Back to Tomorrow

Chapter 5

Chapter 5Zach stood to watch Emily’s precipitous departure. She was definitely nervous about something. He shook his head, thoroughly puzzled. The more he learned, the more confused he became. She seemed so sincere, he found it hard to believe she was up to anything nefarious, but he’d certainly never met anyone remotely like her before.

She’d been so matter of fact when he mentioned Mary Ann’s condition. Most young women would blush and swoon at the mere hint of such matters. Yet she’d said or done nothing to make him suspect her of being loose or immoral, just odd.

He took a deep breath and puffed it out thoughtfully. Well, he had other concerns to deal with now, so Miss Emily Dennison would just have to wait. She wasn’t likely to vanish before tomorrow, in any case.

There was no way out of Tombstone until the next stage unless she bought or stole a horse. Since she was working, it seemed likely she didn’t have a source of funds to draw on for a ticket or the rental of a horse and conveyance. Which in itself was peculiar, if she was visiting at Fort Huachuca.

Deep in thought, he followed her footsteps out of the yard, but instead of entering the kitchen, he continued on down the alley until it emerged on Fourth Street. He glanced across at The Lucky Cuss Saloon, which sat on the southeast corner of Fourth and Allen, and scanned the hitching rack in front of the saloon. Sure enough, Jake’s black horse waited there, standing hip-shot and drowsy as if he’d been tied for a while.

Zach nodded, a plan taking shape in his mind. His city clothes stood out like a beacon. It was time he changed his style. Instead of heading for The Lucky Cuss, he went the other way and entered the dry goods store a half block north of Nellie’s. He bought two pairs of Levis, three plaid flannel shirts, and a pair of stitched Mexican boots with high wooden riding heels.

A broad-brimmed, dust-gray hat caught his eye as he took his purchases to the shopkeeper. He tried the hat on. It fit as if made for him. An omen. He had to have that hat.

The purchases took a good bite out of his spare cash, but they’d be worth every cent. Now he wouldn’t look the obvious dude and draw too much attention. It wouldn’t take more than a day or two for the Levis to get sufficiently dusty and used in appearance, and a quick dip in the water trough at the stable would take the new off his hat. Grinning his satisfaction, he carried his new clothes back to his room and changed before he left again.

This time he went directly to The Lucky Cuss and stepped through the swinging doors as if he’d done it daily for half his life. Two poker games were in progress at tables in the rear of the bar. He recognized Jake, sitting facing the front, but too engrossed in his cards to pay Zach any attention.

Zach went to the other table and put down his money. The dealer was a gaunt, blond man with a pale complexion and a consumptive look. He gave Zach a thin smile as he dealt him into the game.

For a while, Zach won and lost about evenly, but finally the cards began to go his way. He’d learned a lot playing penny ante games with the other reporters back in the newsroom. Those lessons served him well now. After he recouped the amount he’d spent for his new clothes and a bit more, he gathered his winnings and took his leave. No use pushing his luck too far.

Even while playing, he’d managed to overhear bits of the conversation at Jake’s table, and gleaned a couple of tidbits of information. Now was a good time to act on them, before the gambler closed up shop for the day or got into a confrontation with a couple of the men he was playing against, which seemed a likely possibility.

They were both losing badly and were clearly not happy to see their wages slipping away.

Zach whistled softly to himself as he headed for the stable. Time to rent a horse again and ride out of town. With luck, he’d be back in time for supper, but if not, he’d gone hungry before with no lasting ill effects.

The bay he rented might not be a match for Jake’s black in a race, but he suspected it could get over the rocky ground with a surer step than the sleek thoroughbred. He wasn’t planning to race today, but to take the shortest route to Charleston, some eight miles from Tombstone. From a remark Jake had made, he was now living there in a shack rented from one of the mill workers.

Swinging into the saddle, Zach urged his mount into an easy trot.

He followed the road out of town, not taking a short cut through the hills until he was out of sight. He’d looked around and not seen anyone watching, but it always paid to be careful.

Soon he came upon a well-worn path, probably used by others to shorten the distance between the mining camp and the mill. To make time, he followed it for a while, urging the bay to a faster pace, but left the path well before he reached the other town.

On a ridge above the town site, he reined in. Charleston and Mill Town sprawled along the banks of the San Pedro River for a half-mile or so. Directly below him, the hills on each side narrowed to squeeze the stream between them. There, an earthen dam had been built, making a pond from which the smelter and mill could draw water.

