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of
his balding head didn't quite reach the bottom point of Sheriff
Wade's badge.
    This was the man who
was going to help her? She was hoping for someone...taller.
    "I understand you are
vehemently requesting a lawyer," he remarked.
    "Yes."
    "I'm Angus Maxwell." He
crossed the room with his hand outstretched. She immediately put
her own through the bars and gave him a firm handshake. He stared
into her eyes for a moment.
    "Why are you looking at
me like that?" Jessica shivered.
    "Sheriff, will you
excuse us please?” Maxwell asked, turning. “I’d like some privacy
with my client."
    Wade nodded and
disappeared out the front door with Dempsey. Mr. Maxwell set his
briefcase on the floor.
    "What is it?" Jessica
asked again. The man's silence was unnerving. Something was wrong.
She feared he was about to deliver terrible news.
    “I understand you shot
a man.”
    “No. That’s what I need
to talk to you about.”
    "Sheriff Wade also said
you were in a car accident."
    "That's right,
but—"
    "How long have you been
in Dodge?" he asked.
    "That depends on what
Dodge you’re talking about. This sure isn't the Dodge I know."
    He narrowed his
bespectacled gaze. “How do you mean?”
    "You wouldn’t believe
me if I told you.”
    For a long moment, he
squinted into her eyes, then looked down at her outfit. “Sheriff
Wade got me out of bed to come here and talk to you. He said you
were desperate, and I’d like to know why.”
    She thought hard about
what she should say. “Is client confidentiality invented yet? I
mean, you’re sworn to secrecy, right?”
    “I assure you, I am
very discreet.”
    She paced back and
forth in the cell. “Well, in that case…I’m going to tell you
something that’s going to sound a little crazy.”
    He quirked a brow.
“Believe me, I’ve heard it all. Nothing you say will surprise
me.”
    Jessica continued to
pace, but watched his expression carefully as she began to
explain.
    “I think I might
have...I know this sounds unbelievable, but...” She leaned closer
and whispered. “I’m not from here, and I think I might have
traveled back in time. In my world, it’s 2011.”
    His stunned expression
silenced her.
    “You don’t believe me,
do you?” she said. “I knew it.”
    Mr. Maxwell cleared his
throat, as if he had no idea how to respond.
    “Nothing’s the same
here,” she continued. “I’m used to telephones and lights and...well
you probably wouldn’t understand. Sheriff Wade just told me that
it’s 1881, and I’m having a hard time accepting it myself. Maybe
I’ve lost my mind, or I’m hallucinating. I don’t know. I just want
to go home."
    His eyes narrowed as if
he were struggling to understand. "When did you arrive here?”
    “About an hour ago, or
maybe it was longer. I don’t know. It was a bit of a walk, and I
was disoriented.”
    “What happened to the
car?”
    “I have no idea. It
seemed vanish into thin air, but I think I blacked out for a while.
When I woke up, I was lying on the prairie.”
    He stared at her. “This
is inconceivable.”
    Jessica turned away
from him and crossed the cell to the crude square mirror that hung
over the wash basin. She looked at her reflection carefully. "Tell
me about it.”
    “But you don’t
understand…” he began to say.
    Just then, the door of
the jailhouse opened and Wade entered with Deputy Dempsey. Mr.
Maxwell swung around to face them.
    "You two about
finished?" the sheriff asked.
    Maxwell stepped
forward. "Sheriff Wade, my client was doing her duty as a U.S.
citizen. Her intention was to bring in Left Hand Lou in response to
your advertisement."
    Jessica opened her
mouth to object, but Mr. Maxwell held up a hand to silence her.
    "Fine," Wade said.
"I'll arrange for the reward money in the morning."
    Jessica stared at him
in astonishment.
    "But I want to hold her
for a while,” Wade added, “until I do some checking on my own."
    "That's fine, Sheriff."
Mr. Maxwell approached the bars again and whispered to