Journey to Yesterday

by Madeline Baker

  They stopped outside the Bodie Bank. “We’re gonna have to untie his hands,” Norland said.

  Dawson nodded. Drawing his gun, he moved behind Alejandro. “Don’t try anything stupid. Just get the money. One wrong word, and I’ll shoot you where you stand. Got it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Alejandro opened the door and stepped into the bank. It was late in the day. There were only three men in the place. He went to the end of the line, acutely aware of Dawson and Norland standing directly behind him. He knew the chances that they would keep their end of the deal were probably a thousand to one, but at the moment, they were his best hope.

  The men in front of him moved up one. Alejandro glanced over his shoulder.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Dawson warned.

  Alejandro muttered a vile oath. “No,” he said, his gaze on the man just entering the bank. “I won’t.”

  Dawson looked over his shoulder, and drew his gun. “Afternoon, Sheriff,” he said. “Look what I caught.”

  * * * * *

  She had ridden for several hours, fervently praying that she was going in the right direction. Nothing looked familiar, and yet everything looked familiar, since one clump of gray-green sagebrush looked pretty much like any other.

  Fear snaked through her as the sun began to go down. She had no food, no water, no blankets, no weapon. All things considered, jail was looking better all the time.

  “Rio,” she murmured, “this was not a good idea.”

  Not knowing what else to do, she gave the horse its head, hoping the animal had a better sense of direction than she did. How had the pioneers managed to cross the whole United States when she couldn’t go a few miles without getting completely turned around? If she had been in charge, no telling where the pioneers would have ended up!

  Hours later, she saw a faint light burning in the distance. With a heavy heart, she stared at the squat square building. Impossible as it seemed, she was back at the hideout.

  She dismounted at the stable. Leading the horses inside, she found two empty stalls. Removing the saddle, blanket, and bridle from first one and then the other, she forked the horses some hay, made sure both stall doors were latched, then left the stable.

  She stood outside a minute, gazing into the darkness, wondering what to do next. She never got lost in the city. Of course, there were signs on every street back home, and a handy Thomas Guide when entering unfamiliar territory. Out here, there was nothing. Even if there were signs, what would they say? Turn left at the big rock? Go south for three miles and turn right at the cottonwood tree?

  With a sigh, she headed for the saloon. Maybe she could find someone who would take her to Bodie. Then again, maybe not. How could she trust any of the men who frequented this place? They were all outlaws and ruffians, no better than Dawson and Norland.

  The first person Shaye saw when she opened the door was Jack Calder. He smiled as he came around the bar to greet her.

  “Damnation, girl, I was wondering where you went.” He glanced past her. “Where’s Rio?”

  The question, and the concern in Calder’s face, was her undoing. Feeling like a fool, she burst into tears.

  Calder muttered an oath as he placed a beefy arm around her shoulders and led her out of the saloon and around the back to his cabin. He lit a light, then sat her down in the room’s only chair. “All right, what’s going on?”

  Sniffling, she told him what had happened. “And now they’re taking him back to Bodie, and I’ve got to get there to save him before it’s too late.”

  Calder shook his head. “Rio wouldn’t kill no woman.” He looked at Shaye and grinned. “He might love ‘em to death, but he wouldn’t put no gun to their head.”

  “I have to get to Bodie right away.”

  “Sure, sure. Settle down now.” He pulled a dingy kerchief from his back pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “Cryin’ never solved nothing. Just let me think a minute.”

  Hours of riding and worrying had taken their toll and she sat back in the chair, suddenly exhausted.

  “You look all done in,” Calder said sympathetically. “We can’t do nothin’ tonight. You get some sleep, and I’ll go see what I can do about getting you back to Bodie.”

  “Thank you, Jack.”

  He dismissed her thanks with a wave of his hand. “Use my bed. And don’t worry. I’ll think of something.”

  She woke to the sound of someone knocking on the door. For a moment, she didn’t remember where she was, and then it came back to her. She had spent the night in Calder’s cabin.

