The Mammoth Book of Time Travel Romance

Madeline Baker Catch the Lightning

The great white stallion sniffed the freshening breeze. The Apache called him a spirit horse; the Cheyenne called him a ghost horse because of his colour. But Relámpago was both, and neither. For hundreds of years, he had wandered the path between the past and the present, saving countless lives, bringing lost souls together.

Ears pricked forwards, he heard a faint call for help carried on the wings of the wind. With a toss of his head, Relámpago descended from his home high in the Chiricahua Mountains.

It was 11 a.m. on a rainy Saturday morning in January when Macie Jenkins decided her life was no longer worth living. Her parents and younger sister had died in an automobile accident six months ago. Her best friend in the whole world had married a computer programmer and moved to Japan. Her boyfriend had left her for his secretary. Last month, the collie she’d had ever since she was a little girl had got lost in a thunderstorm and never returned. Last week, she had lost her job due to the ongoing recession. And this morning, she had found her two-year-old goldfish belly up in the tank. It had been the last straw.

With a shake of her head, Macie turned away from the living-room window. Now that the decision was made, she felt a curious sense of peace. How to do it, that was the question? A knife was too messy. She didn’t own a gun. Sitting in the garage with the engine running seemed too creepy. Sleeping pills, of course, that was the best way. And how fortuitous that she’d had her prescription refilled yesterday. Tomorrow, she thought, she would do it tomorrow. But today, ah, today she would indulge in all the things she had been avoiding. She would have a big bowl of warm chocolate pudding for breakfast, a Big Mac, fries and a chocolate malt for lunch, pasta and garlic bread for dinner, and a pint of chocolate fudge ice cream for dessert.

While stirring the pudding, she contemplated leaving a suicide note, and decided against it. No one she knew would really care why she had done it; most wouldn’t even know she was gone.

When the pudding was cool, she poured all of it into a large bowl, sliced a banana on top, then sat at the kitchen table and savoured every bite. Good thing she was dying tomorrow, she thought with a wry grin, since she’d just shot her diet all to hell.

She spent the next hour finishing the book she was reading, then she cleaned her house from top to bottom. She didn’t want whoever found her body to think she lived like a slob.

Lunch was perfect. She lingered over every French fry, even the little crusty ones at the bottom of the bag.

While fixing dinner, she listened to her favourite fifties oldies. When dinner was ready, she lit a fire in the fireplace and ate in the living room. She grinned ruefully as she again savoured every bite. Six months at the gym, wiped out in one day.

By six, the rain had turned into a thunderstorm. Lightning slashed the skies, thunder rocked the heavens, a ferocious wind rattled the windows. She had always loved a storm. What better way to spend her last night than walking in the rain? One thing for certain, she wouldn’t have to worry about catching a cold.

After pulling on her favourite sweatshirt and an old pair of cowboy boots, she went outside. For a moment, she just stood there, her face lifted to the skies. Was anyone up there? Was there life after death? Were her parents waiting to greet her on the other side, or was death the end of everything?

She’d know the answer tomorrow. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans and then, with no particular destination in mind, she started walking. It was kind of spooky, walking in the dark. She glanced over her shoulder from time to time, making sure the lights from the house were still in sight.

A flash of lightning split the skies. Macie stared at it. Was that a horse, she thought, startled, and then laughed out loud. “You’re losing it, Macie,” she muttered, and let out a yelp when her feet suddenly went out from under her and she found herself falling head over heels down a rocky hill.

A shrill cry rose in her throat, ending in a groan as she slammed into a boulder at the foot of the hill.

And then everything went black.

Cold and wet, Macie woke with a groan. For a moment, she simply lay there, her whole body aching. Why was she so sore? she wondered. Then, in a rush, it all came back to her. She’d fallen down the hill at the far end of the property. If she’d had any luck at all, she thought glumly, the fall would have killed her.

With her eyes still closed, she took inventory and decided that, even though she hurt from head to foot, nothing was broken.

