Chapter 26
A/N #1: Now that the holidays are past, Timeless friends, I hope to have more spare time to devote to finishing this story. As always, I sincerely appreciate those readers who have stuck with me on this journey despite several long waits between updates. Your patience humbles me :)
Early Sunday Morning
Sprawled in a chair beside Lucy's bed waiting for her to open her eyes (no matter how long it took-though it sure as hell wasn't easy), Wyatt kept close watch over her slender form, motionless save for the faint rise and fall of her chest. To his dismay, the small hand he held securely felt cold and limp in his. For hours now, he rambled on and on about nothing in particular, his thumb gently stroking the delicate skin, wishing with all his heart Lucy might somehow hear him and wake up.
He blinked sleepily, the steaming cup of coffee Martha kindly brought him before she went to bed long gone as this endless night dragged on. Only a couple hours until sunrise, Wyatt mused, rubbing his eyes tiredly. The house was peacefully quiet aside from the barest whisper of a cool breeze drifting through the window he opened a crack earlier for some fresh air. While his worried, exhausted grandparents had eventually been persuaded to retire for the evening just before midnight, he'd naturally refused to leave Lucy's side. How could he possibly be expected to sleep when she needed him?
Wyatt couldn't remember ever feeling this helpless, not even the day Jess labored long hours to bring their son into the world. Dammit...when would Lucy open her eyes...and soothe the fear that threatened to steal his very breath? he wondered anxiously, shifting restlessly on the chair. The bank robbery was hours and hours ago-and the woman lying so still in the bed had yet to regain consciousness. Dear God, what if she never did? He took a shaky breath and deliberately put the devastating thought from his mind. Stop borrowing trouble, Logan...Lucy was going to be just fine, he told himself resolutely. She had to be fine...because the alternative was too painful to even consider.
Pressing his lips to Lucy's hand before carefully placing it on the bed, Wyatt stretched and rolled his stiff shoulders, feeling as if he'd somehow aged years since Rufus brought word of the hostage situation at the bank. What had started out to be an ordinary spring day at Sherwin Ranch had instantly turned into a nightmare for his family-not to mention Wyatt's heart when it came to the woman sleeping so innocently beside him.
Slowly getting to his feet, he leaned over and lovingly smoothed the thick dark hair off Lucy's forehead, careful not to touch the clean white bandage covering the nasty bruise where the horse accidentally kicked her. Please wake up, sweetheart. While his vigil by Lucy's side had gone by in a kind of miserable daze, Wyatt knew he could live to be a hundred and never forget the moment she'd been injured so seriously...
Flashback
Crouched down beside Dave with a couple of ranch hands behind him for backup, Wyatt easily sensed his friend's impatience-and while he could certainly sympathize, he knew the stakes were too high for the men to make even the slightest mistake. Not when Lucy was in danger. "Jesus, what are these bastards waiting for?" the sheriff muttered...not really expecting an answer from Wyatt but still needing to let off a little steam.
Before he could respond, however, the back door of the bank opened without warning. Standing in the doorway was a tall, lanky man Wyatt didn't know. The bank robber's eyes darted warily around and about before he called over his shoulder, "All clear, boss," and quickly began moving towards the bunch of grazing horses with two younger men holding guns right on his heels.
All his attention focused intently on the outlaws, Wyatt nodded absently when Dave leaned in and murmured, "Wy, I think the two young ones might be the Ford brothers. No idea, though, who the first man is." He forced himself to remain perfectly still. While hating like hell to let even one member of the James gang get away, they just couldn't risk the hostages' lives by making their move too soon and forcing Jesse's hand.
And then luckily for Wyatt's waning patience, the waiting was over at last as a man he did recognize as Frank James came through the door carrying a couple bulging sacks. Following closely behind him was his little brother, the gang leader himself, Jesse James. Wyatt's heart jumped into his throat when he saw Jesse dragging the woman he loved outside with an iron grip on her slim arm. As they'd suspected, the gang planned on using Lucy as a shield to make their getaway.
