{"id":252583,"date":"2026-07-13T02:12:22","date_gmt":"2026-07-12T23:12:22","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/a-captive-in-time-sarah-dreher\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T02:12:22","modified_gmt":"2026-07-12T23:12:22","slug":"a-captive-in-time-sarah-dreher","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/a-captive-in-time-sarah-dreher\/","title":{"rendered":"A Captive In Time – Sarah Dreher"},"content":{"rendered":"
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He lapsed back into unconsciousness. Twisting her body, she managed to maneuver him onto her back again. His arms hung lifeless over her shoulders. The wind screamed in her ears. Walk. It doesn\u2019t matter what direction. Just pick one at random and walk. Her snow shoes felt like lead as she shuffled forward.<\/p>\n

Every step took all her strength. Step. You can do it. Step. You can do it. Step. I can\u2019t do it. Maybe fire the gun. Maybe someone would hear\u2026 The wind screamed. No one could hear anything over that. And there was no one to hear it, even if they could. Miles of snow and shrieking wind between her and the nearest house. Except Blue Mary\u2019s. Wherever it was. A sharp, insistent bark behind her.<\/p>\n

She turned. Wolf was back, had dropped an object in the snow at her feet. She wiped frozen tears from her eyes with an aching hand and peered at it. Snow blew into her face. Fatigue and wind blurred her vision. She shook her head. The wolf picked up the object and moved closer. Stoner bent down. It was the pot of rosemary from Blue Mary\u2019s back porch.<\/p>\n

She began to laugh. \u201cGood Wolf. Beautiful Wolf.\u201d The wolf went into a conniption fit of barking and wagging and eyebrow rolling. \u201cWorld\u2019s Greatest Wolf.\u201d It jumped up, nearly knocking her over, and licked her face. \u201cI swear, I\u2019ll never make fun of Lassie again.\u201d Wolf sat down and gave her a quizzical look. \u201cThat was after your time. Well, let\u2019s go home.\u201d She started in the direction from which the wolf had come.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd don\u2019t forget the flower pot. Blue Mary\u2019d kill us.\u201d \u2248 \u2248 \u2248 He\u2019d pushed Toby as hard as he could, fighting the blizzard, hoping to come to a town, or a farm, or even a band of friendly Indians. His eyebrows had filled with caked sleet. His two week beard was white.<\/p>\n

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Copyright \u00a9 1990 by Sarah Dreher All Rights Reserved, worldwide. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, with out permission in writing from the publisher Published by New Victoria Publisher, Inc., Hereford, AZ 85615 Library of Congress Cataloguing-in-Publication Data Dreher, Sarah. Captive in Time \/by Sarah Dreher. p. cm. ISBN 0934678-22-7 I. Title. PS3554.R36C37 1990 813′ .54–dc20 90-31304 CIP For Audie with thanks to Lis and The Cowboy 1kitap1.com\/en Chapter One Half-awake, Stoner dropped her hand onto the alarm button and silenced it.<\/p>\n

Her body felt like a waterbed, every cell firm and supple and a little bit alive. A familiar feeling, the aftermath of lovemaking. She opened her eyes. Gwen lay beside her, hair jumbled on the pillow. \u201cWhat?\u201d she mumbled through her sleep. \u201cGo back to sleep,\u201d Stoner said softly. \u201cAmerican History,\u201d Gwen muttered. Stoner smiled. \u201cIt\u2019s Saturday. You don\u2019t have to teach.\u201d \u201cTravel.\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s right.\u201d She touched Gwen\u2019s face, gently moving her hair to the side with one finger.<\/p>\n

\u201cKesselbaum and McTavish, Purveyors of Travel Arrangements to the Citizens of Boston since 1981 is open for business. I have to go.\u201d \u201cYuppies,\u201d Gwen grunted. \u201cUh-huh. Saturday is Yuppie-Day.\u201d Gwen rolled over onto her back and rubbed her eyes. \u201cWhat would you do,\u201d she asked drowsily, \u201cif I quit teaching?\u201d \u201cMake love to you twenty-four hours a day.\u201d \u201cNo good.\u201d \u201cWhy not?\u201d \u201cHave to stop for coffee.\u201d Stoner grinned. \u201cI can take a hint.\u201d She shoved back the covers and sat up.<\/p>\n

The cold floor against her bare feet jolted her awake. \u201cAny particular kind?\u201d \u201cJamaica Blue Mountain.\u201d \u201cWhoa!\u201d Stoner said. \u201cYou must need some heavy-duty nerves.\u201d \u201cMid-terms to grade. I think I hate teen-agers.\u201d Gwen pushed herself up on one elbow and tried to bring order to her hair. \u201cWhy does my hair always look as if squirrels have been nesting in it?\u201d Stoner rammed her feet into her slippers. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t.\u201d \u201cIt does in the morning.\u201d \u201cI like it.\u201d \u201cYou have no standards.\u201d \u201cDo so.\u201d She leaned down and kissed Gwen softly on the forehead.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll bring your coffee before I leave.\u201d \u201cYou spoil me.\u201d Her eyelids fluttered shut. The skin on her face went smooth with lethargy. \u201cI love you, Stoner McTavish.\u201d \u201cI love you.\u201d Stoner watched her for a moment, then forced herself to face the day. Saturday.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

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