Inside the cabin was a small kitchen, a round knitted rug on the floor with a wood burning stove and wooden sink with a water pump. Two cabinets were built into the wall on either side of the sink and Emma saw dishes and mugs with a few pitchers. Masterson opened a small wooden door and tossed his hat onto a bed. There were stairs going up to the second floor. Nice and clean, thought Emma, as Masterson worked the pump handle in the sink. Water poured out, and he caught some in a mug. He offered it to her. Delicious, she thought as she drank.
“Come and sit,” he said. He escorted them to a small living room with a fireplace centered on the far wall with a rifle above it. Masterson kneeled down and blew on the hot embers and the fire roared to life as he placed a split log on it. The room had a rocking chair and a sofa anchored by another round, knitted rug centered on the floor. In a corner sitting on a small wood desk, was a Royal typewriter and a stack of writing paper. Beneath the desk was a three-legged chair while mounted on the wooden wall above the desk was an oil lamp to illuminate the work area.
Bill and Emma sat on the sofa and both were happy to be off the hard wooden seat of the buckboard.
“Coffee will be ready in ten minutes,” Masterson said, as he hung a coffee pot on the iron arm and swung it over the flames. He sat and looked at both of them. “Now, Bill, if you don’t have another cousin in town, does that mean that Miss Emma here is going to teach me how to handle a gun?”
Bill nodded, “Yes, Will. Is that okay with you?”
“Not sure. I mean, with all due respect, Miss Emma, you don’t come from these parts and it shows. I mean, you’re a dainty little thing and . . . well, it just ain’t right.”
“Isn’t right.”
“What?”
“Isn’t right. The correct way to say it is, ‘It isn’t right,’ not ‘ain’t right.’ As a writer, you should know better, Mr. Masterson.”
He sat back at this. Dang! She is right, he thought, and she says it right straight out. Addressing Emma, he said, “Excuse me, Miss Emma, I just mean the last teacher I had was a little old grumpy woman. That’s all.”
“I bet she was a good teacher, though. You seem to be a good writer.”
He perked up. “Have you – have you read my stories, Miss Emma?
“Yes, I have. And I think the project you and my cousin Bill are working on is going to be well spoken of. And please call me Emma.”
Masterson found himself staring at her again. He mentally shook his head as he reached for the coffee pot. “Coffee? Miss . . . I mean Emma.”
“Yes, Will, I’d love a cup.”
As they relaxed, Bill motioned to the rifle over the fireplace. “Nice rifle. What kind, Will?”
Before he could answer, Emma spoke up. “Kentucky rifle. It first appeared about 1810 and they were mostly plain guns. That’s a .45 caliber probably with a 44-inch barrel, a double-set trigger, a low front sight and a fixed open rear. It probably weighs eight or nine pounds and made, I’d say in 1830 or 40.”
Both men looked at her with surprise.
“You sure do know your guns, m’am. It was made in 1837. My daddy gave it to me. It’d take out a jackrabbit’s tail at one hundred yards.”
Bill turned to him. “Did you ever get one at that range, Will?”
“Yep, more than once.”
“But I thought you were a terrible shot?”
“I am, with a handgun. But with this long barrel, anyone can shoot. It practically reaches the target with the barrel. No, it’s the handgun I can’t get to shoot straight.”
Emma put her cup down “Will, if you let another lady teacher into your life, I’ll teach you all you need to know about hand guns. Okay?”
“If you promise to keep this between us, then I agree, Emma.”
“Fine. It’s a perfect time to start then. Is there a place I can change my clothes?”
“There’s a bedroom at the top of the stairs but the roof’s a little low. Will that do?”
“Yep! Down in a minute.” She grabbed her bag and went up the stairs.
Ten minutes later she reappeared dressed in a tan, two-piece, close-fitting cowhide outfit. Strapped around her waist was her gun belt with a pistol in both holsters. She stood in front of the men shaking out her long blonde hair.
