A Time For Love:

Book 3: Dodge City Brides

by Julianne MacLean

Genres: Romance; Historical Romance; Time Travel Romance; Western Romance; Time Travel; Action & Adventure; Westerns; Action & Adventure Romance; 20th Century Romance; Paranormal Romance

Synopsis

HERO AND PROTECTOR



Former bounty hunter, expert gunslinger, and the toughest sheriff Dodge City has ever known, Truman Wade is a real man from the tip of his black Stetson right down to his spurs and leather boots. He's never met his match in a gunfight, but he's never met a gorgeous, gutsy woman from the twenty-first century either . . .



TORN BETWEEN TWO WORLDS



Newly single after a rocky breakup with her self-absorbed fiancé, newspaper columnist Jessica Delaney crashes her car in a lightning storm and soon finds herself dodging bullets in the Wild West. Before the night is out, she's tossed in jail for a murder she didn't commit, and if things don't seem complicated enough, the impossibly handsome sheriff in charge of her arrest has danger written all over him—and a sexy swagger to die for. Jessica knows she needs to get home, but when Sheriff Wade's enticing touch sets her passions on fire, she begins to wonder if fate has other plans for her, and soon she must choose between the life she longs for in the future . . . and the greatest love she's ever known.



Contains mature themes.

Release date: June 13, 2011

Publisher: Julianne MacLean Publishing Inc.

Print pages: 272

Sample

A Time For Love

By Julianne MacLean

 

Prologue

 

Dodge City, Kansas

Present day

Jessica Delaney sat in the waiting room outside the Operating Room, barely able to move, much less comprehend what had just happened to her brother. “How much longer?” she said to her parents. “He’s been in there for two hours.”

Jessica’s mother blew her nose, while her father sat in silence, squeezing his wife’s hand. “I’m sure they’re doing their best,” he said. “We’ll hear something soon.”

Jessica rose from her chair and walked to the edge of the waiting room to peer down the long hall at the surgery doors to the O.R. She thought of Gregory lying on the table under the lights, a team of masked surgeons working over him. What were his chances? Did anyone ever survive a bullet wound to the chest?

Feeling nauseous all of a sudden, she returned to her chair and sat down. She stared at a framed painting on the wall and wished this day had been different. Gregory didn’t deserve to be lying on that table. He was too young, and such a good person.

At least the gunman was behind bars. The convenience store clerk had noticed the out-of-state license plate just before he called 911.

An orderly in a white uniform walked by pushing a cart stacked with folded blue hospital gowns. Jessica watched him while he steered the cart onto the elevator. When the doors slid shut behind him, she thought of Liam, her fiancée.

Should she call him and tell him they were still waiting for news?

Jessica chewed on a thumbnail and recalled their conversation hours ago, when she’d called him at work....

“Liam, something terrible just happened. Can you come with me to Dodge?”

“When? Now? I’m in a meeting. I can’t just skip out.”

She fought to keep her voice steady. “Gregory’s been shot. He’s on his way to the hospital. I need to go right now, and I’d really like you to come with me.”

He was silent for a moment. “God, Jessica...is he going to be okay?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I need to go now—to be with Mom and Dad.”

“Of course. You should go.”

“Can’t you come?”

She heard him sigh heavily on the other end of the line. “It’s a really bad time, Jess. We’ve got clients coming in tonight. It could be a million-dollar deal. If I’m not there, it might cost me my job — and you don’t know what kind of day it’s been for me.” He began to tell her about the mountain of emails and texts he still had to get through.

Jessica covered her forehead with her hand. She didn’t want to hear the details. Not now.

She interrupted him. “Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll go alone.”

“Let me know how he’s doing. Call me later.”

“Sure.” She hung up without saying goodbye and drove from Topeka to Dodge alone….

The squeak of the surgery doors swinging open pulled Jessica from her thoughts. She stood up to look down the hall again and saw a doctor in O.R. greens walking toward them. His shirt was drenched in sweat. “Mom, Dad…someone’s coming.”

Her parents stood up.

The doctor, who looked to be in his mid-thirties, kept his eyes on Jessica as he walked the length of the hall. A terrible rush of anxiety exploded in her belly as he came to stand before them.

“Mr. and Mrs. Delaney,” he said, “I’m Doctor Jake Spencer.”

He shook her father’s hand, while Jessica put her arm around her mother.

“I’m sorry to tell you this,” the doctor said. “We did everything we could for Gregory, but I’m afraid he didn’t make it.”

Jessica stared blankly at the doctor, who kept his gaze fixed on hers. His eyes filled with empathy, while hers filled with tears.

