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The blast of the shotgun exploded around him, making his head buzz and ears ring. Doyle dropped to the ground, sure he’d been hit but too shocked to feel anything yet. He watched, heart beating awfully heavily for one who was likely losing blood at an alarming rate.
The woman lowered the gun yet kept a good grip on it as she cautiously approached him. But when she reached him, she stepped right over him.
Doyle tugged at his ears, willing them to clear, then rolled over.
He nearly peed himself when he saw the mountain lion lying on its side in a pool of blood inches behind him.
“Holy shit.”
The woman finally looked up from the beast she’d been examining and scowled at him.
“You're not from around here, are you?” she asked, hand on hip.
“Uh,” Doyle scrambled into a standing position, brushed himself off, and faced her, only to find the long barrel of the gun in his face. “Please don’t hurt me.”
The woman laughed, and her shoulders shook. Her smile and the way her hazel eyes crinkled in the corners made him relax.
Sure enough, she lifted the gun and slung it over her shoulder, a clear message that he would respect—armed and dangerous, but trusting him for now.
“My name is Doyle,” he said.
“Doyle?” She made a face. “That your first name?”
“My uh, my first name is Walter,” he said, realizing it might be more familiar in this time.
“That’s a nice, strong name, Wally. I’m Sadie. Sadie Rogers. This here is my ranch. You’re lucky my husband wasn’t the one to catch you prowling around.”
She was married. For some reason, Doyle’s heart sunk, which was ridiculous considering how dangerous it would be for the timeline if he somehow magically seduced this amazing woman. Yeah, she took out a mountain lion that was about to kill me like it happened every Tuesday. Talk about out of his league anyway. She probably had some buff cowboy with rippling muscles and sun-kissed skin, not a tech-head nerd like him, gym or no gym.
“I guess I’m lucky. Thank you for saving me.”
Sadie scowled in the direction of the cat. “Damn shame. I hate killing animals. They’re just out here trying to survive like the rest of us.”
Doyle nodded. “I agree, for what it’s worth. But I’m still grateful you chose my life over his.”
“Hers,” she said, eyes drawn back to survey Doyle. “Men. Always thinking if it’s tough and capable it can’t be a woman.” She spit on the ground, making him jump.
“I apologize,” he said sincerely. “I honestly didn’t mean it like that, but I get what you’re saying. Where I come from, we know women are just as capable as men. In fact, my boss is a woman.”
Sadie’s eyes narrowed. “Where’d you say that was, Wally?”
“Uh, Washington,” he said. Don’t be an idiot, Doyle.
Sadie nodded. “And what’re you doing out here? I suppose you’re gonna tell me you work for Grover Cleveland.”
“No. No, I don’t work for the president. I uh, I'm a scientist. I’m out here testing some of my inventions in the desert, and I, you see, I lost something. It’s something important. Have you happened to have seen an object about this big,” Doyle stretched his arms wide open to indicate the size of the cloak, “but thin and round like a bat? It’s metal.”
It was a long shot, but he figured he may as well try.
Sadie’s eyebrows rose and she rubbed her small nose with the back of one hand.
“What does this invention of yours do exactly?” she asked.
“Oh. Well, it’s a little hard to explain. I’m not sure you’d underst—uh, I mean, of course you’re smart. I just…it’s technical and.” Doyle stopped trying.
Sadie shook her head. “Well, if it’s on my land, it’s mine now. So, you best hope it isn’t and go look elsewhere.” She held the shotgun across her chest.
Everything in him told Doyle to slink away and listen to the woman with the weapon. But returning to the TCR without the missing cloaking device would mean a whole world of hurt. Besides, something about this woman was extraordinary, she’d shaken up Doyle’s head and his body, and he needed more. Her presence was like that first full breath of air after taking his asthma pills, fresh and vital.
Stepping closer, Doyle removed his hat and held it over his heart. “I don’t even know where your land starts, Mrs. Rogers. If you’d help me look, then I’d be out of your hair a whole lot faster.”
He wasn’t ready to leave—not the device, or her intoxicating presence.