With a sigh of relief, she opened her eyes. She frowned when a thick grey mist rose up from the hill in front of her, let out a surprised gasp when a white stallion materialized out of the mist. It was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. Even in the dull grey light of the overcast day, the stallion’s white coat glinted like liquid silver. A thin black scar, shaped like a bolt of lightning, adorned its right flank.

“Hey, boy, what are you doing here?”

There hadn’t been any horses in the area since Macie was a little girl. Most of the barns and corrals had been torn down, replaced by RV parking and swimming pools.

At the sound of her voice, the stallion lowered its head and nudged her shoulder.

Taking a deep breath, Macie grabbed hold of the stallion’s mane and used it to steady herself as she pulled herself to her feet.

“So, what’s your name? Snowball? No. Thunder? No.” She ran her fingertips over the scar on the stallion’s flank. “Lightning,” she murmured. “I’ll bet that’s your name. And you fell out of the sky, didn’t you? Or maybe I’m hallucinating and you’re not really here. But I’m going to call you Lightning, just the same.”

The stallion’s dark, intelligent eyes met hers, almost as if he understood her words.

“You don’t know it, horse, but you came along at just the right time. Thanks to you, I won’t have to walk up that hill.”

Macie didn’t know where the stallion had come from, but somehow, she knew that it had been ridden before. She hadn’t been on a horse in years, but it was something you never forgot. Grasping the stallion’s mane, she swung on to its back, and nudged its flanks with her boot heels. When she clucked softly, the horse turned and walked up the hill.

Macie shivered as the mist grew thicker, darker, until it blanketed the whole area, so thick that she couldn’t see a thing. Muttering, “I hope you can see where you’re going,” she clung to the stallion’s mane with both hands.

The mist grew thicker as they climbed steadily upwards. When they reached the top of the hill, the stallion came to a halt and the mist disappeared.

“What the heck?” Macie stared at the scene before her. Where was her house? Her car? The sidewalk? The neighbourhood?

She glanced from right to left. Closed her eyes. Opened them again. The world as she had known it was gone. “I must have hit my head harder than I thought,” she muttered. Because everything she knew was gone.

She blinked, and blinked again, but nothing changed. Buildings she had never seen before lined both sides of a dusty street. An odd ringing sound filled the air; it took her a moment to realize it was the sound of a blacksmith’s hammer. A number of horses were tethered to hitching posts up and down the street. Women in long dresses and floppy bonnets strolled along the wooden boardwalk accompanied by men in denim pants, leather vests and muddy cowboy boots. Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed the hour.

A rumbling like thunder sounded behind her. Startled, Macie glanced over her shoulder to see a stagecoach bearing down on her. She jerked hard on the stallion’s mane, sneezed as a cloud of dun-coloured dust rose in the coach’s wake.

The stage pulled up at the far end of the street. The driver jumped down from the wagon seat. When he opened the door, a half-dozen men and women emerged.

Macie stared at them as they gathered their luggage and disappeared into the hotel. Patting the stallion’s shoulder, Macie muttered, “Where the heck are we?”

“Where the heck are we?” Macie repeated when a wagon rumbled past, raising another cloud of dust. “And where the heck is my house?”

The horse, of course, had no answer.

Macie clucked to the stallion and he moved off briskly. She glanced from side to side as she rode down the street, which looked like a set out of every western movie she had ever seen. There were three saloons, a dry goods store, a bootery, a barber shop and a two-storey hotel. The assay office and the post office shared a false-fronted shop. The sheriff’s office was located in a red-brick building.

Several men and women stopped to stare at her as she rode past.

It had to be a dream, Macie mused, but if it was, it was the most realistic one she’d ever had. She could feel the breeze on her face, taste the dust. Beyond the last building, there was nothing but open prairie as far as the eye could see. Macie tugged on the stallion’s mane in an effort to turn him around, but the horse kept going.

“Whoa, boy,” she said, tugging on Lightning’s mane again. “I don’t want to go out there.”

But the stallion didn’t stop.

Macie was considering sliding off the horse and walking back to town when Lightning broke into a gallop. With a startled cry, she leaned low over the stallion’s neck, her hands clutching his mane, praying all the while that the horse wouldn’t step in a prairie dog hole and break its leg. Or her neck.