Both men stood, Masterson in a state of shock. “Miss Emma. My Lord, you are a sight to behold. I . . . I never, well, I . . . never saw a woman . . . what I mean to say, is well . . .”
“It’s all right, Will. I know what you mean. You never saw a woman dressed to teach gun lessons. I can’t very well teach you while dressed in that long, frilly, wide and dainty skirt, can I?”
Saved, he answered, “No, no I guess not. Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. Do you have a revolver, Will?”
“Yep.” He went into his bedroom to a small dresser and took out a pistol, holster and belt. He strapped it on, and they went outside.
The sun was at high noon as she put on her wide-brimmed hat. She set up two-dozen clods of dirt on a fence and paced back one hundred steps. She turned to Masterson and nodded her head toward the targets.
“Will, show me your technique,” she said.
He shrugged his shoulders and grinned. He grabbed the revolver, tugged it out of the holster, aimed and pulled the trigger. About thirty feet past the targets, the bullet hit the dirt. He turned toward them. “Told you. I’m really bad.”
“True, you need some work, but if you follow my instructions we’ll get you there.”
Will put his pistol away, kicked some dirt and looked at Bill. “Maybe this project of yours needs someone with quicker reflexes. Maybe I’m not your man, Bill.”
“You are the man, Will. If we had someone faster we’d be defeating our project,” Bill responded.
Masterson nodded, “Yeah, guess so. I just feel like I’m an impossible student.”
Emma put her hand on his shoulder. “Not so, Will. I’ll give you some pointers, and you’ll see the difference right away.”
“If you are the teacher, I’d sure like to have a lesson. Will you give me a demonstration?”
She nodded, turned and faced the targets. “First, always try to have the sun at your back, giving your opponent a disadvantage immediately. Whenever possible, have the wind at your back, too, it helps to keep your opponent squinting into the wind. Another advantage is dirt blowing in their eyes and not yours. When possible, remember the weather of the past day or two. If it was hot with no rain, there’s more sand and dirt blowing around than if it had rained recently. Use anything to put your opponent at a disadvantage, even the weather. When you have to shoot it out with someone, shut out all other things around you. Nothing matters except putting the bullet on the target. Nothing! If your opponent is faster than you, then you must be more accurate. Put the bullet where you choose. Watch.”
In a blur, Emma’s hand whipped out her revolver, aimed and fired six shots. The shots were followed by thuds as the clumps of dry dirt exploded into dust. Both men just stared at her. She walked over to Masterson, undid his gun belt and strapped it on herself. She walked back and faced the targets. Once again her hand flashed and five shots rang out followed by five clumps of dirt disappearing.
Masterson shook his head and said, “Miss Emma, if you think I’ll be as quick as you, then you are a miracle worker.”
She handed him her gun belt and holster. “Load the revolver and try mine.”
He loaded her revolver, put her belt and holsters on and faced the targets. He grabbed the gun and fired three rounds. All three missed. He shrugged his shoulders. “You have your job cut out for you, Emma.”
She asked him, “Do you feel the difference between my weapon and yours? Also, the holster?
“Yes. Your holster is lighter than mine. It’s easier to take the gun out.”
She nodded, “Also, if you notice, I have no sight on the front end of the barrel to snag on the holster as it’s being withdrawn. And feel how supple the holster’s leather is
compared to yours.”
Masterson thought a moment and asked, “But don’t you need a sight to shoot straight?”
“Why would you need a sight if your opponent is sixty feet away? Nope! It’s not needed and just adds a chance of snagging the holster on the way out. We’re going to file yours off.”
“And the lighter holster? What’s the advantage there?” Masterson asked.
“It’s not the lightness that makes the advantage. It’s lighter because it’s made of a thinner cowhide than yours. Thinner and it’s oiled to get the suppleness I like. Your holster is designed for carrying your revolver, while mine is designed for quick draw. We’re going to go to a boot maker and have him custom-make a holster for you. A holster that will not only carry your revolver, but allow you to draw it out faster than most. Tell me, Will is there a billiards parlor in town?”
