Back to Tomorrow

Chapter 7

Chapter 7Indignation filled Emily at the other woman’s words. “I’ll see that he pays for his wickedness,” she vowed, setting her jaw in grim determination. “But getting Mary Ann to help is the first priority. May I come in and see her?”

Mrs. Gonzales led Emily into the house, the boys and Angelina following close behind. Mary Ann lay on a pallet in a corner of the Gonzales’ living room. A black eye and a livid bruise on the opposite cheek marred her face. Her lips were swollen, one split as if by a blow, and there was a cut on her jaw, where perhaps a ring had torn the flesh.

The rest of the poor girl’s body, Emily felt sure, bore marks equal if not worse.

She could hardly contain her rage. Had Jake McEuen ridden up at that moment, she would have torn a fencepost out of the ground to beat him with! Emily wished at the moment she was back in 2000 instead of 1889. In her era, domestic violence was a serious crime for which a brute like McEuen could be arrested and jailed. Here, such punishment was most unlikely. Even if Mary Ann died, no one would be willing to pronounce it murder. In fact, hardly anyone would consider interfering in a couple’s affairs, no matter how badly the husband or lover behaved.

Although the task took all five of them to manage, they carried Mary Ann out, pallet and all, and settled her in the wagon bed. She whimpered a little at the jostling, but tried to be brave, in spite of being scared and clearly in pain. Once they’d made Mary Ann as comfortable as possible, Emily scrambled onto the wagon, followed by Angelina, and they started back to town.

The horse was not so fresh now, but he still moved along at a good clip, even though the first half of the journey was up a stiff grade. As they traveled, both Emily and Angelina kept a look out for a rider on a black horse, but none appeared. They only passed two riders, one on a sorrel and the other on a buckskin, and an old buckboard, driven by a young boy and drawn by a gaunt paint.

It was dusk but not yet dark when Emily drove into the alley behind Nellie’s and halted the horse. Before Angelina could run to fetch her, Nellie herself appeared at the back door. Like the good general she was, she took charge at once. She shanghaied two of the roomers into duty to carry Mary Ann upstairs to a vacant room and sent Angelina to fetch the doctor from the dining room.

Nellie said she had plied him with coffee for two hours to clear at least some of the alcohol fumes from his brain. When he came lumbering upstairs, Nellie shooed Emily and Angelina from the room.

She told them they were in charge of dinner since she was going to be occupied.

Stew was to be the evening’s entree, a dish Emily felt she could prepare. She and Angelina busied themselves peeling and cutting up potatoes, dicing carrots, celery, and onions and cutting beef into neat cubes. They soon had a savory pot bubbling on the stove, although both of them had trouble concentrating on the task. Their hearts and thoughts were with the poor girl upstairs.

Emily saw Angelina’s lips moving silently as she worked and she guessed the girl was praying for Mary Ann’s recovery. Although she herself tended to agree with Mrs. Gonzales that a miracle would be required to save the poor girl, she added her own heartfelt plea to Angelina’s.

An added worry also nagged at Emily. Where could Zach be? Why wasn’t he here when he was needed? He might not get back in time even to speak to his sister now. That would be awful!

Then another horrid thought occurred to her. What if he and Jake had an altercation? At this very moment, he might be lying somewhere wounded or even dead! She’d feel much better if and when he showed up, but he’d get a piece of her mind when he did. He should have been here, darn him!

* * * *

Zach heeled the bay into a trot although he sensed the horse was tired. He’d made the twenty-five mile trip to Benson and was now on his way back to Tombstone. With the intention of scouting out a safe but not too obvious route by which he could take Mary Ann to catch the train, he’d started off early. And he’d found a way, at least a path a horse could negotiate, much nearer the river than the regular road.

Getting his dispatches ready to go on the eastbound train had taken more time than he intended. Then, although the stationmaster insisted Zach stay for dinner, when he saw it was almost two o’clock, he begged off and started for Tombstone.

