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  Right now, though, Vera’s ancestral guardian wasn’t in sight and Jericho was in trouble. A shadow moved and she jerked back around the corner. Someone was with him, she’d already known that, but who?

  The who, she realized, didn’t really matter. Someone, probably the same man who’d killed Rafe Wilson and the deputy, had taken Jericho by surprise. Vera had no illusions that the unseen murderer wanted her—the woman he believed to be Verity—dead. He was waiting for her arrival.

  Gripping the pepper spray, Vera drew in a deep breath. No sense keeping him waiting any longer.

  She stepped around the corner.

  Rafe Wilson’s killer had his back to her. He was bent over fiddling with something out of her line of vision. Holding the cylinder at arm’s length, Vera decided her best chance to take him by surprise was to wait quietly until he turned around. Before he could recover from seeing her, she’d squirt him in the face with the chemical spray.

  As if sensing her thoughts, the man straightened slowly then turned around and squarely faced her.

  In her shock, Vera almost dropped the spray.

  Doc Greavyl

  A wide, evil grin split the man’s moon-shaped face. “Why, Miz McBride, you act surprised. You were expecting President Cleveland, perhaps?”

  Yet after the initial shock, his identity made perfect sense. Rafe Wilson had no money; his partner would have had to supply the financial backing. His partner would have moved in more sophisticated social circles where he could enlist the supporters their enterprise would require.

  Why hadn’t she seen all this before? Some detective she made, wasting so much time concentrating on Jess Wiggins.

  It wasn’t too late. She hoped.

  Vera raised the spray container. “Cut him loose. Now.”

  Greavy laughed. “Or you’ll what, young lady?”

  She shook the canister. “This contains a mixture of chemicals and fiery red peppers. If I spray it into your eyes, you’ll think they’re on fire.”

  “Oh, my. Are you a devotee of that new author, Jules Verne?” He chuckled.

  Before she could respond, he flicked a wooden match and whirled around.

  A tiny hissing sound sizzled through the air. At first Vera thought they’d disturbed a rattlesnake, but then the doctor moved aside and she saw what he’d done.

  He’d ignited a long section of fusing. Its white glow burned steadily toward a bundle of dynamite nestled in the rafter above Jericho’s head.

  At that moment, Greavy charged her. Vera reacted instinctively, pressing the nozzle of the pepper spray. She watched in horror as the jet of burning liquid shot across the short distance—straight into Greavy’s eyes.

  The large man screamed, a bleating sound like a gargantuan pig being butchered. Hands covering his face, he knocked her to the ground in his mad rush for the cave entrance.

  She hit her head with a solid thunk on the packed dirt floor but she held on to consciousness, knowing if she let go she and Jericho would surely die.

  Vera felt woozy as she rolled over and stared, unseeing, at Jericho. Only his calm voice filtered through her groggy mind. “Vera, honey, you have to get out of here. Come on, get up. You have to get to safety.”

  Suddenly comprehending, she willed her eyes to focus and stared at the burning fuse. The long skinny wick sparked brightly in the faint light.

  How much time did they have? How long would it take that fuse to burn down? A minute—two? Did she have enough time to free Jericho and still get to that silver horse shoe?

  “Get out of here!” Jericho’s voice had lost its quiet patience.

  “I can’t leave you.” She stared at his beloved face, a stream of blood flowing down his cheek. It was true, she realized with a sinking heart. She couldn’t abandon this man who’d taught her what life was truly about.

  “Save yourself!”

  Time seemed suspended as Vera absorbed his unselfish words. Yes, she could very likely make her own escape from the mine before the explosion. Perhaps even free Jericho as well. Maybe. But if the mine blew up Vera knew she’d never be able to yank on that silver horse shoe. Never find her way back to her own time.

  The choice was simple and devastating.

  Jericho or her own future.

  The hissing wick spat, taunting her with its steady progress toward the dynamite.

  Suddenly, Vera understood the strange longings that had twisted her apart these past few days. She’d fallen in love with Jericho Jackson. To trade his life for hers was unthinkable. There was no future without him. In any century.

  Startled into action, she dashed forward, fumbling with the tight knots that bound him to the beam. Somehow she managed to free him. But when he tried to stand, his knees wobbled beneath him.

  She glanced at the wick. More than half the original length was gone. Hurry, they had to hurry.

  Wordlessly, she slipped an arm around his waist. With his forearm draped around her shoulder they started a slow, halting progress toward the mine entrance.

  Finally. Vera spotted daylight at the end of the long corridor and knew they’d almost made it. Safety lay fifty feet ahead.

  Then she tripped on a large, inert bundle blocking their path. Glancing down she saw Doc Greavy lying unconscious on the dirt floor. In his temporary blindness, he must have fallen in the rubble.

