Free Hawk's Way by Joan Johnston

black surface. Then the box began to hum. “What is that?” she asked.
    â€œIt’s a microwave oven.”
    Angel tentatively touched the sides of the box. “It isn’t hot,” she said. “How can it cook anything?”
    Dallas grinned wryly. “Well, there are these microwaves in the air inside the box and they get the molecules in the potato to moving real fast and—”
    â€œStop!” Angel cried, covering her ears. “I don’t want to hear any more.”
    â€œCome on, then. You can help me set the table.”
    Angel was never sure what surprise Dallas was going to spring on her next. It was a relief to see that people still used knives, forks, spoons and plates. But sour cream in a plastic container? Butter wrapped in foil sticks? Bacon bits in a glass bottle? Bread crumbs in a cardboard box?
    Angel couldn’t have been more surprised when Dallas pulled lettuce and tomatoes and cucumbers from his refrigerator. “I thought you said it’s spring,” she accused.
    â€œIt is.”
    â€œWhere did you get all these fresh vegetables that only grow in the summer?” she asked suspiciously.
    â€œThese were probably shipped in from Florida or California, or maybe even some other country south of here.”
    Angel just shook her head and gritted her teeth. There was no sense letting the strangeness of it all get to her. She wasn’t going to be here much longer—if everything went as planned. She refused to contemplate what she had to face if she couldn’t find her way back to the past.
    Dallas saw the tension in Angel’s shoulders, the way her jaw worked as if she had her teeth clenched, the unhappy shadows in her blue eyes. Something had happened to rob her of her memory of all this. The least he could do was be patient with her. He was certain that at some point it would all come back to her.
    They sat down to a dinner of grilled steak, baked potatoes and a green salad. Angel laughed when Dallas turned out the electric lights in favor of a couple of candles on the table. “Why on earth would you turn out the lights and purposely make it so dark?”
    â€œIt’s…” He didn’t want to say more romantic . He had no business romancing her. He settled for saying “So you’ll feel more at home.”
    â€œThen you ought to have a beer at your elbow,” Angel said with a grin.
    â€œI don’t drink.”
    â€œNot at all?”
    â€œWhiskey sometimes. Liquor dulls the senses,” Dallas said. “I like to know what I’m doing all the time.”
    Angel met his searing gaze, and her heart started thumping. Her grin faded. She stared at his hands, remembering the strength of them smoothing over Red’s hide, the gentleness of them cupping her breast.
    Dallas recognized Angel’s heavy-lidded look. He was no novice at seduction, even if she was. He had to be the one who used good sense here. So he said, “I figure you can take advantage of some courses at the junior college in Uvalde to help you catch up on things. Maybe some art and history and literature. What do you think?”
    His abrupt change of subject jolted Angel from the trance into which she had fallen. “College? I only got as far as the eighth grade.”
    â€œNo problem,” Dallas said. “These are courses intended for people who aren’t particularly interested in getting a degree, but who want to broaden their knowledge of a subject. We need to be thinking about what career you might pursue.”
    â€œI can draw a little,” Angel admitted.
    Dallas frowned. “I don’t know how useful that’ll be.” Texas had its share of local artists,and he’d seen a lot of good work at the art festivals that were held in San Antonio. But “drawing a little” didn’t sound like much on which to build a future. To tell the honest truth, he was having trouble picturing Angel in any