  “Shaye, you awake?”

  “Yes, Jack,” she said, sitting up, “come in.”

  “Brought you some breakfast,” Calder said, grinning. “French toast.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  Calder handed her a tray, then sat down in the chair. “Least I can do for Rio’s wife. Man saved my life. I talked to Hoffman last night. He’s willin’ to take you to Bodie.” He held up a hand at her look of apprehension. “He’s a good man, Hoffman is. You can trust him. I’d take you myself, but I can’t leave the saloon. I know what you’re thinkin’,” he said with a broad smile. “Why can’t Hoffman look after the place? Well, here’s the truth of the matter. He ain’t the kind of man who would hurt a woman, but he’ll rob ya blind iffen he sees the chance.”

  Shaye nodded. “Thank you.”

  “How’s that Frenchy toast? I been getting lots of practice makin’ it.”

  “It’s perfect.”

  Calder slapped his hands on his thighs. “Well, then. You finish eatin’ and I’ll go tell Hoffman to get hisself ready. I reckon you’ll want to leave right away?”

  “Yes.”

  So it was that, an hour later, Shaye found herself riding away from the outlaw hideout with Jim Hoffman. She had collected her gear from the cabin she had shared with Alejandro. Her backpack and valise were tied behind her saddle. Calder had generously supplied them with food and drink.

  She looked over at Jim Hoffman. He was best described as average, she thought. Average height, average looks, with an infectious Billy Crystal grin.

  They rode in silence for a time, and then Hoffman started talking, first about the weather, which was, he said, “damn hot, even for July”. He then went on to reminisce about the last winter he had spent in Bodie. “A rough one,” he said, “so cold, they threw the horses out of the barn and rented out the stalls. Yep,” he said, “I’m hightailing it outta here before the snows come.”

  Shaye nodded. She was trying to think of something to say, but no reply was needed. Hoffman was a talker, and he rambled on for hours, telling her about his childhood in Tennessee, his growing up years in Texas.

  “Met my wife there,” he said. “She was purty as a black-eyed Susan, and sweeter than molasses. I sure do miss that gal.”

  “What happened?”

  Hoffman shook his head. “She was a good woman. Too good for me. She wanted me to settle down, take up clerkin’ in her father’s store. I tried. I really did. But stealing was so much easier than workin’. Second time I got caught, she left me. I ain’t blamin’ her, mind you. She was a church-going, God-fearing woman. I just couldn’t be what she wanted.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, don’t fret yourself on my account. Nobody’s fault but my own that I lost her.”

  He fell silent after that, leaving Shaye to her own thoughts, all of which were centered around Alejandro, and a sudden, overpowering fear that she would arrive too late.

  * * * * *

  Alejandro paced the floor, his long, angry strides carrying him quickly from one end of the cell to the other. Damn. Damn, damn, damn! Of all the rotten luck. Conner had been only too happy to pay Dawson and Norland the reward money. The lawman had grinned like a man who had just hit pay dirt when he locked the cell door, and he was still grinning the next day when he escorted his prisoner to court.

  The trial had been over p
ractically before it started. Alejandro’s lawyer was no match for Pat Reddy. There were only a few witnesses, but in the hands of Mr. Reddy, their evidence was damning. The clerk at the hotel had testified that he remembered seeing Alejandro and Daisy leave together on the night in question. When asked, he stated he had been called away from the desk for about an hour and hadn’t been there when Alejandro returned to the hotel. Several miners testified that they had seen Alejandro going into Daisy’s house.

  But the most damning piece of evidence, aside from the fact that his derringer had been found near Daisy’s body, had been Dade McCrory’s testimony. McCrory had sworn that he had been passing Daisy’s house that night, that he had overheard Daisy arguing with Rio, that he had heard a gunshot, and then seen Rio hurry out of the house.

