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  Playing the Odds

  A Time Travel Romance Short Story

  Kathryn Kaleigh

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Also by Kathryn Kaleigh

  Chapter 1

  November 20, 2021

  Outside of Las Vegas, Nevada

  No traffic. The lights of Las Vegas behind her.

  The evening sun had just dropped below the horizon, leaving behind a splattering glow of reds and pinks across the sky.

  It looked like the desert was on fire.

  Zoe ran her hands over the thick leather steering wheel of the BMW. The little SUV still had that new car scent.

  The diamond on her left ring finger glittered with every movement.

  But it was heavy on her hand.

  Out of place.

  She gave some thought to slipping it off and tossing it out the window, but she was too damned level-headed to do such a crazy thing.

  She wasn’t, however, too level-headed to walk out of her very own wedding rehearsal dinner, get in her car, and start driving.

  She had no valid reason.

  She could have said that she’d seen her fiancé’s hand brush against her cousin’s. Saw a lingering glance between them.

  But, no, that wasn’t it. Macy was just that way. Men flocked to her like bees to honey. Natural and nothing to worry about.

  There wasn’t a man alive who could hold Macy’s attention for more than five minutes.

  Just like there wasn’t a man alive who could resist being drawn to Macy’s elusive, charming combination of looks and personality.

  Instead, she’d felt such an insanely strong pull to get away from there that she’d had to leave.

  To go… somewhere.

  She’d never felt such a strong foreboding sense about anything.

  Standing at the door to the church, her feet had frozen to the ground and she could not bring herself to take another step forward.

  No one noticed.

  That was probably the worst of it.

  Not one person.

  Not even her fiancé.

  They’d all walked around her. Her parents. Her sister. Her cousins. Her friends. The priest.

  Her fiancé.

  Not one person had realized that they’d left the bride-to-be standing alone on the stairs.

  She’d waited.

  Five minutes. Maybe ten.

  Maybe even fifteen.

  It hadn’t even been a conscious idea.

  She’d just turned and ran to her car.

  She was still wearing the ankle-length skirt and little blue sweater that she’d worn to the early rehearsal dinner.

  She had no other clothes with her.

  Not a single thing.

  Her suitcase, packed for Hawaii, was sitting packed full, zipped closed, and sitting in the corner of her bedroom.

  She drove past an immaculate golf course. There was no one there, of course. It was too late in the day.

  Everyone had gone home to their happy lives.

  A sign zipped past.

  Cave Creek. Next exit.

  Zoe had lived in Las Vegas her whole life, but she’d never heard of Cave Creek.

  Sounded like as good a place as any to stop for the night.

  Maybe there was a hotel there.

  Chapter 2

  November 20, 1895

  Cave Creek, Nevada

  Buck Montana chewed on his unlit cigar and leaned back in the spindly wooden chair.

  He had a winning hand, but he’d decided to let the pretty young thing sitting across from him win.

  It was a small price to pay for a few hours looking at such a cute little thing. Her long brown hair was held in place by a silver barrette that gleamed in the lantern light.

  The Golden Dream Hotel was the finest in the west. Even finer than any in Las Vegas.

  Buck took a sip of his whiskey and looked over toward the piano.

  A beautiful young girl with blonde hair piled on top of her head played that piano like a siren.

  Buck was in heaven.

  Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on who was asking, Buck had no more than a fleeting interest in any of the ladies of Cave Creek.

  The game ended and the sheriff walked over, kissed the pretty young gambler sitting across from him on the lips, and they walked off together, hand in hand. Deep in a conversation for their ears only.

  Buck finished off his whiskey and went to stand outside to get some fresh air.

  The desert air was always gritty. Especially with the wind blowing like it was.

  He would have said that it was going to blow up a storm, but in his limited experience with Nevada, the wind blew up little more than dirt.

  He watched as the stagecoach rolled into town and three men stepped out.

  Dandies.

  Only dandies and women rode the stagecoach.

  Buck dropped into a rocker outside the hotel, lit his cigar, and watched as the three men ambled toward the hotel.

  Perhaps they could help him make back some of that money he’d just given to the pretty card player.

  “Mr. Montana?”

  It was the hotel clerk. The fellow with a good memory. He could remember the name of every guest and which room they were in.

  Quite impressive considering the number of people who came and went through here.

  “I have a telegraph for you,” the clerk said, handing him a piece of folded paper.

  Buck sat holding the paper, the cigar in his hand forgotten.

  There was only one person who knew where to find him.

  Considering that she wasn’t here, this telegram could be nothing good.

  He tapped it against his knee. Thought about setting it on fire with his cigar.