The horse was incredibly fast. Grass, trees and hills flew by in a blur as he raced across the ground until the town was far behind and there was nothing ahead but tall yellow grass and scattered stands of timber.

Just when she was beginning to think the animal would never stop, it slowed to a trot, then a walk, and came to a halt at the head of a shallow draw.

“About time,” she muttered. After taking a couple of deep breaths, she slid off the stallion’s back.

And found herself staring into a pair of dark eyes that belonged to a tall, dark man with a gun in his hand, a knife in his belt and a dark red stain spreading over the lower half of his shirt front.

Before she could think, before she could speak, the weapon fell from the man’s hand and he pitched forwards to land face down at her feet.

Pressing a hand to her rapidly beating heart, Macie stared at him.

Good Lord, was he dead?

She stood there, staring at him, wondering what to do, even though there was nothing she could do. They were miles from town, and even if they weren’t, there was no way she could lift him on to the back of the horse. Besides, he really did look like he was dead.

Macie was still debating her next move when the stallion nudged her from behind. She stumbled forwards, landing on her knees beside the man. Reaching out to steady herself, she accidentally hit the dead man’s arm.

And he groaned.

Not dead then, she thought. But she still couldn’t lift him.

Kneeling there, she noticed a pair of saddlebags, a bedroll and a canteen lying in the dirt behind him. And beyond his gear, the body of a horse.

Heaving a sigh, Macie gained her feet. Maybe he had something in his bags she could use for bandages.

Rummaging inside, she found a box of ammunition, a sack of what looked like beef jerky and a clean shirt. Feeling like Florence Nightingale, Macie rolled the man on to his back, drew his knife from the sheath and cut the shirt into strips.

Taking her lower lip between her teeth, she lifted his bloodstained shirt, and gagged when she saw the bloody furrow in his left side, just above his belt. Had he been shot? She had never seen a gunshot wound before, but that’s what it was, she was sure of it. She wiped away the blood, then saw that the bullet hadn’t penetrated his flesh, just gouged a deep gash along his side.

Using water from the canteen, she cleaned it up as best she could, then wrapped several strips of cloth around his middle to staunch the blood. When that was done, she sat back on her heels and blew out a sigh. She had done all she could. The rest was up to him.

Macie glanced around, wondering how far they were from town. When she looked back at the man, he was awake and watching her.

“Water.” His voice was deep, raspy with pain.

Macie retrieved the canteen, uncapped it, and held it for him.

He drank long and deep, then looked at her through narrowed eyes. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the one who just bandaged you up. Who the hell are you?”

His lips twisted in a wry grin. “Ace Bowdry. Excuse me if I don’t get up, Miss.?”

“Jenkins.” She cocked her head to the side, studying him. Long dark hair hung past his shoulders. Dark eyes, high cheekbones and skin that was more red than brown. “You’re Native American, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Indian. You’re Indian, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “That a problem for you?”

Macie shrugged. “No, why? Is it a problem for you?”

He groaned softly when he sat up. “Sometimes.”

“What happened to you?”

“I got into a disagreement with a fella about the way he played cards.”

“You got shot over a card game?”

“Yep. Fella was dealin’ off the bottom. When I called him on it, he called me a name I won’t repeat in your presence, and then he pulled a gun on me.”

“Oh!”

Bowdry nodded. “He nicked me. I killed him, and then I hightailed it out of town.”

“What happened to your horse?”

“He took a stray bullet meant for me. He was a game little stud. I didn’t know he’d been hit until he dropped out from under me.” Bowdry glanced over his shoulder and there was a note of admiration in his voice when he said, “I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did. So,” he added, his tone brisk, “what the hell are you doing way out here? And why are you dressed like that?”

Macie glanced down. What was wrong with the way she was dressed? True, her jeans had faded from red to a washed-out pink, her boots were a little run down at the heel and her sweatshirt was a trifle large. she sighed again. So, she wasn’t at her best.

Shrugging, she said, “I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone.”

“Who’s the white-haired guy on the front of your shirt?”

