Back to Tomorrow

Chapter 8

Chapter 8May 15, 1889

Emily and Angelina were struggling to prepare breakfast when Nellie stumbled out of her room. Try as she might, Emily couldn’t get one egg to break cleanly without the yoke breaking too. And none of the boarders liked scrambled eggs. She muttered under her breath, stopping when she heard the door creak. She turned to face Nellie, asking the question foremost in her mind.

“How is Mary Ann? Is she going to be all right?”

The long night and little sleep showed on Nellie’s face, adding years to her normal appearance. Her hair hung in tangles, not yet neatly braided as usual, although she had put on a clean dress. She shrugged.

“As good as could be expected, I would say. She lost the baby, of course, but under the circumstances, that’s a blessing. Now all her energies can go to healing herself. Can you girls manage things for another half hour or so? I’m having difficulty getting started this morning.”

Casting a despairing look at the eggs, congealed into an unappetizing mass in the frying pan, Emily nodded. She simply couldn’t add to Nellie’s burden right now. Somehow, she’d manage.

“Oh yes, we’ll be fine, and the boarders will get fed. They may grumble, but they’ll get fed!”

Nellie smiled faintly and murmured, “Thanks.”

Later in the morning, when Emily managed a few minutes to go see Mary Ann, she found the girl asleep, and tiptoed out again without disturbing her. At mid-afternoon she went back again. This time, even she could see something was not right. Mary Ann’s eyes were open, but they looked dull and glazed, and her face had an unhealthy reddish cast.

A chill dread settled in Emily’s chest. What Nellie had feared seemed to be taking place. Infection. In 2000, Mary Ann could be treated with antibiotics, but what did they have in 1889? Next-to-nothing, Emily suspected.

Starting down the hall, she skidded to a sudden stop, a flicker of hope brightening in her mind. She dashed to her room, yanked open the bureau drawer in which she’d stashed her denims and fanny pack beneath folded linens. Snatching the pack from its hiding place, she turned to the bed.

About a month before her scheduled wedding, she’d had an abscessed tooth pulled. When her dentist prescribed antibiotics, the druggist had misread the prescription and gave her over twice the number of capsules she was supposed to take. She’d remembered tucking the vial away with the extras still inside, but not where. Could it possibly be in her pack, which she frequently carried instead of a purse?

With shaking hands, she unzipped the black pouch and dumped its contents on her bed. Keys, change, lipstick, Kleenex, a pencil, ticket stubs. And a brown plastic bottle. Emily twisted off the lid and counted out the capsules inside. Twelve. The dozen red and white pills might save Mary Ann’s life, but how was she going to explain them?

For a long moment, Emily looked down at the capsules, questions and possibilities buzzing through her mind. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, nibbled until it hurt. Though her thoughts ran in frantic circles, they kept returning to the same answer.

I’ve just got to tell the truth, show them my calculator and anything else I can think of as proof and hope they will believe me. I’ve got to tell Nellie and Zach, at least. Even if they do think I’m crazy, if this will save Mary Ann’s life, it’s not too big a price to pay. She dropped the capsules back into the vial, put the lid on, and settled them deep in the pocket of her apron. The sooner Mary Ann began to take the drug, the better off she’d be. Emily hurried out to search for Nellie, suspecting the older woman would have better luck getting Mary Ann to take the medicine than she would.

Emily found Nellie in her private parlor, one of the two rooms off the kitchen that Nellie reserved for herself. She sat in a rocking chair, her head back and her lips parted. A soft, gentle snore emerged from between them. At that lady-like little snore, Emily stifled a giggle. Still, she made a slight sound, causing Nellie to snap awake.

Emily stepped fully into the room. “I know you were up most of the night, and I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s important. I just looked in on Mary Ann, and I think she’s getting feverish. I’m afraid she’s contracted an infection.”

Nellie sighed. “That’s what I feared.” She shook her head, distress darkening her eyes. “I have some herbs that may help a little, but I’m afraid it’s in God’s hands from here on.”

“Maybe not,” Emily said. “I’ve got something that might help, some medicine I didn’t use completely.” She pulled the brown plastic vial out of her pocket and extended it to Nellie.

The older woman took the container, hefted it, and tapped the side lightly with her fingernail. “This isn’t glass,” she observed.

“No, it’s plastic.”

“Plastic,” Nellie repeated, making the word something less than a question, stopping abruptly as she scanned the prescription label wrapping the bottle. Emily saw her start when she read the date: 02/27/00. Her dark eyes flashed in Emily’s direction.

“That has to be an error. Isn’t the date a misprint, or is that not a date at all?”

The time had come. Emily braced herself, mentally preparing to do battle if she must. “No, it’s correct. That was when I got them. And that’s where—no, when—I came from, the year 2000.”

