The Rebel by Julianne MacLean Read Free Book Online

stand.
    But where was her car?
    The only explanation she could come up with was that she must have been wandering around in shock for the last little while and had left it behind — along with her purse and cell phone.
    And the strange floating sensation.... That must have been some kind of dream state.
    So where was she, exactly? To her left were miles of flat, green prairie. To her right, a small hill. She decided to climb it to see what was on the other side.
    When she reached the top, she stepped onto a country road pocked with puddles and wet stones. She pushed her damp hair away from her face to look around, and her heart sunk.
    More miles of prairie. In every direction.
    How had she gotten this far? And which way should she go?
    She stared transfixed at a distant flicker of lightning far off, just above the misty horizon. A quiet breeze fanned the odor of cow manure into her face, and nervous dread swelled inside her.
    Something didn’t feel right. She couldn’t possibly have walked much of a distance. Could she?
    Well, she thought, taking a deep, steadying breath and resolving to stay rational. There was no point standing around doing nothing. That road had to lead somewhere.
    Off she went.

    * * *
After walking a few miles on the dirt road through the pouring rain, Jessica wished miserably that she had worn her running shoes instead of her stupid “sexy-girl” shoes, but there wasn’t much she could do about it now. All she could do was try to ignore the excruciating sting of the blisters—which felt like hot coals burning the balls of her feet—and walk with an awkward limp.
    A short while later, she sighed with relief when the setting sun finally peeked through the thick blanket of clouds. Raindrops glistened like tiny diamonds as they fell, weightless and softer now. Lifting her wrist to check the time, she realized she'd lost her watch. Damn. It was brand new.
    Reaching a fork in the road, she stopped to look at a dilapidated wooden sign that read: DODGE CITY. The sign pointed left, so with little choice, she limped in that direction.
    By the time she spotted a town up ahead—unfortunately it didn’t look like Dodge City-—the rain had stopped and darkness had folded over the terrain. Though she felt like a drowned rat, she was relieved to have found some signs of civilization.
    She couldn’t wait to find a phone and call her parents. They were probably worried sick.
    As she limped across an old plank bridge that led into the town, she heard the faint music of a brass band, and each time its cymbals crashed together, it was once too often for the pounding sensation in her head.
    Then a horse-drawn wagon rumbled by.
    She stopped abruptly and stared at it—what the heck?—then stepped off the bridge and walked up the wide main street. She glanced around for a phone booth, but found herself distracted by the buggies, the cowboy costumes on the men, and the music from inside a place that looked like an old saloon. A piano man played "Oh! Susanna," and a banjo plucked along with it.
    That song again.
    She stood shivering at the corner of two unpaved streets, looking left and right. Wide boarded sidewalks and hitching rails fronted the buildings; saddled horses and mules were lined up side by side.
    Good God, there had to be at least six inches of slop underfoot and it smelled like horse poo.
    What kind of place was this? Had she stumbled onto the set of one of those reality shows where they throw people into a historical time-period and watch how crazy they go?
    When a couple of ragged looking cowboys staggered by, waving whisky bottles and revolvers in the air, Jessica decided to walk a little faster. She hadn't seen any women yet, only men, and she suspected this wasn’t the safest place to be standing around, taking in the sights, because it all looked pretty sketchy.
    Stepping up onto the boardwalk, she paused outside a bar called the Long Branch Saloon, which made no sense because the Long Branch