Living in 1856 is both wearing and relaxing for me. I love seeing history in the making; love the slower pace, lack of high rise buildings, and the genuine hearts of the people. And then there’s Jake, who tries to drown his compassion in booze but I’ve seen the other side of him. My unfailing curiosity is what led me to being an archeologist, but the study of man—one man in particular—is far more interesting than the study of old bones. What if I just let loose and fell into bed with him? Would it alter history so terribly? I haven’t any way of knowing whether I will get back to my life in 1988. Everything I’ve read indicates there were no fatalities when the Arabia sank, but then I wasn’t on the original manifest, was I?
Bri took Susan and her baby, Joseph, up the stairs, intending to see if the baby would settle once in the quiet of the cabin. Though she had seen Jake at the railing as she traversed the main deck, he wasn’t on the promenade when she turned the corner from the stairs. She thought it a good thing, since he didn’t appear to deal well with women and small children. The reason was something she had yet to figure out.
She took the key from her pocket and opened the cabin door but stopped halfway across the threshold. Jake stood across the room by the small window, hands in the pockets of his trousers, giving her an insolent look.
“Again?” The single word was more aggrieved than angry.
She refused to be intimidated. Jutting her chin in the air, she ushered mother and child in and closed the door behind them.
“You needn’t be here.” Gently she laid the child in the center of the bed and motioned for the mother to sit nearby. She hurried to the basin, poured cool water onto a cloth and brushed it over Joseph’s hot cherub face. His little lips trembled as he looked at her with huge brown eyes and her heart melted. “Sh, baby. It will be all right.”
She felt him right behind her. He didn’t touch her and yet his very presence filled the room; filled her with…she couldn’t put a finger on just exactly what. It was just there. Huge and hot and squeezing her heart and lungs until she couldn’t breathe. Her heart beat so loud in her ears she didn’t hear his soft murmur to Susan. All she heard was—
“Use the whiskey.”
“What?” She jumped from the bed, whirling on him; saw him pick up his glass. Screeching, she knocked it out of his hand, the fragile crystal shattering against the far wall.
“You will not give this baby your rotten whiskey. What are you thinking?” Her voice shook with outrage.
Joseph cried louder and Susan whispered, perhaps frantically, trying to calm him. Bri sucked in a deep breath; sorry she had let her own emotions cloud her thinking.
A dark eyebrow raised in arrogance.
“The child is of an age to be teething, which can be tiresome and painful. Rubbing a touch of whiskey on his gums will numb them and sooth the pain.”
Bri could only gap at him as he poured a minute amount of the golden liquid in another glass and handed it to the mother. As quick as a wink, Joseph quieted and still Bri stood by the bed, ashamed of herself for yelling at him when he had actually helped.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a quiet voice. “How do you know these things?”
He gave her a smile, the sadness of it reaching clear to his beautiful eyes, but shook his head as he gathered up his coat and hat and left the cabin.
Jake had disembarked as soon as the Arabia docked and now Bri stood on the promenade alone. The full moon slid in and out behind puffy, cotton ball clouds, alternating between giving her glimpses of the swirling water of the river and darkness. It was unusually quiet tonight, although it most generally was on this side of the boat away from the dock and town. She could hear some kind of bug chirping away on the riverbank, and the muffled sound of the piano in the steamboat salon where they were still serving dinner.
Bri could only assume the town boasted several saloons and a prosperous enough population to support Jake’s gambling. She had learned from past experience not to go into town. The places he frequented were not fit for a woman, and she was scared to death she might miss the boat. Even so, the lure of the frontier pulled at her and she longed for a more intimate knowledge of the towns, people, and way of life.
Adding to the confusion, she still felt an ache to be back where she belonged. She leaned further over the railing looking down into the dark, fathomless water. It was only gently lapping at the sides of the steamboat as they were moored to the dock but even the thought of being back in that water sent shivers down her spine. If she jumped, would she somehow miraculously go forward in time to where she had started? She had no idea what the logistics of time travel might be. Even though she was on the original boat, would she also have to be at Parkville?
And even as she wished to be home, she longed to unravel the mystery of Jake. The man refused to let people see past the tough exterior. He was handsome, to be sure. Hair longer than fashionable with a well-built physique considering all he seemed to do was drink and play cards. But it wasn’t the exterior package that got to her. He was gruff and so sad and forlorn at times that she just wanted to give him a hug and that tugged at her heartstrings.
