A Moment in Time by Deb Stover Page B

  In St. Louis, Elizabeth's mother could care for Todd while Cole worked–yet another reason to give up that stupid dream and get on with his promise.
           After clearing his throat, Cole asked, "What man?"  
           "Never seen him before."   With a shrug, Todd padded barefoot across the rough wood floor and took two tin soup plates down from the shelf beside the stove.  
           While his son served their meal, Cole unfolded the letter and took a backward step into the light from the open doorway.   The bold pen strokes leapt off the page and straight to Cole's gut.   "Damn," he whispered.
           Anyone else would've considered the message cryptic, but Cole knew exactly what the four words meant.   After rereading the page, his gaze migrated back up the ladder to the loft he'd shared with his wife.  
           He no longer had a choice.   This note had stolen that luxury from him, just as surely as a thief with a six-shooter.   Removing his hat and hanging it on a peg near the door, Cole stuffed the note into his pocket and washed his hands in the basin near the hearth.
           Those four words were his commandment.   It was time for Cole Morrison to live up to the promise he'd made his wife.   The handwriting was burned into his brain.   Even as he took a seat at the table with his son, he saw the words clearly in his mind.
           I'll double the money.   The only other marks were the familiar initials at the bottom of the page.
           "Can we go fishin' today?"   Todd spooned beans into his mouth, oblivious to his father's torment.
           Thank God for that.
           Cole shook his head.   "Not today, son."   He forced a spoonful of beans into his mouth and chewed furiously.   "I have to go back to town."   He had a job to do.
           "Again?"   Todd gave a sound of disgust, then continued eating with far less enthusiasm.
           Cole hated himself.   If he'd kept his promise years ago, this wouldn't be happening, and his son wouldn't be disappointed in him.   "I'll make it up to you," he said, and meant it.  
           "All right."   Todd brightened and attacked his food.
           In St. Louis, Todd could eat his meals at a real table with proper utensils.   The boy would never be hungry, and he'd have a grand variety of things to eat.
           Cole's appetite beat a hasty retreat and he pushed away from the table.   He crossed the room and took his rifle down from the rack over the hearth.   As he turned around, he saw the look of concern on his son's face.
           "I saw a bear on my way up the trail earlier," he lied, hating himself.   "Nothing meaner than a bear just waking up in the spring."
           Todd's eyes grew round and he nodded.   "That's for sure."
           "I'll be back before dark."   Cole hesitated and touched the boy's shoulder.   He hated leaving Todd alone again so soon.   "You stay inside, just in case that bear decides to come up here looking for something to fill his belly."
           "Oh, Pa."   Todd made a face of utter disgust that crawled into a special corner of his father's heart.
           "You look just like your ma when you do that."   With a grin, Cole grabbed his hat and walked out the door.
           Praying.
    * * *
           Jackie shifted uncomfortably on the satin pillows, making absolutely certain the feather boa covered all her assets–such as they were.   Most women lived their entire lives without posing for a lurid portrait, but Jackie Clarke had the dubious honor of doing it twice in the same week.
           In two different centuries.
           First Blade, now Henri.   Her gaze locked onto the obese man behind the canvas.
           " Sacre bleu," he muttered for at least the hundredth time.   " Monsieur Goodfellow assured me you would be...more..."   He stuck the brush between his teeth and held both