by Bess McBride
They heard footsteps on the stairs and Clint stepped quickly toward her with his finger to his lips.
“The gunfight between the Earps, McLaurys and Clantons hasn’t happened yet,” he whispered near her ear.
Hilly drew in a sharp breath at her mistake just as Nan entered the kitchen.
“What’s this about gunfights? Has there been another shooting?” she asked with a worried look. “These boys with their guns and their liquor. They don’t mix.”
Clint shook his head. “Not that I know of, Nan. Hilly and I were just talking about some of the history around here.” He threw Hilly a pointed look.
“Well, I’m not going to lie to you, Hilly. There are shootings occasionally, especially near the saloons, but the city council has put out a ban on firearms in town.” She nodded toward the holster and gun that Clint still carried. “You’ll have to turn those in, Clint. John can keep them here at the livery. I think that has probably helped cut down on some of the violence. Of course, there are always going to be folks who ignore the ban. That Frank Leslie is one of them. Killed a man and then married his widow a few months later. I cross the street when I see that man coming.”
Hilly felt Clint lay a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“You may not know, Clint, because you’ve been gone a while, but Virgil Earp is town marshal now. John Behan is still sheriff. I don’t think those two are getting along. There are all sorts of ‘lawmen and gamblers’ showing up in town these days. It’s hard to tell who’s what. The Earp brothers are all here and bringing some of their friends in to work the faro tables in Wyatt Earp’s saloon—Bat Masterson, some man named Doc Holliday.”
Hilly stared at Nan round eyed. Had she just mentioned all those names as if they were alive? It seemed surreal.
Clint squeezed Hilly’s shoulder.
“I did hear about all the goin’s on in town,” Clint said. “Of course, I wouldn’t want Hilly to think that Tombstone is a lawless town with nothing to show for it but shootings and murder.”
“No, no, of course not, dear,” Nan said hastily. She smiled at Hilly. “There’s good people here as well, just making a living.”
Hilly wasn’t reassured. She wished now more than ever that she had read the books on Tombstone that she’d bought for research. At least she might know what to expect out in the streets on a daily basis.
“I had better go help John,” Clint said. He gave Hilly a reassuring smile and left.
“Well, now, if you’d like to come upstairs, I’ll show you your room,” Nan said. “I’ve got to keep an ear out for the store.”
Hilly rose and followed Nan up narrow wooden steps to the second floor where Nan showed her into a small room with a narrow bed covered with a patchwork quilt, a cherry wood nightstand, dresser and wardrobe. A lace-curtained window looked over onto Allen Street in front of the store.
“The bathroom is just down the hall to the right,” Nan said.
“This is wonderful, Nan, thank you so much,” Hilly said. The mattress on the bed sagged in the middle, the furniture was nicked, chipped and weather worn, but Nan beamed with pride, and Hilly was truthfully appreciative of the room.
“You’re welcome. This was my daughter’s room, but she married a fella from California and moved out there.”
Hilly thought about the absence of telephones, email, even cars.
“Do you get to see her often?”
Nan shook her head. “No, not really. Her husband is working in the mines out there, and she has the children.”
“I’m sorry,” Hilly said.
“Well, I had better get down to the store,” Nan said with a sigh. She turned to leave.
“Nan, I was wondering if I could help you in the store while I’m here. You know, to pay my way?”
“Oh! Well, Clint said he would pay for you, but I sure could use the help. It’s getting busier and busier here every day.”
“Good! I’ll come down as soon as I wash up,” Hilly said.
Nan hesitated, and Hilly saw the older woman’s eyes travel over Hilly’s legs.
“Do you have anything else to wear? I don’t mean to be rude, but your trousers are a bit...”
“Tight?” Hilly said with a grin. She shook her head. “No, I’m afraid I don’t, except for the other men’s trousers you gave Clint for me.” She tried to remember why she didn’t have any other clothes. What had Clint said?
“The stagecoach...robbed.” Hopefully, Nan could extrapolate some sort of story out of a few mumbled words.