Blinking in the bright sunlight, she looked so small and vulnerable that a dark rage immediately swept over Wyatt, and it took every bit of his usually strong self control not to put a bullet between the bastard's eyes for manhandling her. A sharp jab in the ribs and his friend's whispered, "Easy, there, brother," tamped down his anger somewhat and thankfully reminded Wyatt exactly what was on the line. He inhaled sharply. His fury would have to wait until Lucy was safe.
As they did so often while serving together in the Rangers, the two men only had to exchange a single glance to set their plan in motion. Jumping to his feet, gun aimed at the outlaws, confident of the men backing him up, Wyatt ordered in a clear voice, "Jesse James! You and your men are under arrest. Put down your weapons and the money and let the woman go." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the hope and relief bloom on Lucy's pretty face and it nearly did him in. Focus on the mission, Logan...
The intruders froze at the command, and time seemed to stand still for a second before all hell broke loose. Gunshots and hoarse shouts filled the air as the Ford brothers ran towards the horses, not entirely successfully dodging bullets, while the tall, thin stranger returned fire on Wyatt and the others for cover. "Hell, yeah," Dave muttered when the man dropped to the ground clutching his chest. One down...
Despite being wounded, the Fords kept running, swiftly leaping onto a couple horses and escaping, and then it was just the James brothers and Lucy. While a part of Wyatt's brain knew someone should take after them, he was grateful his friend and ranch hands hung back instead to help him since the outlaw leader had built a reputation for being smart and ruthless over the past few years.
It seemed that reputation was well-earned, too, because even clearly outnumbered, Jesse's hold on Lucy's arm never loosened for a second as he calmly laid down cover for his brother with the other hand-not even when out of nowhere, she shrieked, "let me go," and dropped her slight weight onto her heels. And while Wyatt was proud of Lucy's spirit, it was obvious from her pained grimace how badly the act of defiance hurt, and he cursed the gang leader anew for treating her so roughly.
And then Frank somehow managed to hold onto the money bags and take off, too, and it was just Lucy and the outlaw standing close to the last horse, who was shying away and pawing the ground nervously. Abruptly jerking her slender body in front of him, arm wrapped around the brunette's throat, Jesse reached behind him for the reins and shouted hoarsely, "Hold your fire or the woman dies. You boys know I mean it."
Apparently overwhelmed, Lucy at last stopped struggling, closing her eyes and going limp against the gang leader's chest. The unexpected quiet was strangely loud as the two men stared coldly at each other-neither one willing to give-when suddenly Lucy opened her eyes and gazed at Wyatt. The absolute trust shining in those soft brown eyes humbled him. Stay strong for me, sweetheart, his heart begged, hands steady on his gun. Hoping the gesture would be enough to comfort her, he mouthed the words, "It's gonna be okay," greatly reassured when her lips trembled ever so slightly in acknowledgment.
"Let the woman go, James," Wyatt demanded, his gaze shifting to the outlaw as he slowly advanced, backed up by his ranch hands and best friend. Then in one violent, unexpected motion, Jesse forcefully shoved Lucy away from him as he leapt onto the back of the horse and rode off, deftly firing at the men over his shoulder while Dave and the others ran for their horses and tore after him.
Startled by the action, Lucy cried out in shock when one of the fleeing horse's hooves sharply clipped the side of her head as she dropped to the ground. Quickly holstering his gun, Wyatt raced to her side, stark fear sweeping over him as he gathered her slumped body into his arms, and before he knew it, the fervent declaration was falling from his lips, "Don't you dare leave me, Lucy Preston, you hear? I love you..."
End flashback
Standing at the window, Wyatt frowned into the darkness at the intense recollection. Had Lucy heard him say the words before she lost consciousness? he wondered. And if so, had she been as shocked as he was? Sure as hell wasn't the usual way a man confessed his love for a woman, Wyatt supposed ruefully, but then again, in his experience, emotions tended to run high in a life or death situation like they had experienced.
It was just that after suffering through the horrible pain of losing Jess, and telling himself there would never be another woman in his life, these feelings for Lucy had definitely caught him off guard. Jesus. How could Wyatt have known when the town's new school teacher fell into his arms that fateful day back in February how important she would become? (And could he be lucky enough that she felt the same about him?)