“It’s Grumpy. You know, from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.”

Bowdry frowned at her. “Grumpy?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of Snow White?” she asked, then realized that, even if he had, Disney’s version hadn’t been written yet. “Do you live around here?” she asked, changing the subject.

“No, I was just passin’ through.”

“Is there a town closer than the one I just left?” She glanced up at the sky, which had grown considerably darker in the last few minutes. Dark grey clouds scudded overhead, blanketing the sun and bringing the promise of rain.

“There’s a ghost town a few miles from here.” He swore softly as he gained his feet, one hand pressed against his side. “I’d be obliged if you’d give me a ride,” he said, then whistled softly when he noticed the stallion for the first time. “Is that Relámpago?”

“Who?”

Bowdry shook his head. “It’s gotta be. Where’d you get him?”

“I didn’t ‘get him’. He just showed up at my house yesterday. Is he yours?”

“Nah. That stallion doesn’t belong to anyone.”

“Maybe it isn’t. what did you say his name is?”

“Relámpago. It means lightning.” Bowdry moved towards the stud, one hand outstretched. “Hey, boy. My great granddaddy told me about you.”

“What about him?”

“He’s a ghost horse, you know, magic.”

“A magic horse?” Macie said with a laugh. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s true. Legend says he appears to those in need, that he’s as swift as lightning, as sure-footed as a mountain goat and as reliable as the sun.” Bowdry patted the stallion on the neck. “My people believe if you treat him right, he’ll always carry you away from danger.”

Macie frowned. Had Relámpago brought her here to save Bowdry? But that was silly. If saving Bowdry had been the horse’s mission, wouldn’t Relámpago have just come here? There was no reason for the stallion to come to her. She hadn’t been in any danger. except from herself.

“You all right?” Bowdry asked. “You look a little pale.”

“What? Oh, I’m fine.”

“Well, whaddya say we get going? We’re gonna get mighty wet if we stay here.”

After gathering what gear he could carry, Bowdry swung on to the stallion’s back. Macie thought he looked a little pale himself when he reached down to offer her a hand up. She couldn’t blame him. Even though the wound wasn’t serious, it probably hurt like the devil.

Once she was settled behind him, Bowdry clucked to Relámpago and the stallion moved out at a brisk walk. A short time later, the horse broke into an easy lope.

Macie wrapped her arms around Bowdry’s middle, careful to avoid the wound in his side. It was rather pleasant, riding behind him. His broad back blocked the wind and made a nice pillow for her head.

Strange, she wasn’t more upset about finding herself in the Old West with a complete stranger, one who had recently killed a man. But then, there was no reason to be upset. She was only dreaming, after all.

The ghost town rose up out of the prairie like a mirage, shimmering in the light of the setting sun, only to fade to dull grey as the sun dropped below the horizon.

Macie shivered as Bowdry reined the stallion to a halt in front of a dilapidated building. The sign over the door read THE PALACE HOTEL. She thought it a rather pretentious name for a hotel stuck out in the middle of nowhere.

The town itself was little more than a block long. Judging by the number of saloons, the inhabitants had had quite a taste for whiskey. Besides the saloons and the hotel, the only other businesses were a blacksmith and a barber.

Swinging his leg over the stallion’s withers, Bowdry dismounted.

Macie slid off the horse’s back. “Is it safe to stay here?”

Bowdry shrugged. “I reckon so. I don’t see anybody else around, do you?”

“No, but. ” She shivered as a chill wind blew a tumbleweed down the middle of the dusty street. “It feels, I don’t know, eerie.”

“Well,” Bowdry said with a grin, “it is a ghost town.”

“Maybe our ghost horse will protect us,” Macie muttered.

“Maybe so,” Bowdry said, chuckling.

“Shouldn’t we tie him up or something?”

Bowdry shook his head. “He’s not going anywhere.”

Puzzling over his reply, Macie followed Bowdry into the hotel. As was to be expected, the floors were covered with dust, as were the chairs and the registration desk.

The steps creaked as they made their way up the stairs. Bowdry opened the door to the first room they came to.

