Back to Tomorrow

Chapter 12

Chapter 12They approached the dirt track just as two massive wagons, each drawn by a team of twelve big black mules, rounded the curve to start up the canyon. The lead driver checked his team as Zach stepped into the road.

“We need a ride to Bisbee,” Zach explained. “My horse is worn out and I don’t think the lady can walk much farther.”

The grizzled man spat a stream of tobacco juice as he looked them over, squinting through a tangle of rusty beard and hair that would do justice to a bear.

“Reckon I can fit you’ns in,” he said finally. “Hitch yore hoss on behind and climb up.”

Zach helped Emily onto the bench seat beside the freighter, tied Rusty to the tailgate of the wagon, and then joined them.

“I sure do thank you,” he said as he scrambled up. “Here’s a little something for your pains.” He pulled a two and a half dollar gold coin out of his pocket and offered it to the driver.

The man studied the coin a moment before extending a ham-sized paw. “Much obliged, mister. Tain’t necessary, but I ‘preciate it, all the same.”

“Just as we appreciate the ride,” Zach replied. “And if you head back to Tombstone in a day or two, I’d also appreciate it if you kind of forget you saw anyone answering to our description.”

The freighter c****d his head to the side, studying them with surprisingly bright blue eyes. He grinned suddenly, revealing a mouth full of large, tobacco stained teeth. In spite of his villainous appearance, he somehow projected sincere friendliness.

“I kin do that, young feller. I kin sure enough do that. Somethin’ tells me you and this young lady are runnin’ for a reason, but not due to anything you done wrong.”

He turned his attention to Emily. “You’re wearin’ a Mexican dress, but you ain’t no señorita.”

She shook her head. “No, I got this from a friend. I came from back east and I didn’t have any appropriate clothes with me.”

The muleteer raised one bushy eyebrow at that, but didn’t question her further. Zach noticed Emily was a bit in awe of the burly man. She edged a little closer to Zach, watching the driver warily. In spite of Emily’s doubts, instinct told Zach the man would never harm her under any circumstance. Like Mustang Pete, the freighter was one of those sterling western characters with a heart of gold for all his rough manners. The raw material for wonderful stories, could Zach only survive long enough to pen them.

Dusk had fallen by the time they rolled into Bisbee, clattering down Tombstone Canyon, where the stone-cobbled road followed the canyon floor, an expedient frequently used in the tip-tilted copper camp. The road plunged swiftly down the canyon, making the muleteer set his brake to keep the laden wagon from pushing the mules right out of the way. The powerful animals seemed to squat, their haunches bunching with the stress as they held steady against the load.

Having recovered some of her energy and curiosity on the slow journey over the mountains, Emily gazed around her in awe. She’d never seen a town quite like Bisbee. Houses and cabins, each set in its own ledge or niche carved out of the steep slopes, marched away toward the hilltops.

No two seemed to be on a level or faced the same way. Zigzagging flights of wooden stairs led from one house to the next, apparently serving in lieu of streets. She couldn’t envy the residents who lived in the highest dwellings. What a chore to climb home every night! But those on the lower levels were probably subject to falling debris, should anyone throw something out above. Altogether, Bisbee was an amazing place.

To the south, on a larger level area, a pipe stack thrust out of a big tin building, belching a plume of smoke. Fortunately, the evening wind, moving down canyon, carried the odoriferous cloud away from them. A clatter and hum indicated machinery at work inside the structure, but Emily had no idea what it might be.

They’d finally reached a level spot, much to her relief. She’d begun to doubt there were any such places in this town. She pointed at the building. “What in the world is that?”

“That be the smelter, missy,” the muleteer explained as he checked his team to allow them to climb down. “They melt down the ore from the mines, getting out all the copper, gold, and silver too. Cheaper to ship just the good stuff out o’ here than all the dross. I’ll be hauling a load of ingots out to the railroad when I leave town tomorrow.”

“Thank you for the ride,” Zach said, after they were down and he’d retrieved Rusty. “If there’s ever a favor I can do for you, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“‘S all right, lad. Glad to be of service. Watch yourself, now, Bisbee’s as wild a town as Tombstone any day.”

The man clucked to the mules and started off, leaving Emily, Zach, and Rusty standing at the foot of Brewery Gulch. The major saloon and red light district of the camp, where the evening’s action was just beginning to get started, Brewery Gulch was known in mining camps all over America.

Though the evening was young, sounds of raucous music, laughter, and shouts already seemed to billow out in waves from the jumbled rows of ram-shackled buildings. Men in coarse, grubby clothing crowded the winding lane between them, and a few women, mostly clad in tawdry finery, moved with and among the miners.

