Through The Years Reposting

"Oh, I mean I understand," Tyler explained. I'm going to have to watch my words and phrases, Tyler thought. The language is still English but the way we talk has changed in the last 100 years.

Dooley smiled. "You talk different Mr. Gibson. Where you from?"

"I just arrived from back East. Tennessee to be exact."

"You plan on staying a while?"

"Thought I would. I've never been here before and I'd like to look around the country." Technically it's true, Tyler thought. I didn't live back in this time so I've never been here before.

"Got somewheres to stay? The Grand Hotel is a decent place. It's not really grand but it's clean. Course it'll get a mite costly if you're gonna be here long. Mrs. Draper runs a boarding house; it's down at the end of the street. Not fancy but the rooms are clean and she serves a real good supper."

"I'm staying at a ranch a little north west of here, about ten miles outside of town."

"That'd be the Torrey place? The T2S?"

"Yes sir." Tyler knew that Grandpa Torrey's place was called Torrey Two Spring ranch, named for the two springs that flowed from a rock bluff and that the brand was T2S. In fact back in his own time Tyler still paid the small yearly fee to have the ranch name and brand registered with the state of Texas.

"Last I heard Jackson Torrey went to Dallas for a spell; left last week he did. After his wife, Molly, died of the fever last year, he said he was gonna burn the place to the ground and let the devil have it. How'd you get him to let you stay out there?"

Now Tyler was able to pin point this time frame better. He knew from the family stories that in the summer of 1878, Grandpa Torrey had gone to get his daughter, Stella, to help him run the place after Grandma Molly had passed away. Stella was a headstrong young woman and had moved to Dallas; more to spite her father than for any other reason.

Stella Torrey came back to the ranch and met a young cowboy name Joshua Gibson in town one day. They had a whirlwind romance and got married soon afterward. When Grandpa Torrey died he left the ranch to his daughter and her husband. That's how the Gibson's became involved with the Torrey ranch.

Dooley was waiting for an answer while Tyler thought about his family's history.

"Jack Torrey and I have some history Marshal. Have for a lot of years." About 140 years to be exact, he said to himself.

Thomas looked hard at the young man sitting across from him. He didn't know the man or anything about him but for some reason he trusted him. Dooley stood to leave.

"Well, welcome to New Braunfels Mr. Gibson. If you need anything, my office is right across from the saloon." He laughed and said, "I don't have so far to go when trouble starts. And anytime you mix whiskey and cowboys there's sure to be trouble. Come see me sometime and we'll talk some more."

Marshal Thomas stood, nodded, and left the café. As he stepped into the street he gripped the shotgun in his right hand, holding it like a pistol; ready for any trouble that might come his way.

"Not a man I'd like to tangle with," Tyler said in a low voice. "I think the legend is right, he's a hard man."

After finishing his breakfast, Tyler paid his bill with a Double Eagle. The woman complained about him not having a smaller denomination coin. Tyler felt a little guilty as he left but now he had some smaller coins and folding money to use.

Tyler walked down the wooden boardwalk to the saloon. It had the classic swinging doors seen on TV and in movies from back in his time. He did notice that there were tall wide doors against the inside walls that could be closed if the weather was bad.

The Rock Bottom saloon was like walking onto a movie set. There was a long wooden, hand carved bar against the wall opposite the doors. Behind the bar there were whiskey bottles lining the shelf in front of a very large mirror. The bartender wore his hair slicked back; he had large bushy sideburns and a handlebar moustache. His shirt had a button on collar with a string tie and garters holding his sleeves up out of his way.

"What'll it be stranger?" The bartender asked. He was wiping the already clean bar top like bartenders throughout history had done.

"I'd like a beer and a shot."

"I'm Ernie Simpson; part owner of The Rock Bottom." Ernie drew a glass of beer, used a wide wooden squeegee to remove the excess foam and sat the beer in front of Tyler. Using one of the bottles sitting in front of the mirror, Simpson filled a large heavy glass with whiskey and slid it three feet over to Tyler.

Simpson looked to be between 40 and 50 years old. He was several pounds overweight with a florid complexion and a big red nose. He's no stranger to whiskey, Tyler thought.

"First beer is on the house Mister; the whiskey's six bits."

"Thank you Mr. Simpson," Tyler said picking up the glass of whiskey. "My name's Tyler Gibson."

This isn't a shot glass, Tyler thought as he picked up the whiskey. There's more like three shots in there. He drank about half of the whiskey and quickly followed it with a long drink of beer. Tyler almost spit the beer out; he wasn't used to his beer being warm. This whiskey isn't exactly Gentleman Jack either. He took another drink from his beer.

"You here on business Mr. Gibson?"

"More like pleasure Mr. Simpson. Thought I'd look around the country. I'm staying out at the Torrey place."

"Ernie's good enough Mr. Gibson. You call me Mister and I feel like a dude from the big city."