Now, as the sun sank close to the edge of the Whetstones, he followed the road home. If Mary Ann could only ride, he’d have no problem, but since he’d probably have to use a wheeled vehicle, he had no choice but to go on the public road. That would leave them obvious and vulnerable, should Jake get wind of what was going on. He didn’t like that at all.

Zach huffed out a breath in frustration as he checked the horse, slowing to a walk once more. The pace gnawed on his nerves, but there was no sense pushing the animal to exhaustion even though he had a nagging hunch he needed to get back to Tombstone as soon as he could. A hunch that had plagued him all afternoon.

The bay was such a good horse, he’d arranged with the stable owner to purchase it. He’d made the first p*****t today, in fact, before setting off. Not that he’d abuse any animal, but since the gelding was now his, he felt doubly responsible for his mount. Fifty miles was a good trek for even a well-conditioned horse, so the beast had every reason to be weary.

Fortunately, he hadn’t ridden for a couple of days and the horse was being fed well. He’d driven it to alternately walk and trot, keeping up a steady if not speedy pace all day. But at the moment, he wanted to be in Tombstone, not some point still several miles to the north. He fought the urge to spur the bay and force it into a lope, at least.

What could be wrong that a sixth sense kept telling him to hurry?

Maybe Emily had another run-in with Jake. If the gambler started bothering her, Zach would have yet another reason to go after him.

Although if Jake had accosted Emily, the act would be partly Zach’s fault since Jake had seen them together. He already had reason to want Zach out of his way, but Jake should have no fight with Emily, unless he felt they were connected in some way.

Zach hadn’t spoken to Emily—no, Miss Dennison—for several days and their quarrel had begun to weigh on his conscience. He had to admire her spunk and independence. He even almost agreed with her determination not to be dependent on any man for her livelihood and well-being. Had Mary Ann developed similar self-reliance, she wouldn’t be in the fix she’d gotten herself into. But she’d never had the chance, leaving home at such a tender age.

For a few seconds, Zach thought longingly of his simple and boring existence back in Philadelphia. Life had certainly grown complicated since he came to Tombstone! But then, he’d been looking for excitement and adventure, had he not? And assuredly, he had found both.

Although Zach didn’t mind skipping a meal now and then, he had missed two today. His stomach thought his throat had been cut and growled in protest. Of course dinner would be long past when he reached Tombstone, but perhaps there would be something left over that he could eat to tide him over him until breakfast.

While he tried not to push matters too far, he knew he had Mrs. Cashman’s sympathies. She might bend a rule for him in this case.

Normally, if you weren’t there at mealtime, you didn’t get fed, but he’d not just been careless of the time or too lazy to be there at the proper hour.

He shifted in the saddle, which felt now as if it were made of cast iron, and rolled his shoulders to relieve a little of their stiffness. This had been a long day. Again he urged the bay into a trot and stood in the stirrups, in spite of the protest of his leg muscles, to give his rear end a break. Fifty miles was a darn long ride.

By the time he stabled the bay and walked three blocks back to the boarding house, he figured it must be after ten. Still, a light shown through the kitchen window, indicating someone was there working.

Good, maybe he had a chance for some food.

When he paused outside the back door, he saw Emily at the sink, washing the last of the supper dishes. Maybe she’d be sympathetic to his hungry state. He knocked softly to get her attention. At the sound, she spun around, shaking soapsuds off her hands.

“Who is it? What do you want?” Her expression sharpened with concern, perhaps even fear.

“It’s only me, Zach. Is the door latched?”

“Yes, Nellie told us to keep it fastened. Not that the flimsy thing would deter anyone determined to come in, but at least they’d make some noise and not catch us unawares.”

Emily peered through the screen at him before she finally unlatched the door. She certainly seemed aggravated.

“What are you doing, sneaking in the back way? Where have you been all day? We surely could have used your help!”

