The Sunstone Brooch : Time Travel Romance Katherine Logan (no david read aloud TXT) 📖

hard…until you can wield…the ax. It is yours now. Carry it proudly. You have the handprints of your ancestors on your heart.”

She swiped at her tears. “I heard that once before, on my last bull ride.”

“I was there. I did not want you to give up.” With a bloody finger, he drew a mark on her forehead. Then he closed his beautiful eyes, and his entire body sighed.

“No!” she screamed. “Don’t take Erik, too.” The walls she’d constructed around her heart crumbled in a tsunami of tears, exposing the grief from losing her father, mother, ranch, job, horse, and now Erik.

I can’t take any more.

All her sorrows knotted together in one humongous heartbreak and shattered into millions of pieces, and she doubted she’d ever recover from this furnace of pain and loss.

47

The Badlands (1885)—Tavis

Austin rode into camp, yelling, “Need help!” Then he jerked his horse around and galloped back the way he’d come.

Tavis simultaneously dumped his coffee, yanked the reins off the wheel of Norman’s wagon, and galloped after Austin while swinging his leg over the saddle. Remy was only a beat behind him as they raced through the cottonwood grove.

Tavis didn’t know what happened, but either pain or fear had to be responsible for the pale, haggard, desperate look on Austin’s face. Acute pain wasn’t an unusual look for him, but fear? This was different. Austin went to great lengths to hide his fear from everyone, including himself.

“Is it Ensley?” Tavis yelled.

“Hurry!” Austin yelled again, but with much more urgency.

If Ensley was in danger, Erik would have intervened and protected her, but she still could have been injured. Tavis’s gut knew that’s what happened, but his mind lagged a bit behind accepting it. This business had no fucking guarantees. And that gave him heartburn.

His training in both the future and the past prepared him for what lay beyond the cottonwood grove. But the coppery stench in the air sent his stomach acid straight to the back of his throat.

He roared, “Tyr!” The war cry gave him a boost of adrenaline—strength from within, empowering him to handle what lay ahead. His warrior spirit was fully engaged and dispassionate. He scanned the killing field for the dead and injured. Dead—one horse, one bear…one Viking. Tavis’s gut roiled.

Alive—one sobbing woman covered with blood.

Within seconds, his mind developed a scenario: a bear appeared. Erik’s golden horse attacked it and fought to the death. The bear went after Ensley. Erik arrived in time to save her but ultimately lost the fight.

But who killed the bear?

Ensley? Not likely. If she had a gun, the bear wouldn’t have been able to kill Erik or his horse. Tavis glanced at Austin. His face hadn’t changed, confirming for Tavis that pain wasn’t contorting Austin’s chiseled features. It was terror, and he hadn’t cycled out of it yet.

Austin’s mind was replaying what he saw when he pulled the trigger. And there was no doubt in Tavis’s mind now that Austin had killed the bear. He was an expert shot, and it would have been an easy kill for him. But the slaughter and knowing how close Ensley had come to suffering the same fate as Erik was a harsh reminder of the fragility of life and how easily it could change in mere seconds.

Tavis jumped off his horse midstride and ran to Ensley, dropping to his knees. He pulled her into a sitting position. “Where are you hurt?” She had blood all over her clothes, her hair, her face. He did a quick assessment to see if any of it was hers. “Where do you hurt? Are you cut? Bitten? Answer me!”

Tears streaked the mud and blood down her face and neck, her eyes were glassy, and she was unresponsive.

“Remy, bring your kit and check her out. She’s in shock. See if any of this blood is hers, and give her a shot of morphine,” Tavis said.

Remy dropped to his knees and set his kit on the ground beside him. “Ensley, I’m going to take off your jacket. I have to see where you’re injured.”

Tavis helped Remy peel off the worn, bloody denim jacket. The blouse beneath it was so threadbare. Tavis was surprised it still held together.

Remy ran his hands over her chest, arms, and back, and then down her belly and legs. “I doan see any open wounds or indication of broken bones. Nothing’s swelling. Plenty of bruises and scratches, but most doan look recent.” He removed a tin box from his saddlebag and, using an autoinjector, gave Ensley a dose of morphine.

She didn’t react to that either.

Tavis looked down at Erik and just as quickly looked away. He couldn’t allow himself to look at his body yet or react to his death. Erik had been a father to Tavis, and he would grieve later when he carried the Viking king home for burial.

“Austin, take Ensley down to the river and wash her up. It looks like her gear is still there. Dig through it until you find what you need.”

“Are you crazy? Dig through a woman’s gear? That’s a sure-fire way to get myself killed.”

“You’re safe this time. She’s in shock and won’t remember.”

Austin’s expression was no longer strained, and his cheeks had pinked. “Come on, baby doll. Let’s get you cleaned up.” When Ensley didn’t stir, Austin picked her up as if she weighed no more than a kitten.

A vision appeared in Tavis’s mind’s eye of Austin carrying Ensley through the snow to the Colorado ranch house, her skis dangling. They were both laughing, as young lovers do, over silly shit. Then the vision vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Tavis’s visions were always insights into a future event, but he never knew why he had them or how far in the future they’d happen, so he never told anyone about them. Not even Erik.

“Let me help you wash up,” Austin said, looking down at her. “Tavis, what’s this mark on her forehead?”

“It’s an Yggdrasil, a Viking symbol. Don’t wipe it