  The jury had deliberated for less than twenty minutes, and he had been found guilty of murder and sentenced to hang. And because he had escaped jail the last time he had been arrested, the judge had decreed that his sentence be carried out the following morning at ten by the clock.

  He had no hope now, except Shaye, and little hope there unless she could bust him out of jail tonight.

  Going to the window, he gazed out into the darkness. Where was she? Had she made it back to Bodie? And what were the odds that she’d be able to bust him out a second time? He had no doubt at all that she would try, but he had a feeling, deep down in his gut, that his string of luck had played out.

  His thoughts turned to Daisy. Shaye had told him Daisy had been killed on the ninth of August, but Daisy had died more than a month earlier. It looked like Shaye had been wrong about the date of his hanging, too.

  He swore softly, his hands gripping the bars. Somehow, her presence in the past had altered certain events. She had told him he had been hanged on the twelfth of August, but that, too, was about to change.

  Damn. He lifted a hand to his neck, imagining the weight of a rope there, the rough feel of it, the thick knot behind his ear, the terror as he waited for the hangman to spring the trap, his body dropping through the hole. What would his last thought be as he plummeted toward eternity?

  Shaye.

  He shared her name with the night. “Shaye.” An urgent whisper. A heartfelt prayer. A wealth of regret that he would never see her again. “Shaye…”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The sun was setting in a riotous blaze of crimson and pink when they reached Aurora. Shaye felt a growing sense of urgency as they threaded their way through the noisy crowd on Main Street, dodging wagons and carts and hundreds of people who were all in an itching hurry.

  Hoffman pulled up in front of the nearest hotel. Shaye stared at the building. She was weary right down to the bone yet certain she would never sleep a wink.

  She slid gratefully out of the saddle to stand on legs that felt like overcooked spaghetti.

  Hoffman reached down and took the reins from her hand. “Why don’t you go get a room? I’ll look after the horses.”

  “Thanks.” She lifted her backpack off the saddlehorn.

  With a nod, Hoffman rode on down the street toward the livery barn.

  With a sigh, she stepped onto the boardwalk. She brushed off her skirts, ran a hand through her hair, then opened the ornate front door and entered the hotel. Crossing the carpeted lobby, she approached the front desk.

  A short man with a balding pate and a handlebar mustache greeted her with a smile and a friendly, “Hello, can I help you?”

  “I’d like two rooms,” she replied. “And a bath.”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’ll be five dollars. In advance.”

  Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she pulled a handful of crumpled greenbacks from her skirt pocket and placed five of them on the countertop. Slipping the rest back into her pocket, she signed the register for herself and Hoffman, picked up one of the keys.

  Room 122 was small and square, with whitewashed walls, gingham curtains, a single ladder-back chair, and a brass bed topped by a wedding ring quilt. She dropped her pack on the floor, took off her shoes, then fell back on the bed, legs hanging over the edge of the mattress, arms stretched out at her sides, and immediately fell asleep.

  She woke with a start, not knowing what had awakened her. Sitting up, she glanced around the darkened room, her heart pounding wildly. And then she heard it again. Alejandro’s voice, whispering her name.

  “Rio?” She glanced around the room. “Rio?”

  “Shaye.”

  His voice again, filled with a yearning that reached into her very soul.

  “I’m coming!” Rising, she hurried toward the door, stumbling in her haste.

  A single lamp lit the hallway. Hoffman had the room across from hers. She knocked on the door and when there was no answer, she knocked again, harder.

  A moment later the door swung open to reveal Jim Hoffman, clad in a pair of faded red longjohns. Seeing her standing there chased the sleepy look from his face.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “We have to leave.”

  “Now?” He blinked owlishly. “Hell, girl, it’s not even daylight yet.”

  “We have to go. Get dressed. Hurry!”

  He frowned at her. “What’s wrong? The hotel on fire?”

  “Please, just get dressed. We have to go. Right now.”

  “All right, all right.” He scratched his jaw and then his chest. “Give me ten minutes.”