“I’m not sneaking, I knocked! Actually, I was hoping for something to eat. I know the rule, but I didn’t miss supper on purpose or through carelessness. I’ve been all the way to Benson and back today, a good fifty miles. What’s wrong?”

Turning back toward the sink, she hesitated a moment, looking from him to the stack of clean dishes on the counter. Her brow wrinkled with consternation.

“Nellie is still upstairs with Mary Ann and Doctor Zangler. But I don’t suppose she’d mind.”

Zach’s heart stumbled, lurched, and speeded up. Had he heard right—Mary Ann here at Nellie’s with a doctor? “Mary Ann’s upstairs?

What is she doing here? And why the doctor?”

“Angelina’s brother came right at dinner time,” Emily began. Zach listened intently while she related all that had happened. He heard the tension, the anger, and indignation in her voice, but deemed her feelings were mild in comparison with his.

“That misbegotten son of a…” Zach struggled for control and swallowed the crude words he wanted to say. Emily had never acted like anything less than a lady, in spite of some of the odd things she said and the questions he had not quite gotten brave enough to ask. He would not use foul language in her presence, no matter the provocation.

“Is, well, is she going to be all right?”

“I hope so,” Emily replied, her tone fervent and earnest. “When Nellie came down about an hour ago to get some medications she keeps in the pantry, she said she thought Mary Ann would make it, if infection doesn’t set in. I didn’t dare ask about the baby.”

To hell with the baby! Zach didn’t say the words aloud, but he really couldn’t care less about the child. As far as he could see, it would do Mary Ann no good to be saddled with the feckless gambler’s bastard for the next twenty years. Now, if they could just keep her here until she was able to travel, his task of getting her out of Tombstone and on her way home would be that much easier.

“Here, I’ve dished up some stew.” Emily set a plate down in front of him. “We had a little left over. Too bad there’s not a micro…er…Angelina and I cooked and served dinner tonight. You’ll have to eat this cold as I don’t think it would reheat too well and the fire is almost out, anyway. Our cooking probably isn’t up to Nellie’s standards, but we tried. At least everyone was fed, and this stew will carry you ‘til breakfast.”

She spoke rapidly, changing subjects so fast he could hardly keep up. Well, no matter. He’d try to sort her jumbled words out later. Zach ate, mildly surprised how good cold stew tasted, especially after Emily found a couple of biscuits and one thin slice of the midday’s apple pie.

He ate everything with gusto before he stood, stretched tired and aching muscles, and yawned hugely.

“All I want to do now is sleep for about sixteen hours, but I must check on Mary Ann first. Do you think they’ll let me see her?”

“Goodness only knows. Nellie shooed us out, once the doctor got here. She said we needed to take care of supper, but I think she also believed there’d be sights unfit for young women’s delicate sensibilities. What she considers appropriate for a brother to view, I could not even guess.”

Zach heard more than a trace of acerbity in Emily’s tone, which wasn’t unexpected. She clearly had no patience with being sheltered.

He had to wonder again at her upbringing, though her past was really none of his affair.

“I want to thank you, both for feeding me and for all you’ve done to help Mary Ann. If she pulls through, thanks will be more due to you than to me. Had I only guessed something like this would happen so soon. Maybe I should have, but I was trying to find a route to Benson that would keep us off the public road so I could take her safely to the train. Once that was clear, I was going to get her out of that shanty and…”

In spite of his best efforts, his voice cracked. He turned quickly away. Better to run off abruptly than have Emily see him close to tears.

In the darkened hallway, he stopped to try to compose himself before going upstairs. The enormity of all that had occurred would not allow him to grow calm.

Mary Ann could have died. She might still die. He wanted to kick something, to howl like a bereaved coyote, to tear Jake McEuen apart joint by joint. But he could do none of those things right now. The frustration ate at his soul.

He didn’t hear Emily approach behind him, didn’t realize he was no longer alone until she put her hand on his arm.