  He would have killed them both if Vera hadn’t had her trusty backpack, but she couldn’t leave him to die—no matter what he truly deserved.

  Besides, his testimony would be needed to clear Verity’s name—and to save Vera from the hangman.

  “Oh, hell,” Jericho muttered as if he’d read her thoughts. Between them, they reached down and grabbed the large man by his waistband, raising him to his feet.

  He sagged against Vera, almost driving her to her knees.

  Jericho’s generosity was used up. “Stand up and walk, you lousy bastard, or I’ll kick your butt all the way down the mountainside.”

  The big man must have believed him, because he obeyed Vera’s order to hang on to her knapsack. Once more the unlikely threesome staggered forward.

  Hobbling under the strain of their combined weight, she led the race to the entrance, praying aloud that there was still time. Praying there wasn’t another obstacle lying unseen in their path.

  They were only ten feet from the opening when an enormous explosion rocked through the narrow passage.

  The timbers overhead creaked and shivered. Small embedded rocks worked free from the hard-packed walls and ceiling and rained down on their shoulders and heads.

  Vera threw her hands up to shelter herself as a deluge of rubble and choking dust almost drowned them.

  Greavy’s hand slipped from her shoulder and he started to sag to the earth. She knew they had only seconds before the entire structure, now so badly weakened by the blast, came down upon their heads.

  The corrupt physician was about to die in his own trap.

  Jericho, who couldn’t see the doctor had fallen, tugged at her arm and she knew she should just abandon Oreavy to his fate. But despite all the pain and suffering he’d caused, the deaths and destruction, she still couldn’t leave a living creature to suffocate.

  Summoning the last vestiges of her strength, she clutched Greavy’s arm and dragged him along behind as they raced the final few feet to the mine opening.

  They barely cleared the timber-framed mouth of the mine when the entire structure shuddered one last time and collapsed in a seething volcano of dust and rocks.

  For the longest time they lay where they fell, lacking even the fragment of energy needed to crawl to safety. It was over.

  THREE DAYS LATER, Jericho came into the sitting room where Vera was enjoying her morning coffee.

  “They just put Greavy on the train.”

  “He’s healed enough to stand trial?”

  Jericho shrugged. “He doesn’t think so. But miners come home every day with more scrapes and bruises than he had. I’m afraid he didn’t get
much sympathy.”

  She twirled her spoon in her cup. “What do you think will happen to him? I mean, do you think he’ll go the gallows?”

  “Nah.” Jericho snorted in disgust. “A fine upstanding citizen like Doc Greavy? Remember, there’s not a shred of real evidence against him.”

  Vera’s expression made her eyebrows dip in a frown. “Then why did he confess so readily?”

  Jericho clenched his fist and blew on his knuckles. “A little friendly persuasion.”

  At Vera’s dismay, he laughed and quickly recanted. “Don’t worry, I didn’t touch him. Didn’t have to. First of all, everyone in town knew he was out that night—delivering Mrs. Nesbitt’s baby. A bad storm was brewing, no one else was out on that mountain.”

  “But that’s only circumstantial,” she argued.

  “Tnie. But a lot of little circumstances add up to a pretty complete picture. Greavy must have stopped by the cabin on his way from Nesbitt’s, and gotten into an argument with Rafe. I imagine Rafe would have been pretty ornery waking up with a throbbing head and discovering his whole family had taken off.”

  “I imagine.”

  “Anyway, I figure they got into an argument. Doc shot him and then decided to take advantage of everyone’s mistaken belief that Verity had killed him. Since the whole family had taken off to the res, he figured there wouldn’t be a soul left to dispute that she’d shot him.”

  “Then when I showed up...”

  “Exactly. Greavy couldn’t let you have your day in court because he was too afraid Min-e-wah and the boys would come back to testify on your behalf. Anyway, when I told him we had the evidence of his partnership with Rafe, and that we would bring the entire family back from the reservation, he kind of folded. Admitted he and Rafe got into a helluva fight over controlling interest in the mind. Course, Doc’s story is that he shot Rafe in self-defense.”

  “In the back?” Vera asked incredulously.

  “Who’s to argue? Rafe’s long buried, all the witnesses are gone and Greavy himself certified the man’s death. He’ll tell his story, present a couple witnesses as to Rafe’s lousy temper and probably draw a mild sentence for manslaughter.”

  “That’s not fair! He was willing to let Verity—me—hang for murder.”

  Jericho patted her shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry too much. Don’t forget, he assaulted me and tried to blow both of us up in the Balbriggan. Plus he has Sheriff Hamblin to account for. Add our testimony to all the other circumstantial evidence and I’ve no doubt the judge is going to give him a long rest at the state’s expense..”