As Emily and Zach watched, a man staggered out of the nearest swinging doors, clutching his midsection. He stumbled into the gutter and fell, spilling his insides from a gaping s***h across his abdomen.

Emily gasped, horrified by the sight. “We’ve got to help!”

“There’s nothing we can do for him.” Zach caught her arm and quickly steered her back toward Tombstone Road and the more respectable establishments along its lower stretches. “Getting involved would only put us in still more danger. I doubt if even a doctor can patch him up now. He’s a goner.”

Reluctantly, Emily allowed herself to be led away. She really didn’t want to see any more violence. And she’d thought Tombstone was bad!

After they moved a few yards back up Tombstone Road, Zach hesitated. Releasing his hold on her arm, he seemed to study the area.

Emily glanced down at her dirty, rumpled garments and sighed. “I look a fright. But I’m starved—we haven’t really eaten since noon yesterday.” She sighed again. “I’d almost hesitate to go into a decent place, though. They’d probably throw me out! What are we going to do now?”

Zach reached in his pocket to collect the few coins there. Spreading them in his palm to count, he did a quick mental calculation. Enough—maybe—barely. Belatedly, he remembered to answer Emily’s question.

“What do we do? I need to take care of Rusty first, and then we’ll find a place to eat. I think I’ve got enough money to stable Rusty, feed us, and get a room for the night.”

Emily sniffed. “You shouldn’t have given that two and half dollar piece to the freighter. Fifty cents would have been a handsome reward.”

Zach detected a trace of waspishness in her tone. That was unlike Emily, but he supposed she was entitled, after all they’d been through.

“I know,” he agreed. “I didn’t realize what coin I had until I’d offered, and then I couldn’t very well take it back.”

“I wondered about that.” She shrugged, a habit apparently acquired from Angelina, for she gave the gesture the exact Mexican twist. “Oh, well, we’ll manage. Look, isn’t that a stable across the street?”

It was indeed. Zach tugged at Rusty’s reins. The horse was still tired although he’d only had to carry himself across the mountains. He also favored one forefoot a bit. Zach frowned in concern. He’d better have a farrier check the gelding’s shoes before he headed back to Tombstone.

A stall and feed for the bay came at a reasonable price. A quarter lighter, they left the stable to stroll up Tombstone Canyon, looking for a likely place to dine. Most of the eateries appeared either to be making a pretense at elegance or else were nothing more than dirty looking dives.

Zach fumed, knowing too well how limited his funds were. Was everyone in Bisbee either a tin-stomached miner or an investor with more money than sense? Finally they came to Castle Rock Cafe, small and unpretentious looking, but brightly lit and relatively clean. Perhaps food there wouldn’t be overpriced.

Zach held the door for Emily, stopping when the apron-wrapped proprietor rushed across to meet them.

“This is a respectable place; ladies are present.” The man’s tone echoed his disdainful expression. “No fancy women allowed.”

Emily stopped dead, shock painting her face. “But I’m not…” Color suffused her cheeks and her eyes darkened to near violet at the insult.

Zach interceded at once. “I’ll thank you to treat my wife with due respect, sir. I admit her attire is a trifle unusual, but her luggage was lost in a stage robbery and her traveling dress suffered from rough handling also. When a kindly Mexican lady offered what clothing she could spare, my wife was obliged to accept and was grateful to have it.”

Zach glanced at Emily, trying to signal a warning with his eyes. Her mouth opened and shut twice, but she had the good sense not to challenge his fabrication. Perhaps she realized the tale was necessary if they wanted to get fed.

The restaurant owner’s eyebrows shot up as he looked askance at them both. “Very well,” he said, after a long pause. “This way.” He led them to a table at the rear of the room, in a corner, as if to keep them from public view.

Taking Zach’s arm, Emily let him lead her there and seat her, clearly trying to display her best company manners. When he dared to look at her, he saw impish humor dancing in her eyes.

“You rascal,” she whispered. “Very inventive! Where did you ever come up with a tale like that? Do you suppose we’re creating a scandal?”

Zach was spared the need to reply when a weary looking woman in a dress little cleaner or in better repair than Emily’s shuffled over to take their order. The menu was limited, but they were in no position to be choosy. Beef stew with a biscuit and coffee was within Zach’s dubious budget. He ordered the same for both of them. Fortunately, the portions were large. They ate every bit that appeared on their plates.

After he paid for the meal, Zach asked the proprietor about lodging.

“Would you know of a decent place where we could get a room?”