“I’ll take the next room,” Macie said, though she wasn’t looking forward to being alone with night coming on.

Bowdry shrugged. “Suit yourself, but I’ve only got one blanket.”

Macie stared at him. “I don’t suppose you’d let me have it?”

“Sorry, but I’m willing to share.”

She stared at him a moment, her thoughts racing. Sleep alone and be cold, or share a bed with a remarkably handsome, sexy man and be warm? It really wasn’t much of a choice.

Bowdry stifled a grin as she followed him into the room. She was a pretty thing, slender and not too tall, with a mess of dark brown curls, a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and eyes as blue as the Pacific.

Bowdry obligingly shook the dust from the faded sheet and the lumpy mattress while she swept the floor with an old broom she found in a hallway closet. A stub of a candle provided a bit of light.

Wincing, Bowdry sat on the foot of the bed. Rummaging in his saddlebags, he pulled out two hunks of jerky. He handed one to Macie, then reached into his saddlebags again and pulled out a sack of tobacco and a package of papers. Under Macie’s curious gaze, he proceeded to roll and light a cigarette.

“I’ve never seen anyone do that,” she remarked.

“People don’t smoke where you come from?”

“The smart ones don’t. Smoking’s bad for your health, you know.”

“Says who?”

“Doctors.”

He grunted softly. “Just where do you come from anyway?”

“California.”

He arched one brow. “You’re a long way from home.”

“Longer than you think. Where am I anyway?”

“South Dakota.”

“South Dakota! What year is this?”

“Don’t you know?”

“Would I ask if I did?”

“It’s 1880.”

She blinked at him as she tried to absorb that. South Dakota, 1880. Imagine that.

He regarded her curiously a moment, then said, “How is it that you don’t know what year it is?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“You’re bleeding.”

Frowning, he glanced down at his side. A bright red stain was spreading over the cloth wrapped around his middle. Jaw clenched, he dropped his cigarette on the floor, stubbed it out with his boot heel. Lifting his shirt tail, he removed the bloody cloth and tossed it aside.

“Here, let me.” Using water from his canteen, she pulled a clean strip of cloth from his saddlebag, wet it and washed the wound.

Bowdry held up one hand, staying her when she would have bandaged it again.

She watched in amazement as he chewed a handful of tobacco, then pressed it over the wound.

“OK,” he said, “bandage it up.”

Muttering, “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she wrapped the last strip of clean cloth around his waist.

Sitting at the head of the bed, Macie nibbled on the beef jerky. It didn’t taste anything like what she was used to back home.

“I don’t know about you,” Bowdry said when he finished eating, “but I’m tuckered out.”

“If that means tired, you’re not the only one,” Macie admitted. She glanced at the narrow bed, then up at Bowdry. Her stomach quivered when he smiled at her.

With every nerve on edge, she stretched out on the bed, as close to the edge of the mattress as she could get without falling off.

Bowdry chuckled as he stretched out beside her, then covered the two of them with the blanket. “Relax, pretty lady,” he murmured as he closed his eyes. “I’m too sore, and too tired, to bother you tonight.”

He was snoring before she could come up with a good retort.

Macie doubted she’d get much sleep, lying beside a strange man in a strange bed, but the next thing she knew, it was morning. When she opened her eyes, Bowdry was watching her.

Macie frowned as a rush of colour warmed her cheeks. “What are you staring at?”

He shrugged. “Nothing much else to look at.”

At a loss for words, her gaze slid away from his.

“I guess I owe you my thanks,” Bowdry mused.

“You’re welcome.”

“You never told me where you were from.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Right. California.” He grunted softly. “I’ve been to California a time or two, but I never saw anyone quite like you.”

“You just weren’t there at the right time,” Macie retorted with a grin, and then frowned, wondering how she could make Relámpago take her back to her own time.

“You got a fi rst name?” Bowdry asked.

“Macie.”

“That’s an odd name for a pretty girl.”

“Ace Bowdry is an odd name for an Indian.”

“My mother named me after my old man.”

“My mother named me after her mother.”