The ride back to the ranch earlier had seemed longer than usual...and pure torture. Wyatt was relieved it wasn't long after the James gang escaped with the sheriff in hot pursuit that Gramps and Rufus found the two of them. Thankfully for his sanity, his friend hurriedly fetched a horse and wagon from the stables to take Lucy straight home because the town doc was out delivering a baby in the next county. Sitting in the back of the wagon while his grandpa drove, his arms wrapped securely about her small form, Wyatt prayed fervently for God not to take away another woman he loved. Please, Lord, I know it's selfish of me, but I need her...please let Lucy be okay...
Once James pulled the wagon to a stop in front of the house, Wyatt carried Lucy's limp body up to her room and gently laid her in the center of the bed. It about killed him when Martha of course shooed him from the room for propriety's sake since Wyatt wasn't her husband (not yet, at least). Pacing impatiently back and forth along the upstairs hallway, he forced himself to stay calm while the housekeeper undressed Lucy, putting her in a fresh nightgown and under the covers before finally letting him back into the room to help with tending to the ugly wound on the side of her head.
As he carefully dabbed at the dried blood sticking to Lucy's dark hair with the warm, wet cloth Martha gave him, Wyatt gritted his teeth against the rising fury he felt towards the James gang for descending on their rather isolated little town and endangering her life and that of Mr. Randolph's. He fiercely hoped Dave and the others had been able to chase down the outlaws who'd escaped...but deep down, Wyatt knew it wasn't a sure thing. Jesse and his men had outwitted many a lawman these past few years. How many innocent lives had they harmed or taken during that time?
He looked up from his task when Martha suddenly placed her hand on his arm. "Here, now, take a breath, son, and let go of that temper and regret I can see all over your face," the older woman cautioned. "Miss Lucy is here, she's safe, and we're gonna take very good care of her, I promise." Wyatt closed his eyes briefly. Dammit, Martha was right...giving into his anger would serve no good purpose. Lucy needed him to be strong and steady for her, especially once she woke up.
"Yes, Ma'am," he managed with a strained smile. They worked in silence until the housekeeper was satisfied everything had been done that could be for Lucy at the moment. Gathering up the bloodstained cloths and dirty basin of water, Martha was nearly to the door when Wyatt stood and affectionately kissed her worn cheek and whispered his thanks. And then his watch had begun.
Suddenly, the faintest sound from behind him broke the stillness, and Wyatt whirled around to see Lucy's limbs moving slightly under the covers. Dropping to his knees beside the bed, he cupped her pale cheek and watching her face intently, whispered, "Lucy? Are you awake? It's me...it's Wyatt, please wake up." His hopeful heart sank when her eyes steadfastly remained closed, though he noticed Lucy's lips trembled as if she were about to speak...
San Francisco
New Year's Eve 1873
The faint sounds of the orchestra tuning their instruments in the ballroom drifted up the ornate staircase to the second floor. Seated on a low stool in front of her dressing table, Lucy couldn't help shivering with excitement as her ladies maid, Agnes, painstakingly entwined and pinned fresh yellow rosebuds through her long wavy hair. "Now you hold still, Miss Lucy," the gray-haired woman scolded affectionately, "or I'll have to start all over again and then you and your Papa won't be ready when the guests start arriving."
"Sorry, Agnes, just nervous, I guess," Lucy admitted, gazing at her reflection in the wide oval mirror with pleasure (and maybe a touch of awe). Yellow roses were her very favorite, and they looked quite nice against her dark curls. It had been exceedingly thoughtful of Papa to send them after telling him weeks ago her ball gown was made of a lovely primrose yellow satin–and easily the most beautiful dress Lucy had ever worn.
The maid carefully placed the last hair pin and nodded in satisfaction. "You look a right picture, Lucy Anne Preston, and that's for certain. All the young bucks will be gathered around like bees on a flower." Lucy blushed modestly at the declaration. Agnes had been with her since her 12th birthday, a faithful mother figure who took very good care of her charge. Beneath her stern, always proper demeanor was a soft heart, and Lucy adored the woman.
