by Anna Furtado
“Who?”
“Jackie. I’m sorry if I offended you by mistaking you for her. She’s my best friend.”
Olivia stared for so long, Tucker’s face started to redden. Finally she answered, “Then, I’ll take it as a compliment, shall I?” Tucker thought she heard a hint of an Irish accent, which third generation Irish-American, Jackie O’Malley, no longer possessed.
“Yes, you should. She’s a fine woman. She runs a business herself.”
“Ah, I see, so, another resemblance to your friend.”
Maybe she’d better not mention Jackie owned The Charlie. What if the place didn’t exist wherever, no, whenever, she found herself now? Perhaps Jackie didn’t exist. Maybe Leah did. Maybe she didn’t. She decided she might as well take another gamble since a truce of sorts was in force.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Olivia looked wary but motioned for Tucker to continue.
“Do you know a woman named Leah? Leah Hudson?”
“No. Can’t say I do. Where’s she from?”
“Well, most recently, she’s from LA” She realized her blunder when the look on Olivia’s face changed from mild interest to consternation. “I mean, Los Angeles.”
After the look Olivia gave her, she thought better of adding Leah lived in Elder Creek. Olivia would probably think she was making up stories since she said she didn’t know Leah.
“Don’t think I’ve made her acquaintance. I’ve been here in Elder Creek all my life, even when I was young and there were a lot more people in town because of the gold, I never remember anyone by the name of Hudson, man or woman. Can’t say I ever remember anyone coming all the way from Los Angeles, either. Although, when the mine operated, people came from all over the country, even from foreign places.”
Something struck Tucker. “So, the mine is closed now?”
“Has been for some time now.”
Tucker didn’t want to appear too curious about the mine. She knew it closed in 1870. So obviously, in Olivia Justice’s world, it must be sometime after that.
She decided to take another chance and ask her about the Leah look-alike. “I saw a woman get off the stage this morning. She has blonde hair.” The woman she saw looked like Leah except for the length and curl of her hair. The woman from the stage wore hair much longer than Leah’s, and she sported an abundance of curls—banana curls they used to call them—elongated ringlets in thick bunches all around her head. The Leah she knew wore some curl in her hair, but it came slightly above her shoulders, and the way she wore it looked nothing like the frilly-attired lady she spied through the window earlier.
Olivia waited.
“She got off the stage this morning, dressed in a fancy blue dress with lots of lace and a big hat to match.”
Olivia’s look changed to recognition.
“Must have been Lily.”
“Lily?”
“Yes, Lily Hart. She was off to visit someone in Hatchet, I heard.”
If Hatchet was anywhere near Elder Creek, Tucker wasn’t aware of it.
“I’m not familiar with Hatchet, Miss Olivia. Where is it?”
Olivia’s eyebrows shifted downward, shading her eyes. “Hatchet? It’s about two hours or so by stage.” She stared at Tucker before she added, “You’re not from anywhere near here, are you?”
Tucker chuckled at her observation. “Not even close.”
After another brief moment, Olivia looked down at Tucker’s empty cup and said, “You want some more coffee?”
Tucker’s stomach threatened to revolt at the question. No. Never again, she thought. She never wanted to drink the rot-gut Olivia Justice tried to pass as coffee. She looked into her remaining half cup, grounds floated amid an oily slick of black liquid. “No, thank you.” She hoped the pathetic smile she gave Olivia didn’t betray her real feelings about the drink. She still felt the gritty grounds between her teeth and the bitterness on the back of her tongue. “I think I’ve drunk enough, but I appreciate the offer.”
She’d wasted enough time. She needed to figure out what was going on in Elder Creek. She wondered if Olivia knew where Lily Hart might be found, but her instincts told her not to try. She’d have to figure it out on her own.
“I’d best be going, but I thank you for the tasty breakfast.” Except for the coffee, she added in her head. She pushed her seat back from the table, legs scraping across the wooden floor. Since she noticed previous diners only left their ten-cent pieces in payment for their breakfasts, she didn’t leave an additional tip before walking out the door.