  If he never read it, he’d never know.

  He could still imagine that everything with her was still good.

  But he couldn’t do it.

  He had to know.

  Slowly, he opened the paper and read the telegram.

  Buck. I married Tom. Please understand. Kitty.

  Buck just stared at the words on the paper.

  Just like Kitty to send a telegraph.

  Most women would have sent a letter. Explaining everything. Apologize for breaking a promise to spend a lifetime together.

  But not Kitty.

  She just sent a telegraph.

  He wadded up the paper and stuffed it into his front pocket.

  With nothing he could do about it, he went back inside the hotel.

  The piano music lured him back to the gaming table. A new one this time.

  Chapter 3

  Zoe pulled into the parking lot in front of the Golden Dream Hotel and turned off the motor.

  Even from inside the car, she could hear the live piano music drifting from inside the hotel.

  From what she’d seen so far, Cave Creek looked like any other small town in the west.

  Besides the hotel, there was a museum, a sheriff’s office, and a row of little shops along Main Street.

  It was full on dark now, so she took a deep breath and got out of the car. No one knew her here. She had no explaining to do.

  Not here, anyway.

  She went toward the front of the hotel, walking along an old-fashioned boardwalk lit by modern street lights and lamp posts.

  The music was louder now and she could hear laughter from inside.

  She reached the door and stopped.

  The door was tall and heavy.

  She flashed back to the door to the church.

  The one she couldn’t pull herself to walk through.

  She felt no such foreboding now.

  Grasping the crystal doorknob, she turned and stepped inside.

  It looked more like a saloon.

  A smoke-filled saloon with men sitting at tables, playing cards. Glasses of whiskey on the tables in front of them.

  Several pretty girls circulating the room.

  All wearing late nineteenth century costumes.

  There was a blonde wearing period dress—a saloon girl outfit—sitting at the piano, playing her heart out.

  The door slammed behind her, leaving her standing in this world that looked to be a page out of history.

  It was like stepping into another world.

  She squared her shoulders and walked to the desk.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asked. He was an older fellow. Could have been straight out of the movies. Beard. Mustache. Wiping a glass with a white cloth.

  Looking around, she didn’t see a desk clerk.

  “I need a room,” she said.

  He nodded once. “Two bits.”

  She nodded slowly. Okay.

  She slipped her credit card out of her crossbody handbag. Slid it across the wide smooth counter. It was a bar really.

  The man looked down at her card.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “Visa,” she said, leaning against the nearest barstool. Trying to keep the weariness out of her voice.

  The bartender set down the glass, picked up another one and started wiping it.

  “Cash only,” he said.

  She sat down on the barstool.

  “I don’t have any cash.” Who carried cash anyway anymore?

  The bartender just shrugged.

  Sweeping her hair back away from her face, Zoe looked over her shoulder.

  No one seemed to notice.

  The piano player kept playing.

  The men kept playing poker.

  The women moved about, stopping to look over the men’s shoulders.

  She was about to turn back, still not sure what to do about the bartender or clerk or whatever he was not taking her credit card.

  A man sitting two tables over watched her, his hand frozen in mid-air, card in hand.

  Her heart did a little summersault.

  It wasn’t just that he was a handsome man. Cleanshaven. Short hair. Unlike the other men in the establishment.

  He recognized her.

  He recognized her and he was surprised to see her.

  But she didn’t know him.

  He wasn’t the kind of man a girl would forget.

  About her age, too. Maybe a couple of years older.

  Disconcerted, she turned back around.

  Her hands were shaking as she slipped her credit card back into her bag.

  The bartender had walked away. Was pouring whiskey from a bottle into two shot glasses.

  It was like she’d stepped into a movie set.

  Maybe there was another hotel in town.

  One that wasn’t so intent on staying true to another century.

  She slid off the stool and walked back to the door.

  She told herself not to look at the cardplayer.

  Promised herself she wouldn’t look that way.

  But she couldn’t help it.

  As she walked past, she turned and looked right at him.

  He’d set the card down and was leaning back in his chair.

  Cigar smoke swirled through the room making everything hazy.

  Still. Their gazes locked and she caught her breath.

  Whoever this man was, he’d picked her out to watch. Even with scantily clad saloon girls walking around, he was watching her.

  She tugged her gaze away from his and set her sights on the door.

  She needed to get out of here.

  To get back to her car and find a real hotel.

  After the strange day she’d had, this whole place was more than she could deal with right now.

  Besides. She was a hair’s breadth away from being a married woman.

  She’d been somebody’s fiancé for five years.