Her parents said nothing for a moment, then her mother let out a sob. “Please, no.”

The doctor put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Delaney. The wound was deep. The bullet entered his chest and punctured a lung. It lodged in the wall of his aorta. We tried to stop the bleeding and put a graft in place, but it bled too heavily, and we couldn’t stop it. We did all we could do. I massaged his heart to pump it manually, but...I’m very sorry.”

Jessica’s mother leaned into her husband and buried her sobs in his chest. All Jessica could do was stare at the doctor while she listened to her mother’s weeping and the sound of her own blood rushing through her veins. She still couldn’t believe what the doctor was saying.

“Will you be all right?” he asked. His voice was caring. Almost shaky. His green eyes were compassionate and sincere. He reached out and touched her shoulder.

Jessica managed to nod.

“If you need anything or have any questions,” he continued, “you can contact me at any time.” He handed her his card.

“Thank you,” she replied.

He made a move to leave but turned back. He shook his head in frustration. “I’m sorry, Jessica. I did everything in my power to save him. I wish I could have done something to prevent it from happening.”

His expression was tight with strain, as he bowed his head and walked away.

Her grief swelled as she stared after the doctor, until the doors to surgery swung closed behind him. She choked back a sob and turned to embrace her parents.

It wasn’t until many hours later, after they left the hospital and went home to call their friends and relatives, that Jessica wondered how the doctor had known her name.

 

Chapter One

One year later

Jessica shifted nervously in the driver’s seat, her fingers like vice grips around the steering wheel. She’d driven for two hours, slicing through a rain-battered dusk, wishing that she lived closer to Dodge and her parents. If she did, she wouldn’t have to spend so many hours traveling from one city to the other.

Maybe it was time to move home, she thought, for the tenth time that month. There wasn’t much keeping her in Topeka anymore—not since she broke off her engagement to Liam.

She was self-employed and could write her fitness column from wherever she pleased. All she needed was a good pair of sneakers for running, her laptop, and wireless Internet at a nearby Starbucks. Her apartment was a sublet. She could give a month’s notice and be out of there in a heartbeat. The change would do her good.

Not that she wasn’t happy in her work. She loved what she did. There were no problems in that department, but everything else seemed so uncertain and unpredictable.

Her brother had gone out to buy ice cream after supper one night, and he never saw another sunrise again.

Jessica had imagined she’d be married by now with a kid on the way, but the man she chose for a husband turned out to be a self-absorbed child, and she was suddenly single again, paying off debt from a honeymoon she had no choice but take alone.

Yet, she was ever hopeful, waiting for a sign from above, a clue to suggest what she was meant to do with her life. There had to be some greater purpose.

Should she stay in Topeka, or move home to Dodge to be closer to her parents?

They weren’t getting any younger and wouldn’t be around forever. If she’d learned anything over the past year, it was to make the most of each and every day, because you never knew when it could all end — just like that — with no warning whatsoever.

Come on, destiny. Which is it? Topeka or Dodge?

A flash of lightning and an instantaneous thunderclap caused her to jump in her seat. Rolling her neck to ease the tension in her shoulders, she flexed her fingers on the steering wheel and repositioned her slick palms. The windshield wipers snapped noisily back and forth.

Another crash of thunder overlapped the last. Counting the seconds to keep her mind occupied, Jessica raked stiff fingers through her hair. She’d just finished a cup of bitter service-station coffee, and now her brain, whirling with caffeine, couldn’t match the lightning with the correct thunderclap.

Maybe the radio would take her mind off things. She tuned into a fiddling festival, then tapped her thumbs on the steering wheel to “Oh! Susanna.” Other vehicles passed her at dangerous speeds, their tires hissing through puddles on the slick pavement. She glanced impatiently at her watch, wondering how much longer she’d have to fight this storm.

Ahead of her, a white freight truck lumbered slowly up the incline. Knowing she’d have to pass, she glanced over her shoulder and signaled to cross into the passing lane.

She barely managed to gain any distance when her car suddenly hydroplaned and began to fishtail. Instinctively, she slammed her red stiletto pump onto the brake, realizing too late what she had done. Her heart pummeled her ribcage as she tried to regain control, but it was no use. The steering wheel was useless as the vehicle spun around in a dizzying circle.

Oh! Susanna, don’t you cry for me....

The car whipped around and flipped over, bouncing across the pavement like a child’s toy. The world spun in chaotic circles. Jessica’s head hit the side window. Glass smashed, and steel collapsed like tin all around her.

Frozen with fear, she felt all her muscles constrict. Please, stop! Get me out of here!

