Timeless Rescue: Timeless Hearts, #14

By Justine Amor

Book 15 in the Timeless Hearts Western romance series

~ A sweet, clean, Western Time Travel romance.

“Sometimes you need to let your heart and soul to be rescued.”

When Hollywood location scout Shawn Nighthawk lands in Heartsbridge, TX, everything seems to go wrong in a life that is already disillusioning her. She and her long-term boyfriend split up and the realization that she’s lost her way in life sinks in. Then her boss from Laramie Pictures punks her on a Western studio backlot which gets out of hand, and she’s arrested.

When her cell phone doesn’t work and the newspaper ink smears on her fingers, the little hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Had she really gone back to 1880?

Deputy US Marshal Mathias Brentwood can’t make out this woman. She’s intriguing and insists she’s part Indian, like him. Excuse me, Native American. But she doesn’t look like any of the other Plains Indians and it’s clear she’s been brought up as white. Way out of his league.

He’s made the bad mistake once of falling in love with a white woman who hurt him deeply when she got sick of “playing” at his nomadic way of life. Most women want a house made of wood or bricks, not hides. He can’t risk that hurt again. Besides, she’s probably a little crazy. She wore night attire with a Stetson, boots, a suede jacket, and used strange words.

However, it isn’t the first time he’s seen Miss Nighthawk.

She’d invaded his sweat lodge vision—now she was about to invade his dreams.

While Shawn is fascinated by this trip back in time, she won’t be staying. Although her heart had felt like it was uncurling and reaching for the tall, solemn-eyed, striking Marshal when she met him. But would she really survive out here with toilet paper that had splinters, hacking off lumps of sugar, and not daring to show an ankle?

When Mathias becomes trapped in the hills with moonshiners in a shoot-out, it’s Shawn’s spirit he reaches out for, and she comes to his rescue.

Now will Shawn pay with her life when revenge is taken? And will Mathias be able to rescue her this time?

 *Each book in the series is a standalone book, however, it is recommended to read the prequel.* Warning: light cursing and kissing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Justine Amor
• Release date: Mar 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386768159

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

Timeless Courage is the fourteenth book in the Timeless Hearts - Sweet Western Time Travel Series.

This multi-author series ties into one central concept of two women, in different times, who help people find their true love...even if it isn’t in their own time.

Each book is a standalone story. However, it is suggested that you read the short prequel book for Timeless Hearts Prequel.

The books will be released after February 2017 and throughout the year. You can find them all listed on the timelesshearts author page –

(Be sure to click Follow to be notified of any new releases).

We hope you enjoy the series that will show you love knows no boundaries...even time itself.

Sandra E. Sinclair, Peggy L. Henderson, Anna Rose Leigh & Kay P. Dawson with guest Justine Amor - Timeless Hearts Authors

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Dedication

This book is for J.T. Edson who wrote a prolific number of Westerns. I devoured them as a teenager. There was something about them that truly captured my imagination. So when I said I’ve love to write one in this series, I was honored when Anna, Kay, Peggy, and Sandra agreed I could. Now I’m thrilled to have written another one in the series. Thanks to the Timeless authors, and readers who continue to ask us for more.

*~*~*

The most precious possession that ever comes to a man in this world, is a woman’s heart.

~ Curiano.com

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Old Wild West Words

Beat the devil around the stump ~ to evade responsibility or a difficult task. Quit beatin' the devil around the stump and ask that girl to marry you.

Calaboose ~ jail.

Dragged out ~ fatigued, worn out.

Dreadful ~ very. Oh, her dress is dreadfully pretty.

Heap ~ a lot, many, a great deal. He went through a heap of trouble to get her that piano.

Here's how! ~ a toast, such as Here's to your health.

Offish ~ distant, reserved, aloof.

Rectitude ~ honesty, morality, honor.

Ride shank's mare or pony ~ to walk or be set afoot.

Twig ~ understand.

* * * *

Counting coup ~ A warrior counted coup by touching an enemy warrior with his hand, bow, or a coup stick, before escaping unharmed. The risk of injury or death was required to count coup and it was seen as more honorable to touch the enemy, rather than kill them.

Chapter One

I’m trying to be polite but I’m not in the mood for this. I’m already having the day from hell. Now I’m being punked.

I hold up my hand to the character actor in a stop now gesture and head down the hallway. And out the front door. Wow...this is a pretty authentic-looking set. I wonder who built it? They knocked it up fast. Or probably brought it in on flatbeds. Nice one, John. You’ve got me good this time.

I wonder what that Moira woman put in my coffee at the diner? No doubt she’s a friend of John’s. Time-travel my backside.

But why would anyone build an elaborate set like this out here in Texas? And where had John got it from? Maybe they’re going to use it for a theme park or a heritage village. Hopefully with some Native American things. Now, where’s the exit?

It’s a backlot, but it can’t go far. I’ll just walk until it runs out and then get my damn car, and head on home. Or the hotel that is home for the next few days. A large glass of wine, a soak in the hot tub, order up room service, call... Okay, no. Not on the last one.

I wish things had been different. But the big argument with Kyle on the phone this morning had left me with a deep pit in my stomach and a deeper knowing that we were over. We’d been limping along for a while, so I knew it was coming. But hope is the thing that keeps us going in bad relationships, when we know in our hearts, we just need to get out.