Actually, she thought, meandering back to her cabin; she would like to do more than hug him. Therein lay another complication in the current state of her life. She assumed that she couldn’t get physically involved with anyone in this century or it might upset the historic applecart. But what if that weren’t the case? Perhaps that was even the key. If she fooled around with Jake, the fates—or whatever—might send her back to her own time as punishment.
As she settled down for the night, she thought that just might be the ticket. She would get what she wanted in both cases.
* * *
She woke in the morning to the mournful sound of the steamboat whistle, which warned wanderers that there was only thirty minutes until it left the dock and headed upstream to the next town.
Tossing her tangled hair out of her eyes she surveyed the room. There was no evidence that Jake was back on the boat. Even if he only came to the cabin to change his clothes, or when he knew she wasn’t about, he had always left some indication of his having been there.
She panicked, ripping aside the covers and hurrying to her clothes. She jerked on her own trousers and shirt, knowing she could run faster without petticoats. Oh God, oh God. She couldn’t do this without him, as much as she hated to admit it. Without his realizing it, he was her anchor in the storm, not to mention he kept them in ready cash. She only hoped she could find him in time.
When she questioned the men posted at the gangplank, they assured her Mr. Worth had not returned. She raced toward town, which fortunately was close to the river and she was barely out of breath when she reached the first building. Trying to remain unobtrusive, she bypassed the more respectable places – the café on the corner, the mercantile, and the barber shop. While she despaired of going into a saloon, she realized that was probably where she would find him. Something ate at Jake, and he tried to drown it in drink. She didn’t think it was helping, and when he wasn’t drinking, he was gambling. She peeked over the doors of the first saloon but at this time of the morning, there were no customers at the tables. She quickly moved down the boardwalk to the next.
Perhaps she should try to seduce him. That would certainly keep him off the streets and out of the saloons. The idea brought an unbidden smile to her face because she knew one of these days she might do just that. As each day passed, she longed for that closeness. Perhaps it was because she was so alone in this century, but she didn’t think so. From the get-go, she had been drawn to him and knew he felt the same. It was what caused him to scowl at her and what caused her to argue with him; to push his buttons. There were nights when she almost wished to egg him on so that he would lose control. Could she get any more contrary?
She sucked in a breath; preparing to enter the last saloon along the dirt street they called Main. As a precaution, she carefully looked behind her, almost wishing for Jake’s little pistol. Movement across the street at the blacksmith shop had her hesitating. It took only a minute in the early morning light to recognize Jake’s brown hair and rumpled suit, even though he lay on the ground. Another minute to realize the two men who stood over him were not trying to help, but were reaching down to hit him.
Without a thought for her own safety, she hurried across the dusty street, keeping to the side so she was behind the men’s backs.
“We ain't askin’ again. Give over what you cheated us out of.”
She could hear Jake, defiant as always. “If you lost, it was because of your stupid play. I don’t have to cheat.” His voice slurred and his head lulled back.
Bri looked to the heavens for help and instead received it from one of the two thugs.
“I say we beat him up. Mess up that pretty face of his so no woman wants him.”
She could see Jake struggling to get up and she rushed to his side. “Oh my darling,” she crooned, throwing herself at him.
“What?” Jake turned to her. “Get the hell out of here,” he hissed and she realized he wasn’t as drunk as he led them to believe.
“No, no.” She ignored him and turned slightly to the two men, one of whom looked confused, the other jeering. “Please don’t hurt him. I’ll give you the money. Just let me find it.” She patted his chest, reached to his inside pocket, searching for the pistol she knew he carried.
“The hell you say.” Her interference was apparently just what Jake needed. She felt him reach into his trouser pocket and watched as he withdrew the small gun.
“Back off,” he commanded, aiming the pistol at the larger of the two as he pushed to his feet, keeping more than an arm’s distance. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her feet, then tucked his arm around her waist to use her as a shield. “Don’t know whose little doxy she is, fellas, but I know you wouldn’t want to see her get hurt.”
Bri stammered, but he shook her.
“Shut up.”
She wasn’t sure from his tone if it was a warning or if he, too, was playing a part.
