My Law Man
Slip in Time Series
Phebe Brooks is single, cynical—okay bitter—and fighting to stay out of jail by doing community service at the Cowboy and Western Museum. While cleaning a jail cell in the “Lawmen of the West” exhibit, Phebe slips back in time and into the arms of a man who resembles her first love, Rafe Morrow.
Newly hired as Eagle Rock's sheriff, Rafe, a former sharpshooter in the Union Army, came west to start anew. This seems possible until his town is overtaken by a sassy female constantly complaining about wearing a dress and then a band of outlaws set on robbing the gold from an incoming stagecoach.
Can Phebe and Rafe cooperate long enough to save the town? For Phebe, it's worth the risk. She's determined to let go of past mistakes, get herself on the right side of the law, and have a future filled with love and passion.
Holy crap! The hoof prints below were left by some super-sized horse. Phebe examined the prints littering the wet dirt. The buffalo prints she’d seen in a display at the museum were an exact duplicate. She picked up her pace to catch up with the sheriff’s long-legged strides. They were headed across the valley and west of the town to Taylor’s Crossing, the bridge across Snake River.
Ever since Phebe stopped screaming and stuffed her mouth with bread, he’d been telling her she was in Eagle Rock in 1866. From third grade on, she’d known Eagle Rock was the original name for Idaho Falls and was established in 1865. Through a maze of panic sedated by warm carbohydrates covered in butter, she demanded the sheriff take her to the bridge, the place to cross Snake River. In 1866 it would be the old-fashioned bridge like the tintype pictures she’d seen at the museum.
Phebe was so absorbed in her inner history lesson she smacked straight into the sheriff’s chest. Damn, he had some muscles. Phebe examined his chest and arms. About six foot two or thereabouts, the man was rangy with a thin build and muscles everywhere. His arms continued to hold her as she flailed around while still clutching the woolen shawl around her shoulders and her bunched-up skirts. What she wouldn’t give right now for a puffy parka with a hood, and mittens, and boots, and pants, for goodness sake, pants would be better than all this flipping fabric.
He pointed dead ahead. “Here’s where Harry Rickets used to ferry folks across the river.” He gestured further west. “And there’s Taylor’s Crossing, the bridge built by Matt Taylor in 1865.”
Phebe gasped. “Matt Taylor, as in James Madison Taylor?” The bridge was identical to the yellowed pictures she’d seen hanging on the museum walls.
“We don’t use fancy names in these parts, but I think you’ve got it right.”
“And the year is 1866?”
“Lady, I’m starting to get a mite cross.” He took off his hat and swiped his brow. “I have told you again and a—”
“—Wait a sec, what’s your name?”
Phebe’s heartbeat accelerated. Two realizations hit her like a ton of bricks. It was 1866, which meant she’d time traveled, but there was more. With his hat removed, Phebe studied the sheriff’s full face…his sandy brown eyes, the scruffy beard covered up the bottom of his face, but she recognized him…from a long time ago.