“Oh, goodness, that is right. Clint did say so. Well, I would loan you something of mine, but I’m a bit stouter than you. Anne did leave behind a few dresses. I think they’ll fit you. Would you like to try them on?”
Hilly knew the inevitable had come to pass.
“Yes, please, that would be wonderful.”
Nan nodded and left the room, returning in a few minutes with an armful of clothing—much more than Hilly imagined when Nan stated her daughter had left behind “a few dresses.” She laid the clothing out on the bed—two dark cotton skirts and matching bodices in brown and blue. Nan held up several off-white cotton petticoats, what looked like pantaloons or drawers and something that very much resembled a corset.
“Here you go. They were almost new, but Anne thought they were too dark for her taste. I brought some petticoats and a corset. I don’t think you are wearing one, are you?” She surveyed Hilly’s midline with a critical eye.
“No,” Hilly murmured.
Nan laid the clothes on the bed. “Well, I’ll leave you to dress. Whenever you are ready, you can come down.”
“Thank you, Nan,” Hilly said, feeling a little bit less grateful than she had been. She had studied corsets enough for research in her books to know that she was not going to wear one. Not at all.
Hilly wandered down the hall and stepped into a small room that housed a remarkably normal-looking toilet except for the wooden seat and a water reservoir high on the wall. A claw foot tub suggested the possibility of running water. A white porcelain pedestal sink completed the bathroom.
She turned on the tap with gratitude and picked up a bar of soap to wash her face in cold water. Apparently, Nan favored the same soap she had sent Clint out with.
Did they have hot running water in 1881? She eyed the tub, imagining Nan running up and down the stairs with buckets of hot water, shades of some Victorian novel. Somehow, Hilly didn’t think that was going to happen. She would ask Clint how the bathing worked.
She returned to her room and looked out the window which faced a stable on the opposite side of the street. The sign above the large wooden double barn doors read O.K. Corral, Livery and Feed. Hilly’s heart skipped a beat. Really? How had she missed that from the road? When had the famous gunfight happened? Clint had said not yet--but he hadn’t mentioned a specific date.
Hilly stepped to the side of the window, half expecting a stray bullet to fly into her room, and she turned toward the bed to undress. She picked up the drawers—white cotton baggy leggings with an open seam at the crotch, which she knew was for ease in the bathroom. Rather pointless in her opinion. They didn’t cover the one area she thought underwear should cover.
Hilly tossed them aside. She was in dire need of some more modern panties, but until she could figure out how to get those, she planned to wash her clothing out at night and wear them the following day—wet or dry. They would soon dry in the Arizona heat.
She lifted the dark brown skirt and eyed it. Nan had been generous—both to her daughter and to Hilly. No scruffy white blouse over a baggy gray skirt a la pioneers for her, it seemed.
The skirt was elaborate thing in varying shades of brown satin, featured a draped front apron trimmed in black velvet. She turned it over to eye a voluminous amount of flounced material gathered at the back of the skirt to fall away the waistline to the hem. If she had to guess, she would have said the skirt was bustled without the aid of some artificial support. Matching black velvet edg
ed the flounces and the hem of the skirt. Hilly shuddered to think of dragging the skirt along the dusty Tombstone streets.
The bodice, a form-fitting long-sleeved jacket also trimmed in black velvet, sported round metal buttons in a flower pattern painted black to match the velvet. The collar, which buttoned up the neck, was trimmed in black velvet and looked like a snug fit.
Hilly sighed and slipped the petticoat on over her head. She tied the laces around her waist before shrugging into the flaring skirt which fell across her hips in a snug fit before flaring as it fell to the floor. She buttoned the waistband and rotated in front of an oval mirror to look at the back of the skirt. The flounces and extra material looked like she wore a bustle, but thankfully, she apparently didn’t have to. She had to admit the skirt did give her flattering curves that she actually didn’t have.
