Journey to Yesterday

by Madeline Baker

  The girl with McCrory placed her hand on his arm. “Dade.”

  McCrory shook her hand off. “Let’s go, Valverde.”

  “Alejandro…”

  “It’s all right, Shaye.” He ran his knuckles over her cheek. “This has been a long time coming.”

  She watched the two men leave the restaurant, her heart pounding with trepidation. It hadn’t happened this way before, she thought frantically. What if Alejandro were killed? It would be all her fault. If not for her, he wouldn’t be dining in the Excelsior tonight. As farfetched as it sounded, she had wondered, in a distant part of her mind, if Alejandro had died prematurely and she had been sent to the past to save his life.

  She frowned, hardly aware that she was walking toward the door. What if it was Daisy who had died before her time? She felt certain that McCrory had killed Daisy? If that was true, and Alejandro killed McCrory, Daisy’s life would be spared. And perhaps Alejandro’s, too.

  She stepped out onto the street, glanced up and down. Where had they gone?

  A commotion drew her attention. Lifting her skirts, she hurried down the street to where a group of men were clustered in the alley that ran between two of the saloons. Standing on tiptoe, she saw McCrory and Alejandro.

  McCrory stood with his hands on his hips, his expression arrogant. “Knives or fists, Valverde? It’s all the same to me.”

  Alejandro shrugged out of his coat. “You’re a real four-flusher, McCrory. I never should have sold you my half of the saloon, but I didn’t think even you were low enough to steal from your own partner.”

  McCrory snorted as he flung his coat aside. “You don’t know a damn thing, you dirty half-breed!”

  “I know I’m gonna beat the shit out of you and then make you eat it.”

  “Hah! You’re the biggest crook in the whole damn town.”

  Alejandro shook his head. “Enough sweet talk,” he muttered, and drove his fist into McCrory’s smirking face.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Shaye hadn’t seen a fist fight since high school when her boyfriend punched Ryan Halestone in the nose for kissing her in the hallway. But that fight had been a tea party compared to this one.Alejandro fought with a single-minded intensity the likes of which she had never seen, seemingly impervious to the blows that he received. Blood oozed from a cut on his lower lip, and another on his right cheek. McCrory looked far worse. He was bleeding from his nose and mouth, his right eye was turning black.

  Cheers and catcalls rose from the crowd as the two men exchanged blows. Beside her, men were taking bets on the outcome of the fight. The odds were five to two on Alejandro. She would have bet on him herself, had she been so inclined. Even to her untrained eye, it was easy to see that Dade McCrory was no match for Alejandro. McCrory was tiring rapidly, his punches were badly timed and falling short. Alejandro hit him again, and McCrory went down on his hands and knees. When he came up, there was a knife in his hand.

  Alejandro stared at him a moment, and then there was a knife in his hand, too, pulled from the inside of his right boot.

  For a moment, the two men glared at each other. There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere and the crowd fell silent as what had been an ordinary fight suddenly turned deadly.

  Dade McCrory knew how to handle a knife, and the fight, which had been pretty much one-sided until now, took on a whole new dimension.

  Shaye bit down on her lower lip, hardly daring to breathe, as the two men circled each other, bodies slightly crouched, knife hands outstretched. It was a silent and deadly dance, oddly compelling.

  Without warning, McCrory lunged forward and when he pulled away, there was blood dripping from a long gash in Alejandro’s left arm that started just below his elbow.

  A buzz ran through the crowd as Alejandro fell back. McCrory pressed forward, his lips pulled back in a snarl, his knife driving for Alejandro’s heart.

  Shaye gasped, felt her own heart skip a beat, and then, in a swift, cat-like move, Alejandro ducked under McCrory’s blade. Shaye blew out a deep breath, her fingernails digging into her palms as the two men circled each other again.

  They came together in a rush, the sounds of their labored breathing punctuated by the ring of steel striking steel.