Lightning split the ashen sky. The car lit up and sizzled with one electrifying pulse after another.

The light...it was too bright. She couldn’t see. She squeezed her eyes shut.

All at once, the world became silent except for the echoed thumping of her heart in her ears. There was no pain, only blackness. She felt as if she were floating, detached from everything but the extraordinary quiet, the complete absence of all cares and misgivings. She felt no fear now. Was this death? Maybe she would see her brother....

Something wet trickled down her forehead and onto her eyelashes.

The distinct visceral sensation sucked her out of the tranquil beyond, and when her eyes fluttered open, she found herself lying on her back, gazing up at the dusky sky, watching silvery clouds roll and twist and turn in the most fantastic way.

Then real, conscious thoughts began to form in her brain.

She’d been in a car accident. She was lying in the grass. Her hair was wet. Was it blood?

Blinking in panic, she touched her throbbing temples but discovered the wetness was only rain. Relieved, she sat up and realized she was sitting in a puddle of mud. A damp chill rippled up her spine.

Had she been thrown from the car? She couldn’t remember anything that violent. Of course, she had shut her eyes and blacked out. Or at least she thought that’s what happened.

With trembling hands, she rose up on her knees and rubbed the side of her neck where the seatbelt had chafed her. Next, she touched her scalp, feeling a gritty, sandy residue. Shattered glass, she realized, as she studied the pads of her fingers. And her head—Good Lord. A bump was already sprouting at her temple.

Wondering if she had a concussion, she carefully tried to stand. She pressed her hand into the gooey muck to keep her balance and rose to her feet. Her stiletto pumps sank deeper into the puddle, right up to the ankles of her skinny jeans. She noticed that her favorite black belted jacket was ruined. A button was torn off, and the pocket was ripped.

She glanced around, searching for her car.

Where was it? And why couldn’t she hear traffic from the road?

Bewildered, she scanned the rolling prairie for the vehicle. Surely it was somewhere.

She rested her hand on her stomach that churned with nausea. It was a normal reaction, she knew, after what she’d just been through. In fact, it was a miracle she was even able to stand.

But where was her car?

The only explanation she could come up with was that she must have been wandering around in shock for the last little while and had left it behind — along with her purse and cell phone. And the strange floating sensation.... That must have been some kind of dream state.

So where was she, exactly? To her left were miles of flat, green prairie. To her right, a small hill. She decided to climb it to see what was on the other side.

When she reached the top, she stepped onto a country road pocked with puddles and wet stones. She pushed her damp hair away from her face to look around, and her heart sunk.

More miles of prairie. In every direction.

How had she gotten this far? And which way should she go?

She stared transfixed at a distant flicker of lightning far off, just above the misty horizon. A quiet breeze fanned the odor of cow manure into her face, and nervous dread swelled inside her.

Something didn’t feel right. She couldn’t possibly have walked much of a distance. Could she?

Well, she thought, taking a deep, steadying breath and resolving to stay rational. There was no point standing around doing nothing. That road had to lead somewhere.

Off she went.

* * *

After walking a few miles on the dirt road through the pouring rain, Jessica wished miserably that she had worn her running shoes instead of her stupid “sexy-girl” shoes, but there wasn’t much she could do about it now. All she could do was try to ignore the excruciating sting of the blisters—which felt like hot coals burning the balls of her feet—and walk with an awkward limp.

A short while later, she sighed with relief when the setting sun finally peeked through the thick blanket of clouds. Raindrops glistened like tiny diamonds as they fell, weightless and softer now. Lifting her wrist to check the time, she realized she’d lost her watch. Damn. It was brand new.

Reaching a fork in the road, she stopped to look at a dilapidated wooden sign that read: DODGE CITY. The sign pointed left, so with little choice, she limped in that direction.

By the time she spotted a town up ahead—unfortunately it didn’t look like Dodge City-—the rain had stopped and darkness had folded over the terrain. Though she felt like a drowned rat, she was relieved to have found some signs of civilization.

She couldn’t wait to find a phone and call her parents. They were probably worried sick.

As she limped across an old plank bridge that led into the town, she heard the faint music of a brass band, and each time its cymbals crashed together, it was once too often for the pounding sensation in her head.

Then a horse-drawn wagon rumbled by.

She stopped abruptly and stared at it—what the heck?—then stepped off the bridge and walked up the wide main street. She glanced around for a phone booth, but found herself distracted by the buggies, the cowboy costumes on the men, and the music from inside a place that looked like an old saloon. A piano man played “Oh! Susanna,” and a banjo plucked along with it.

That song again.