Zach saw the houses were clustered at the south end of the settlement, the opposite end from his vantage point. Was Mary Ann in one of them? There was just one way to find out.

He heeled the bay. The gelding stepped neatly down the rocky slope, sure-footed as the Mexican woodcutters’ burros. At this evidence, Zach felt a surge of satisfaction. He’d picked well. This was a good horse. If he could manage another winning streak in a day or two, he just might buy the beast.

In this country, a good horse was an investment as valuable as a trusty pistol and a steady hand. He’d picked out a good sidearm at Spangenberg’s Gun Shop—a used Colt .45 which now rode in a holster on his right hip. The steady hand would come with practice. Before this adventure was over, he’d probably have use for all three.

* * * *

Emily paused inside the back door, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light before she moved on through the kitchen. Her heart still pounded, far too hard for the slight exertion of darting from the garden back into the building. She drew a deep, shaky breath and told herself sternly to calm down.

She had betrayed nothing to Zach, perhaps aroused his suspicion a bit, but not to the point where he’d think her crazy. She’d just have to be more careful, to watch her speech. Trouble was, he upset her, made her feel a silly urge to show off like a kid. She found she wanted to dazzle him with the wonders of her world, so alien to this one. And that was a totally abnormal mode of behavior for her. So why?

“Ah, there you are. I’m sorry to interrupt your rest time, but I need some help.” Nellie stepped out of her small office as she spoke. “Could I possibly trouble you to do some more bookkeeping for me? You did so well yesterday. I can’t seem to do a thing right today and I’m becoming frustrated!”

Emily had to smile. Nellie’s expression was so wry, so chagrined.

“Of course, I’m glad to help in any way I can. I owe you that, at least.”

She moved to take a seat at Nellie’s small desk and was soon absorbed in the work. By the time Angelina summoned her to help serve the evening meal, her hand was cramped and her back stiff from hunching over the ledgers in the weak light that filtered in through the room’s one small, high window.

Emily stretched as she reached for a voluminous apron to protect the bright outfit Angelina had loaned her, clearly one of the girl’s best.

Her back creaked a protest. She shook her hands hard to relax tight wrists and fingers before she picked up a heavy tray and hurried out to the dining room. She could hear the buzz of the boarders talking, impatient for their food.

As she entered, she scanned the room quickly to see if Zach was there, but he wasn’t. Her heart sank in disappointment. One friendly face made those strangers seem less threatening. Most of the men were middle aged or older, and although they were civil enough, they all seemed stern and somehow disapproving. Almost as if they knew she didn’t belong here. What had she done to give herself away?

As she approached the end of the largest table, which seated a dozen, she realized a new man sat there, one who had not been present at breakfast or dinner. And he was young. Just as she bent forward to place a gravy tureen on the damask-covered table, he looked up. A pair of opaque black eyes swept rudely up and down her, as intrusive as a touch.

“Well, well, what have we got here? A new bird in the nest, and one ripe for plucking, I’d say.” The man smiled, a flash of white teeth in a swarthy face, but the smile lent no warmth to his expression. Indeed, it was a wolfish, nasty sort of smile.

When Emily drew back, he reached out and caught her wrist.

“Don’t be in a hurry, darlin’. I’d like to get acquainted.”

“I…er…Mrs. Cashman doesn’t want us to be too familiar with the boarders.”

“I’m not a boarder. I live down at Charleston, but I like to come in now and then for a meal. Nothing like home cooking and a pretty maid serving me.”

“Please, let me go. I have to bring out more dishes.” As badly as she wanted to escape his prying gaze and demanding grasp, Emily hesitated to be rude to a paying guest. How far should she go to defend herself?

The grizzled man at her right surprised Emily by coming to her defense.

“Leave be, Jake. The girl’s not interested and I want that fried chicken I smell to go with this gravy and biscuits. She’s got work to do before she has time to flirt, if she’s so inclined, and it don’t look like she is.”

The man called Jake glowered, but he released Emily’s wrist. She scuttled back out of his reach. When she returned with the fried chicken, she took care to set the plate down beside her unexpected benefactor.

He turned to her then and smiled, showing a kindly face behind the grizzled beard and thick spectacles he wore. He had dark eyes, but unlike Jake’s, they were bright and clear.

“Thank you, miss. I know Miz Cashman doesn’t want her help to be harassed, and it didn’t look like you welcomed Mr. McEuen’s attention.”

Emily shook her head. “No sir, I don’t—I didn’t. I don’t care for strangers to be over familiar. I wasn’t raised that way.”