  McCrory’s blade slid over Alejandro’s ribs as Alejandro’s blade came down toward his chest. McCrory’s upraised arm deflected the blade and it sank to the hilt in his shoulder instead of his chest. Alejandro jerked the blade out with a quick twist. McCrory let out a howl, then turned and staggered down the alley.

  Several men followed him. The rest clustered around Alejandro.

  Shaye elbowed her way through the crowd. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I’ve been better.” He cleaned the blood off his knife by wiping it across his pant leg, then slid it back inside his boot. “Damn coward.”

  “Come on, you need a doctor.”

  “I’m all right.”

  “Sure you are.” She slid her arm around his waist. “Which way?”

  One of the men handed her Alejandro’s jacket. Another stepped forward and wrapped a red bandana, which looked none too clean, around the bloody gash in Alejandro’s arm. Several men slapped Alejandro on the back as they threaded their way through the crowd.

  “Way to go, Rio!”

  “McCrory’s had it coming for a long time, the damned one-eyed man!”

  “You should have put that knife between his ribs.”

  “One-eyed man?” Shaye asked as they walked toward the mouth of the alley. “What on earth does that mean?”

  “Means he’s a no-good, yellow four flusher.”

  Shaye rolled her eyes. “Speak English.”

  “He’s a cheat,” Alejandro said curtly. “I never should have sold him my share in the Belle, but I wanted out. I didn’t know what a low-down bastard he was until it was too late.”

  Shaye glanced right and left when they reached the street. “Which way?”

  He grinned at her. “Stop worrying. I’m fine.”

  “I want you to see a doctor.” She looked at the kerchief wrapped around his arm. It was soaked with blood. Blood darkened the front of his shirt, too.

  “Shoot, there isn’t a doctor in this town that I’d trust. Doctors are responsible for more deaths than mine cave-ins and pneumonia.”

  Shaye frowned, wondering if he was serious. There was a hospital on Mills Street south of Green if she remembered correctly. “Be that as it may, your arm needs to be stitched up, and I can’t do it.”

  “I can.”

  She looked up at him. “You?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve done it before.”

  “Well, you’re not going to do it now. Come on.”

  The hospital was a large two-story frame house. A sign out front said Doctor Rogers, M.D.

  The waiting room was crammed with people, mostly miners with a variety of injuries that seemed to range from sprains and breaks to pneumonia. There was no place to sit down.

  The doctor emerged from his office a moment later. He surveyed the patients, then summoned Alejandro.

  “Hey,” one man complained. “We was here first.”

  “Yes, indeed, you were,” the doctor replied. “But all you’ve got is a sprained ankle. This man’s bleeding.”

  “Dammit, Doc…”

  “I’ve put in twelve hours today,” the doctor said brusquely. “I haven’t had lunch and I’ve missed my supper. You can wait your turn, or you can leave. You,” he said, pointing at Alejandro, “come with me.”

  Shaye hung Alejandro’s coat on a hook beside the door, then glanced around the room. Like every doctor’s office she had ever been in, there was a pile of old magazines on a table: Scribner’s Monthly, Ladies Home Journal, Carriage Monthly, the Illustrated Police News.

  She skipped the magazines and picked up an old newspaper. Thumbing through the pages, she perused the ads. Joseph Wasson was running for State Assembly for Mono and Inyo Counties, the Patterson Brothers were advertising their
photography shop, Silas B. Smith was having a going-out-of-business sale. The ad for Boone & Wright, located at the corner of Green and Main Street, stated they were dealers in General Merchandize, including groceries, crockery and glassware, pure whiskeys and brandies, wines and cigars. They were also agents for Weiner’s Milwaukee Beer, Ale, and Porter. They also had stabling facilities for two hundred horses. An interesting combination, Shaye mused.

  A small article on the back page listed the businesses available in Bodie. One opera house, five newspapers, six stage lines, four shoemakers, a dozen cigar stores, fifteen restaurants, forty Chinese wash houses, ten barber shops, two banks, sixteen law offices, four drug stores, two assay offices, one harness maker, twenty-one lodging houses, as well as a number of bakeries, stables, and clothing stores.