With narrowed gazes, the men watched as Jake backed out of the stable, his gun hand never wavering. When she stumbled, his grip tightened, pulling her along with him. Since apparently the other men didn’t carry revolvers, she felt she could breathe easier when they didn’t come after them.
Flipping her around in the middle of the street, Jake pocketed the pistol and grabbed her wrist but didn’t stop as he hurried her through the swinging doors of the saloon.
“Give me a bottle.” He flipped a coin on the bar and the bartender set half a bottle next to it. Jake grabbed it as he went by, never pausing as he dragged her up the stairs.
He swung her into a room and slammed the door behind them, turning the key in the rusty lock. She had a moment to wonder if there was some code of the west where people knew what rooms were occupied; which were empty and—
“Just what the hell were you thinking?” Jake slammed the bottle on the dresser top and jerked off his coat. He pulled the cork on the bottle and took a long swig. “No, forget that. You could not have possibly been thinking at all to pull that crazy stunt.” He took another drink. “Those men could have had guns.”
“You had a gun. You weren’t using it.”
“I hate guns. I didn’t want to shoot anyone. I could have talked them out of beating me up, but not with your sweet little behind getting into the middle of it. Do you have any idea what they might have done to you?” By the end of his tirade he was yelling, madly waving the whiskey bottle he had clutched in his fist.
His anger was lost on Bri because through the open window she heard the foggy sound of the steamboat whistle.
“No,” she cried, rushing to the window, leaning out as far as she could to see down the road to the dock. To see the paddlewheel turning slowly as the Captain piloted the boat out into the river channel. Oh, dear God, now what? Her heart pounded.
She turned away from the window to see Jake open his mouth to rail at her again. She sank onto a wooden chair by the window, tears overflowing.
“What now?”
“We missed the boat. We missed the Arabia and now she’s gone.” Her shoulders shook as she sobbed into her hands. Her entire body began to tremble and she had a thought that perhaps she’d simply disintegrate, thereby ending her troubles.
“There’s always another,” Jake said and she glanced up to find him sprawled on the bed, head propped with a pillow behind it, the bottle leaning against his hip.
She looked down at her hands. She was still here; still in trouble.
“You don’t understand. I have to be on the Arabia.” Her head hurt too badly to even think. Something in her look must have gotten through to Jake because his grin slowly dissolved.
“Want to join me?” He offered up the bottle to her.
One last, prolonged blast of the steamboat whistle had her wondering if there just might possibly be a good reason to drink after all.
But she shook her head. “No, thank you, and you don’t need it either.”
“Oh, you might as well have some, because you’re not going to stop me. Besides, there’s no place to go at the moment and I’ve been up all night.” He was being typically Jake, without a thought as to where he might be next or any ambition to get there.
“Why?”
“Why what?” He lifted a brow and frowned. “Why do I drink, or why won’t you go to bed with me?”
His question didn’t totally surprise her. Hadn’t she recently been having the same thoughts? He had the face of an angel, could be compassionate and caring when he chose, and she liked him a lot when he was sober. He tried to put on a tough guy face, but she had seen him show kindness to strangers. It was just that she didn’t need to take on another troubled soul. She was having enough trouble trying to figure out her own predicament, especially now that the steamboat was gone. How was she to get back to Kansas City – Parkville actually, so she could return home?
“Brianna?” His voice was soft and seductive and brought her back to the moment.
“Perhaps I’ll answer that question for you sometime if you ask while you’re sober.”
He grinned and her heart melted a little bit more.
“I’m not too drunk to have a little fun.” Even as he said it, his eyes closed and he drew a deep breath then let it slowly out.
She watched him for several minutes before realizing he was asleep. Not passed out, she thought, as she gently removed the bottle from the bed and placed it on the dresser. Although he appeared quite happy drinking his life away, she realized from the contents of the bottle that he hadn’t really drank that much. Tough Jake Worth was an imposter.
* * *
Jake woke later that morning with a groggy head, but he knew he hadn’t gotten drunk the night before. While he gave the appearance, he never drank heavily as it never did any good even when he tried. He didn’t think he had gotten much sleep, for something niggled at the back of his mind and refused to let him rest. Groaning as he rolled over, he peered across the room and found the reason for his discomfort.
She moved like a whirlwind, back and forth across the room, and he closed his eyes to keep from getting dizzy. That didn’t prevent the noise she was making from hammering his eardrums and giving him a headache.