He nodded, “Yes, Biffs Pool Hall. They have half a dozen tables. Why?”
“Because that’s where you and I are going tonight,” Emma said.
“Why? I haven’t played a game of billiards in years.”
“Were you good when you did play?”
He blushed. “Shucks no! That’s why I haven’t played lately. Just no darned good at it.”
“Well, billiards is a perfect way to improve your hand-eye coordination. Think of the cue stick as the handgun and the white cue ball as the bullet. You look downrange at the target ball and ‘shoot’ the cue ball to hit the target ball where you want. When we are not practicing with the handgun, we’ll be playing billiards. Okay?”
Will smiled and said, “Agreed. You have a funny way of teaching a fellow how to handle a gun, but it sure makes sense.”
Bill sat beneath a shade tree as they spoke. He noticed that the two of them were getting comfortable in their roles as teacher and student. He looked at his watch, it was one o’clock. The time traveler lay back and pushed his hat down over his eyes, “Hey, you two. You don’t need me, do you? I’m going to take a nap.”
The pistol shots quickly become background music as Bill nodded off.
A nudge on his boot woke him. He heard Masterson’s voice ask, “Nice nap?” and saw the writer standing over him. The sun was low in the sky.
Bill looked at his pocket watch and exclaimed, “Six-thirty. Boy, I’m hungry.”
Emma came out of the house dressed in her skirt and blouse. Masterson exchanged weapons with her. “Talking about being hungry,” he said, “do you two have plans for supper tonight? Pearl told me she has a pot roast she’s fixing and I’m treating.”
Bill got up stiffly. “Fine with me. What about you, Emma?”
She took her gun and holster and offered them to Masterson. “Fine with me, too. Will, why don’t I leave my revolver and belt here? We’re going to be out here shooting anyway.”
“No problem and why not leave your shooting outfit here? Less to carry back and forth.” She agreed and later they climbed into the buckboard and drove back to town.
Cleaning up for dinner, Bill carried a pitcher of water to Emma’s room and was about to get one for himself when his Time Frequency Modulator gave a low buzz. He opened it, saw he had a text message, and typed in his password.
Bill, hope all is on track. I hate to do this to you in the middle of a mission, but this is urgent. I need you back in New York. I must meet with you. Hopefully, the Roosevelt mission can be held a few weeks. Text me back as to when we will meet. Edmund Scott, 2066.
Bill read it twice, then knocked on Emma’s door. “Emma, it’s me, Bill.”
“Are you ready, already?’ she called out. “I need another fifteen minutes.”
“Emma, this is urgent. I have to see you right away.” She opened the door and he went in. She was putting her hair up.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“We have to go back to New York. We have to be on the morning train,” he said, with urgency.
“But . . . but . . . the mission. Did I do something wrong?”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “No, no. I just received an urgent text message that the people who send us on these missions need to see me ASAP.”
She sat down on the bed. “Damned. And it was going so well. You know, while you were napping, I made some progress with Masterson. He is a fast learner.”
Bill shook his head. “What could be so urgent that we have to drop the Roosevelt mission?”
“Why do we have to drop it at all?”
Bill looked at her. “How can we go ahead with it if we have to be in New York for a meeting?”
“Can’t you go alone? I mean I’m going to be the one tutoring Masterson anyway?”
Bill’s eyebrows raised, “But I can’t leave you here alone.”
“Why not? I’m a big girl now.”
“It’s not that, I mean, you are my responsibility.”
“I came here of my own free will,” she countered, “I think I proved in the club that I fit in. Don’t you agree?”
Bill looked at her and exhaled slowly. “Emma, this time period is wild and lawless. Anything can happen.”
She countered, “Yes, and anything can happen to the hundreds of other women who live here. I would really love the challenge. And it would validate the existence of the club, would it not?”
After brief consideration, and a walk around the small room, he said, “Well, that is the kind of reasoning I used on the past president when I wanted to be alone in New York. It worked then, so . . . ” He looked at her. “Why not now? Okay. Let’s get this straight. I go back to New York, see what the problem is and you stay here and teach Masterson how to handle his gun.”