"Do you really think so, Agnes," she asked wistfully, leaning towards the mirror and carefully touching her fingertip to one of the yellow rosebuds. This evening's ball was her first real society event, something she'd been looking forward to for weeks now...and her stomach was full of butterflies. Not helping was the fact Lucy had been so excited about the ball, she hadn't been able to eat a bite all day, despite her maid's coaxing and muttered warnings about certain young ladies fainting and embarrassing themselves...
The small clock on the mantel over the fireplace in Lucy's spacious bedroom suddenly chimed the hour. "Here now, you're going to be late, and you still need to put on your gloves," Agnes fussed, deftly working the close-fitting gloves over her charge's slender fingers. One last inspection then, with Lucy twirling slowly in a circle, before the maid pronounced her appearance as perfection. "Now, mind you remember all the nice mannerly things that fancy school taught you over the past year. These are very important folks your Papa has invited," she instructed firmly, causing Lucy to hide a grin.
"Yes, Ma'am," she responded dutifully before impulsively pressing a kiss on the maid's flushed cheek. "Thank you, Agnes...wish me luck," Lucy said, picking up the delicate fan that precisely matched her gown and draping the satin ribbon loop over her gloved wrist. "I'll tell you all about my first society ball in the morning," she promised, sending a nervous smile over her shoulder at the woman as she left her bedroom.
Her dancing slippers made no sound on the plush carpet as she hurried along. Coming to a halt at the end of the hallway, she inhaled as deeply as her new corset would allow and composed her features. Peeking around the corner, Lucy lips curved fondly when she saw the most important person in her life waiting patiently at the top of the staircase, resplendent in his fancy evening attire. This was going to be the most wonderful night of her life...
Settling back into the chair with a crestfallen sigh, Wyatt bit back his disappointment. Head injuries like Lucy's were unpredictable at best–something he learned during his years serving with the Rangers. It was very possible she would open her eyes within the hour and recover fully. But then again (whether he wanted to acknowledge the frightening reality or not), she might be unconscious for days, weeks, months, even, Wyatt despaired in a moment of painful weakness that hollowed out his insides.
Dropping his head into his hands, Wyatt Logan began to pray harder than he ever had before for the Lord to spare this woman who had so much of her young life yet to live (hopefully right here on this ranch with him). Please, God, if it's your will, please make Lucy better, he murmured over and over again until at last, a welcome sense of peace washed over his soul as Wyatt finally accepted that Lucy's fate was in the hands of the Lord.
Content now with whatever would be, he tried to console himself with cheerful thoughts of Lucy, who was like no other woman he'd ever met. Smart, kind and so pretty she nearly took his breath at times, she had somehow managed to turn his quiet world upside down in a very short time. He shook his head at how transparent Betsy Sherwin had been from the second Lucy arrived about matchmaking him with the new teacher. Naturally, like a wild stallion needing broke, Wyatt had stubbornly dug in his heels (and okay, maybe kicked up a little bit of fuss), but in the end, like she usually did, the woman who loved and raised him had known best.
And he couldn't be more grateful for her determination that Lucy would one day make him a good wife. When unexpectedly faced with the frightening possibility today of losing her, it was instantly clear to him if Wyatt had the courage (and brains) to listen to his heart, he and Lucy could have a fine life together. The flimsy excuse that they had only known each other a couple months just didn't hold water any more. After all, look at his grandparents-who practically fell in love with each other at first sight and had been married going on 50 years. If anyone was capable of recognizing true love, it was Betsy and James Sherwin.
Something else carrying a good bit of weight with him, too, was the fact that both were already very fond of the teacher and would eagerly welcome Lucy into their small family whenever Wyatt was ready. And that was the sticking point...well, actually, he was. After all, in the simplest of terms, doubts or not, this woman made him happy, and would definitely be a loving wife for Wyatt and mother to their children if they were so blessed. Hell, Logan, sounds like you just made up your mind, you jackass. (He couldn't help grinning at the little voice in his head that sounded a lot like Dave.)
Wyatt closed the window and sat back down beside the bed. Just as he was reaching for Lucy's hand once more, there was a faint knock on the door. It opened a crack, and his grandmother, dressed for bed in a robe and nightgown with her hair hanging in a loose braid, slipped into the room. Lightly resting her hand on his shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze, Betsy sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at Lucy.
