“What does that make us?” he asked drolly. “The Two Stooges of the Tame West?” He winked at her.
And the butterflies targeted another part of her body, much lower down. She was in big, big trouble if she didn’t pull herself together right away. Forcing the wobble out of her voice, she said, “Really, Rafe, it’s time to give up the joke. Couldn’t you get any better actors than these?”
“You think I staged this comedy? Why?”
“Because you’re brain dead. Because you enjoy teasing me. Because — ”
“You don’t suppose…” he proffered hesitantly “… you don’t think we could have possibly landed in another time? 1850? I mean, look at those ancient Colt revolvers. And the saddles.”
“What? Did you land on your head? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Have you ever watched Quantum Leap on TV?”
“Oh, come on! Do you think you’re some kind of Scott Bakula?”
“Now that you mention it, a few women have told me I resemble him.” His lips twitched with a grin.
“Not on your best day!” she snapped. Actually, you look a whole lot better. “But, if you’re Scott Bakula, what does that make me — that guy, Al, with the pocket computer?”
“Do you have a computer on you?” he asked expectantly.
“Give it up, Rafe. This is not Quantum Leap.” Time travel! It was an outlandish notion. Anyone could buy an ancient firearm if they had the money, she concluded. And the animals and the fine-tooled leather saddles were, no doubt, borrowed from some rancher or movie set in the area, one of Rafe’s friends. Nope, Helen wasn’t buying the time travel nonsense. No way!
A short time later, Rafe put on a false front of bravado, letting Sancho and Pablo help him onto the back of the black horse. He was, unfortunately, too unnerved by the skittering horse under him to try to escape when they released the ropes around his wrists and relied them in front so he could hold onto the reins.
As if I know what to do with reins! He clutched the saddle horn and eyed the rearing beast. Well, maybe not rearing, but definitely shifting.
Helen, on the other hand, looked perfectly calm and capable, sitting on the pinto. Not that he knew what a pinto was. The only pinto he’d ever heard of was a car.
Ignacio began to move out, followed by Helen and Rafe, then Sancho and Pablo in the rear, then a string of five other stolen horses they planned to sell in Sacramento City.
The only problem was that Rafe’s horse didn’t move.
“Giddyap,” he urged his horse, and Helen giggled.
He was beginning to hate her.
“Giddyap? Why not yippee-kay-aye?”
“I was gonna try that next,” he grumbled, meanwhile shaking his reins, using his knees to nudge the sides of the heaving horse — Mr. Ed was probably laughing, too — bouncing up and down on the saddle, then finally yelling, “Move, you son of a bitch!”
The horse glanced back at him over its shoulder, and he could have sworn it snickered. God, it looked just like F. Lee Bailey. He’d faced the legendary barrister in the courtroom once and he’d worn a condescending expression the entire time, just like this horse with an attitude.
“I think I should get some spurs,” he concluded, “like Ignacio and the others. What F. Lee Horse here needs is a good swift spur in the ass.”
“No, no, no,” Helen said, moving her horse closer. “You have to be gentle. Whatever you do, don’t kick the horse. Just nudge his flanks gently with your heels. Like this.”
“And how do I make him stop?”
“Pull on the reins.”
“Oh, yeah. I get it now.”
The horse started to move, and Rafe was feeling really good… until Helen warned him to stop shaking the reins.
“That really riles a horse. Makes them bolt.”
He immediately stilled his bound wrists.
At one point, he decided to play along, as if this really was 1850, and asked Ignacio why they wasted time stealing horses when they could make a fortune prospecting for gold.
“It ees easier to rob those who do the work,” he answered with a smug smile. “Besides, thees foolish Americanos waste their time searching for the mother lode. It does not exist. Soon, they will leave these hills, and only smart men, like me, will remain holding all the riches.”