She stood shivering at the corner of two unpaved streets, looking left and right. Wide boarded sidewalks and hitching rails fronted the buildings; saddled horses and mules were lined up side by side.

Good God, there had to be at least six inches of slop underfoot and it smelled like horse poo.

What kind of place was this? Had she stumbled onto the set of one of those reality shows where they throw people into a historical time-period and watch how crazy they go?

When a couple of ragged looking cowboys staggered by, waving whisky bottles and revolvers in the air, Jessica decided to walk a little faster. She hadn’t seen any women yet, only men, and she suspected this wasn’t the safest place to be standing around, taking in the sights, because it all looked pretty sketchy.

Stepping up onto the boardwalk, she paused outside a bar called the Long Branch Saloon, which made no sense because the Long Branch was part of the Dodge City Museum—a re-creation of historic Front Street, mostly visited by tourists. But this didn’t look anything like that. It seemed far more real. Almost too authentic.

She backed into a post to let a group of men in tattered cowboy costumes pass by, then glanced at the swinging doors. From where she stood, she could hear glasses clinking and dice rolling. There was a click and clatter of poker chips and billiard balls while a man hollered above the music, “Twenty-five-to-one!”

Her stomach churned again. She really needed to find a phone.

She decided to try the saloon, but shrank back when she glanced at the window. June bugs. She hated June bugs. When she was seven years old, her best friend’s little brother had planted some in her bed during a camping trip and they’d given her the heebie-jeebies ever since.

Trying not to think about that anymore, Jessica shivered with disgust, pushed through the doors, and collided with a thick wall of cigar smoke. Her nose crinkled. Stifling a cough, she gazed uneasily over the crowd.

Most of the men wore hats and looked as if they’d just walked out of an old movie.

Focusing on what she had come in for, she approached the bar. “Excuse me. I’ve been in a car accident and I need to get to a phone. Do you have one that I could use?”

The bartender, who wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, topped by a brown vest, stared at her while he polished a shot glass.

“Sir?” she asked again. “Can you at least tell me how I can get to Dodge City? The real Dodge City?”

“This is it, darlin’. You’re exactly where you want to be.”

Now this was getting ridiculous. “No, you don’t understand. I’ve been in an accident and I need a phone.”

“Don’t have no phone, but I’ve heard about ’em.”

Jessica stared at the man for an agonizing second, then turned on her heels and walked to the window. A snake handler wandered by carrying a lantern. Following closely behind him was a squealing pig.

She rubbed her throbbing temples and squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe she did have a head injury and this was all a hallucination, or maybe she was unconscious and dreaming.

She returned to the bar. “Is there a telephone anywhere in this town?”

“Not that I know of.” He turned around and placed the polished shot glass on a shelf.

Enough was enough. Jessica pushed a damp lock of her hair behind her ear and took a deep breath to calm herself.

“Are you fixin’ to buy a drink, ma’am,” he asked, “or are you just gonna stand there and stare at me all night?”

Jessica glanced around the saloon at the rough and tough looking clientele, and held up a hand. “No thanks. I’ll find help elsewhere.” Struggling to keep it together, she walked out.

Squinting through the darkness, she searched for a friendly face or a shop with some lights on, but all she saw were those same two drunken cowboys flinging bottles, laughing uproariously and spitting tobacco.

Suddenly a shot rang out in the street. Panic exploded in her belly, and she ran back into the saloon. “Is there a police station nearby?” she said to the bartender. “I really need some help.”

“You’d be looking for Sheriff Wade,” he casually replied. “He’s just over that way in the city clerk’s office, not far from the depot and the water tank.” He pointed a bottle of whisky toward the window.

“Is it far? I have to walk there by myself.”

“Not far, but a young woman ain’t safe roaming these streets alone during cattle season. These cowboys have been on the trail a while, and have a hankering for more than just the chuck wagon, if you understand my meaning.” He leaned over the bar and glanced down at her skinny jeans and muddy red pumps. “They’ll be takin’ a shinin’ to you, even dressed the way you are in those britches.”

“I’ll be fine.” She turned and walked out the door.

She hopped off the boardwalk and down onto the street with a splash, groaning when she sank ankle-deep into the mud. No matter. She’d be at the sheriff’s office soon enough, and this whole thing would be straightened out.

She stopped, however, when something tickled and buzzed behind her ear. She scratched and tousled her hair, then realized with a terrible surge of panic that a June bug was stuck in her hair!

Jessica shrieked. She tried to brush it away, but it was tangled in her long wet locks. She tossed her head around, flailed her arms in all directions, and jumped through the puddles to try and escape.