  Vera set her cup on the saucer and tugged Jericho’s hand until he sat across from her. “What about Verity? What’s happened to her?”

  He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. I gave her money the other night but...but somehow I had the impression she wasn’t planning on going to the reservation. She always had a yen to live in the city.” He shrugged. “Maybe she’s on her way to San Francisco.”

  Closing her eyes, Vera recalled the references in Verity’s journal to the “silver shoe.” Had the girl traveled through time to the twentieth century and found it to her liking? Maybe, Vera thought with a smile, Verity had found her way to the future before the silver horseshoe was destroyed in the explosion and was living in Vera’s apartment. Maybe right this moment the girl was snuggling a cat named Squiggles.

  “We’ll probably never know for sure what became of her,” Jericho said, as if reading her thoughts.

  “A true mystery.” Vera smiled. “The stuff legends are built on. Might be good for tourism someday.”

  “Tourists? In Jerome?” Jericho chortled and slapped his knee. “That’s a good one. Maybe we ought to change your act ‘Vera LaFleur, the comic chanteuse.’”

  She threw her crumpled linen napkin at him. “You forget—I know the future. You can’t argue with me.”

  He leaned back and surveyed her with his unflinching gaze. “Oh, sugar, you don’t know the whole future. Trust me, I’ve got a few surprises in store for you.”

  Trailing her finger around her empty cup, Vera avoided his steady gaze. “So what happens now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Looking up now, she swiped a film of moisture from her eyes. “What happens to me? I can’t go back home, and I can’t live here as Verity McBride, I’d feel like a fraud.”

  “You don’t have to pretend to be Verity. With Doc’s backing I convinced the boys that it was all a case of mistaken identity. Told ’em you were Verity’s cousin from Frisco, Vera LaFleur. Course I imagine we could change that last name. If you’ve a mind to, that is.”

  Vera reached across the table and lightly caressed his hand. “I owe you so much. And I’m sorry to complain. It’s just that...that losing my entire identity, losing my past, makes me feel...like an orphan. I’ve never felt more completely alone.”

  Jericho rose and moved behind her, his warm fingers gently massaging the knotted muscles at her neck. He bent down and touched his lips to the tender spot at her nape. “You’re not alone. Not unless you want to be. I wouldn’t blame you, though, if you wanted to get as far from me as you could. I should have believed you. I knew you weren’t crazy, I just didn’t understand.”

  She turned around and rubbed her cheek across his hand. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes, it does. Far-fetched as your story sounded, I shouldn’t have just dismissed it as a woman’s fancies. That was wrong and I apologize.”

  Vera smiled to herself. Maybe there was hope for this chauvinistic cowpoke after all. “It happened to me and I still don’t quite believe it.”

  Taking her hand he led her into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed while he drew the curtains.

  When the room was dim and cozy, he approached the bed. “What will your folks think when you never come back?”

  She sighed. “My landlord will sell all my stuff, my friend Sheila will adopt my cat Squiggles. My sergeant, unfortunately, will waste untold hours trying to find me. But the only family I have, my mother...mom will never know I’m gone.”

  He dropped onto the bed and rested his head in her lap. “I know you made a deliberate choice when you wasted all that time untying me. And while I’m so grateful to you and for you, I’m really sorry you had to give all that up.”

  Vera knew what he wanted to hear; that she wasn’t sorry. The truth was, she didn’t know yet how she felt. She’d sentenced herself to spend the rest of her life in the distant past.

  She wouldn’t have the luxuries and freedoms that she’d always taken for granted. Nor would she be able to utilize the job skills she’d worked so long to acquire.

  On the other hand, she had skills and knowledge these people couldn’t imagine. She knew enough of what the future held that she might be a benefit History books said that Jerome would burn to the ground twice over the next few years. Perhaps Vera’s knowledge of that danger would save lives. Her first order of business, in fact, was to organize that volunteer fire brigade Jericho had mentioned. She’d made a conscious choice and she’d make it again.

  Vera dropped her hands to caress Jericho’s beloved face. “Losing you wouldn’t equal a thousand years of an empty future.”

  He reached up and pulled her down beside him, his dark gaze brushing her face like a velvet cloud. “You still have a future. With me.”

  Drawing her lips to his, they kissed. A sweet, satisfying kiss that made a pact. A kiss that promised eternity.

  At that moment, Vera knew he was right. Their future would be one that lovers would still be talking about a hundred years from now.

  ISBN : 978-1-4592-5116-8

  JACKSON’S WOMAN

  Copyright ©1999 by Judith A. Lind

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utillzation of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information stor
age or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher. Harlequin Enterprises Limited. 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M38 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  “I don’t know what it’s going to take to prove your innocence, but we’re going

  Letter to Reader

  Dedication

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Copyright