“T-t-t-two thousand?” Nellie took three steps backwards and sank into her chair. Her hand holding the brown bottle trembled. “You’re telling me you traveled back through time one-hundred-eleven years—that you—somehow you ended up here?”

“I swear it’s true.” Emily put all the conviction she could into the four simple words. “I’ve had a hard time believing myself, but that has to be what happened. A runaway stagecoach hit me in Tombstone on May 8, 2000. When I awoke in your room upstairs, the date was May 8, 1889.

“That’s why my clothes and shoes seemed strange. And some things I say sound odd to you, I know. I’ve seen you look at me curiously, as if you were wondering just who or what I am. You have an answer now—I’m a person from the twentieth, actually the twenty-first century.”

“I don’t doubt your word, dear, but this is hard to comprehend. Of course there’s so much we do not know…” Nellie’s voice trailed off.

She sighed, blinked, and then straightened in her chair. “Do you really think these pills will help?”

“Yes, I’m almost sure they will. They’re a kind of drug called an antibiotic and they are, well, their purpose is to kill the—the tiny creatures called germs that cause infection. I had an infected tooth pulled and afterwards, after I took eight of these, the gum healed right up. Now, I mean in 2000, some of the germs are getting resistant to such drugs, but that hasn’t happened here yet, so they should work very well.”

Nellie nodded slowly, still staring at the medicine bottle as if it were both a sacred relic and some horrible obscene artifact. “One takes them by mouth, I assume?”

“Yes, just wash them down with some water, though I guess you could take them apart and dissolve the powder in water if the person couldn’t swallow them. I expect that would taste nasty, though. But the sooner we can get Mary Ann to take them, the better her chances of getting well. The sicker she gets, the more germs her body will have to fight, even with the medicine to help her.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” Nellie agreed. “Would it be all right to give her two now?”

Emily thought a moment. “I think so. When I got them, the pharmacist didn’t give me a warning lecture or anything, like they do for potentially dangerous medicine.”

Nellie stood and started for the door, shaking her head and mumbling to herself. “If that don’t beat all. Medicine from the future. I must need more sleep to even consider this could be real.”

“Mrs. Cashman, I’d appreciate your leaving to me the telling of this to Za—er, Mr. Tremaine, all right?”

Nellie paused and looked back at her. “Of course, dear, if you wish.

I suppose he might find all this easier to accept if he hears it directly from you.”

Emily nodded her agreement, although reservations about Zach’s acceptance rattled dismally in her mind. She trailed behind Nellie, wanting to see for herself that Mary Ann received the first dosage, at least. Then, as soon as she could locate Zach, she’d tell him the whole tale too.

* * * *

No opportunity to do so arose before suppertime. As Emily helped Angelina serve the meal, she managed to lean down and whisper quickly to Zach that she needed to talk to him. He glanced up at her, a question in his expression, as he nodded his understanding.

“I’ll hang around after I eat,” he said quietly. “I want to check on Mary Ann again, but then I’ll wait in the parlor.”

This left Emily almost too nervous to complete her assigned chores, but she stumbled through them as best she could. Although she had no idea how Zach would react to her tale, she hoped he would at least appreciate her effort to help Mary Ann. Because of that, perhaps he’d accept her story, even if he didn’t fully believe the explanation.

She expected more questions from Nellie later too, after the older woman thought about her wild tale for a while. Perhaps once she’d rested more from the long night’s nursing duties.

Another concern then returned to trouble Emily. No one had seen Jake McEuen all day. Angelina had told Emily her mother and brothers had gone to Cananea, Mexico to visit her aunt, which put them out of his way for a few days. Emily was greatly relieved by this news, since she feared the gambler might take his anger out on the Gonzales family.

They were nearby, after all, and he’d probably suspect they had a role in Mary Ann’s disappearance. But what other vengeful action he might attempt was anyone’s guess.

Once the dishes were done, Emily sought out Zach. He sat in the parlor, reading the latest edition of The Tombstone Epitaph, the local newspaper. Because the evening was warm, the windows were all open, letting in a dusty-scented breeze and a faint aroma from the rose bush blooming in the garden.

“Let’s go out to the garden,” Emily suggested. “I rather not be overheard, and it’s a bit nicer outside too.”

Zach opened the door for her and led the way to a wooden bench, partly sheltered by the arbor over which the huge rose bush sprawled.

“Is this all right?”

“Yes, this will do just fine.” Emily sank onto the bench, searching for the right words to begin her story.

“How was Mary Ann doing?” she asked, for an opener.

“She was drowsy. Mrs. Cashman had given her a bit of soup and had bathed her to try to bring her fever down. We only spoke for a minute, but she said something about thanking you for the medicine. I wasn’t sure what she meant and thought perhaps she was out of her head from the fever.”

