TEXANNA KEITH doesn't believe an antique locket is the key to time travel, but plays along, and to her horror, is zapped back to 1880 Waco, Texas. Her mission is to prevent Royce Dyson's death in a shootout. Wounded, she loses what she longs for most - a life with Royce.

Marshall ROYCE DYSON'S wife disappeared in 1876. Now she's reappeared, claiming she's a time traveler from 2005. As he seeks the truth, he's determined to keep Texanna with him, but it's not destined to be.

EXCERPT

“Marshal, you gotta come quick.”

Royce quickened his step and wondered what now?

A large crowd gathered in front of Hans’ Saloon. “Shoot her in the foot.” He recognized the baritone immediately. It was Hans. “If you don’t, she’s going to hurt someone else. I think she’s already broke Jason’s arm.”

She? Royce broke into a run. What the hell was going on? They’d never had a woman cause trouble before.

A female resounded, “Don’t come any closer, leave me alone.” She attempted to sound controlled, but her voice became shriller with each word. But still not at all like what he’d expect of a woman gone wild.

Jason’s voice, filled with pain, broke through the mumbling of the crowd. “Stop...stay back...she’s scared. Royce will...be here...in a minute.” Jason’s statement ended with a groan.

“Yeah, well I’m not going to let the Missus’ hurt anyone else,” said Hans.

Royce shoved his way through the crowd. He glanced quickly at Jason to see if he was breathing, then turned to the woman the crowd had backed up against the boardwalk in front of the saloon. Hans eased behind her and quickly caught her under the arms and locked his hands behind her head. Head pushed forward, the woman fought to break Hans’ hold. She kicked backwards but Hans lifted her off the ground and swung her from side to side so her feet couldn’t make contact.

“Hurry up, Marshal, get some cuffs on her. How else you gonna get her home?”

A quick scan of the woman indicated she didn’t have a weapon strapped to her side or in her hands. His gaze moved from the unusual shoes she wore, up indecently clad legs encased in denim pants. How else could he describe it? When his eyes reached her torso, his body jerked in response. Beautiful breasts were fully outlined by a skintight blouse. Her pebbled nipples showed through the thin, pink fabric. His face burned with anger. It was down right scandalous. No decent woman would dress so provocatively. Then he noticed the flame-colored curls. Hans eased his hold, and her head jerked up. His eyes met hers, and his heart stopped. God, she’s beautiful. He looked at her face again and thought he’d faint from sheer joy. His bliss quickly turned to rage.

With a growl, he bit out, “Get your hands off my wife.” At least, he thought it was his wife. The hair was the same, but her eyes were bluer, her nose thinner, and damned if she didn’t have kohl on her eyebrows and lashes.