Macie’s cheeks grew hotter under Bowdry’s regard, even as wings of excitement fluttered in the pit of her stomach. There was no denying he was an incredibly handsome man, just as there was no denying that he looked exactly the way she had always pictured the man she would marry, from his long black hair and dark eyes to his tawny skin and six-pack abs. The fact that he was an Indian intrigued her, which prompted her to ask, “What kind of Native Amer— Indian are you?”

“Cheyenne, on my mother’s side. White on the other.”

“Oh. Are your parents still alive?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry.”

A muscle throbbed in his jaw.

She was tempted to ask what had happened to them, but the look in his eyes warned her to keep silent.

Pressure on her bladder had her sitting up and glancing around, then chiding herself for expecting to fi nd indoor plumbing in such a primitive place. Murmuring, “Excuse me,” she hurried out of the room and out of the hotel.

The stallion whinnied at her as she ducked around the corner of the building and took cover behind a fat bush. If she had to go wandering through time, why couldn’t she have travelled to some place with indoor plumbing and toilet paper?

Bowdry was waiting for her in the lobby when she returned to the hotel. “Ready to go?”

“Where are we going?”

“Someplace with food and hot water.”

“Sounds good to me. How are you feeling?”

“Like I haven’t eaten in a week. Let’s go.”

It was dark when they reached the town of Whiskey Creek. Macie glanced from side to side as they rode down the street, thinking it looked like a twin to the town they had left behind.

Bowdry reined up in front of the Montecito Hotel. He dismounted, then lifted Macie from the horse’s back.

“I could have got down on my own,” Macie said, noting the fine lines of pain around his mouth.

“Yeah. Well. ” He shrugged.

“Shouldn’t we tie the horse up?”

Bowdry shook his head. “He won’t go anywhere until his reason for being here is done. Let’s get something to eat.”

Macie followed Bowdry into the hotel dining room, a quick gaze taking it all in — the tables covered in red-and-white checked cloths, the cowboy hats hanging on the rack by the door, the rough attire of most of the occupants.

They found a table near a window and sat across from each other. A harried-looking waitress appeared a few minutes later. Bowdry ordered a steak “and all the trimmin’s” and after a moment’s hesitation, Macie asked for the same. She wasn’t a big meat eater at home but hey, this was 1880. Cows in this day and age probably weren’t shot full of hormones.

Bowdry leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “So, I’m still waiting to hear why you don’t know what year it is.”

“You really want to know? All right, I’ll tell you. When I woke up yesterday morning, it was April 8 2009.”

“No sh — I mean. ” He shook his head, and then he frowned. “You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?”

“I guess you don’t believe me. Not that I’d blame you.”

“No, I believe you.”

“You do?”

“There are stories among my people of medicine men who rode Relámpago through time.”

“Really? How did they fi nd their way back?”

“I don’t know. Same way they got there, I guess. Why? You in a hurry to go back where you came from?”

Macie thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. “No.”

Bowdry leaned forwards. “It’s said the only time Relámpago appears to most people is when they’re in danger. Were you in danger?”

Macie’s gaze slid away from his. How could she tell him she’d been about to commit suicide? Thinking about it now filled her with shame. There were people all over the world who had it much worse than she did. She lived in a free country. She had a nice house, her health, a car, enough food to eat and money in the bank.

“Macie?”

She blew out a breath. He was a stranger to her. They would part ways, and she would never see him again, so what difference did it make what he thought of her?

“It doesn’t matter.”

“If you say so.”

Macie was relieved when the waitress arrived with their meal. She didn’t know why she cared what Bowdry thought of her, but she did. “You were the one in danger,” Macie said after a time. “Why didn’t he appear to you?”

“I don’t know,” Bowdry said, and then he grinned. “Maybe he brought us together for a reason.”

“Yeah? What reason would that be?”

“Well, since you found me, I thought maybe you’d know.”

“I don’t have a clue.”

“Maybe if we spend some time together, we’ll fi nd out.”

His words, the look in his deep brown eyes, sent a wave of heat spiralling through her. Spending time with Ace Bowdry certainly wouldn’t be a hardship in any sense of the word.