“Butt out, Cavendish,” Jake growled. “Since when did you become the defender of maidenly virtue? Didn’t I see Lilly Powers on your knee at the Crystal Palace last night?”

“Lilly Powers is neither virtuous nor a maiden,” the bearded man responded. “This young lady appears to be both and can’t benefit from association with your ilk. Besides, you have a lady at home, if I’m not mistaken, one who’s bearing your babe.”

Jake glowered insolently at both Emily and the man he’d addressed as Cavendish. “My home life is none of your business, and I’ll thank you to mind your own, if you don’t want trouble.”

Emily frowned. She placed her doubled fists on her hips and glared right back. “I won’t be growled over like a bone between two dogs. I am not looking for masculine companionship, nor am I in the market for a casual fling for entertainment. I have a position here and duties to perform, and I’d appreciate being left alone to do them.”

Jake’s teeth flashed again beneath his inky moustache. “Well, well, the little kitty shows her claws. All right, darlin’, there’ll be another day. You’ll find I take my pick of the ladies in this town, and the ones that treat me right get rewarded for their pains. The others…” His leer left little doubt that they didn’t fare as well.

Emily didn’t deign to answer. Her face burned as she spun around and stalked back to the kitchen. The rest of the dishes she delivered to the opposite end of the table and left it to the men to pass them down.

She’d had all of Jake’s attitude she intended to endure.

Jake. McEuen. That was the name of the man who held Zach’s sister! She hated him already! Who did he think he was, coming on to her in such a crude way when he had a—well, a virtual slave at home, one who was pregnant with his child? Of all the contemptible, obnoxious, chauvinistic…I should have dumped that gravy over his head!

Emily grinned at the image of greasy tan gravy trickling down over Jake’s surprised face, streaking his black coat and white shirt—none too clean, she’d noticed. He’d better not try any tricks with her again.

She was no meek nineteenth century lass unable to defend herself!

Helping Zach to arrange Mary Ann’s escape took on a whole new attraction. Getting the best of Jake McEuen would be a worthy goal, and if he knew a woman had been a partner in it, so much the better.

Make that two women. She’d find a way talk to Mary Ann and instill some new spunk in the girl.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror down the hall, Emily barely recognized her own wicked grin. It felt good to have a goal and an enemy at whom to direct her ire.

* * * *

Zach straightened in the saddle as the bay came to the bottom of the steep hill. Intuition told him that somewhere in the untidy sprawl of structures to the south he’d find Mary Ann. Maybe this time he could talk some sense into her.

Before he reached the winding dirt track that passed for the main street of Charleston, he had to navigate a thicket of mesquite. Twisting paths led through the tangle, probably made by wild animals, people and even riders, like himself. After a couple of false starts, he found a trail that only required him to duck overhanging branches a few times.

He could see clear space ahead, signaling the end of the brush.

Almost there. Suddenly his horse shied, almost unseating him. Without shame, he grabbed the saddle horn to stay atop his mount. Alerted by the sound of muffled giggles, he saw two small Mexican boys pop out of the brush on one side of the path.

It took Zach a couple of minutes to calm his horse. He patted the gelding’s sweaty neck and murmured softly until he convinced the bay there was no danger. Then he turned to deal with the mischievous children. When he looked at them closely, he realized there was something familiar about their faces. Where could he have seen them before?

The boys kept glancing at each other, only to break into a fresh fit of giggles. Then, the smaller one poked the larger in the ribs and whispered something to him. Finally the taller boy spoke.

“Señor, we are sorry we scare your horse. We hear someone coming and think it is El Cabron, the one who rides el caballo n***o. He is a bad man, a mean one, so we think we spook his horse and maybe make him fall off. Often when he comes this way, he is muy boracho.”

Zach nodded. His command of Spanish was limited, but he made some sense out of the lad’s words. “El Cabron” was a billy goat, and an epithet frequently applied to men of poor morals and surly temperament. Such a man who rode a black horse—who could it be but Joker Jake? And if memory served, boracho was drunk.

“I will forgive you this time,” he said. “But I have a favor to ask.

Can you show me where this man lives, this El Cabron?”

Both boys nodded, offering shy smiles. “Ah, sí. Come with us and we show you. It is right beside nuestra casa.” The boys scampered off down the trail with Zach close behind. He checked his horse to keep it from trampling them.

