My Heart Will Find Yours Read Free

window. What was going on here?
    Voices and expressions of shock echoed around her.
    “Well, I never...dressed like a harlot.”
    “Never seen a camisole like that, especially one that color. Why that’s the pinkest pink I ever saw.”
    “Cover yourself, young woman.” Mr. Mustache held the coat, trying to block her from view. Too shocked to do otherwise, she took it and held it across her chest.
    A harlot? What was wrong with her clothes? Her pink tank top and jeans were nothing unusual. She turned ready to send them a rude gesture when, with a hand to her aching head, she saw the other people in the car. They were dressed in nineteenth-century clothing and looked like an old tintype photograph, not a smile among them. Too shocked to speak, she sat down on the hard, low-backed seat and pulled the carpetbag close. Gone were the plush seats and air-conditioning. Hot wind blew in from the open window, bringing black soot with it. Panic rose in her chest. Before she could assimilate what was happening, brakes screaming, the train slowed, pulled into the depot, and lurched to a stop.
    Texanna’s breath rushed from her lungs at the scene outside the train car window. Traffic filled the dirt roads paralleling the wooden depot. The ripe scent of horse manure reached her nostrils making her nose twitch. She covered her nose and mouth with her hand. Oh dear Lord, please tell me I’m dreaming.
    A voice at her side made her jump. “Ma’am, my coat if you please.” Numbly Texanna handed it to the mustached man feeling naked with nothing but the carpetbag to hide behind. He took it and left. The other passengers filed out behind him, each casting her a scathing glance as they passed.
    Knees shaking, Texanna stepped off the train onto a wooden platform. Horse and mule-drawn wagons lined the street as people milled back and forth collecting luggage or stacking theirs to be loaded. Swirling dust caught on a breeze and blew in her face. She tried to brush dirt from her face and sneezed. Her chin quivered, and she bit her lip to still it as people gave her ample space and formed a wide circle around her.
    She started across the street. The crowd parted but followed at a distance. Body tense, she fought the rising hysteria. This isn’t real. It’s a dream. There’s no such thing as time-travel.
    Their words reached her ears.
    “Oh my Lord, it’s, Pearlina Dyson.”
    “My God. I can’t believe it. Look how she’s dressed.”
    “Somebody get the marshal.”
    A tall thin cowboy with a star on his shirt advanced toward her. When he touched her arm, she snapped. Remembering her Kung-Fu instructor’s teachings, she moved, and in a flash had his arm in a joint lock hyperextending it. He shrieked in pain.
    ****
    A woman’s scream and the grunts of men fighting woke Royce. Maybe he’d been dreaming. But no, there it was again. This time a man’s yowl split the air.
    As Royce hurried up the riverbank to town, Pete rushed toward him, agitation evident in his every move.
    “Marshal, you gotta come quick.”
    Royce quickened his step and wondered, what now?
    A large crowd gathered in front of Hans’ Saloon.
    “Shoot her in the foot.” He recognized the baritone immediately. It was Hans. “If you don’t, she’s going to hurt someone else. I think she’s already broke Jason’s arm.”
    She? Royce broke into a run. What the hell was going on? They’d never had a woman cause trouble before.
    A female resounded, “Don’t come any closer, leave me alone.” She attempted to sound controlled, but her voice became shriller with each word. But still not at all like what he’d expect of a woman gone wild.
    Jason’s voice, filled with pain, broke through the mumbling of the crowd. “Stop...stay back...she’s scared. Royce will...be here...in a minute.” Jason’s statement ended with a groan.
    “Yeah, well I’m not going to let the Missus’ hurt anyone else,” said Hans.
    Royce shoved his way through the crowd. He glanced