Out on the boardwalk in front of Olivia’s place, Tucker looked up and down the street and wondered where she should begin her hunt for Lily Hart. She decided to continue down the walkway in the direction she watched Lily go after leaving the stagecoach.
PEOPLE WENT ABOUT their business, coming and going up and down the street. Horse-drawn wagons pulled up near various business establishments. One man loaded large sacks of something in the back of a wagon already filled with small kegs and wooden crates. Two women walked arm-in-arm across the street, gingham drawstring bags swinging from their elbows as they walked. Tucker again realized she saw no one in modern dress since she left the hotel. Was she a victim of time travel, deposited here soon after 1870? She looked down at her own flannel shirt and jeans. She supposed she fit right in. With her attire, including her cowboy hat, and her lanky body, she looked like almost any other male inhabitant of this town today.
She squinted up at the leaves on the trees along the street. They showed off their orange and yellow, helping Tucker identify the season. At least that was unchanged. The sun warmed the fall air enough for her to remove her cowboy hat and fan herself a few times before placing it back on her head.
Under her flannel shirt, Tucker wore a silky tank top. Normally, on a warm day like today, she would open her flannel shirt to let the breeze circulate around her torso. However, she thought better of it because doing so would clearly show the outline of her small breasts, and she risked exposing herself as a woman. Since Olivia mistook her for a man during breakfast, she thought it wise not to reveal her true gender. She might need the advantage.
Her boots clapped the boards beneath her feet as she headed down the street, passing the mercantile. She acknowledged the man loading up the wagon, relieved he didn’t look familiar to her. At this point, strangers comforted her, offering less confusion, less chance of getting into trouble by mistaking them for someone else.
She continued down the street until she saw another familiar building. The large sign over the door read The Saint Charles Saloon. The script appeared different from The Charlie sign she knew, this one embellished with scrolls and flourishes all around the letters. Her Charlie’s sign, which also read The Saint Charles Saloon, was smaller with plain, bold lettering.
Curiosity got the better of her and she crossed the street toward the building. One of the heavy metal double doors stood open and she peeked in. The place lacked the larger windows adorning the well-lit Charlie she knew. She waited for her eyes to adjust as she stared into the dimness. Several oil lamps hung from the ceiling, giving barely enough light to illumine the place. She saw no one inside.
Tucker couldn’t help herself. Curious about the place she knew so well, she stepped over the threshold to get a better look.
It looked different, yet the same. The rich wood molding around the bar was identical. The upright piano on the far wall looked a little different, but not by much. The chairs at the round tables were cane-backed and rounded instead of the ladder back chairs so familiar to her. As she glanced along the length of the room to the far wall, she realized something was missing. A wooden balcony and the stairs she knew, added some time after 1900 to accommodate musicians and entertainers as a stage, according to local history, didn’t exist in this Charlie. The clues to the time floated all around her she now realized. She deduced it to be sometime after the mine closure in 1870 but before the early 1900s. Tucker felt a lump form i
n her throat as she confirmed she’d been thrust back in time.
AS TUCKER CONTINUED to take in The Charlie’s differences and similarities, someone entered the bar from the back room. She wondered if she should ask about Lily Hart, but when she met the man’s eyes, she shivered. Nigel Dunbar.
He glowered at her but didn’t say a word as he took his place behind the bar and began mopping the surface with a stained rag. She stepped toward him, her heart pumping wildly. She didn’t understand why the stranger evoked such a reaction.
He held her gaze as she approached and finally snarled at her. “What do you want?” He added, “Get you somethin’ to drink?”
“Bakers, neat.”
“Don’t know what Bakers is. And this isn’t the neatest place in Elder Creek as you can see.” He cackled at his own joke as he waved the cloth around. “You best take your city slicker ways elsewhere. We don’t need your kind in Elder Creek.”
He looked mean. He felt meaner—menacing, actually. She didn’t think of herself as a coward, yet her instincts told her to be very careful around him. Maybe she should turn around and walk out the door. Maybe she made a big mistake in coming into The Charlie. She’d have to try to find Lily Hart another way. But, before she could leave, she saw movement from the corner of her eye and heard a familiar voice say, “Why Nigel, you didn’t tell me we’re graced with patrons already. Why didn’t you call me? I was primping out back to look my best.”