  She folded the paper and put it back on the table, glanced at the closed door of the doctor’s office, tapped her foot impatiently. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, she crossed the floor and entered the office.

  Beyond the office, which was sparsely furnished with a small desk and a large file cabinet, was a curtained off area. She hesitated a moment, then drew back the curtain. Alejandro was stretched out on a narrow table, his eyes closed. A wide bandage was wrapped around his middle. It looked very white against the dark bronze of his skin. His shirt had been carelessly tossed on a wooden stool in the corner.

  The doctor was frowning in concentration as he stitched the long, narrow gash in Alejandro’s forearm. The cloth under his arm was stained with blood. Shaye felt her stomach turn over at the sight.

  The doctor looked up. “Is something wrong?”

  “No. No, I was just…”

  “I’d advise you to sit down,” the doctor said, gesturing at a chair, “and put your head between your legs.”

  “I’m fine,” she said weakly.

  “You’re about to faint,” the doctor said curtly. “Sit down.”

  “If anyone’s going to faint, I think it should be me,” Alejandro remarked drily.

  Shaye sat down, lowered her head and closed her eyes. The sight of blood had always made her sick to her stomach.

  Some time later she felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw Alejandro grinning at her. It was a rather lop-sided grin, since his lower lip was swollen on one side. He had put on his shirt. It was, she noted, past saving. His right arm had been bandaged from his elbow down to wrist.

  “You think you can make it back to the hotel?” he asked.

  “Oh, shut up.”

  He paid the doctor, Shaye retrieved his coat, and they left the hospital.

  “I’ll say one thing about living in the past,” Shaye muttered as they walked back to the hotel. “It’s never dull.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Shaye glanced around Alejandro’s new room, which was very much like his old one: a double bed, a four-drawer chest, a single chair, a window that overlooked the street.

  “Can I help you with anything?” Folding his coat, she laid it over the back of the chair.

  He shook his head. “Thanks. I’ll be all right.”

  “Okay. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  “Were you serious about dealing at the Queen?”

  “Yes, if you really think I can do it.”

  “There’s no time like the present to find out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m due at the Queen in an hour.” He lifted his wounded arm. “The doc told me to take it easy for a few days. Said I shouldn’t deal. But you can.”

  “Tonight? You mean tonight? But I haven’t had enough practice.”

  Alejandro’s gaze moved over her. “Darlin’, the men won’t be paying any attention to their cards.”

  She stared at him a moment, felt her cheeks grow warm as she realized what he meant. “But…”

  “Wear something…provocative.”

  “Provocative? Like what, my shorts?”

  “What are shorts?”

  “You know, the short pants I was wearing when I came here.”

  “I remember,” he said with a grin. “You’ve got nice legs.”

  “Thanks,” she muttered drily.

  “I need to get cleaned up,” he said, glancing down at his ruined shirt. “How soon can you be ready?”

  “I don’t know. Thirty minutes?”

  “All right. I’ll come for you in three-quarters of an hour. And don’t worry. You’ll do fine.”

  “If you say so.”

  She hadn’t been kidding when she said the only provocative thing she owned were her shorts. The outfits from Madame Sophie’s were all demure in the extreme with their high necks and long sleeves.

  In the end, she picked the white blouse with the ruffled front and the wine red skirt, which had a modest bustle. She wore her hair down, something she rarely did. She applied her makeup carefully, put on a clean pair of stockings, laced up her boots.

  She blew out a sigh when Alejandro knocked on the door. Ready or not, she mused, here I come.

  * * * * *

  The Queen of Bodie was in full swing when they arrived. Every table was filled to capacity. Men stood three deep at the bar, drinking and laughing. The saloon girls moved through the room, their gaudy dresses making them look like exotic birds.

  Digger, Henry, and Spooner were sitting at Alejandro’s table, along with two other men unknown to Shaye.

  “’Bout time you got here, Rio,” Digger said. “Hell, man, what happened to your arm?”

