At midday, the Crystal Palace seemed relatively quiet. Only a few miners stood along the bar, while a small group played poker at a round table in the rear of the long room. The notorious dance hall girls were nowhere to be seen, and the piano stood silent.
Moving to the long, polished bar, he ordered a mug of root beer. He sipped it slowly, looking around the room, still hardly able to believe he was actually here. The elegant bar, backed by mirrored glass shelves lined with an amazing array of bottles, could have been seen in any city, but the clothes and coarse speech of the miners were distinctive.
After a moment, he approached one of the miners, the one nearest him at bar. "Pardon me, but would you know where I might find Joker Jake McEuen?"
The miner fixed a bleary gaze on him for a long moment. A stupidly belligerent expression marked the man's bewhiskered and dirt-crusted face. The miner reminded him of his uncle's bull, slow but dangerous when disturbed.
"Cain't say I do. What yer want wi' him?"
"I've got some business with him." Zach didn't care for the man's attitude. His business with McEuen was none of the miner's concern, unless they were friends or partners. "Do you know him?"
"Nope. Never had th' hardship. Steers clear of them card sharps, I does." The miner swiveled away to speak to the man on his far side, clearly not interested in continuing their conversation.
Turning the other way, Zach saw someone had stepped up beside him. He labeled this man a cowboy by his attire, which differed from that of the miners in a few key details: a wide-brimmed hat, high-heeled dusty boots, and a large knife in a belt-sheath. Before he could speak, the man smiled and extended a knobby, work-worn hand.
"How-do, stranger. Folks call me Mustang Pete. I ride for the Diamond Q out by the Whetstones. Couldn't help overhearing your question," the cowboy said. "I've heard tell Jake hangs out at The Lucky Cuss, but I'd say you'd do best to stay clear of him."
Zach shook the proffered hand. "I'm Zach Tremaine. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Why do you say that-about staying clear of McEuen?"
"He's a mean son, quick tempered and as willing to pull his pistol on you as give you the time of day." The cowboy's face wrinkled even more with obvious distress. "He shot a friend of mine last week. Curly'll make it, but it was close for a while. Curly says he saw Jake palm a card, and if Curly says so, I believe him. Nobody ever catches McEuen, but he wins too much. He studied with Doc Holiday, learned all them cardsharp tricks and then made up some of his own. He's a bad customer all around."
The cowboy's weatherworn face looked honest. There seemed to be no malice or deceit in his simple statements. Besides, his comments agreed with all Zach had heard about McEuen, no word of it good.
"Much as I appreciate your advice, I've really got to find him. Any idea where he lives?"
Pete shook his head, a woeful expression on his face. "Not sure, but heard tell he's got a place down in the arroyo north of town. Maybe staked him a claim, though some say he's got a woman there. For a fact he's prickly about anyone nosin' around. I'd watch m'self if I was you. He hears you're asking, he's liable to get ugly."
"Thanks for the warning. I'll be careful."
"Don't get to town too often, but I'll look for you when I come," Pete said. "You seem like a fine young feller. We need more o' the likes of you around here."
Zach finished his drink, took his leave from Pete, and strolled back outdoors. So far things were proceeding well enough. Next he had to find Jake's shanty and see if Mary Ann was there. To do that, he'd probably have to rent a horse. He'd already learned how deceptive distances were in the clear western air. Whistling, he followed the wind-driven aroma down the street to the stable.
"No!" Emily slapped the book shut. She closed her eyes as a shudder coursed through her body. "I don't like this!" The sound of her own voice provided a tenuous anchor to reality. Either there was something powerfully strange about this little book or else she was losing her mind.
Just who was Zachary Tremaine that he could impact her so strongly across one hundred and eleven years? Nonsense. She'd probably just dozed off and dreamed, recalling some scene she'd seen on television or in an old movie. She clicked off the light and slid down in the bed to go to sleep.