The final straw came when he said, I don’t think you’re working hard enough on our relationship. You’re not willing to make any compromises. I felt like I’d been hit by a Mack truck. Was he serious?

I was the one who wanted us to go into therapy, and he thought I should do it but it wasn’t for him. He didn’t have issues.

Everyone has stuff, I’d tried to say.

I don’t want to talk to some stranger and pay them five hundred bucks an hour to tell me I had a bad childhood.

You did!

Yeah, so. A lot of people did but so what?

Well, it’s affecting your relationship now. With me.

You just have to get over it. Move on.

But you haven’t moved on. You’re still living a life like you’re a teenager and not an adult man, taking your anger out on the world at large and having no responsibility for your actions, I said in exasperation.

He’d sighed heavily like I was being obnoxious.

You just totaled your Porsche, joyriding.

It was an accident, okay. Get off my case.

I tried another approach. Okay, but what about doing it for us? I said, trying to find something that might appease his ego.

Why should I? You’re the one that won’t make compromises and thinks we need more time together. You need to be less sensitive and demanding. Let me do my own thing.

What? You nearly got your license suspended and a heavy fine, then you got into a wreck. You’re lucky you didn’t kill someone or yourself. You need to grow up, I’d said in disbelief, getting angrier and angrier.

You’ve just being overly emotional about this, he’d replied.

I was floored. Was I really with a man who was this disrespectful toward me? And treated my feelings as a nuisance, as well as disregarding his own.

Then it hit me—I was in a relationship of one—me.

He wasn’t willing to do any work or make any concessions.

I want a man I can trust with all of me. Not just the surface pieces that appeal to him or fit in with his lifestyle.

And that’s another thing—what we want out of life clashes on every level.

Kyle loves the Hollywood lifestyle.

I’m close to screaming point with it.

There isn’t anywhere much in between for either of us.

A sadness had washed over me but also intense relief. I felt like I was being torn apart with his wants and mine. They just didn’t match. He likes the hipster lifestyle, no kids, cool parties, schmoozing, wining and dining.

I want to go back to my roots, to a place that grounds me to the earth. Simpler times. In fact, I wish I could just go back to this era I’m walking through right now. I know it was pretty basic in lots of ways but there’s an earthiness that calls to my soul. The concrete jungle of L.A. is soul sapping.

And the men were men. Okay, they would probably irritate me but surely they can’t have all been happy married to the little woman who obeyed them, while they called the shots. Otherwise we wouldn’t have the suffrage movement, the vote, or anything else.

I should have trusted my gut instinct on Kyle. I saw the red flags waving when I met him. But I sidestepped them as they whipped around my face, batting them aside. I wonder how often we all do that. Know in our instincts something isn’t right but we go with it anyway.

The truth is, I wanted to be rescued. Modern woman that I am, but sometimes being fiercely independent gets old. Perhaps I’m more old-fashioned than I realized but I want someone who would do anything for me, and actually wants to spend quality time with me. And I wanted to be that for someone else. Knowing I can rely on them to have my back, emotionally, physically, mentally, and on every other level. I’d felt a little like two ships passing in the night with Kyle.

I sigh.

Boy, this is a big backlot. I step up onto the wooden sidewalk for a store to avoid a team of horses being driven by an actor. Maybe it’s a dry run. There aren’t any cameras or lights set up. I peer into the windows of the mercantile and it’s a bit weird. It’s not a false front. Why would they have this set up like a real store? It must be a nightmare for shooting and the light is really bad. Just for fun, I walk inside and poke around.

Can I help you? asks the old-fashioned storekeeper. Not a very friendly one either.

No, just looking thanks.

We don’t really cater for your kind in here. You might want to try the Indian Trading Post instead.

I frown. I’m not an actor. I’m a location scout.

Well, I don’t care if you were with General George Custer himself. We don’t serve Injuns in here.

I roll my eyes.

Don’t give up your day job. Good lord, if this is the best acting we can expect on this film—I hope it’s a low budget one.

He frowns at me.

I ignore him and keep browsing the store. Whoever’s set this up has done a good job. Where on earth did they get all these things from? Some of them actually could pass for authentic pieces.

He comes up to me. Like I said, you need to move along.

They haven’t even started filming yet? What’s your issue?

I don’t know what you’re talking about but you need to leave.

Says who?

I do. I’m the owner of this here store. I get to say who comes into my store and who doesn’t. You didn’t see the sign out the front. Can’t read I s’pose. ‘No Injuns’.

I roll my eyes again. Who’s the producer on this film?

I’m going to get the sheriff.

You do that, I say seriously to him. Jeez, I wonder how much they vetted some of these crowd scene actors on this feature. He’s well and truly in character but now he’s starting to get on my nerves.

I’m examining a Native American necklace with what looks like genuine turquoise and amber in it, when The Sheriff walks in. And he’s a walking cliché too. Yep, I’m being punked all right. Fine, I’ll play along with it. This should be a bit of fun.

Well now, Sheriff. And how are you on this fine day. I try to look coquettish and pick up a parasol to twirl it over my shoulder.

Ma’am. He tilts his hat at me. Great costume. You don’t see