  “Make it five,” she said, and hurrying back to her own room, she splashed some water on her face, put on her shoes, grabbed her backpack.

  When she stepped into the hallway again, Hoffman was waiting for her. “Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on?” He shoved his shirttail into his pants.

  “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. You wouldn’t believe me anyway. All I know is we have to get to Bodie right away.”

  He looked at her as if he thought she’d lost her mind, and maybe she had, but he didn’t argue.

  Ten minutes later, they were riding out of town.

  * * * * *

  Alejandro took a deep breath as a clock chimed the half-hour. It was nine-thirty. He hadn’t slept the night before; had done nothing but pace the floor, or stare out into the darkness. How quickly the last hours of his life had gone by! He had few regrets. He had lived his life as he pleased, and if it had been less than perfect, he had no one to blame but himself. He had ridden some lonely trails, seen some beautiful country, always found work when he needed it, always had money in his pockets. But it was Shaye who had made the deepest impression in his life. Shaye, with her beautiful deep-green eyes and earth-brown hair. Shaye, with her sweet spirit. She had shown him that there was more to life than whiskey and cards. She had shown him what love was, made him realize that, until he met her, he hadn’t really been living at all.

  “Shaye.” He whispered her name, hugging it close, remembering how easily she had fit into his life, how quickly she had become important to him. He wished he could have held her one last time, told her how much he loved her. His biggest regret was that they had had such a short time together. Did she know how much he loved her?

  He closed his eyes, his mind conjuring her image. She was all woman, from the top of her head to the tips of her funny shoes. Would she go back to her own time when he was dead? He wished he had asked her more about the future. He was intrigued by the things she had told him about; vehicles that moved without horses and, even more astonishing, vehicles that flew through the air. Pictures that moved and talked. Indoor privies. Hot and cold running water. Machines that washed and dried clothes.

  But Shaye was the most amazing thing of all. It wasn’t only iron bars that kept them apart, he mused, it was a hundred and twenty years.

  Damn. He couldn’t believe she had been sent to him, only to have it end like this.

  The sound of Conner’s footsteps proved how wrong he was. The sheriff regarded him a moment. “Do you want to see a priest?”

  “No.”

  “Cigarette?”<
br />
  “No.”

  “All right then, let’s go. The hangman’s waiting.”

  * * * * *

  “Empty? What do you mean, empty?” Shaye grabbed Hoffman’s arm. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Shaye stared at Hoffman. Was she too late? Where could he be? He wasn’t dead, couldn’t be dead. She would know it, feel it, if he was.

  On the edge of panic, she stepped out of her hiding place. He was here, somewhere, and she would find him. She frowned as she watched a bunch of men hurrying down the street, felt her heart drop when she overheard a man telling his friend that if they didn’t hurry, they would miss the hanging.

  With a cry of despair, Shaye followed them. Turning a corner, she came to an abrupt halt. The top of the gallows rose above the hundreds of men crowded around it. She pushed and shoved her way through the throng, hardly daring to breathe. And then she saw him, standing on the platform, his arms tied behind his back, his expression blank as he stared into the distance. The sheriff stood on one side of him, the hangman waited on the other.

  Frozen by the horror of the moment, she watched the hangman drop the noose over Alejandro’s head, saw him arrange the knot behind his ear, take up the slack in the noose.

  She had to do something, but what? Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. Her heart pounded frantically. It couldn’t end like his. It couldn’t! She glanced at the people around her. It didn’t make sense. Why had she been sent here, if not to save him?

  She looked up at the platform again felt her heart skip a beat when she met his gaze. He shook his head, and she knew he didn’t want her to be there, didn’t want her to watch him die, but she couldn’t leave, not when she would never see him again.

  “I love you.” She mouthed the words, hoping he could read her lips, hoping he knew the feelings of her heart and soul.

  He smiled faintly, his eyes dark, smoldering, filled with a thousand things unsaid between them. And then he mouthed the words she had waited so long to hear.