Mellowed by the fact they’d paid for their food and had behaved in a relatively genteel manner, the man gave the question a moment’s thought. “You might try Widow Woodbine’s three doors up. She runs a rooming house catering to miners, but she don’t tolerate any rowdiness.

Tell her I sent you—Jack Dugan.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dugan.” Zach replied, pocketing the few cents of change he received. “We’ll likely be back for breakfast in the morning.” If I can find a way to replenish my spending money, he added to himself.

By now darkness had fallen. Even along Tombstone Canyon, miners and other folk crowded the narrow street, jostling and shouting as they went. Some were clearly drunk and others, though probably sober, were little quieter. Emily clung tightly to Zach’s arm, looking around wide-eyed at the disorderly crowd. He knew she’d seldom gone out at night in Tombstone, and was thus unaccustomed to the rowdy atmosphere.

“My word,” she exclaimed. “Where did all these people come from? Where are they going? I wouldn’t think Bisbee had this many residents!”

“Must be shift change,” Zach replied. “The men who just got off work are hungry and ready for some sport before they go to bed.

Mining is rough work, and these men like to forget the danger and dark, grim hours underground when they get off. I’ve learned that from the Tombstone miners. You never know when there will be a cave-in or a blasting accident. Mining is a very hazardous occupation.”

Emily nodded. “I suppose so. I’d never given it much thought.”

Talking, they almost missed the sign over the door that read Woodbine House—Lodging. The outer door stood open, revealing a small parlor, not as clean and well-furnished as Nellie Cashman’s, but orderly enough. Behind a short counter, a small woman was perched on a high stool. Her iron-gray hair was gathered back in a severe bun. She looked at them sharply as they came through the door.

Suspecting she was about to make an announcement similar to that of Mr. Dugan, Zach hastened to divert her attention. “Mr. Dugan at the Castle Rock Cafe suggested we might find a room here. My wife and I made the trip over from Tombstone today and we’re weary. If you have a room, we’d like to rent it for the night.”

The woman sniffed. “Wife, huh? What’s she doing parading around in that Mexican get-up?”

“She lost her luggage in a stage robbery…” Zach repeated his earlier tale, unable to think of a better explanation at the moment.

Sticking to one story was the best plan, anyway.

Emily stepped forward, and this time he let her have her say, for the woman still looked doubtful. “Truly, I am not a fancy woman, although perhaps this costume would lead you to think so. I’m simply exhausted and suffering from the effects of too much sun and some harrowing adventures. I certainly never endured anything like this back in Vermont! Not to be sacrilegious, but I do hope there is room at the inn for us. I’m afraid my sunburn wouldn’t tolerate bedding down in the straw beside our horse tonight.”

“You’re from Vermont?” The woman’s face lit with sudden animation. “Oh my! I left there twenty-nine years ago next month and I have missed it every day. Since I lost my poor John in a cave-in last winter, I’ve prayed every night that I can soon save enough to go back home. Of course, my dear. I do have a vacant room and you’re most welcome to it. And I think I have some vinegar for your sunburn. Poor child, you look baked to a crisp. The Arizona sun is so cruel.”

Within moments, Mrs. Woodbine led them down the hallway to a small but tidy room that held a double bed, a washstand, and two straight chairs. For a mere dollar they could spend the night. Zach sighed as he counted out the last of his cash. He’d have to come up with some more money soon, definitely before heading back to Tombstone. Right now, he couldn’t even afford breakfast.

Had Emily not been with him, he would have bedded down beside Rusty, saving the cost of the room, but he knew she needed a decent bed and a good night’s rest. At least here she’d surely be safe from Jake McEuen.

Once their hostess left, he turned to Emily. She sank onto one of the chairs, where she slumped, gazing at the floor with a thoroughly dispirited attitude. Even food had done little to revive her. Perhaps their adventures had taken a greater toll on her than he had realized.

Zach shook his head, still astounded at Emily’s surprising ploy.

“How in the world did you know the lady was from Vermont? I could hardly believe the change in her demeanor!”

“Something in the way she talked,” Emily said, vaguely. “Merely a guess on my part, but fortunately a good one.”

“I thought sure she was going to refuse us, so thank goodness for your guess.”

Zach paced the small room, not sure how to explain his intentions.

Sure she would disapprove, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Emily he intended to get into a poker game. He also suspected she was discomfited by the idea of sharing the bed, which seemed to narrow by the minute. He wanted to set her mind at ease on that issue immediately, in hopes of restoring a bit of her normal cheer and confidence.

“I believe I’ll go back out a while and nose around. Maybe drop word for people to be on the lookout in case Jake makes this his next stop. You stay here, wash up, and go on to bed. I’ll be back early enough in the morning not to arouse our landlady’s suspicions, but I’ll allow you to have the room to yourself for the night.”