~*~
Emily resolutely left the journal alone for the next several days as she prepared for her trip to Arizona. At times her hands literally itched to take up the little book and continue following Zach's adventure, but the eerie way that tale seemed to take over her mind stopped her. Finally, as she settled in her seat for the second leg of her long flight from Boston to Tucson, she drew the journal out of her purse and opened it once again.
"May 15, 1889, Tombstone, Arizona Territory. Today I saw Mary Ann. It has been totally frustrating, searching without avail, but today that seeking came to at least a partial end..."
Abruptly, Emily found herself standing in the doorway of a small room, looking in. Although most of the details were hazy, one thing was vividly clear. Across the room from her, Zachary Tremaine stood at the window, gazing down at the street below. While she watched, he shoved the lace curtain impatiently to one side, leaning forward until his face almost touched the glass.
"Mary Ann? No...yes! Maybe I can catch her..." The murmured words were uttered in a melodious baritone voice, with hardly a trace of distinctive accent.
He wheeled from the window, heading straight toward Emily, walking with a hard, urgent stride. In another instant, he'd run right into her! Before he did, she jolted back to the present, but not before she got one good look. He was every bit as handsome as her first impression had led her to believe. But who was Mary Ann and why was he so excited about seeing her?
Emily took a deep, quick breath. I'm not sure I want to know, but...yes, I do. She turned a page and began to read. Before she finished the page, she became completely engrossed in Zach's adventures, but at least she didn't go into another trance.
When the plane taxied into the Tucson airport, Emily reluctantly stowed Zach's journal in her purse. Now she knew who Mary Ann was. She felt a surprising sense of relief at discovering her to be not sweetheart but sister. More absorbing than the best historical novel, the journal had her completely enthralled. Every word she'd read seemed vivid and immediate.
As the plane groaned to a stop, she cast a bemused glance around the crowded cabin. It took her a moment to recall she actually lived in the first months of the twenty-first century.
When Zach was writing his tale, this great bird in which she'd crossed the continent had not even been envisioned. A hundred and eleven years-it seemed more like eternity.
Even as a child, she'd often been chided by her parents for the tendency to get totally lost in a book, but this was more intense. Surely she'd recognize Mary Ann Tremaine, Jake McEuen and others Zach had encountered if she met them in the street. And Tombstone would be almost as familiar to her as Briar Vale, New Hampshire and the campus of Winston College.
Emily shook herself free of the spell as she stood to follow the other passengers up the jet way. She went over the realities once again. She was here not to look for the Tremaines but to meet Carol and Tom Hodges and travel with them to their home in Fort Huachuca, the historic Army post in the southeast corner of Arizona.
She and Carol would visit, having a happy reunion before she went on her way to seek a new position. Maybe she'd stay until the baby arrived, just a little over a month now.
CHAPTER TWO
May 15, 2000
Fort Huachuca, Arizona
Emily held out for a week against the potent lure of Tombstone, a mere fifteen minute drive away. She talked for hours with Carol, helped decorate the nursery, shopped for baby things and finished reading the journal. It wasn't until after she'd read the final entry that she admitted to herself she had to go to Tombstone. Somewhere in the town she might find an answer to the burning question left in her mind.
Although she hadn't told Carol quite everything, she'd confessed the journal'
s narrative had become very real to her. As for the narrator, she admitted she felt a special kinship with him. Were they not both looking for adventure and something beyond the humdrum of daily existence? For her, the source had heretofore been historical accounts, authentic old letters, documents and "I was there" tales. For him, it was the actual "wild west," or what remained of it in 1889.
Over breakfast Carol and Emily discussed the final entry in Zach's journal, dated June 12, 1889.
Carol shook her head. "You mean it just stops? That's too weird."
"I know," Emily replied. "That really worries me. What happened? Was he killed? Did he flee for his life and leave the journal behind? Somehow I can't see him doing that..."
"But it would be better than getting shot! Golly, I can't even imagine..." Carol let the words trail off, a shudder and a grimace completing the thought. "I mean like this isn't TV or something. It's real, at least I guess it was."
Finally, Emily got the book itself and read aloud the lines that troubled her so much.