The boys led the way to two ramshackle little houses, side by side in a barren patch on the south edge of the settlement. Both looked as if a strong wind would blow them to splinters—tin-roofed shacks built of ill-assorted wood scraps, now faded to dusty gray where they were not red-streaked with rust dripped from the tin roofs.

“El Cabron, he lives in that one and this is our home.” The boys indicated the smaller of the two shacks as the home of their enemy and the larger one as theirs. Apparently hearing them talking, a woman appeared in the doorway of the larger house.

“Chuy, Paco, what trouble are you into now? Santa Madre! The two of you will be the death of me!”

Suddenly Zach realized why the boys looked so familiar. He’d bet they were younger brothers of Angelina, the girl who worked at Nellie’s. This woman was a mature version of the girl. He rode over to speak to her.

“Good day, Señora. Please, do not berate the boys. They are not at fault this time. In fact, I think they have done me a favor. Do you by chance have a daughter named Angelina who works in Tombstone for Nellie Cashman?”

The woman looked at him in silence for a moment and finally nodded. “Is there something wrong? Has Angelina been hurt? She is a good girl, not like these two scamps.”

“Oh no, she’s fine, at least she was at midday when I ate dinner there. I just saw a resemblance and guessed you were her family. Can you tell me anything about the man who lives in the other house?”

“That one.” The woman made a wry face. “He is a mean, bad man, that one. He treats his wife very cruelly. She is encinta, but still he makes her haul the water and bring in the firewood. When we try to help her, he curses and tells us to go away. And when he is drunk, he is very wicked. One night he came home drunk and grabbed Angelina. He started to drag her into his house and it took all of us to stop him. My husband was at work and I did not dare tell him of it.”

“That sounds like what I have heard of him,” Zach agreed. “His—er—his wife, what is she like?” He choked over the word wife. Mary Ann was nothing of the sort, but this woman would not likely know that, and Mary Ann would certainly not tell her.

Both boys spoke at once. “Ella es simpatica y muy linda, tiene pelo como el fuego.”

“Hush, mijos. Let mama do the talking. They said she is kind and pretty and has hair like fire. It is red, very bright red. She is young too, just older than Angelina, maybe diez y siete. You say seventeen, I think so?”

Zach nodded. “That’s right. Is she home today?”

The woman shrugged. “Creo que sí. I believe so. She never goes anywhere except to town maybe once a fortnight to get supplies—if she can catch the horse.”

“Thank you, ma’am. You and your sons have helped me a great deal. I hope to repay the favor when I can.” Zach watched the woman shoo her boys indoors before he turned to the other house. He rode up close to the door.

“Hello. Anybody home?”

The place looked deserted. Ragged curtains were drawn nearly closed over the two small windows and the door was shut, even though it was a warm afternoon. No smoke rose from the crooked stovepipe and not even a dog or a few chickens stirred in the dusty yard.

Zach dismounted, flipped the reins around a lone post that might once have supported a gate, and approached the door. Before he could knock, it opened a crack. Mary Ann peered out, an anxious expression on her face.

“Oh no, Zach! I told you to go away. Why did you come looking for me? I drove off in the opposite direction the other day in case you were watching, hoping you wouldn’t see where I went. You endanger yourself to no avail.”

Zach found the patience to answer her gently. He knew she was fearful both for herself and for him, but he had to learn more before he could form a plan to free her. “Can I come in and talk—just for a few minutes?”

She shook her head. “What if Jake—”

“He’s busy with a game at The Lucky Cuss. I came directly from there, and I’m sure he won’t get away for a while yet. Since yesterday was payday, he’ll play it for all it’s worth. There are lots of bored miners willing to throw their money away.”

She sighed. “All right. But put your horse somewhere else, so it won’t be the first thing he’d see. We’ll probably hear him ride up, so you could slip out the back.”

Zach moved the horse to a spot under a big cottonwood tree about twenty yards below the houses. With the shade and a bit of grass, the animal would be better off there, anyway. This time Mary Ann let him in the back door, which opened into the cramped little kitchen.

She offered him a cup of lukewarm coffee, which he took, mostly just to be sociable and try to put her at ease. After fidgeting a moment, she sat opposite him at the rickety table. She leaned her elbows on the table and propped her chin in her hands, as if her head were too heavy to hold up otherwise. This close he could see the shadowy marks of fading bruises on her face, the weary lines around her eyes and mouth.

She looked at least ten years older than her age, if not more.

“I won’t go home,” she said, a trace of sullen defiance in her tone.

“Papa would make my life even more hellish than it is here.”