After dinner, Bowdry secured two rooms in the hotel, then asked the desk clerk for lots of hot water to be sent up to their rooms as soon as possible.

Macie felt somewhat lost when she entered her room and closed the door, along with an unexpected sense of disappointment that they wouldn’t be sharing a room. And a bed. She shook the feeling away. What was she doing here, anyway? Surely whatever fate had sent her here must know she could end her life in this century as easily as her own.

Moving to the window, she pushed the white lace curtain aside and stared at the street below. How was she going to get back home? If she asked Relámpago to take her, would he? There had been times in her life when she felt like she didn’t belong, but in this case, it was true. She defi nitely didn’t belong here, and never would. Yet even as she yearned for home, she knew she would be sorry to see the last of Ace Bowdry. There was no denying that she was attracted to him. And he to her.

Maybe Relámpago was more than a time-travelling horse. Maybe he was a matchmaker, as well.

The following morning, bright and early, Bowdry knocked on her door. “You awake in there?”

Scrambling out of bed, Macie wrapped a sheet around her nakedness and opened the door.

Bowdry grinned at her. “You ready for breakfast?”

“Do I look ready?”

“You look ready for something.”

The look in his eyes caused a shiver of excitement in the pit of her stomach. With his gaze focused on hers, he backed her into the room and shut the door behind him.

Macie stared up at him, her heart pounding, her lips slightly parted, as he reached for her.

He’s going to kiss me. Breathless with anticipation, she closed her eyes.

There was no hesitation in his kiss. His lips were warm and firm, confi dent without being demanding.

Needing something solid to hang on to, Macie’s hands curled over his shoulders as he deepened the kiss. He made a throaty growl when her tongue slid over his lower lip.

Muttering something unintelligible, he backed her towards the bed, lowered her gently to the mattress, and covered her body with his.

“Damn, woman, what are you doing to me?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“What are you doing to me?” she retorted.

He grinned at her, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said, stripping her of the sheet, “but whatever it is, let’s not stop.”

Macie woke abruptly. For a moment, she stared up at the ceiling, unable to recall where she was. And then it all came rushing back. The horse. The journey through time.

And the man. Ah, yes, the man. She turned her head to see him lying asleep beside her. Just looking at Mr Tall, Dark, and Sexy made her toes curl. They had had sex again last night. No, it had been more than sex, but before she fell too much harder, she should probably find out a little more about him. Like, was he married?

The thought sent a cold chill down her spine. Maybe she should have found that out before they tumbled into bed last night.

Slipping carefully out from under the sheets, she pulled on her sweatshirt, stepped into her jeans, pulled on her boots. She had never been one to have casual sex, and although there had been nothing casual about what had happened between them, the thought of facing Bowdry in the light of day had her stomach tied in knots.

The creak of the bed, the rustle of blankets, told her he was awake. She could feel his gaze on her back.

“Goin’ somewhere?” he asked.

“I need to. ah. use the. ”

“It’s under the bed.”

Under the bed? Good Lord, did he expect her to use a chamber pot while he watched?

“Give me a minute and you can have some privacy.”

There was no mistaking the amusement in his voice. Maybe she was being silly to be so modest after what they had shared last night, but she couldn’t help it.

She bit down on her lip, listening as he dressed, remembering all too well how he looked in nothing at all.

Her stomach fluttered wildly when his arms slid around her waist and he kissed the back of her neck. “I need coffee, and lots of it,” he said, his breath warm against her cheek. “How about you?”

“You’re a man after my own heart, Ace Bowdry,” she replied, feeling breathless. “I’m about a quart low.”

Murmuring, “I’ll meet you downstairs,” he kissed her again and left the room.

Later, after eating breakfast in the hotel, Bowdry suggested they buy some new clothes. “You should have a dress,” he said. “Something blue, to match your eyes. And I need a new shirt.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Falling into step beside him, they walked down the boardwalk to the mercantile. Oddly, it never occurred to her to object when he paid for her dress and a few other items she needed. Of course, the fact that she didn’t have any money accounted for part of it, but more than that, it seemed as if she had known him for years.

