A Little Time In Texas. Joan Johnston

else.”

      Angel frowned. “Magic?”

      “No. It’s mechanical. Although I don’t know if you’d call fiber optics exactly mechanical,” Dallas said with a humorous twist of his lips. “Maybe magic is the better word.”

      “How does it work?”

      Dallas grimaced. Every question she asked pointed out his ignorance of the technical world in which he lived. “I just know how to work it, not how it works,” he admitted. “The world’s not a simple place anymore. There’s a lot we accept on faith. Like, if I turn on the stove I get heat. The refrigerator keeps things cold. I turn a spigot and water comes out, punch a button and the television works. These days people learn specific jobs and don’t know much beyond their own particular skill.”

      “Sort of like the butcher and the baker and the blacksmith each has a trade?” Angel asked.

      “Exactly the same,” he agreed. “Only things have gotten a lot more complicated since computers were invented.”

      Angel didn’t understand a tenth of what Dallas was saying. The words he used meant nothing, provoked no images of anything with which she was familiar. It was hard not to feel overwhelmed. And frightened. Much as she hated to admit it, perhaps staying with Dallas wasn’t such a bad idea—at least until she could absorb and understand some of the shocking changes the world had undergone. Or until she could figure out some way to get back to her life in the past.

      “Would you like to see the rest of the house?” Dallas asked.

      “I suppose.”

      Dallas showed Angel the kitchen, demonstrating modern appliances that kept her eyebrows perpetually raised in astonishment. The bathroom had a sink, toilet and tub, all of which she longed to use. There were three bedrooms. The two bedrooms upstairs were filled with furniture he called antiques, but which she found achingly familiar. The downstairs bedroom had been converted into an office. Besides what Dallas described as “a bed hidden in the sofa,” the room contained more mechanical devices, including a mystical “computer” that had apparently revolutionized the way things were done in the modern world.

      “Would it be all right if I take a bath?” Angel asked, looking longingly in the direction of the large indoor tub she had seen.

      Dallas frowned. “I’d feel better if Doc Philips checked you out before I leave you alone behind a closed door.”

      “How long before he gets here?”

      A knock on the door answered her question. “I suspect that’s him now.”

      Dallas opened the door to a handsome young man, not much older than he, wearing a white Oxford cloth shirt and jeans with a denim jacket. His eyes were a startling blue and openly curious when he spotted Angel.

      Dallas put a protective arm around Angel’s shoulders and pulled her forward. “Angel, this is Dr. Adam Philips. We grew up as neighbors. Adam, this is Angel Taylor.”

      “You both look pretty healthy to me,” Adam said. “Why the urgent call?”

      Dallas’s gaze slid to Angel and back to the doctor. “Everything isn’t always what it seems.”

      “Meaning?”

      “Angel has a bump on her head. I’d like you to check it out.”

      Dallas met Adam’s questioning gaze but shook his head slightly to indicate he didn’t want to talk.

      “All right,” Adam said. “Let’s get to it. How about if you lie down on the couch, Angel, and I’ll look you over.”

      Angel eyed the doctor’s black bag anxiously. She had never had much use for doctors. She tensed as he pulled a small object out of the bag. He pushed a button and the contraption in his hand lit up. She sat up abruptly. “What’s that?”

      Adam looked at her and then at Dallas before he answered. “A sort of flashlight, so I can see into your eyes.”

      “What’s a flashlight?” Angel demanded suspiciously.

      Dallas saw in Adam’s expression the concern about Angel that he had been feeling himself for the past several hours. He listened as Adam calmly explained the inner mechanism of a flashlight, down to how a battery worked, and found himself chagrined to be learning along with Angel. All the time Adam talked, the doctor slowly but thoroughly examined his patient.

      Angel was relieved when the doctor took an ordinary stethoscope from his bag, but became concerned again when he withdrew what he said was a blood-pressure cuff. He was straightforward in his explanations of everything he did before he did it, answering her questions as though they weren’t at all unusual. Though his instruments frightened her, nothing he did in his examination hurt her. He cleaned her skinned knee using something from a unique spraying can, then covered it with gauze and tape.

      When Adam had finished with his medical examination, he stood up and walked over to talk privately with Dallas. “The skinned knee is superficial. As far as I can tell, the bump on her head is just that—a bump. There’s no sign of concussion. Or anything else I can find to explain why she doesn’t seem to recognize some very ordinary objects when they’re presented to her. That is why you called me, isn’t it? There’s something wrong with her memory. Some kind of selective amnesia?”

      “Not exactly,” Dallas hedged.

      “If that’s all you’re going to say, I can’t be any more help to you.” Adam headed for the door, medical bag in hand.

      Dallas caught up to his friend on the porch. “I can’t tell you any more right now.”

      “Fine,” Adam said and kept walking.

      Dallas let Adam get into his car before he finally came striding after him. He leaned down so he could see in the window of the low-slung sports car. “Do you think Angel is crazy?” he blurted.

      “What do you mean? Clinically nuts?”

      Dallas nodded curtly.

      Adam brushed his thumbs across the black leather cover on the steering wheel. “That’s hard to say without a psychological examination. Do you think she’s crazy?”

      “I don’t know what to think.”

      “To tell you the truth, I was more than a little surprised to find a woman—any woman—in your house. I didn’t think you brought them here.”

      “I don’t,” Dallas said flatly. “Angel is different.”

      “Where did you find her?”

      “I rescued her from some cowboys who were giving her a hard time.”

      “At least that’s in character for you. Look,” Adam offered, “I can set up an appointment for Angel with a psychiatrist, if you like.”

      “Not right now,” Dallas said. “Maybe later.”

      “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

      “I’ll explain everything later,” Dallas promised. He stroked the sleek finish of the sports car. “Don’t fall into any potholes with this baby car of yours on the way out.”

      Adam grinned. “You’re just jealous. Call me if you need me.”

      “Sure.”

      Dallas stood and watched until the dust settled, before he turned and walked back into the house. Angel was no longer lying on the sofa where he’d left her.

      “Angel? Where are you?”

      There was no response.

      Dallas quickly began a search of the house, going from room to room, slamming open doors, checking into closets and finding nothing.

      At last he approached the bathroom and shoved open the door. There she stood, staring at him with startled blue eyes.

      His