Emily shook her head. “No, she had it right. I—this is going to be hard for me and probably for you, but I think you should know the truth. I haven’t lied to you, but I guess I didn’t tell the whole truth, either.”

Emily took a deep breath and then plunged on, talking so fast he couldn’t interrupt her. “The day you found me, I’d been hit by a stagecoach and knocked unconscious, but that accident happened in the year 2000. When I woke up, I was here, in 1889. I had a hard time believing that myself, but it’s clearly true. Until a few days ago, I lived in the first year of the twenty-first century. In my time, nobody thinks it strange for women to wear trousers and—well, everything is just so different. I hardly know where to start telling you about my time.”

When she paused for breath, Emily wondered what Zach would say, what he was thinking. He stared straight ahead, his face a mask that betrayed no feeling. He simply waited, apparently expecting her to go on, so she did.

“I had some medicine prescribed for an abscessed tooth. When I saw Mary Ann was feverish this afternoon, I remembered it. I thought those capsules might help her fight off the infection, and I knew I had to give her that chance, as much as I feared you and Mrs. Cashman would think I was crazy, mad, insane. But that was a chance I had to take, in hopes of saving her life.”

“That’s amazing!” Zach said, huffing out a held breath. “The most incredible story I ever heard, in fact, but I find myself almost willing to believe you. Your clothes and shoes—they were certainly not like anything I’d seen before. And you didn’t act like young women I’ve known. I don’t mean you’re fast or loose or anything, just different.”

“I’m trying not to stand out too much. I was afraid to even try to tell anyone right off. If this hadn’t happened, Mary Ann being ill, I probably would have waited a lot longer. I’ve been afraid I might be locked up as a mental case!”

Emily kept glancing sideways at Zach, wishing he’d look at her, show some hint of emotion. So far he seemed so—remote, almost analytical in his responses.

Finally he did turn toward her. “Well, that’s quite understandable.

I’m shocked, amazed, maybe confused. But I do commend you for daring to come forth so Mary Ann could have the benefit of your future drug. I only pray it works.”

Emily sighed deeply. So far, so good. “Oh, so do I! I only had twelve pills left and that might not be enough, but I was pretty sure they wouldn’t hurt her, at least, and she could easily die from the infection.”

Zach reached out, taking her hand to clasp between both of his.

“You’re an amazing woman, Emily—Miss Dennison. I—I hope later that you’ll tell me all about your adventure. It would make an incredible story! This century has seen many advances. We now have the railroad and the telegraph, gaslights and so many wonderful things the world never saw before. I suppose there are even more in your time?”

Emily laughed. “Oh yes, more than I can enumerate! We have airplanes, automobiles, television, microwaves, computers—we’ve even had a man walk on the moon! People fly airplanes across the whole country in a few hours and can drive five hundred miles a day in a car.”

“I’m sure you’re anxious to go back, then. Do you have any idea how you can to do that?”

“I always loved history,” Emily confessed. “And in a lot of ways, I’m enjoying my stay here. I don’t think I’d want to remain, at least not forever, although there is a lot good about this time. As far as how to get back, I must admit I haven’t a clue. I don’t know whether to try running in front of stage coaches or not.” She gave a wry little chuckle.

“Please don’t! You might be seriously hurt. You had a bad bump last time, and I assume that was an accident.”

The earnest concern in Zach’s voice touched Emily. Whether his care was for her personally or only because he was basically a kind hearted person, she didn’t know, but she found it pleasant to pretend he cared about her. For a moment, she debated telling him about the journal, but she decided that was too personal and might disturb him.

“I’d appreciate it greatly if you keep this to yourself for now. I don’t want to become a curiosity, like something from a freak show, having people point and stare.”

“I’ll not say a word,” Zach promised. He squeezed her hand and then released it.

Emily slumped, a slight sigh gusting out. The warmth of his clasp had been comforting. Without it, she suddenly felt alone although they continued to sit side by side. Zach seemed to withdraw into his own thoughts, while she mulled over the whole confusing situation.

Starting with yesterday’s events, she knew matters had begun to take a different course from the happenings Zach had recorded in his journal. This was undoubtedly due to her presence, but whether the end result would be good or bad, she had no way of knowing. Could she also effect the outcome of more events, and avert Zach’s duel with Jake and whatever tragic outcome it might have?

“I’ve some things I need to do this evening, if you will excuse me.”

Emily jumped when Zach spoke. She nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her since it had grown quite dark. “Of course. Thank you for hearing me out, anyway.”

Standing, he plucked a pair of the pink roses and tucked them into her hair, over her left ear. “Thank you. I owe you much more than a couple of flowers for helping Mary Ann, but that’s all I have to give you right now. Let me see you inside before I go, at least. Anyone could slip in here unseen—like Jake. I certainly wouldn’t want that to happen.”