Tucker watched Lily saunter toward her. She wore a different dress from the one she wore on the stagecoach. She now wore something a little less fancy. This dress was a deep red wine color with an off-white lace trim around the neckline and sleeves. The neckline—plunged—revealed cleavage, making Tucker’s tongue stick to the roof of her mouth. She licked her lips trying to lubricate them in an attempt to speak.
“Good morning, Miss Lily.” She removed her hat.
Lily stared at her. “Do I know you, Mister?”
Tucker’s mind raced as she tried to figure out what she would say next. She wanted to get Lily away from the intimidating bartender, but how? Then a thought struck her.
“No, ma’am. You don’t, but we have a mutual friend. And she asked me to give you a message if I saw you.”
Lily looked skeptical. “What friend might you be referring to, Mister—”
“Tucker. The name’s Tucker, ma’am.” She needed a name—some name—any name. No, not merely any name. Because if it proved to be a name Lily didn’t know, Dunbar would probably come around the bar and pummel her until only her head stuck out from the floor boards. She eyed him surreptitiously. Her heart beat faster. She wondered if fear of Dunbar or a reaction to Leah—no, Lily’s beauty—caused it.
And there it was. The name—Leah. Would it work? Maybe if all the stars and planets lined up right, Lily might have a friend named Leah and it might be the means to get her alone. She could say she was in possession of a confidential message from her and at least get Lily into a corner out of earshot of Dunbar. The man looked as if he would pull out a gun and shoot her right there if she misspoke one word. She stifled a shiver.
Tucker decided to hedge her bets by opening with, “If I have the right person, you may know our mutual friend. Her name is Leah.” She saw Lily’s eyes widen ever so slightly. She continued, “and she asked me—”
Lily squealed, “Leah? Oh my goodness, gracious, Leah sent me a message?”
Tucker tried not to show too much surprise at her success. “Uh, yes ma’am.”
“Oh, wonderful.” Lily clapped her hands together, expressing her delight. “Let’s go sit down and you tell me all about her message.”
She tugged Tucker by the arm, pulling her toward the far end of the saloon, far away from Dunbar. Tucker glanced back at him while Leah dragged her away. She registered his displeasure. They only made it halfway across the room before he spoke.
“Lily,” Dunbar snapped. “You need to tend to customers.”
Lily stopped and gave an exaggerated sweep of the empty saloon, looked at Dunbar and said, “Nigel, this,” she pointed at Tucker, “is our only customer and he’s here to see me, so calm yourself and bring us a couple of whiskeys, then leave us alone.” Lily’s face reddened as she spoke. She looked angry.
Dunbar turned his back on them and fiddled with a bottle he pulled from under the counter, grumbling something under his breath. Tucker raised an eyebrow at Lily for her brazenness, thinking Lily and Leah endowed with some similarities of personality. Lily gestured toward a table at the far corner of the room and they continued toward it.
Before she sat down, Tucker remembered her manners and pulled out Lily’s chair for her, helping her get settled. Lily smiled up at her and Tucker felt a thrill run through her body. It finally stopped at her nether regions. She tried to ignore it as she took a seat opposite Lily and squeezed her legs together.
Dunbar approached the table with two glasses, each containing two fingers of brown liquid. Fortunately, the contents didn’t splash out on Tucker when he slammed the glass in front of her. Lily gave him a challenging look. He squinted back at her then disappeared into the room at the back of the saloon without saying a word.
Lily’s facial expression changed from irritated to excited as she said, “I must say, I never thought I’d hear from Leah Washington again. Please, Mister Tucker, tell me what she said.”
Uh-oh. Leah’s name was Washington? Now what should she do? Tucker sat staring at Lily. Think, Tucker, think. A person capable of making Lily’s face light up in such a way probably would say something very personal to her. Then it dawned on her. Lily must have feelings for this woman. She cleared her throat and started in with a little bit of apprehension.
