Trees from the original forest — oaks and sycamores with trunks as wide as six feet — still nestled throughout the busy town, which should have given it a cozy appearance. Instead, the hometown character was destroyed by the decadent nature of the buildings. Gambling “hells,” saloons, and brothels occupied almost every canvas or ramshackle plank dwelling that lined the streets, barring a few exceptions, like general stores, restaurants, a daguerreotype shop, a newspaper office, billiard and ten-pin bowling halls, and presumably a sheriff’s facility.
The canvas-sided dwellings, with their lanterns and candles, created an eerie atmosphere of shifting light and darkness. And everywhere Helen saw an abundance of crimson calico — as curtains, wall hangings, tablecloths, even tents. Some manufacturer from the East must have had a surplus stock of the bright fabric.
Helen glanced about in utter amazement. She couldn’t believe she’d actually traveled back in time. She couldn’t believe she had a horde of men following her, believing she was a hooker.
Maybe she had died after all. Maybe this was hell… although she didn’t think she’d done anything that bad in her life to merit this punishment.
Helen shifted her eyes to see how Rafe was handling these new sights. He expertly guided his horse beside her and Ignacio, with Pablo and Sancho on either side of them.
Rafe didn’t look at all like a man worried about his neck.
Or her distasteful fate.
“Well, this is a fine kettle of fish we’re in now,” she finally grumbled to Rafe. “I don’t suppose you’ve got one of those Quantum Leap computers on you to zap us home.”
“No, but stop worrying, babe. Remember what I said earlier about trust.” He smiled, unfazed by their dilemma. She hated it when he smiled. Her stomach felt fluttery… queasy, actually. Yes, that was it, his smile made her sick in her stomach.
Hah! Who am I kidding? His smile would turn a nun to sin. And I’m no nun. Get a grip, girl. Stop gawking at him. Talk about boring, non — stomach fluttering things. “Can you believe this town, Rafe?” she said, motioning with her head toward the busy streets.
“No. I still have trouble accepting it, but time travel seems to be the only answer.”
“Silencio! You are my prisoners,” Ignacio snarled. “I forbid you to talk about time to travel.”
Helen shot the buffoon a withering glare over her shoulder, then proceeded to ignore his command for silence. “But what can we do?” she asked Rafe.
“Do not answer her,” Ignacio ordered Rafe.
Rafe, too, ignored the brute. “Remember how we agreed to be a team.”
“I never agreed — ” Helen stopped talking suddenly when she noticed Rafe twisting his face in a funny manner, blinking his eyes rapidly, then mouthing some words at her silently.
Was he trying to signal her something? If so, why didn’t he use military codes taught in officers’ training? She knew the answer immediately. He’d probably forgotten, or never learned them in the first place. At the very least, he could have tapped out Morse code on his saddle horn.
“You got a bug up your nose?” Ignacio asked Rafe, observing his strange contortions.
“No,” Rafe snapped, seeming at wit’s end. “You told me not to talk; so, I was exercising my face muscles.”
“Son of a bitch! I weel be glad when we are rid of you. I think you are becoming loco.”
Suddenly, Rafe burst out in song, a rollicking fifties rendition of “Jim Dandy to the Rescue.” Even with his hands tied to the saddle, he rolled his shoulders and bounced his butt in the saddle to the rhythmic beat. Several pigs stopped rooting and joined in with a chorus of oinks.
He glowered at the pigs, then started on that old Elvis song, “It’s Now or Never.” In the midst of his incredible, off-key song, Rafe suggested, holding her eyes intently, “Why don’t you sing along, honey? You know the words, don’t you?”
Helen couldn’t have sung if her life depended on it. She was stunned by the phenomenon of Rafe bellowing out, over and over, “Jim Dandy to the rescue… It’s now or never… Jim Dandy to the rescue… It’s now or never…”