Boom! Another gunshot ripped through the night. Her heart exploded with fear, and she tripped backwards over a plank in the street. Down she went, splashing into a puddle on her backside. No sooner than her butt began to throb, she looked up to see a man falling out of a second story window!

He dropped onto the over-hanging roof and rolled straight toward her. Jessica scrambled to her feet and slipped through the slick muck, barely escaping the plummeting man’s path. Just as she slid out of the way, he landed heavily in front of her, splashing muddy water onto her cheeks. A second later, a metal object dropped into a puddle beside her.

“Sir!” she hollered, dropping to her hands and knees to help him. “Are you all right?”

He was face down in the mud, and Jessica was just about to roll him over when the saloon doors swung open, smacking against the outside wall. Men and women poured out and gathered on the boardwalk to stare at her in shocked silence.

“What in God’s name happened?” someone asked.

“This man fell out of a window,” Jessica replied. “He needs help.”

The stranger ran toward her and together, they rolled the injured man onto his back. Jessica stared in horror at his face. A clean bullet hole gaped between his eyes, and blood trickled down his nose.

“Dear Lord,” the stranger said. He stood up and quickly backed away.

“Somebody call 911!” Jessica shouted. She pressed her ear to the man’s chest to listen for a heartbeat. When she heard nothing, she knew there was no hope, but she still wanted an ambulance. A cop car, too.

If there was such a thing in this backward place.

“Will somebody call an ambulance?” she shouted in frustration.

“Now...just be calm, miss,” the stranger said. “We don’t want any trouble.”

“What are you talking about?” she replied. “I don’t want to cause trouble. I’m trying to help him. Doesn’t anyone have a cell phone?”

That particular request was met with blank stares.

“I saw her wavin’ a gun around like some kind of lunatic!” someone offered.

“I wasn’t waving a gun,” she explained. “I was trying to kill a June bug.”

There was a series of ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ from the crowd as everyone backed away in unison.

Realizing she was quickly becoming a primary suspect in this man’s murder, Jessica raised both hands in the air and stood. “Look, everyone needs to stay calm. It wasn’t me. I was just trying to help him.”

“Do you know who this is?” the stranger asked.

Jessica shook her head. “No.”

“That’s Left Hand Lou!” someone called out from the crowd.

Before Jessica had a chance to comprehend what this meant, people rushed over to get a look at the corpse.

“He’s wanted in three states!” someone hollered. “You just killed the fastest draw this side of the Mississippi!”

What did they think she had done? She hadn’t shot him! And what did they mean—the fastest draw this side of the Mississippi? This wasn’t Gunsmoke, for pity’s sake.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “Seriously. There’s been a mistake.”

Just then, a deep voice cut through the commotion. “Can I ask what’s going on in this little gathering of yours?”

Unable to discern from where the voice had come, she looked all around through the darkness.

“Ma’am? I asked you a question.” The crowd parted, clearing a wide path for the inquiring man to approach. Jessica was finally able to get a glimpse at him, although the brim of his black hat shadowed his face from the dim lantern light spilling out of the saloon.

He moved slowly toward her, and she was taken aback by how handsome he was, with dark hair, blue eyes, and a fit, muscular build.

Closing the distance between them, he pushed his open black coat to the side. His purpose was clear as he rested his large hand on an ivory-handled revolver holstered to his leather gun belt.

His trousers—also black—were snug and worn at the knees, and his boots were spurred. Jessica hadn’t actually looked at his feet, but as he walked, the sound of the spurs jingling alerted her senses to everything about him.

Someone moved aside, and a gentle stream of light reflected off the shiny star pinned to the man’s lapel.

It read: Sheriff.

Thank God.

He angled his head and spoke in low voice—sort of like Clint Eastwood, but not exactly. “Ma’am, you look a little distressed. Can I be of some assistance?”

His observation, which couldn’t have been closer to the truth, melted all her cool bravado in an instant, and she was so relieved, she could have grabbed hold of his shirt collar, pulled him toward her, and kissed him square on the lips.

“Yes, you can,” she replied. “I’m so glad you’re here. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

He chuckled softly, but the smile in his eyes was cold and calculating.

“I wouldn’t thank me just yet,” he drawled, as he wrapped his big hand around her arm and tugged her closer. “Because by the look of things here, missy, you’re gonna be spending the night in my jailhouse.”

The crowd murmured approval, while Jessica glanced up at his ruggedly handsome features, bronzed by wind and sun, then cautiously lowered her eyes to the gun at his hip.

He shook his head at her, as if she’d been a very naughty girl, and said, “Tsk tsk tsk,” while she paused to think carefully about the best way to handle this.