  “I got into a little disagreement with McCrory. I’ll take over now, Murphy.”

  “Suits me.” Murphy swept up his winnings and left the table.

  Alejandro pulled out a chair for Shaye, then dropped into the one Murphy had vacated.

  Spooner made a sound of disgust. “McCrory! That dirty sonofa…” He glanced at Shaye, cleared his throat, and looked back at Alejandro. “What did he do?”

  “He’s dipping into the till over at the Belle.”

  “The bastard. Oh, sorry, Shaye.”

  “It’s all right, Spooner,” she said with a grin. “I agree with you.”

  “So, I guess you set him straight,” Henry said. “Right?”

  “We talked,” Alejandro said curtly.

  Spooner grunted. “Must have been some conversation. Does he look as bad as you do?”

  Alejandro laughed. “Worse.”

  “We playin’ poker or gossipin’?”

  “Hold your horses, Mercer,” Digger admonished. He gestured at Alejandro’s injured arm. “You gonna be able to deal?”

  “No. Hurts like the devil when I move my hand. Shaye’s gonna deal, if you’ve got no objections.”

  “Shaye!” Henry exclaimed. “Why, I think that’s a hell of…I mean, that’s a fine idea.”

  “I don’t care who deals,” Mercer muttered irritably. “Let’s play cards.”

  Alejandro winked at Shaye as he handed her a fresh deck.

  She smiled her thanks, broke the seal, and shuffled the cards, grateful that her hands weren’t shaking. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous. She had sat in with Spooner, Digger, and Henry before.

  The four men each tossed twenty dollars into the pot.

  Shaye looked over at Alejandro. “I didn’t bring any…”

  He shook his head as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a roll of greenbacks and a handful of coins. “You’re dealing for me,” he said as he tossed a double eagle into the pot. “It’s only fair that I foot the bill.”

  * * * * *

  Shaye pushed away from the table and stood up, stretching. She couldn’t believe how quickly the last four hours had passed. What was even more amazing was the fact that she had come out more than seven hundred dollars ahead.

  Alejandro sat back in his chair. “You’re a natural, darlin’.” He smiled at her, a warm, wonderful smile that made her go weak in the knees “I thought Mercer was gonna shit his britches when you turned over that fourth jack.”

  Shaye laughed. Sh
e had taken a big chance on the last hand, and it had paid off. She gathered up her winnings and pushed them toward Alejandro. “Thanks for backing me.”

  Alejandro counted the greenbacks, gold and silver. After deducting the amount he had given her up front, he split the rest in half, and slid it across the table.

  “What’s that for?”

  “You worked hard. You earned it.”

  “But I still owe you…”

  “You don’t owe me anything, darlin’.” He picked up her half and put it in his pocket. “Mine in the left, yours in the right,” he said, and stood up. “Ready to go?”

  She nodded, felt her whole body tingle when he took her hand in his.

  They walked slowly toward the hotel. Caught up in his nearness, she paid little heed to the crowds on the street, hardly heard the ever-present noise of the stamp mill. His hand was large and warm around hers.

  The air around them felt charged, thick with tension, like the air before a storm.

  Her heart was pounding by the time they reached the hotel. He walked her up the stairs, waited while she unlocked the door. Stepping inside, she lit the lamp on the bedside table, her heart racing a little as she wondered if he would stay awhile.

  When she turned around, he was standing just inside the door. “Should I go?”

  She shook her head, felt a nervous quiver of excitement in the pit of her stomach as he closed and locked the door behind him.

  She stood there, feeling as though she were poised on the brink of a precipice, while he closed the distance between them, then slid his good arm around her waist and drew her close.

  “Shaye.” He looked into her eyes, a wry smile on his lips. “I love the sound of your name.”

  “I love the way you say it.” She swayed toward him, eyelids fluttering down as he bent his head toward her.

  His kiss, when it came, was warm and sweet and infinitely tender. Rising on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him back.

  “Rio…”