“I’ve got a place about twenty miles from here,” he said. “I haven’t worked it in a while, and it’s pretty run down, but I’ve been thinking about fixin’ it up, maybe running a few head of cattle.” He removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “Seein’ as how you’re new here, that is, if you’ve got no place else to go. hell, woman, I’m askin’ you to. hell, it’s probably too soon, but. ”

“If you’re asking me to come with you,” Macie said, smiling up at him, “I’d love to.”

“Well, hot damn!” he exclaimed and, lifting her in his arms, he twirled her round and round, oblivious to the startled looks on the faces of people passing by.

After another trip to the mercantile, where they stocked up on blankets, canned goods, coffee, salt, flour, sugar, baking soda and matches, they went to the livery stable where Bowdry bought a horse and a wagon to carry their purchases. He lifted her on to the high spring seat, then swung up beside her. Picking up the reins, he clucked to the horse. Relámpago trotted after them.

Macie’s initial burst of excitement faded as they left the town behind. What was she doing here with a man she hardly knew? That thought haunted her in the days that followed.

As Bowdry had said, the place needed work and they spent their days cleaning up the rough four-room cabin. Bowdry made a trip into town and bought a gallon of whitewash and they painted all the rooms, which brightened the place considerably. Macie had never been much of a seamstress, but she bought several yards of gingham and sewed curtains for the windows in the kitchen and the bedroom. She ordered drapes for the living room from a mail order house in the East. On another trip to town, Bowdry bought a new mattress and pillows for the bed.

At the end of three weeks, the cabin looked a hundred per cent better, and Bowdry went to work repairing the barn and the corrals. Macie helped as best she could, but she’d never been proficient at swinging a hammer and after she smashed her thumb for the third time, Bowdry sent her back to the house to bake a pie.

It wasn’t the best-looking apple pie she’d ever seen, but Bowdry praised her efforts.

As their life settled into a routine, Macie grew more and more depressed. She missed going to the movies and shopping at the mall, she missed watching TV, hot running water and her computer. She didn’t like doing her laundry in a wash tub over a fire, or cooking on a wood stove. She missed her microwave and frozen food.

They’d been living together just over a month when Bowdry said they needed to talk.

“I can’t help noticin’ you’re not happy here,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes. “I know you’re probably used to better than this. ” He cleared his throat. “And I know I’m not much. ”

“It’s not you,” she said quickly. And it was true. She loved him more every day they spent together. He was as strong as an ox, yet tender with her, considerate of her needs. She had only to ask for something, and he did his best to get it for her.

“Then I guess you’re missing your old life. If you’re truly unhappy here, I reckon Relámpago will take you back home, if that’s where you’re meant to be.”

That night, Macie stayed up long after Bowdry had gone to bed. Did she want to go back home? There was nothing for her there. And no reason to take her own life. In spite of what she had lost, she still had a lot to live for. She was young. She was healthy. And she had a man who loved her. But did she want to stay here? Could a woman from the twenty-first century ever be happy living in the past?

She was still mulling the answer to that question when she woke in the morning.

Stepping outside, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders to ward off the chill, she gazed at the land, and at the tall, dark-haired man who was chopping firewood near the barn.

She was about to go back into the house to start breakfast when Relámpago trotted up to the porch. “Hey, boy,” she murmured. “What should I do?”

The stallion shook his head, then whinnied softly.

“I’ve been asking the wrong question, haven’t I? The question isn’t whether I can be happy here, in the past. The question is, can I be happy in the future without Bowdry? And you know what? The answer is no.”

With her decision made, laughter bubbled up inside Macie. Life wouldn’t be easy here, but suddenly, it didn’t matter. She was here, with Bowdry, and that was where she belonged. In a fl ash of intuition, she saw herself married to Ace Bowdry, saw them raising half a dozen kids, growing old together, living happily ever after.

Bowdry looked up just then, a smile curving his lips when he saw her. He sank the blade of the axe into a piece of wood, then strode towards her, his dark eyes alight.

“You can go now,” she said, giving the stallion a pat on the rump as she hurried towards Bowdry. “I’m home.”