"June 12, 1889. Today I saw Mary Ann settled on the eastbound train with a ticket through to Philly. She'll be traveling in the company of Major John Dodd and his wife. The major has been reassigned from Fort Huachuca to Washington. Upon hearing our tale, Mrs. Dodd assured me they would see Mary Ann safely home to the Philadelphia station. I do not doubt they will do just that as Mrs. Dodd seemed a woman of considerable fortitude and determination, rather overpowering her scholarly looking husband.
"Now my adventures can begin in earnest, although some unfinished business remains. While I was gone, my dear Emily vanished again and so, it seems, has Jake McEuen. The last I heard, McEuen was looking for me with the object of provoking an incident in which he could feel justified in shooting me, but I believe he has now sought his revenge through Emily. If he dares harm her, earth will hold no safe haven for the blackguard!
"Since the terrible slaughter in '82, the city fathers have outlawed dueling and cracked down considerably on intemperate gunplay. Still, although they try to put a good face on it, this is a near-lawless community where human life is not highly valued. Men die daily from accidents in the mines and elsewhere, their mates scarcely pausing to give them a decent burial. Everyone is mad for more silver, a new game, the next drink.
"I have practiced diligently with my .45 for almost two months now and attained reasonable proficiency. I will track McEuen down, and when I find him, arrange to meet near the river, since Charleston has no pretensions to lawfulness. I will endeavor to tend to this business tomorrow in hopes of getting it resolved soonest, but first I must find Emily."
Emily's voice almost broke on the last few words. "That's where it stops, Carol. I have no way of knowing what happened. Did he get killed? Did he leave town? And who was Emily? Somehow I cannot help feeling it is-or was-me! And I cannot imagine why he'd stop writing unless something terrible happened, or why, if he did depart, he'd leave his journal behind."
Her gaze sought Carol's, reaching for support and willing understanding. "I've been dreaming of all this since before I left Vermont. It's so real, as if I actually was there. Something very strange is happening to me."
"Oh, my word! I don't blame you for being curious, even concerned. Such a coincidence too, the names." Carol smiled at Emily fondly. "You're still the same old Em, so intense. I swear you expend more passion on your history than most women on the love of their life!"
Emily chuckled, then sighed. Carol really didn't understand. How could she when Emily herself could not make sense of it all?
"I know, but for so long reading of bygone days took the place of the friends I lacked. Moving every two or three years, I finally gave up trying to have real friendships. It was too hard to begin them only to see them wither and die through separation. So I found companionship in books, in history."
Carol reached across the table and patted her hand. "That's because you were always too shy. You were still timid the first year we roomed together, but now you seem to have outgrown a lot of it. Or did a little bit of me rub off?
"Anyway, why don't you check some of the museums in Tombstone, maybe the library? They sell books on the town's past in many of the shops, too. Once people learn you're a librarian and scholar, I'm sure they'll want to help. Take my car and go today. Maybe you can put your mind at ease. Darn, I wish I could tag along, but Dr. Winkler insists I stay off my feet."
Emily hesitated. "I'll feel terrible, leaving you here alone. You invited me to come visit, not go gadding off without you! I know you're going stir-crazy with this idleness."
Carol grinned. "True, but don't feel guilty! This is all really my fault, giving you that journal. Anyway, you can come home tonight and tell me everything. You're such a sleuth, you'll probably have the whole story!"
~*~
Half an hour later, Emily, with Carol's hand-drawn map and directions, headed down Charleston Road toward Tombstone in Carol's little Ford. Although she'd never been in the Southwest before, the countryside did not look strange. How many times had she seen it in dreams already?
The rounded gray hills between the San Pedro River and Tombstone were the location of the rich ore bodies exploited by the mines. Even the vegetation was not unfamiliar, though it bore little resemblance to that of New England. The low, dark green shrubs were creosote bush, the lacy-leafed taller ones were mesquite. A roadrunner scooted across the narrow blacktop ahead of her. As she recalled the rascally bird in the old cartoons, Emily grinned. "Beep, beep."
