Free A Moment in Time by Deb Stover Page B

to uncertainty in the space of a heartbeat.
           Cole chuckled.   "Trust me, this is no dream."   More like a nightmare.
           "My God ."   Her eyes widened and her lower lip trembled.
           "Don't you start bawling."   Cole shoved his hat back farther on his head.   "The horse is all right and we're due at the Silver Spur."
           "My rash is real.   You're real.   This is all real," she whispered, her voice trembling, though no tears streamed down her face.   "Impossible, but... real ."
           "Yes, ma'am, I reckon you could say that."   Dear Lord, please don't let her start bawling.   I swear I won't hurt her and I'll never kidnap another soul as long as I live if you just don't let her bawl.   Amen.
           Of course, Cole never planned to kidnap anyone again anyway.   This was far more adventure than he could stand.
           "I...what...what am I going to do?"  
           The terror in her voice and eyes gave him pause.   He rubbed the back of his neck.   "For starters, let's haul ourselves back on Ruth here and be on our way."
           As if in a trance, she met his gaze.   "But I don't know how."
           Her sudden shift in demeanor worried him.   Was Miss Lolita addled in the mind?   Well, once he delivered her to Merriweather at the Silver Spur, she would no longer be Cole's problem.   The sooner, the better.   He sucked in a deep breath and held it.
           No matter how much he wanted to touch her again.
    * * *
           It's true, it's true, true, true, true....   Jackie's lament played over and over again through her mind as she sat stoically in front of her kidnapper on top of a smelly horse.   Somehow, she really was stuck back in time and being taken by force to sing in a saloon.
           And she had a rash.   Absently, she scratched again, knowing her chest, shoulders and back would be raw by the time she shed these ridiculous feathers.   She'd kill for a tube of hydrocortisone creme, but they probably didn't have such luxuries in 1891.   They didn't even have malls, movie theaters, or high tech beauty salons.   If she didn't sing for her supper, what the hell would she do?   But she wouldn't cry, dammit.   Instead, she sniffled.
           "Will you quit that bawl–"
           "I'm not bawling.   Just shut up and drive this thing, cowboy."   She didn't bother looking back.   "Somebody paid you to kidnap me?"
           "That's right, but do we have to call it that?"
           "Kidnapping?"   She snorted.   What had Dottie called him?   Oh, yes, Cole Morrison.   "What would you prefer I call it, Mr. Morrison?"
           "Shit," he snapped, open disgust making the word sound more vile than usual.
           "Now who needs his mouth washed out with soap?"
           "How'd you learn my name?"
           "Dottie told me."   Jackie clutched the saddlehorn fiercely as the horse scaled another rocky slope.   It certainly wasn't hard to see why they called these the Rocky Mountains.
           "You know, Miss Lolita, the miners will pay dearly to hear you sing, but if you talk to them the way you've been talking to me, you'll find yourself without a job."
           Jackie snorted again, then chewed her lower lip as reality reared its ugly head for an encore performance.   She had to be practical about this.   If she didn't play along and pretend to be Lolita Belle, she'd be the wild west equivalent to a bag lady.   "Damn."
           "Seems we both could stand a little taste of lye soap."   His chuckle was warm and not the least condescending.
           Jackie kept chewing her lip, trying not to remember how she'd felt lying atop this handsome beefcake a short while ago.   And he'd even copped a feel, though she figured that had been accidental.   With all these feathers, it was hard enough for her to determine what was shoulder and what wasn't.   That