Back to Tomorrow

Chapter 4-1

Chapter 4May 9, 1889

Tombstone, Arizona Territory

Emily felt much better when she awoke. Sunlight streamed in through the window, but at an angle that told her the day was still young. Sitting up, she discovered she wore a voluminous flannel nightgown. When she slid her feet to the floor and stood, the room blurred and whirled for a moment. She clutched a bedpost until everything settled into comfortable stability.

Before she could make her way to the window for a look beyond, a sound turned her attention to the door. A young Mexican girl stood there, a tray in her hands. If anything, she was even smaller than Emily’s five-foot-three.

“Buenos días, señorita,” the girl said. “Here is your breakfast. Mrs. Cashman will be up to see you in a few minutes as soon as the boarders settle down to eat.”

Although the girl spoke with a strong Spanish accent, Emily understood every word. “Good morning to you too. I’m Emily; what’s your name?”

“Me llamo Angelina…er, that is what they call me.”

“Can you sit down a minute and talk, Angelina, or must you go back to work?”

The girl smiled. “Un momento—I can sit un momento. Mrs. Cashman would want me to be sure you feel like eating, after your accident.”

When Emily smiled, Angelina smiled back, her ebony eyes sparkling as if they shared a secret. Emily sat back on the bed, letting Angelina put the tray on her knees. The delicious aroma of coffee drifted up from a delicate china cup. A plump brown biscuit sat on a matching saucer along with a pat of butter and a generous spoonful of jam.

Angelina edged over to perch on the chair Nellie and Zach had used the previous night.

Emily drew a deep breath, letting the rich coffee odor penetrate.

“Mmmm—this smells delicious, really yummy. I believe I do feel like eating!”

Angelina watched Emily eat, a slightly anxious expression on her thin brown face. “What is ‘yummy’?”

Emily smiled inwardly. Whoops, too new a word. “It means good, tasty.”

Angelina nodded. “Yummy. I like, I remember that.” She sat quietly while Emily ate, as if mulling over the new word.

“You will need clothing,” she said, suddenly, as Emily dabbed up the last bit of jam with the final scrap of biscuit. “I know the garments of Mrs. Cashman will not fit. She is very short but wider than are we. Would it offend you to wear something of mine?”

Emily glanced down ruefully at the voluminous nightgown, which hit her well above the ankles. “You’re right. Mrs. Cashman’s dresses would be a bit short. No, Angelina, I’d be very grateful if you’d lend me something to wear. I don’t guess my other clothes are appropriate.”

Angelina shook her head vehemently. “Oh no, ladies do not wear the pantalones. I will get garments for you now and bring you warm water to wash. My room, it is just down the hall.” Jumping to her feet, she scampered from the room.

A few minutes later, she was back with a chemise, a ruffled white blouse, and a brightly striped skirt over her arm. She carried a pitcher full of steaming water.

“I regret I do not have a corset to lend you,” Angelina said as she emptied the pitcher into the basin on the chest. She glanced down ruefully at her own slender form, breasts barely noticeable under the loose blouse she wore. She shrugged. “I no need such things to contain me.”

“That’s all right,” Emily replied. “I have my own bra to use for now, my own corset, I mean. I may have to wash it every day, but I can manage. You’re very kind, Angelina. I appreciate it more than I can say.”

After Angelina left with the empty breakfast dishes, Emily washed and dressed. The clothes the girl had brought fit well enough, almost as if they had been made for her. There was only a small mirror hanging on the wall above the chest, so she couldn’t really see how she looked, but the overall effect seemed becoming. She tried to tame her tangled hair, but found her head was still too sensitive to tolerate much combing.

Before she could leave the room to search for her hostess, Nellie appeared at the door. “I see you’re looking much more pert this morning, Emily. That’s good. Apparently the bump on your head is causing no long term ill effects.”

“No, I felt a bit dizzy for a minute when I first got out of bed, but everything is all right now. Thank you for the delicious breakfast. I’m going to have to make arrangements for the use of this room and all your care. I believe you rent rooms?”

“That I do, but I couldn’t be so inhospitable as to charge you for a night when you were clearly in no shape to take care of yourself, dear.

But if you want to stay a while, we can work something out.” Nellie smiled, her expression matching the gentle warmth of her voice.

No wonder they called her The Angel of Tombstone, Emily mused, recalling a section in one of the books she had scanned.

“I see Angelina lent you some clothes,” Nellie continued. “I would have been glad to do so, but I’m afraid it would take major alteration to make one of my dresses fit you. I was once a bit more slender, but always very short. Time has worked its damage on me, I fear.”

Emily laughed. “Yes, Angelina and I are almost the same size so this works just fine. Don’t think me ungrateful,” she added hastily. “I truly appreciate all you’ve done for me.”

Nellie laughed. “I understand, dear. We must make do with what we have, mustn’t we?”

Emily started to reply, then paused, looking down at her feet. The ludicrous image of her athletic shoes beneath the flounced skirt slammed home the reality of her situation. Her throat closed, rendering speech impossible, as her heart leaped into overdrive, starting her head to pounding again.