“It’s not your fault, Zach,” she said softly. “There was no way you could know. You were doing the best you could, trying to plan a way to save her. Don’t blame yourself for what happened.”

He turned toward her, raised both hands to her shoulders. He thought he meant to push her away, to tell her to go mind her own business. His nerves were too raw to deal with sympathy at this point, but instead, he responded to another urge, one he’d hardly recognized he had. Instead of pushing her away, he drew her closer, until they stood face-to-face, just short of touching.

In the weak light reflected from the kitchen, her face appeared a pale oval marked by the two dark almonds of her eyes. The scent of spices and home cooking clung to her clothing, but her hair smelled of spring meadows, clover, and wild honey. She was warm and vibrant and very much alive. He bent to find her lips, covering them with his, forgetting all for the moment. He lost himself in the feel and taste and scent of her. Only then did he realize this was something he had wanted to do from the first.

Even when he picked her up in the street, dressed in her urchin’s denim, he’d been tempted to play the fairy tale prince and see if he could kiss her awake. Perhaps now…he kissed himself into oblivion, but it was no less sweet.

* * * *

At the touch of Zach’s lips on hers, shocking heat zinged through Emily’s body. She’d been kissed before, of course, but Rich’s kisses had never been like this nor those of any of the few other boys and men she’d dated. An arc danced between her brain and her toes, settling somewhere low in her abdomen. She felt a brief twinge of conscience—she shouldn’t be comparing anyone to Rich and finding Rich wanting. She loved him, she always would. But he was gone and she was—here.

She’d only meant to comfort Zach, torn by the distress so evident in his slumped posture, the tension radiating from his body in painful waves. Of course he was frustrated, burdened with needless guilt, and rage without an outlet. She knew similar emotions although for a different cause, and thought he should know he wasn’t alone.

The kiss washed all this careful thought from her mind. She rose on tiptoes to lock her arms around his neck, let her fingers weave into the thick waves of his hair. When he finally lifted his head and broke the contact, she couldn’t say whether seconds or hours had passed. He dropped his hands from her shoulders to her waist and set her back from him a half step.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I had no right to take such liberties. I can only plead being distraught, a poor excuse at best. But that wasn’t a proper way to accept your well-meant sympathy.”

Emily took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Think 1889, not 2000, she reminded herself. He might expect a slap, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that. She could still feel the tingle of excitement, all the way to her curled toes. For an unintentional kiss, it was extraordinary. She’d be quite willing to try again, just to be sure this first time wasn’t a fluke. But no demure nineteenth century girl would admit that, would she?

“I understand,” she said, making an effort to keep her voice bland and steady. “And I am equally to blame, perhaps being too forward.

You needn’t apologize. Go on up and see your sister.” She stepped back to clear his way to the stairs.

“But I must apologize, for my remarks a few days past if nothing else. You were right, and if Mary Ann had held a bit more of your independent spirit, I am sure she’d not have come to this sad pass.”

“I accept your apology.” Touched that he would think of her feelings at this time and place, Emily wanted to say more, but wasn’t sure what. “Sometimes perhaps I am too independent for my own good.

My father used to tell me so. He said I should strive to be more like the other girls, the daughters of his fellow officers.”

“No.” Zach sounded very positive. “You’re—it’s best to be true to yourself rather than try to be what others ask of you.”

He hesitated another moment, but Emily could think of nothing else to add. He turned at last and slowly climbed the stairs. As she walked back to the kitchen to put out the lamp, she reached up and touched her lips lightly, wondering if they looked as unusual as they felt. Surely, such a powerful contact would leave some mark behind.

“I don’t want this,” she whispered, a sharp pain lancing through to intertwine with her brief exaltation. I can’t allow this attraction, can’t even begin to become tied to this world where books are a luxury, where women are mere beasts of burden—nearly slaves—where I’ll never fit in! I can only bear this interlude if it’s temporary, like a vacation tour to see some exotic place firsthand. As soon as I do whatever I was brought back to do, I want to go home!