She picked up the bodice, unbuttoned it and slipped her arms into it. She pulled it closed with effort by sucking in her stomach, and she and managed to button the bodice with one hand while holding the two sides together with the other. The front came down to an attractive V-shape in front of her stomach and the high collar made her neck look longer. The waist, however, nipped in, and Hilly could see why corsets were needed. Luckily, she must have been just a bit slimmer than Nan’s daughter, Anne, because she managed to squeeze into the clothes without a corset.
She turned to survey the dress in the mirror. Her hair was all askew, sticking every which way but straight, and she pulled it up to the crown of her head and tied it into a knot. The waves in her hair had always allowed her to twist it into a temporary bun without pins or bands, but it wouldn’t hold in a strong breeze. She’d have to ask Nan if she had any hairpins.
Hilly took a step toward the door and looked down at her feet, encased in her dark brown waterproof hiking shoes. Would anyone notice? She really didn’t want to wear the little boots she had seen peeping out from beneath Nan’s dress. No, she was keeping her shoes.
She picked up her skirt and descended the narrow stairs with her skirt in one hand while holding onto the rail with the other. As she took the last step, Clint emerged from the kitchen.
He stopped short and stared at her. A slow, broad smile spread across his face, and Hilly felt her cheeks burn.
“You look beautiful,” he said. “Just beautiful!” He removed his hat.
Hilly shook her head quickly and grinned despite her embarrassment. She lifted the edge of the skirt and thrust out the tip of one shoe to show him.
“Thank you,” she said. “I have a couple of questions to ask you about some of this stuff though when we get a chance to be alone.”
Clint nodded. “We’ll take a stroll after dinner. We should be able to speak privately then.” He moved nearer to her and caressed her cheek with one hand. “You do look beautiful in the dress and with your hair on top of your head like that, Hilly, but you look gorgeous in your jeans as well. I would love you no matter what you wore.”
Hilly’s cheeks burned hotter, and she reached up to pull his head to hers for a warm, satisfying kiss.
A clearing of the throat behind Hilly caught their attention, and they jumped apart.
“Well, you look very nice, Hilly,” Nan said from the doorway of the store. “Anne’s dress fits you very well.”
“Thank you, Nan,” Hilly said.
“I have to leave you now, Hilly, and get myself a room somewhere, but Nan very kindly invited me to dinner, so I’ll see you then,” Clint said.
Hilly could read concern on his face, and she resisted the urge to grab his hand and refuse to let go. The conventions of the nineteenth century were going to drive her crazy. Given Tombstone’s colorful history, she didn’t really understand why they had to be apart even if they weren’t married.
“I’ll be fine,” she said quietly.
“Of course she will,” Nan said briskly. “Until later, Clint. If you would like to come into the store, Hilly, I can show you around.” She held the door open for Hilly.
Clint nodded, put on his hat and left by the kitchen. Hilly swallowed hard. She hadn’t been without him for a single minute since she had arrived, and she didn’t like the feeling.
“Now, don’t look so forlorn, my dear. He will be back, and soon you will spend the rest of your lives together,” Nan said. “Have you decided on a date for the wedding?”
Hilly bit her lip. Questions! She and Clint hadn’t agreed on a scenario, answers to possible questions. She would have to wing it.
“Not yet,” Hilly said. “Oh! I was wondering. I lost all my hairpins. Do you have anything that I could use? I don’t have money to pay for them, I’m afraid, but I’m sure Clint would loan me some.”
“Not at all,” Nan said. She stepped behind a long glass-topped, wooden-encased counter and fished out a small box holding several wooden pins shaped like elongated “U’s.” “You have managed to do your hair well given that you don’t have any hairpins. Let me,” Nan said. She turned Hilly around and inserted the pins into several strategic places.
“There! That should stay, even in our incessant wind,” Nan smiled.
The front door of the store opened, and Hilly hoped it was Clint returning, but it was an older woman who nodded politely and waited. She wore a black dress and matching bonnet.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Whiting. What can I get for you today?” Nan said.
Hilly retreated to the far end of the store and half hid behind the counter. She had no idea if she would “pass” for nineteenth century, and she wasn’t quite ready to turn herself loose on the general populace.