"That's a remarkably brave young woman you have there, Wy," she said with a hint of pride. When Wyatt looked at her curiously, his grandmother explained, "I know you're worn out, frustrated and scared half to death, so what I'm about to say will most likely upset you, but I also don't want you taken unawares the next time you're at the bank and see Tom Randolph. Since I was staying behind anyway to drive the carriage back while you and James were getting Lucy home as quickly as possible, I was concerned about Tom and wanted to make sure he was alright. Poor man...he took a pretty hard knock to the head, but other than a terrible headache the next day or two, he's going to be fine." Wyatt nodded warily, pretty sure already he wasn't gonna like what he was about to hear.
Gran paused, clearing her throat softly. "He told me Lucy saved his life. Even though Tom was fading in and out of consciousness, he was aware enough to realize Jesse James was going to kill him before leaving the bank until Lucy put herself in front of him and begged the outlaw not to. Wyatt...she offered to go with the gang willingly if they spared Tom's life."
She did what? Stunned–and hell, yes, definitely upset-Wyatt immediately growled under his breath, his hands tightening into fists. What the hell had she been thinking, endangering herself that way? Caught up in his outrage, Wyatt didn't even realize he'd said the words out loud until Betsy smiled sympathetically and replied, "Well, I'd say your Lucy is the kind of woman who looks out for her fellow man...for those less fortunate or vulnerable or in need, no matter what the cost to herself."
His grandmother watched in silence while Wyatt chewed on that for a while before taking pity on him and his wayward emotions, advising, "Dig deep, Wy, and find it within your heart to look past your instinctive fear for Lucy's safety–strong though it may be-and take pride in her loving nature, her bone deep courage when it counted. She saved a man's life today, and that's no small matter. So if you love this young woman and want to make her your wife, you need to accept all the parts of her–not just the ones you agree with or that make you comfortable. That's not how marriage works...but I think you know that. Well, I'm going to try and get a little more sleep. Come get me and your grandpa if Lucy wakes, alright?"
Having said her piece, Betsy stood and kissed his cheek before leaving and quietly closing the door behind her. Gran was right, he realized (as she often was). While Wyatt's admittedly over-protective nature wasn't exactly pleased with the woman he loved at the moment, he was also tremendously proud of her bravery. Hardly any woman-hell, very few men-would have the guts to stand up to a ruthless killer like Jesse James the way Lucy had done in order to save a man's life. God, what a woman Lucy Preston was-and when she woke up, Wyatt was gonna quit wasting precious time and ask her to be his wife. Taking her hand in his once more, he said in a low voice, "Please come back to me, sweetheart, I love you..."
The Preston's spacious ballroom was brilliantly lit with hundreds of ivory tapers, the air perfumed with the heavy scent of fresh-cut flowers. Dozens of important society guests and friends dressed in their finest clustered around the dance floor to mingle and socialize (and no doubt, gossip). To Lucy's dazzled eyes, these past hours were like a scene out of a fairy tale...and for this one special evening, she was the princess. She'd lost count of the young men who asked her to dance-besides the very handsome Dr. Noah Cooke, who she also shared a light supper with. And now, sadly, the magical evening was drawing to a close. Waltzing gracefully around the room with her father, she truly couldn't remember ever feeling happier.
"Your mother would be quite proud of you this evening, my dear," Henry said with a pensive smile as he nimbly guided Lucy across the floor for the last dance. "You are very much like her, you know, my beautiful Caroline, who was taken from us far too soon. Like you, she, too, had a loving heart and kind spirit and such a thirst for learning about the world around her."
Blinking away a tear (or two), Lucy swallowed hard against the emotions his wistful words brought forth, and managed a tremulous smile. "Thank you, Papa," she whispered.
"Have you enjoyed yourself, little one?" He rumbled after they'd danced in contented silence a bit longer. She basked in the love and approval shining in his warm brown eyes. No man could be a better father than Henry Preston, raising a daughter from infancy all on his own, and Lucy thanked God every night he was her Papa. What would she ever do without him?