“Right,” she said excitedly.
Bill walked in a circle and said as he rubbed his hands together, “Remember, you must not let him know you are from his future.”
“Of course not,” she answered. “Then,” she continued, “when you are finished with what they want in New York, you can come back and see the progress we’ve made here. Fair enough?”
Bill nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll tell Masterson tonight. Meanwhile, I’m next door. Knock when you are ready.”
Back in his room, Bill took the Time Frequency Modulator and typed: Edmund, It takes about one week to travel from Dodge City to New York. You can expect me around then. I’ll text you when I’m there. Regards Bill. PS the Roosevelt project is coming along fine.
Supper, that night, was outstanding. Pot roast with mashed sweet potatoes, peas and carrots all smothered in melted butter and beef gravy, and for gravy dipping, as Pearl called it, baked white bread with a thick brown crust. When coffee and apple pie was served, Bill told Masterson his plans.
“Will, I just got a wire that I’m needed back in New York. I’m going to catch the morning train. Emma is going to stay here in Dodge and continue working with you on our project. Is that okay with you?”
Will looked at Emma and said, “Reckon so, Bill. When do you figure you’ll be returning?”
“I think in about two weeks. I hope to have to spend only a short time there and hop right back on the train.”
Masterson looked at Emma. “I told my editor that my friend and his cousin are in town and I needed some time off. I can take as much as I need. Tomorrow, we can have breakfast, and then shoot some billiards before we go out to my place. If that’s all right with you?”
Emma answered, “That’ll be fine, Will. Just fine.” She turned to Bill and said, “Your project will be going along smoothly, Bill, and you don’t have to worry about a thing.”
Bill nodded and Masterson spoke up. “I’ll keep an eye on your cousin while you are away. So, rest easy, partner.”
“I have complete trust in you, Will. Thanks for lightening my load.”
The next morning, Bill caught the seven o’clock train going east.
The ride took eight days because a huge herd of Bison decided to graze along the route, and “they just don’t respect the train whistle,” as the conductor said.
DATELINE: 2011
PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB, NEW YORK
Bill looked forward to a long hot shower in his 2011 apartment as he opened the door. He buzzed Matt, “I’m home, Matt. I’ll be in the shower. Will you, please bring me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and chocolate milk?”
After he had scrubbed the eight days of train dust off, he went into his den and sat at his desk. Matt had brought in his food on a tray, and as Bill attacked it, he sent a text message to the future.
Edmund, I’m in my office now. Want to chat? Bill.
A return message read.
Welcome home, Bill. Be there in a New York Minute. Edmund.
A knock at the door announced his arrival. Bill opened it and greeted his grandson with a warm hug. He always enjoyed having family around, but this was unique. Bill suggested he take a seat in one of the easy chairs.
Edmund smiled as he sat in the leather easy chair, “So Bill, the Roosevelt mission is moving along fine?”
“Yep. It’s a bit more complicated at this moment, but I’m sure it will turn out just the way the history books say it did. Now, what’s so important that you dragged me a few thousand miles away?”
Edmund took a deep breath. Bill saw he was having a difficult time with the atmosphere. “Take your time, breathe slowly.”
The younger man nodded and took his advice. Finally, he said, “We believe this new trouble could have worse consequences than the trouble with Roosevelt.” He paused and took a deep breath.
Bill’s eyebrows came together, as he waited for the young man from the future to continue. Whatever it is, thought Bill, it must be bad to pull me back in the middle of a mission.
Edmund spoke slowly, “One of our probes detected the Wright brothers in 1907 still building bicycles instead of airplanes. We sent probes to other nations and found their airplanes flying while the United States was buying their cast-offs.” He paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “We were so far behind that we didn’t lead the aviation industry the way history says we did, and the Allies lost World War One.”
[Time Travel Adventures of the 1800 Club 01.0] Time Travel Adventures of the 1800 Club: Book I Page 14