“I know you’re awake. Just get your ass up so we can figure out what to do.”
He squinted at her with one eye. “My, my. Such language.”
She turned on him; fists clinched at her hips, feet braced apart and shoulders back in a stance any gunslinger would envy. Her blue eyes snapped; her hair flowed around her face and shoulders like a golden cloud as her somewhat frantic breaths shook her.
He wanted her; in the deep satisfying way man has always wanted woman. The thought hit him in the gut like a fist as she turned to pace again. He got up, but covertly watched her as he moved to the basin to wash up. Those long legs he could now see in the mirror fascinated him. He had seen them before; in fact had seen the entirety of her naked that very first day. But a wet, unconscious body did not have the effect on him that this fiery, sometimes angry, and utterly beautiful woman did.
Her hips swayed and her graceful arms waved in the air as she continued to rant at him. He didn’t listen. He fantasized instead about those arms wrapping around him, those hips lifting to join with his in what he knew beyond a doubt would be a frenzy of lovemaking. Nothing about Brianna was shy or retiring. Though mysterious and sometimes appearing unsure of herself, she was passionate about those she helped, and about life in general.
He patted his face dry with the less than clean towel and sighed. Her passion was contagious, and for the first time in too long, Jake was willing to take a chance. After all, he had no life plan of his own. He wondered where she would take him.
“You can’t go tearing across the country by yourself.” He had heard enough of her words to realize she wanted to chase down the river after the Arabia.
“You’re not my keeper. Sometimes you can’t even take care of yourself.”
He knew she referred to last night’s incident. “I had that under control, no thanks to your interference. You’re the one who doesn’t appear to know the slightest thing about how the world works and can find trouble with your eyes closed.”
He could see his words hit home. Her lips trembled; her eyes luminous. He hoped to God those weren’t tears he saw. He took a step toward her but she put up a hand, palm out.
“You’re selfish and self-centered and don’t care about anyone or anything. Sometimes I don’t think you care if you live or die.”
Days ago, she would have been right. Now, he knew different and it was because of her. She had made him change. He started to tell her that, but she didn’t give him a chance.
“You’re a gambler and a…a gunslinger.”
He laughed; he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t sure what she thought to accomplish by calling him names, but that certainly didn’t do it. “Carrying a pistol for protection hardly qualifies me for so eloquent a title.”
His good humor only incited her. She narrowed her eyes; she fumed. Spinning on her heel, she slammed out the door. Minutes later, he watched out the window as she stepped into the street. Hesitating, she glanced around, one hand on her slim hip and the other shading her eyes.
A furtive movement further down and across the street drew Jake’s attention to two men, leaning against the porch poles but eyeing Brianna. With a sigh and more regret than he could imagine, he grabbed his hat and coat and took off after her.
“I thought you wanted to stay in town and gamble your life away.” Her greeting told him she was still angry. He supposed he should apologize, but he wasn’t sure what he had said was wrong.
“There’s no money to be made here,” he said instead. Not wanting to brood on how she’d made him feel again, and what he would like to do to her if only they were alone, he concentrated instead on an earlier comment she had made.
“Why are you so frantic about catching up with the steamer?” For himself, it mattered not whether he went upstream or down. “It will be around again in a few weeks, heading back to St. Louis.”
“No, it won’t,” she cried.
He took her elbow and steered her across the street and in the opposite direction of the men he had seen. Apparently seeing as she was attached, they pushed off the posts and meandered back into the saloon.
He continued cajoling Brianna, for there was nothing worse than a woman’s tears. “It always comes back; has for at least the past two years I’ve been riding the river. I can’t see where it would be any different now.”
“What am I to do?” She cried piteously. “It’s the only hope I have, though I don’t even know for sure that will work.”
He had no idea of what she spoke but could sense her panic and perhaps could even understand a little. After all, he had always known she belonged somewhere, even if she had not told him exactly where when he’d fished her out of the Missouri. He hadn’t questioned her and had just ignored the evidence that she didn’t belong here. For himself, he no longer had a belonging, a place to call home, and that was fine for him. Brianna was different.
When she wouldn’t stop crying, Jake folded her gently in his arms. Oddly enough, when she laid her head on his shoulder, it felt right.
“I’ll find a way. We’ll hitch a ride on a wagon and be to the next town before the Arabia docks.”