Emily shivered. “Nor would I.” He offered her a hand, which she took, letting him help her to her feet. She could get used to being treated like a lady, by a gentleman. That would be one thing she’d miss when she went back to the future.

* * * *

After he left Emily in the parlor, Zach went on out the front door and down to the Crystal Palace. He tried resolutely to put Emily’s tale in the back of his mind. Earlier, he had agreed to meet several fellows there for a drink. He’d formed the idea of trying to gather a few staunch and reliable men who could serve as guards when he drove Mary Ann to Benson in a few more days, assuming she would be well enough by then.

In spite of that urgency, he continued to mull over Emily’s incredible story. 2000! Imagine—if he were to write up her story, would anyone believe it? The tale would sound even more incredible than the far-fetched epics of Robert Lewis Stevenson and Jules Verne or even the new novel by Edward Bellamy. If Emily spoke the truth, she could have written that story in reality: Looking Backward, 2000 to 1889!

Of course she wanted to go back to her own time. He could hardly blame her for that, so it wouldn’t do for him to become too infatuated with her. Still, she had intrigued him from the first, and she’d returned his kiss last night with too much enthusiasm to be feigned. For a heartbeat, he toyed with an amazing idea—what if he could go into the future with her? But he rejected that at once.

Maybe she had read Bellamy’s book and decided to capitalize on it, using some of his ideas to weave her own compelling fantasy. Zach couldn’t quite believe time travel was a real possibility, in spite of Emily’s seemingly earnest tale. Although he wanted to believe her, his healthy skepticism stood in the way of that easy solution. Perhaps time would prove the truth or fiction of her words, since he knew of no other way to test them.

He left those ideas outside as he pushed through the swinging doors to join three Tombstone men at the bar. Curly Prentiss, a friend of Mustang Pete Dugan, was also a cowboy by trade, but he was temporarily out of work while he recovered from being shot in the right shoulder by Jake McEuen. Curly was more than willing to join in a venture against the gambler and he’d said he could recruit some others.

Now Curly introduced Willis Tompkins, who claimed to have been bilked out of a good claim by McEuen, and Ebenezer Buckston, who was Willis’s partner and friend. The two miners looked vaguely familiar. After a moment, Zach recognized them as the two he had seen losing badly to Jake the day he’d ridden to Charleston.

When Zach explained his plan, the three men enthusiastically endorsed it and volunteered to ride along, well-armed, to ensure Jake didn’t interfere with sending Mary Ann home.

“We could use a few more, if we can find reliable men,” Zach said.

“I know McEuen has cohorts in what’s left of the Earp faction and he won’t scruple to hire Indians or anyone he can to foil me.”

Curly growled a curse. “Iffn I can get hold of my ‘panyo Pete, he’ll come along and bring a couple of other wranglers from the Diamond Q. They’re all tough hombres and straight shooters with a Henry rifle or any long gun they can lay hands on.”

“That would be fine,” Zach agreed. “How about you?” He turned to Willis and Eb.

Willis shuffled, looking at the floor. “I’ll check around,” he said. “I reckon as how there’s some others who feel Jake’s done them wrong that would throw in with us.”

Zach studied the three. He didn’t feel totally comfortable with Willis and Eb, but Curly seemed as honest as the day was long. The others were probably all right, just not the same type as the cowboy.

Although a rich mineral strike tended to draw some of the dregs as well as men of the better type, the two prospectors might be quite as upstanding as Curly. Just not as bold and independent as the men who rode rough horses and herded wild cattle for their livelihood.

“I’m not sure yet when I’ll be able to go, but it won’t be long. I’ll be in touch in a day or two to let you know. Meanwhile, you can tell your friends there’ll be a dollar or two for everyone who joins us, once we get the job done.”

On that note, they shook hands all around and went their separate ways. Zach left the bar as soon as he finished the one beer he had ordered. Although the hour wasn’t late, he decided to return to his room and catch up on writing his journal. So much had been happening the past few days he hadn’t had time to record everything.

He strolled up the boardwalk, crowded with Tombstone’s night denizens. There were gamblers and dance hall girls, streetwalkers and entertainers who catered to the miners with money to spend. The noisy, bawdy atmosphere exhilarated him. The very air seemed to crackle with energy, not all positive or happy, but energy, nonetheless.

As Zach walked, he composed in his mind the next dispatch he’d send back to his editor in Philly. He wanted to capture in words the unique atmosphere and impart to the staid city folk what life was like in the bustling, rowdy camp. Thus, he was caught off guard when Jake McEuen suddenly lunged out of a door and made a grab for him.