The Sunstone Brooch : Time Travel Romance by Katherine Logan (i am reading a book TXT) 📕

been big enough to hold all three. But as she grew and her hands got bigger, it became easier to manage, and she kept all of them securely in her hand.

Swinging a rope from the back of a horse was second nature to her, but she was unsure how Tesoro would handle it. Although he hadn’t balked yet at anything she asked of him, so he should be okay.

She patted his neck. “Let’s be ready, boy. Teddy might need help.”

Manitou stepped calmly into the flow, but she held her breath because the tightness around the horse’s eyes and muzzle signaled that he wasn’t sure of what TR was asking him to do. But not TR. He kept his attention fastened on what was in front of him.

The horse walked only a few paces before he lost his footing. Ensley gasped, and Tesoro stomped his hoof while TR and his mount tumbled into the river, disappearing underwater.

A handful of men rushed to the bank, but she was already there swinging her rope. “Can anybody see him?” she called out.

“He hasn’t surfaced yet,” one of the men yelled.

“I’ll lasso him as soon as I get eyes on him.”

Moments later, TR surfaced, swimming toward shore on his horse’s downstream side, one hand on the saddle horn and the other pushing ice floes out of the way. He didn’t need a rope, but he’d need blankets and dry clothes. She dismounted and hurried to meet him when he climbed out of the ice pond.

She yanked off the buffalo robe and shoved it at him. “That was reckless.”

TR laughed, readjusting the glasses that had somehow stayed on his nose. “I suppose it was, but it was lots of fun.”

“Well, you’d better get out of those wet clothes, or we’ll be going to your funeral.” She stomped off, shaking her head and ranting under her breath about stupid stunts that came close to killing people. Austin O’Grady’s motorcycle accident came to mind, and she got mad at Austin all over again. “What a waste.”

And while she was ranting about TR’s and Austin’s stupidity, she might as well rant about sports addicts who would rather sit at a bar, drink beer, and watch some stupid basketball game than drink wine and see a new Broadway production.

She yelled over her shoulder. “I’m going to find my husband.”

The sun was setting as she walked across the train trestle’s narrow footpath, leading three horses into Medora. Nothing about the town’s scattered buildings looked familiar except for the Marquis de Morès’s chateau, situated on a hill and silhouetted by the setting sun.

She’d toured the historic house museum—a twenty-six room, two-story frame summer home—that belonged to the Marquis and his wife, Medora. Ensley would love to see the house in its original condition and even meet the woman with a town named after her, but she doubted she’d have time.

If not now…when?

Her itinerary had no scheduled leisure time, and she wondered if JC would do any sightseeing, especially in Chicago. He should spend some time there. It might be his only chance to visit the nineteenth-century city.

She stopped near the railroad tracks. Where was she going to start looking? It wasn’t like it would take hours. All she had to do was ask the first man she ran into if he’d seen JC.

He’d probably look for a room where he could get a bath and a hot meal. That’s what she wanted, too. And he’d also go to the depot to check on the next train heading east. That’s where she’d start her search.

Near the railroad track was a rough-board shanty that might be the depot. A single smoky lantern burned inside, illuminating a man with a wiry mustache under a red nose. He looked like he spent more time at the Big-Mouthed Bob’s Bug-Juice Dispensary—the town saloon—than he did at the depot.

She tethered the horses, then stood at the window and waited for him to look up from a large ledger book. He must have sensed her eyes on him, and when he looked up, he leered at her. “Can I help ya?”

“I’m looking for my…husband. He’s here to catch the next train going east.”

The man opened the window. “Only one person boarded that train. Tall feller with a black horse. That your man?”

“He’s tall and has a black horse, but there could be other tall men with black horses in town. And his train wasn’t due here until tomorrow.”

The man opened his pocket watch, glanced at the time, then snapped it shut again. “Train came in early. It was going in the right direction, so your man bought a ticket. The rest of the men in town are heading out on the roundup startin’ next week.”

Her heart sank. She wanted to see JC, but it was better this way. She didn’t want to have to tell him goodbye again. Now she’d have to find a room and bath on her own. “What about a hotel? Where can I get a room?”

He pointed across the street. “The Pyramid Park Hotel is right over there. Mr. Paddock and his partner divided the second floor into rooms recently, counting on summer tourists to repay the outlay. Ain’t seen any tourists this week. So there might be a vacancy.”

“Thanks for your help.” She turned to leave but turned back and asked, “Do you know Mr. Roosevelt?”

“Four Eyes? Everybody around here knows who he is.”

“Will you tell him I’ve gone to the hotel to get a room, and then I’m going to get dinner. He’s expecting a trainload of cattle tonight. Do you know when the train will come in?”

“About now.”

“Now?” She groaned. “Is that a for-sure thing, or just your best guess?”

He held up a piece of paper. “Got a telegram for Mr. Roosevelt from Mr. Sewall. He sent it from Bismarck. Said he’d be in Medora by nine o’clock tonight.”

Her empty stomach dropped. As soon as TR and his men unloaded the cows, he’d want to get them out of town. She plopped