Emily looked up at him, surprise clear in her expression. “You don’t have to do that! I trust you. At this point, I’m really not worried about my reputation. No one here knows me, and as far as local people know, we’re married, so they won’t think it amiss. You need proper rest as badly as I do.”

“Well then, I’ll be back after a while, but don’t wait up for me.” He started for the door, then hesitated. “Vinegar really is good for sunburn, so if Mrs. Woodbine forgets to bring you some, go back and ask her.

Treatment might save you from blistering and will surely ease the sting.”

Emily gazed at him a long moment. “Don’t be too long,” she said finally. “I—I’ll worry, after seeing that poor man.” She shuddered.

“What a horrible way to die. I thought Tombstone wild and wooly, but from what I have seen, Bisbee is even worse!”

“I suspect all mining camps are much the same. I’ll be careful, and being sober, I can watch out for myself well enough.” Zach patted his sidearm lightly. “Don’t lose any sleep on my account.”

He turned quickly and walked out, before Emily’s woebegone expression tempted him into something he should not do. How easy it would be, and how very pleasant, to kiss the sadness off her face and go on to more intimate pleasures. He hoped she’d be asleep when he returned and thus not tempt him to forget she was a lady.

* * * *

The door had hardly shut behind Zach when a timid knock sounded.

“Excuse me, Miz Tremaine, are you there?”

Struggling to her feet, Emily went to open the door. Mrs. Woodbine stood in the hall, a large jug of vinegar in one hand and an ewer of water in the other.

“Here you are, dear. I saw your husband, going out to allow you a bit of privacy to clean up. Such a nice young man. Wash off the dust and then pat your skin with this vinegar. It will do wonders for your sunburn.”

Emily took the items, thanking her hostess effusively. After Mrs. Woodbine left, she filled the basin on the washstand, stripped off her bedraggled clothing, and proceeded to wash. The dirt from her face clouded the water, and that was before she even got below her neck.

Before she had finished, the water looked to be half mud.

Lord, what I’d give for a shower. For a moment, visions of streaming warm water taunted her. Would she ever enjoy the luxury of a daily bath again? She hadn’t felt really clean since she fell into the past. Tears of weariness and frustration flooded her eyes. Darn it, I just want to go home! She shut her eyes and wished with all her might, but nothing happened. Whatever strange phenomenon had brought her here didn’t seem inclined to send her back.

With a sigh of weary resignation, she finished her makeshift bath.

The sting of her sunburn reminded her to blot the vinegar on her face and arms. Although the sharp odor stung Emily’s nose, the liquid did feel surprisingly cool and soothing.

Lacking anything else to put on, she slipped back into her dingy, ragged petticoat and her bra. It wouldn’t do for Zach to return and find her sleeping in the nude. He’d be shocked half to death. Even this was skimpy, but she simply wouldn’t sleep in all her clothes for a second night in a row.

Although the little room was stuffy, even with the window partly open, Emily drew the sheet up over her before she settled down to go to sleep. The bed linens smelled fresh and clean, and the plump pillow cushioned her weary head. With a hint of lavender in her nostrils, Emily drifted off to sleep. Her last thought was a nagging worry about Zach.

* * * *

After he left Mrs. Woodbine’s, Zach strolled back down Tombstone Canyon and turned left into Brewery Gulch. Keeping a keen eye out for trouble, he walked the length of the street on one side and returned on the other. He stopped to talk to a few people, usually men who stood alone or who looked squarely at him as he passed. From these conversations, he soon learned which saloons and gambling dens were best avoided and which ones had fair games and made some attempt to keep order.

Copper Chance was one of the latter. Entering the smoky room, Zach made his way to the bar. With two of his last four coins, none of which were larger than a dime, he ordered a beer. Poker games were in progress at two tables in the rear of the room. Taking his beer, he ambled over to the nearest one and observed the action for a while.

Two of the players seemed surly and a bit desperate, not the sort of men with whom he wanted to play tonight. The dealer also reminded him too strongly of Jake. Intuition told Zach the man was a professional gambler and not an honest one. Since he needed a small stake, not a large chunk of lead, he moved on to the second table.

There, most of the players were clearly at least foremen or shift bosses rather than common miners. They played with the casual air of men who simply amused themselves and could afford to lose. Zach decided this was the game to buy into. Lacking sufficient cash, he pulled out his gold pocket watch and its heavy chain, also gold. With studied casualness, he laid it on the table at the dealer’s side.

“If this game is open,” he said, “deal me in.”