“Rest today, dear, and don’t overdo. You did have a concussion, I’m sure, and that should not be taken lightly.” Nellie patted her shoulder and bustled out, leaving Emily with her tangled thoughts.

If this really is 1889 and I’m here, what am I going to do for a living? What if I can’t get back to the present? She gnawed her lip, fighting panic. She sank onto the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands. How could she even hint at her plight without appearing to be totally insane?

Her situation loomed even larger, becoming a staggering problem.

For one thing, Carol’s car was parked in the Tombstone of 2000, and she’d be worried sick. Emily had little money with her, and no credentials to verify her schooling and library experience. Not that there’d be much use for those skills in nineteenth century Tombstone.

Things she did have, like her New Hampshire driver’s license and MasterCard would have even less meaning.

For all her study and fantasizing, what did she really know about how to live in the nineteenth century? The obvious answer was next-to-nothing. A slight whimper escaped her lips. I want to go home! But matters weren’t going to be resolved that simply.

* * * *

Her first priority, Emily decided the next morning, was to find a way to earn her living in this new environment. She’d learned from Angelina that Nellie could use a second person to serve as a chambermaid and help with the meals. Armed with that knowledge, she followed Angelina’s directions to locate the cubby Nellie used as an office, a sort of second pantry off the kitchen.

Nellie was there, bent over a book of accounts. She muttered to herself as she jotted figures in their columns and did the requisite arithmetic.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Cashman. May I discuss something with you?”

Nellie jumped, her pen scratching across the paper to leave a jagged black streak. She spun around to face Emily.

“Oh my, you gave me such a start! I must really have been deep in my work.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted—well, Angelina said you could use another person’s help and since I’m not sure what other work might be available, I was wondering if I could apply for the job?” Emily watched her hostess with keen attention, trying to see how her request would be received.

Nellie snatched a handkerchief from her apron pocket and tried to small avail to blot the mark on her book. “Drat,” she muttered. “So clumsy of me. You wouldn’t happen to be good with sums, would you?

I so hate this chore, but it’s necessary if one is going to be in business.”

“I took some bookkeeping in school,” Emily admitted. “Though not my favorite task, I can do well enough.” Especially as long as my solar calculator functions, she said to herself. The tiny device still rested in her fanny pack, which she’d left in a dresser drawer, out of harm’s way.

The black nylon looked decidedly out of place with her present costume.

Emily felt much more at home in jeans and a t-shirt, but of course that wouldn’t do here. She tugged at the neckline of her borrowed blouse, which had a distressing tendency to slide off first one shoulder and then the other. How did Angelina manage?

Nellie huffed out a long sigh. “Well, if you could help a bit on that, I’d be eternally in your debt. And yes, we do need another pair of hands at times. Are you sure you feel up to it, though? You took quite a knock to be laid out cold for well over an hour. I wouldn’t want you to do too much too quickly.”

Emily thought rapidly. “For now, at least let me fix the page I caused you to ruin. I feel so guilty about that. If you find my work satisfactory, I can continue. Anyway, it’s a chore I can do sitting down, just in case I were to get dizzy. Then later, perhaps tomorrow, I can take on some other duties.”

Nellie studied Emily for a long moment. The older woman tilted her head to one side and swept a keen, bird-like gaze over Emily from head to feet.

“You’re a strange young woman,” she said after a moment. “I’m sure there’s more to you than we’ve been shown so far. But here in Tombstone, we’re more concerned with a person’s present than her past. Wherever you’ve come from and why you left are of no concern to me, so long as you do an honest day’s work and behave as a lady should. There are places in this town where a loose woman is welcome, but this is not one of them. I want you to know that right now, not that I suspect you of impropriety, but just so it’s understood.”

Emily nodded. “I don’t think I would do well in one of the saloons or…well, it’s just not my style.” She found herself blushing, imagining the horror of trying to dance in a skimpy costume or serve drinks to rowdy miners and cowboys.

Nellie stood, placed the pen to one side of the ledger, and moved past Emily out of the little room. “Wait, what am I thinking—you won’t know what to enter in the ledger unless I explain.”

Nellie took a few moments to show Emily how she kept her daily accounts of receipts and expenses for the boarding house before she left her to the task. It wasn’t complicated. Emily had no problem with setting up a new page, transferring the figures smudged by the pen, or finishing the entries from the notes and receipts.

Still, it was slow work, carefully penning figures into the narrow lines and columns. Long before she was done, her fingers cramped and the pen seemed to take on a mind of its own. Emily found herself wishing for her computer with its spreadsheet program, which would make short work of this project. But for all that, she was glad to have found something useful to do and to know she wouldn’t be relying solely on charity for her needs.

The next day, she began her new duties in earnest. After changing beds and placing new towels in the rooms, she helped Angelina serve the midday meal to the boarders and others who came in for some good home-cooked food. As she entered the dining room with a loaded tray, Emily noticed Zachary Tremaine among the men waiting for dinner. At almost the same instant, he saw and recognized her. A smile lit his face.