Alejandro paced the floor of his cell, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, his jaw clenched. Any doubts he’d had about Shaye’s claim of being from the future had been swept away the minute he heard the cell door close behind him. Why the hell hadn’t he listened to her? He lifted one hand to his neck. He had seen men hanged before. It was not a pretty sight, especially if the drop didn’t break the victim’s neck and he was left to hang there while he slowly strangled to death, which happened more times than he cared to think about.
Going to the window, he stared out into the darkness. The town was still celebrating. The sound of music and laughter, gunshots and firecrackers, drifted to him on the breeze. The drunk in the next cell was snoring loudly. He heard the whinny of a horse from the barn next door.
Damn it all to hell! Why hadn’t he grabbed Shaye and left town the minute she told him about his fate? Even now, even knowing she was telling the truth, it still seemed incredible.
His hands curled around the bars as he thought about Daisy. It was his fault she was dead. He should have made her leave town, should have put her on a stage himself, gone with her, if necessary. Guilt burned through him. Dammit, he might as well have shot her himself.
Too restless to stand still, he began to pace the floor again. He had to get out of here, had to find out who had killed Daisy. Dade McCrory was the obvious answer. But why?
He frowned as he reached the far side of the room. Muttering an oath, he slammed his fist against the wall. The answer was obvious. Daisy had come to him for help, and he’d failed her, so she had threatened to go to the sheriff, and McCrory had killed her to shut her up. With Daisy out of the way, McCrory would be sole owner of the Queen. Using the gun Rio had left for Daisy had been a nice touch on McCrory’s part, he mused bitterly. And leaving it next to the body had been the ace in the hole.
Dammit, he had to get out of here!
* * * * *
Wrapped in a blanket pulled from off the bed, Shaye stood at the window, her fingertips drumming restlessly on the sill as she gazed down into the street, unable to believe what had happened. Alejandro wasn’t supposed to be arrested until August, yet something had caused a shift in the timeline of the past, and she knew that she was that something. She thought over the events of the past few days, wondering what she had done that had altered his destiny, wondering if whatever shift had occurred would also change the date of his hanging.
She blew out a sigh, distraught at the idea that she was somehow responsible. And then a new idea bloomed in her mind. What if she had been sent to the past because she was supposed to change it? What if Alejandro wasn’t supposed to die at all?
The thought gave her pause. What if she had been destined to come here to save him? What if she was the only one who could? Others had felt his presence, but she was the only one able to see him. Maybe they were destined to be together…
She shook her head. That was too farfetched to be believable. She was a reporter. She dealt in facts, not fiction. And yet, what if it was true? Why else would she be here? If she was here…Maybe it was all just an elaborate dream. Maybe she was crazy, locked up in an asylum somewhere, and all this was just a drug-induced hallucination.
Turning away from the window, she pulled on her dark-green calico dress, slipped on her Nikes, and left the hotel.
The celebration was over and for once, the streets were almost quiet, with only the last of the revelers still in evidence as they staggered toward home, and only the saloons showing any signs of life.
She moved through the dark streets, her heart pounding with a vague sense of déjà vu as she walked down Main Street, past the carpenter shop and the barber shop and the assay office, remembering how they had looked when she first saw them. She turned left on King Street, passing the Kirkwood Stable, and then she was at the jail. The door to the Sheriff’s Office was closed. She tiptoed past, her heart beating faster as she approached the jailhouse window and peered inside.
And Alejandro was there, just as she had seen him before. Clad in black pants, a white shirt and a vest embroidered with tiny gold fleur de lis, he was stretched out on a narrow cot, one arm folded behind his head. A thin plume of smoke rose from the cigarette he held in his left hand. The room looked exactly as she remembered. His coat was folded over the back of one of the chairs. She heard the sound of snoring coming from the sheriff’s office adjacent to the jail.
Alejandro took a deep drag on the cigarette. Sitting up, he dropped the butt on the floor, ground it out with his boot heel. He sat there a moment, and then he stood up and began to pace the floor, his long legs carrying him quickly from one side of the room to the other. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him turn and walk toward the window.
“Shaye!” he exclaimed softly. “What are you doing here?”
She expelled her breath in a long sigh, feeling as though she were waking from a dream. “It’s exactly as I remember.”
He frowned at her. “What are you talking about?” he said, and then he knew. Knew why he’d always felt like he had seen her before. “You were wearing a black shirt…” He dragged his hand across his chest. “It had writing on it. Here.”
“Beauty and the Beast. It’s a stage play.”
Disbelief and astonishment chased themselves across his face, and then he swore a short pithy oath. “It’s true, isn’t it?” he said, his voice little more than a whisper.
Shaye nodded. “You did see me that night, didn’t you?”
Alejandro nodded. He had known from the first that he had seen her somewhere before, but to have seen her when he was dead… Damn, maybe his grandfather had been right. Maybe spirits did walk the earth. And he had been one of them, a ghost trapped in this jail.
“I knew you had seen me,” Shaye said. “I felt it. I felt you.” She leaned closer. “I felt what you were feeling.” She smiled faintly. “What you’re feeling now. But it isn’t hopeless.”
He reached through the bars to cup her face in his hand. “I thought I’d imagined you.”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” She reached up to cover his hand with her own, suddenly certain that she had, indeed, been sent back in time to meet this man. “Or dreaming about you.”
“Shaye…”
“Do you believe me now?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said with a wry grin. “I believe you.”
“I’m going to get you out of here,” she said fervently.
“And how do you plan to do that?”
She rubbed her cheek against his hand. “I’m not sure, but I will. You’ll see.”
She turned her head and kissed his palm. “Just be ready.”
“I’ll be ready,” he said, “the sooner, the better.”
“Good. Do you think I should…” She went still as the sound of voices drifted on the wind. Leaning forward, she kissed him quickly, then disappeared into the shadows.
Alejandro stared after her, wondering what manner of escape she had in mind. Not that it mattered. Whatever she came up with would be fine with him as long as it got him out of here.
Hanging. Damn. What a horrible way to die. He grinned into the darkness as he remembered telling Shaye that there weren’t many good ways that he knew of.
He stared into the darkness, his smile fading as his hands wrapped around the bars. What if it didn’t matter what she did? She said he had died on August twelfth. He had a horrible feeling in his gut that no matter what happened between now and then, he’d be standing on the gallows on that day, a rope around his neck.
“Shaye.” He whispered her name. For the first time in his life, he had something to live for, someone he cared for. It wasn’t fair that he should lose her when he had just found her.