  Since the summer after she’d graduated high school. And she’d been the same boy’s girlfriend for almost two years before that.

  This was new territory for Zoe.

  This being alone in a strange place.

  She reached the door.

  Wrapped her fingers around the crystal doorknob.

  The music stopped.

  She glanced over her shoulder toward the girl playing the piano.

  The girl was drinking something, her hands no longer sweeping over the keys.

  The voices echoed strangely without music in the background.

  She opened the heavy door, pushed it open, and stepped outside.

  There must have been a power outage. It was dark. The only light coming from the glow of lantern light spilling from the door.

  Chapter 4

  Buck tossed his cards on the table and stood up.

  “You can’t leave now,” someone said.

  “Keep it,” Buck said, shoving the coins toward the middle of the table.

  Tonight was not a good night for trying to make a profit.

  Fortunately, Buck did not rely on his winnings—or losings as it was—to live.

  Right now, he had something far more important to take care of.

  Kitty was right here in Cave Creek.

  As much as he knew it wasn’t possible, he’d seen her with his own eyes.

  He still had her telegram in his pocket.

  And the thing was. Kitty didn’t recognize him.

  How was it that the woman who’d betrothed herself to him not so much as recognize him?

  There was something different about her. He didn’t what it was yet. At least not other than her not recognizing him.

  But he was about to find out.

  He jammed his cigar into his glass, put his hat on his head, and strode toward the door after Kitty.

  The door stood slightly ajar.

  He pulled it open and stepped through, stopping short just over the threshold.

  Kitty stood there. Still as a statue.

  The warm desert wind fluttered her skirt—falling several inches short of her ankles.

  The wind tossed her long brunette hair about her shoulders.

  He could only see her silhouette.

  But it was enough for him to see her stunned expression in the moonlight.

  She turned slowly and looked at him with wide, confused eyes.

  An expression he’d never seen on Kitty’s face.

  Kitty was the most cantankerous woman he’d ever had the pleasure of spending time with.

  Yet, she was so beautiful, and so charming when she wanted to be, that he’d been smitten.

  But this girl. This Kitty…

  Taking his hat off his head, he swiped his fingers through his hair. There was something enchanting about this Kitty.

  Buck had seen some interesting things in his travel and heard tales of things he’d never believe.

  But he’d never seen anything like this.

  “What’s happened?” she asked.

  Her voice was different. Smoother.

  It jarred him out of his thoughts.

  “What do you mean?”

  She gestured in no particular direction.

  “The lights… the cars… the buildings…”

  He took a step toward her. Even in the moonlight, he could see that her skin was clear. Clear and smooth.

  He swallowed. Put a hand on the nearest wooden post to steady himself.

  There were a number of things that could have happened.

  Perhaps she’d been injured. Hit her head.

  He’d heard tale of such things happening.

  It would explain why she was here.

  But why—how—was she here at the same time her telegram had arrived?

  “How are you here?” he asked.

  He stepped close enough to look into her deep green eyes.

  Eyes with so much more depth than Kitty had ever shown.

  He took her hand. Through habit.

  She flinched, but after no more than a reflexive little tug, left her hand in his.

  “I don’t think I’m supposed to be here,” she said.

  Chapter 5

  Zoe considered that the understatement of the century.

  She wasn’t supposed to be here. And that was true on so many different levels.

  Not just that she’d gone into a time and place that so obviously wasn’t the one she’d come in on.

  But also that this handsome man held her hand in his.

  And oddly enough, it did not feel the least bit well… odd.

  As she attempted to sort through all of this, the blonde piano player came through the door and stood next to them.

  Zoe turned and looked at the woman.

  Macy.

  The blonde girl, dressed like a saloon girl, was Zoe’s cousin.

  But she looked different. More serious. And there was something about her eyes.

  “Macy?” she said.

  The girl lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t respond to the question.

  “Hello,” the girl said looking directly at Zoe. “You’re a few hours early. Nothing to be worried about though. It’s not an exact science.”

  Zoe looked to the man holding her hand for clarification. He, however, looked as confused as Zoe felt.

  “I see you’ve met Buck,” she said.

  “Not really—" Zoe said.

  “My name is Eliza,” the girl said with a little smile. “You know me as Macy in another timeline.”

  Her hand slipping from his, Zoe reached behind her and pressed her hands against the rough wood of a post.

  Another timeline.

  “Eliza,” Zoe said, her head spinning a bit. “I don’t quite understand.” She glanced from Eliza to the man she now knew as Buck.

  Buck was looking at her as though he was trying to figure something out. To make sense of everything.

 

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