“She said to tell you she sends her love.” Lily placed her hand over her bosom. Tucker tried to ignore the gesture. She plunged on. “She said to tell you she misses you.” Lily let out a small gasp. Where was she supposed to go with this? She regretted not having a plan. Keep it safe. Don’t say anything you’ll find coming back and biting you on the butt. “She says she wishes it were possible to come and see you—” Lily let out a whimper this time. Tucker felt guilty for lying. She needed to bring this to an end. “—but it’s not.”
Lily’s expression changed to utter devastation. Tucker wracked her brain to come up with something else to say to console Lily. She found nothing. Anything she might say to give Lily false hope would only hurt her more since it was never going to happen, and Tucker found the thought of inflicting pain on this beautiful woman who reminded her so much of Leah—her Leah—difficult. It might also put her in jeopardy. She couldn’t risk it. “I’m sorry, Miss Lily. I wish I brought better news for you.”
Lily smiled through glistening eyes. “I know. It doesn’t surprise me. I entertained a moment of hope, though. It’s fine. I know this is how it has to be. I resigned myself to it a long time ago.” She took a deep breath and wiped at a tear escaping from the corner of her eye.
Tucker searched for something to comfort Lily. Finally, she said, “If nothing else, bringing Miss Leah’s message to you let me meet you. I would be pleased if we could be friends, Miss Lily.” Why was she talking like a cowpoke, she wondered? Another effect of this whole experience of another time? Perhaps.
Lily whispered, “I’d like that. I’d like it very much, Mister Tucker.”
“Please,” Tucker said, “Call me Tucker. All my friends do.”
Lily broke into a wide smile. “Why thank you, Tucker. I’ll do that.” She lifted her glass to her lips and took a sip of the whiskey.
Tucker did the same and almost choked on the foul, burning taste, far worse than the coffee she drank earlier. When she recovered, she looked down at the glass and cringed. Suddenly the small quantity of the awful liquor left in the glass looked like an impossible amount for her to finish. She’d have to drink it or Lily would wonder what was wrong with her. As she debated between dispensing with it in small amounts or taking one large swig and be done, another man
walked into the saloon, another stranger, she noted.
Dunbar emerged from the back room and hailed the man. As he walked over to the bar, he scowled at Tucker and Lily in the corner. “I’d better get back to work,” Lily said. She chugged the rest of her whiskey and stood up. Panic surged through Tucker as Lily turned to go. Inexplicably, she knew Lily was key to helping her figure out this riddle. Maybe Olivia was, too, but one thing she knew for sure, she wouldn’t allow this to be the last time she saw Lily. She needed to do something to ensure they’d meet again.
“Say, Lily.”
Lily faced her, beaming.
“How about you and me get some supper tonight at Miss Olivia’s?”
Lily’s face saddened. “Can’t tonight. I’ll be working until late. Maybe tomorrow night, though. Francesca will be back from San Francisco later today and I’ll be able to take some time off for dinner while she’s working tomorrow.”
“Oh, all right. Good. I’ll look forward to it. Tomorrow then. Shall I meet you here?”
“No.” She glanced back at Dunbar, who still stared at them. “I’ll meet you at Olivia’s. Let’s say around five o’clock”
“Yes. Five o’clock. I’ll see you then.”
Before Lily started toward the bar, she said, “Tucker, this is dinner with a friend, right? Nothing else?”
Tucker smiled. “Yep. Dinner with a friend. That’s all, Miss Lily.”
Lily’s face brightened. “Good. I’ll see you then, Tucker.”
She took a few steps and stopped again. “Don’t worry about the drink, Tucker.” She plunged her hand into her bodice and pulled something out. Tucker’s eyes widened at the gesture. Lily held up the coin, pulled from between her breasts. “It’s on me.”
The gesture made Tucker’s heart flutter for a few beats. The sight of Lily’s hand plunged into the region of her bosom kept repeating in her mind’s eye like an echo. However, it wasn’t actually Lily performing the gesture, it was Leah.
The beads of sweat on her forehead returned. She lifted the glass and saluted Lily in thanks, hoping against hope she looked more casual than she felt. Then she chugged the god-awful drink in one big swig, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, got up and left The St. Charles Saloon.