She couldn’t hear the conversation between the ladies, but watched as Nan led Mrs. Whiting over to a selection of hats. Hilly sighed. Was she going to have to wear a hat as well? Was it mandatory?
Hilly waited unobtrusively while Nan and the older woman concluded their business, and Mrs. Whiting left with a hatbox.
“That reminds me,” Nan said as she approached Hilly. “You don’t appear to have a proper ladies hat. That broad-brimmed hat that Clint bought for you won’t do with that dress. You have to protect your face from the Arizona sun. I’ve got an old bonnet upstairs that I can let you have.”
Hilly stopped short of asking her if she had to wear a hat. That was a question for Clint. A woman of the nineteenth century would know.
For the next half hour, Nan showed her around the rather large store which she called a mercantile. Though Hilly had seen the store the day before, she’d been too distracted to study it at length. Nan set Hilly on a ladder to dust off some of the cookware and dishes on an upper shelf while she climbed up onto another ladder on the far side of the store with a duster.
Hilly eyed the ladder with misgiving, lifting her skirts with one hand and holding onto the rung with the other. She had the distinct feeling she was doing manual labor in a ball gown. Nan had climbed the other ladder effortlessly. Did these women seriously do everything in long skirts? Bizarre!
The hours passed quickly, and Hilly’s heart pounded when the door opened and Clint entered. He had clearly had a bath, shaved and changed into different clothes that were clean and appeared new, but were a bit looser than the twenty-first century blue jeans he had worn. He wore a black jacket over a white shirt and sported a surprisingly modern looking dark blue tie, although the collar didn’t fold down over the tie but rose high under his chin.
He approached her as she stood behind the counter dusting canned goods. Nan had gone into the house for a moment.
“I missed you,” he said.
Hilly grinned. “I missed you too.” Her smile wavered. “Why do we have to be apart? Why can’t I stay where you’re staying? Which is where?”
“I have a room in a lodging house on Tough Nut Street,” he said. “It isn’t appropriate for you to stay there. It’s mostly miners.”
Hilly sighed. “I see you changed.”
Clint looked down at his clothes. “I had to. Those modern jeans are just too snug for 1881 Tombstone.”
�
��Too bad,” Hilly said with a teasing smile.
Clint blushed.
Hilly looked over her shoulder.
“I’ve got even more questions for you than when you left including hot and cold running water. Oh, and Nan asked when we were getting married. I said we hadn’t set a date. I didn’t know what to say.”
Clint leaned in to kiss her cheek before straightening.
“It couldn’t be too soon to suit me. Let me check with the justice of the peace. I actually have no experience with this.”
Hilly smiled tenderly. “Where will we live?”
“I have been giving that some thought. There are a few houses over on Fremont Street which I think might be available to rent. I’d rather build you a house of your own, but one of these could do for a while.”
Hilly nodded. “It couldn’t be too soon to suit me,” she said with a grin. “Nan has been nice, and I don’t mind working in the store here, but I would really rather be with you.”
Clint grimaced.
“What?” Hilly said, her heart in her throat. What had she said wrong?
“I want to be with you all the time too, Hilly, but I have to go out and work the mine. And I don’t want you to be there.”
“Because it’s too dangerous?” she said. “I can get used to the coyotes and wildlife.”
He shook his head. “Not just the coyotes, you know that. It’s no place for a woman.”
“Oh, come on, Clint!” Hilly said in exasperation. “I hate that kind of talk.”
Clint sighed.
“Well, then maybe it is because I’m afraid I’ll lose you in time. I can bear anything but that.”
Chapter Eleven
Following a pleasant dinner with John and Nan, Clint waited in the kitchen while Nan fetched Hilly a bonnet. Properly hatted, Clint and Hilly stepped out of a side door which led directly onto the street. He led them away from Allen Street toward Tough Nut. They walked along the wooden sidewalk, her hand tucked under his arm, and he knew a quiet contentment. So, this was love. This was what married life would be like. It pleased Clint and soothed him as the search for silver never had.
