband after being married for only a year had taught her that she couldn’t spend her life waiting. She had to make the most of the moment, and though she understood she couldn’t come right out and ask him to stay with her, she could be subtle, she could let him know he was more than welcome if he wished to leave everything he’d known behind to be with her.
Forcing her attention back to the food, she finally bit into the biscuit.
“I like being here too,” he softly confessed, not making eye contact with her.
Her heart leapt. There was hope then. She was sure of it. Maybe he was considering it. She certainly hoped so. He was, by far, the most wonderful man she’d ever met. Randy was dear to her of course. He’d always have a place in her heart. But there was no denying her feelings for Cole. Maybe he’d come to feel the same way for her.
But what if he wants children? A flicker of apprehension made her lose her appetite again. She couldn’t give him any. What if he decided to leave because of that? She would have to tell him. But not today. Today, she’d simply enjoy the time they did have together.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to finish the meal.
Chapter Seven
Two weeks later, Cole checked the time travel device. He sighed and put the device in the drawer under his clean shirt. For the time being, he wore the clothes that Penelope’s deceased husband wore. The man had been shorter than Cole, but the clothes and pants fit well enough. He sighed and shut the drawer. He had to get to Fargo.
Penelope entered the cabin, carrying a jar of pickles. “I remember you said you liked these.” She motioned to the jar and placed it on the table. “I will be going to town in a couple weeks. I’m running out of supplies.”
He nodded. He knew the time was nearing when he’d leave. He’d been anticipating it for the past month, but now that it was close to coming, he didn’t experience the relief he expected. Which was ridiculous, of course. He had no reason to stay. He certainly had no business staying, not with a woman as good as Penelope.
She grabbed a pot from the shelf and set it on the cook stove. “I thought I’d make stew. We still have rabbit meat to eat.”
“That sounds good. I’ll take care of the horses.” It was the least he could do, especially for everything she’d done for him. “I’ll be back.”
She smiled as he left.
He pushed aside the twinge of guilt. He didn’t deserve one of her smiles. Penelope was much too trusting of strangers. A woman who could bear the harsh winters of this land should have been more careful when selecting a man to heal, feed and clothe. Someone like Blake would have been a better choice.
He made it to the well and released the rope, watching as the bucket descended into the dark hole. Where was Blake anyway? His eyes swept his surroundings and not a single person could be seen for miles in any direction. For the moment, he was safe. But he had to get to Fargo. There was no doubt about it. The sooner he left this homestead, the better both he and Penelope would be.
As long as Blake didn’t find him before he found the chip, everything could be set back in order. He could dig for gold out in California in 1848 and strike it rich. He’d never have to worry about money ever again. He could even come to this time and give Penelope money to make sure she’d never have to work hard another day in her life. There were many things money could buy, many things it could provide, and he’d make sure to return her kindness when he could.
He retrieved the bucket full of cool water and carried it to the barn where the horses waited in the stalls he reinforced. He poured the water into the trough where the horses quickly approached. He turned to the straw that he’d brought up from the cellar and put it in another trough for them to eat.
Penelope could use another barn. As it was, the weather had beaten the roof down, and if he hadn’t repaired it, it would’ve fallen within the year. There was no doubt about it. The woman needed money to build things that would last. Her husband might have been a good man, but he didn’t know much about building or maintaining his things.
Yes, Cole would get that gold and come back to give her some of it. But he wouldn’t tell her it was from him. She seemed to think he was a good man, the kind she could take home to meet her mother, and as foolish as it was, he liked her version of him. The last thing he wanted to do was destroy it. That was when he made his decision. He would place the gold near the well. If he buried it but let a piece of it stick out of the ground where she usually stood, then she’d find it and dig it up. She’d assumed she discovered it and all would be well. Yes, that’s what he’d do.
When he returned to the house, she was stirring the pot. He took a moment to study her. She had her back turned to him. The blue dress she wore had faded flowers on it and was frayed at the edges. He sighed. Not only did she need a better house and barn, the poor woman needed clothes that could sustain the elements of life out here, in the middle of nowhere. Her mattress was thin, and despite the discomfort, she didn’t voice a single complaint. He actually preferred his blanket on the floor. She needed a good quality bed. It didn’t have to be fancy. Then his eyes took in the single pot. What woman wouldn’t want more cooking supplies? He examined the whole cabin and shook his head. There seemed to be no end to the things she needed. But with enough gold, her problems would be solved.
She peered over her shoulder and frowned. “Are you feeling ill?”
“No. I feel fine.” But, in a way, that was a lie. He did get sick to his stomach when he thought of how she’d been living over the past year. He lumbered to the chair at the table and sat down. “Penelope, can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“When your husband died, didn’t any men come by to see you?” It seemed to him that as soon as the bachelors discovered her availability, they would have been beating down the door to marry her.
She shrugged and kept her eyes on the stew. “Men wish to have children to carry on their name. I had an accident when I was a girl. I can’t have children.”
He noted the sadness in her voice and the slumping of her shoulders. “Even so, I’m sure you had some who were interested,” he softly said.
She shook her head.
“Then why did your husband marry you?”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she continued to stir the pot.
“Penelope?”
Sighing, she touched her cheeks with her free hand, and he wondered if she was crying. She took a deep breath. “I didn’t tell him.” She spoke so low that he could barely hear her.
“But you told the other men?”
“I hated myself for lying. I couldn’t do it again.”
“And when none of them came to see you, did you wish you hadn’t told the truth?”
She softly laughed. “No. I felt better having been honest. It was hard keeping it from Randy.”
So that was her husband’s name. Not that he cared. He rather preferred to think of Randy as the unnamed man who’d long since been removed from her life. He chastised himself for such thinking. Shifting in his chair, he cleared his throat. “You never know. One of the men might come to see you someday. Not all men value a woman based on whether or not she can give him children.”
She looked at him, and he quickly lowered his eyes. A moment of tense silence passed before she spoke. “I can’t open the jar. Will you do it?” She motioned to the sealed jar of pickles on the table in front of him.
More than happy to do anything for her, he nodded and did as she asked.
Chapter Eight
Penelope had some time alone in the cabin while Cole worked on the fence, so she closed the door to the cabin and took a bath. Stepping out of the tub, she wrapped the towel around her body and walked over to the dresser. She noted the trembling of her hands as she pulled the drawer open and pulled out her brush, mirror and barrette. It’d been over a year since she gave any care to her appearance.
Cole’s words gave her hope. She confessed that she couldn’t have children, and he didn’t seem to mind. Other men had. But he hadn’t. Maybe he wanted to stay with her after all. The thought made her heart skip a beat. She could think of nothing better than to have him stay.
After she towel dried her long blond hair, she ran the brush through it. It fell softly past her shoulders and down to the middle of her back. When it completely dried, it would be wavy. She recalled how Randy liked that. Maybe Cole would too. She picked up the mirror. Living on the prairie had made her skin tougher than it used to be. The sun had done that to her. She rarely wore a bonnet or hat unless it was too bright outside and she wanted protection for her eyes. Most of the time, she exposed her fair skin. That wouldn’t have happened back east. Her hands weren’t as smooth either. But she thought she was still pretty. Hopefully, Cole would agree.
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