"Oh, yes, sir," she said breathlessly, beaming up at him. "Thank you, Papa, for such a lovely ball. The flowers and candles and food...everything was just perfect. I wish this night could last forever and ever." Strangely, the indulgent expression began to fade from his beloved face at her impulsive, perhaps childish declaration (after all, Lucy would celebrate her 18th birthday in only a few weeks). Looking up at him, she asked hesitantly, "Papa, is something wrong?"
Instead of answering, however, he drew her off the dance floor and over by the wide French doors leading to the garden, away from their remaining guests, and gestured to a velvet-covered chaise for her to sit. Settling her heavy skirts around her, Lucy inhaled shallowly. The noise and bright lights of the ballroom seemed to diminish as she watched her father with wide eyes, a looming sense of dread coming over her. Something was wrong...
Sitting beside Lucy and taking her gloved hands in his much larger ones, Henry squeezed them lightly. "Nothing in the world could possibly make me happier, daughter, than knowing how special your official debut in society has been. You are the greatest joy in my life, Lucy Anne Preston, and it has been an honor and privilege being your Papa." What? Has been? Why was he speaking in the past tense? Even as a bewildered Lucy frowned and started to protest, he shook his head firmly.
"I'm sorry, sweet girl, I know you don't understand, but let me finish, please. It's a hard, undeniable fact of life on this earth that despite our most fervent wishes, nothing good or bad lasts forever-just like this beautiful evening. For as much as I love you with all my heart and would selfishly keep you by my side forever, regrettably, that time is past and now you must look to the future, your future, for there is another man who loves you just as deeply and needs you even more than I."
With that, Henry dropped Lucy's hands, and tenderly kissing her brow, he whispered, "Be happy, little one...I will see you again some day..." And then he was gone. Just gone, and she was alone. Lucy shivered at the all-encompassing darkness abruptly surrounding her even as the faint echo of Papa's voice drifted away...only to hear in the distance the faint sound of another deep masculine voice-one oddly familiar to Lucy. Was he the man her father mysteriously spoke of? Could she be hearing his voice? Frightened or not, she had to know.
Unsteadily getting to her feet, Lucy began to walk slowly towards the voice. Wait...she knew that voice. Wyatt...it was Wyatt. The voice that sounded so tired and sad belonged to Wyatt–the man Lucy had unexpectedly fallen in love with when she agreed to take a teaching position in a small town called Brady. And just like that, in a heartbeat, it was no longer New Year's Eve 1873 in San Francisco. That wonderful evening was long ago, nothing more now than a cherished memory. She was in Texas now, in the year 1881...and Wyatt Logan needed her...
Moving faster now, she hurried toward him. I'm here, Wyatt, I'm here, Lucy shouted desperately into the hazy void. Luckily, his voice seemed to grow louder, guiding her along as the darkness gradually receded. What was he saying? Her heart was beating so hard, she could scarcely tell, and then miraculously, Lucy heard him clear as day.
"Please come back to me, sweetheart, I love you." He loved her? All of her earlier fears and confusion suddenly fell away, and her heart was filled with a quiet happiness. While Lucy would always love and miss her Papa dearly, she knew everything was going to be alright because Wyatt Logan loved her. This was what Henry Preston meant. I love you, too, Wyatt, Lucy thought as she struggled to open her heavy eyes against the growing light...
A/N #2: Full disclosure: aside from being put under for a couple surgeries over the years, I've actually never been unconscious, and have no idea if a person dreams or not. This latest update was turning out to be quite Wyatt-centric, though, and I wanted a way to check in with Lucy before she woke up, and thought reliving a very happy girlhood memory might work. I always enjoy writing angst for Wyatt Logan and oops, sometimes get carried away (not sure what that says about my personality, lol). Sorry if anyone was expecting a proper reunion with these two in this chapter, but Wyatt was being all stubborn and still had some reservations about his feelings for Lucy he needed to work through before asking her to marry him. Her life being threatened just sort of jump started that process, I guess. No worries, friends, still more of this western saga to come. My deep appreciation to those readers who continue to enjoy Timeless stories–it's a pleasure writing for all of you, and your favorites, follows and reviews are such wonderful encouragement. Thank you! :))