The winding road led her past Charleston, the site of an old stamp mill for ore extraction and a loading point for ore shipped by rail back in the eighteen eighties. The place where Jake McEuen and Zach had shot it out might be nearby. Even, perhaps, Zach's final resting place...With a shiver, Emily resolutely turned her thoughts in less morbid directions.
Driving into Tombstone, Emily parking the Escort on a side street. When she set foot into the talc-like dust, she felt some of the wonder Zach had expressed upon his arrival. How many famous feet had trod this dusty ground? How many hapless folk had bled into it, pierced by sizzling lead? How many lives had been ruined or ended by the turn of a card, the luck of a miner's claim, or the whim of someone with a faster draw? Her vivid imagination, seeking to run wild, didn't rein in readily.
The crowding spirits made Emily shiver. Several of them seemed to implore her to learn their secrets and tell the world their tales. Impatiently, she promised each of them their turn, just as soon as she learned what had happened to Zachary Tremaine.
Unsure where to go first, Emily made her way slowly along Allen Street, the main street of old Tombstone. She wandered in and out of shops featuring curios and memorabilia designed with tourists in mind. Around her voices spoke a polyglot mixture of languages, English and Spanish, German and Japanese. The scents of leather and gunpowder blended with the perfume of juniper and wild flowers, dried as potpourri.
After she'd glanced through several books attributed to local historians and would-be scholars, finding no mention of Zachary Tremaine, she gave a little snort of disgust. Apparently, most visitors didn't want to know about anyone who wasn't named Earp or Clanton.
When hunger began to gnaw, some time after noon, Emily stopped for lunch. The Last Chance cafe featured meat from the crossbred buffalo and beef cattle called beefalo. Emily ordered a spicy beefalo burger that she washed down with a glass of old time sarsaparilla. From her waitress she got directions to the library. That would be her next stop.
Outdoors again Emily was surprised to find dark clouds had rolled in. Across the valley toward Fort Huachuca, she heard a threatening rumble of thunder. She remembered then that Carol had mentioned thunderstorms were very common here. Her friend had even said "Huachuca" came from an ancient Native American word meaning "Where the thunder walks." At the time, this bit of lore hadn't seemed too important, but now it took on ominous new meaning as the thunder stalked closer.
Emily started across one of the side streets that bisec
ted Allen Street, thinking of what she might find at the library. The chill wind, blowing ahead of the approaching storm, sent a shiver down her spine that she strove to ignore. So far her search had turned up nothing worthwhile. Was she doomed to failure?
At that instant, a brilliant flash lit the glowering cloud directly overhead. The ear-splitting crack of thunder came before her eyes recovered from the shocking glare. Temporarily blinded, ears ringing from the concussion, Emily lost all sense of direction.
Nor did she hear the clatter of the approaching stagecoach until it burst around the corner, just a few feet away. One of the renovated coaches used to give rides around the town, its normally placid team had panicked into stampede at the sudden burst of light and noise.
The bewhiskered driver sawed futilely on the reins. When he saw Emily, directly in his path, he yelled. "Look out, Lady! Get outta the way. I can't stop."
Emily, still half-blind, tried to jump clear but her foot slipped in a patch of loose gravel. Arms flailing, she fell forward toward the side of the coach as it careened past. When her forehead cracked against the ironbound edge of the rear wheel, the impact sent multicolored stars of pain flaring through her skull. She never felt the ground-a maelstrom of light and crashing noise swallowed her whole before the road came up to meet her.
~*~
May 15, 1889
Tombstone, Arizona Territory
Zach hunched into his jacket and flipped the collar up to cover his neck as he walked along Allen Street, mulling his options. The gusty wind bit at him as it rushed a thickening scatter of dirty, gray cloud scraps eastward. He'd been in Tombstone over three weeks now. Although the weather had been warm since his arrival, today it looked as if a storm was brewing.
After the first brisk start, Zach's search seemed to come up against a brick wall. Although he spent several days exploring the area around Tombstone on horseback, he found no trace of Mary Ann nor even of Joker Jake. He did find a shanty in the wide canyon just north of town, but it appeared deserted.
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