"You can call me Tyler. Mr. Gibson is my father." He picked up the mug of beer and looked around. The saloon was a large rectangular shaped room. Tyler could see a "money wheel" at one end. People made bets as to which number would stop under a flexible finger type peg on one side of the wheel. The operator would spin the wheel and if it stopped on your number you won; winners were few and far between. There was also a Faro game and a craps table. Faro was a dying game in his time, but Tyler recognized the craps table. From the looks of it the table hadn't changed since the early days.

The middle and other end of the long room had several tables with chairs sitting at them. The tables were round and the chairs were wooden 'Captain' type chairs. Tyler had to smile. Just like in the movies, he thought. He turned back facing the bar and took another sip of the whiskey.

"Not very busy today," he remarked.

"No sir. Never is on Sunday; at least not until sundown. Most of my customers are over to the big midday meal at the church." Ernie laughed and added, "By sundown the men have done all the chores their wife's wanted done and they can slip away for a spell."

"Yep, you have to take care of the 'honey do' list," Tyler replied.

"The what list?" Ernie asked.

Tyler realized he'd used a term from his time that wasn't known in the 1870's. "I mean your wife says 'Honey do this or Honey do that'. It's a term used back in Tennessee by some people."

"Oh, I understand," Ernie said and laughed. "Honey do list eh. Wait till the boys hear about that."

"Let me buy you a whiskey Ernie," Tyler offered, trying to cover his slip in language.

"Give me that," Ernie said and took the whiskey glass out of Tyler's hand. "If you're gonna be a gentleman about it we should drink the good stuff."

He opened a cabinet door under the mirror and took out a bottle. "This is my private stock," Ernie said with a grin. He poured two glasses of the amber fluid and slid one to Tyler. "To your health Tyler," he toasted.

Tyler took s tentative sip, smiled and took a bigger drink. "Now that's more like it Ernie."

"Yeah, the other's fine for the regular customers, but a gentleman like yourself deserves the good stuff," Ernie said as he laughed. "Especially since you're buying a drink for me."

Tyler finished his whiskey and beer. "I'll see you again Ernie," he said and started to leave the saloon.

"It tends to get a mite chilly at night this time of the year," Ernie said and held out the half full bottle of his private stock to Tyler. "Best take this with you to fight off the cold."

Tyler nodded his thanks and left the saloon. He talked to himself as he walked toward where he had tied up Midnight. "Be too easy to turn into a drunk. Better get back to the cabin and try to figure this out."

Dooley Thomas waved to him as Tyler rode out of town. On the ride "home", Tyler looked around finding the changed landmarks. Back at the cabin he unsaddled Midnight, and rubbed him down. "It's got to be late June from the hot, humid weather. Look how lathered up you are from that easy ride," he said to the horse. Tyler fed Midnight and made sure he had extra water.

He returned to the cabin and pulled a rocking chair outside on the small covered porch. "As I see it, I'm at exactly the same place as I was Saturday night. The room I woke up in corresponds to my office back then, maybe I mean up there; anyway in the future. The cabin is situated on the same rise that my house stands on."

There was a pump at the kitchen sink but Tyler got up and walked to the well at the side of the cabin. He dropped a bucket down into the well and used the windlass to pull it back up. There was a large dipper hanging on the cover over the well. He took a dipper full and walked back to the rocking chair.

"There's just something special about fresh drawn water. Don't need to start hitting Ernie's whiskey; I'll drink myself into a stupor." He drank from the dipper and leaned back in the chair. "I know where I am, I know when I am but what I don't know is how I got here. Last thing I remember was working on my story about 3 AM. I felt queasy sometime while I was sleeping and the next thing I know, I'm back in 1878. "

"The only thing I can think of was that somehow I got caught in a riff of the Space Time Continuum." Tyler thought about the Science Fiction he'd read. "Or maybe I was abducted by aliens and transported back in time." He chuckled, then laughed and soon was laughing almost hysterically. He got control of himself after a minute. "Who am I kidding? I've got no idea why or how I'm here or how long I'm going to be here; maybe for the rest of my life." He finished the water and stood up. "I can't do anything about getting back so all I can do is make the best of it."

Tyler walked down to the spring branch flowing at the bottom of the rise. "I bet the well taps into this spring. The water I drew was cold and had almost a sweet flavor." He snapped his fingers. "I remember now, this is Sweet Water Spring. It's the reason Grandpa decided to settle in this spot."

Climbing back to top of the rise he walked around to the back of the cabin. One of the two buildings he'd seen earlier were about 50 feet behind the cabin. It was directly opposite the door coming out of the kitchen. Tyler smiled as he recognized the outhouse.

"I think they called them privies," he said.

The other building was opposite the barn about 100 feet from the cabin. As he got closer, Tyler realized what the building was. The smell of smoke made by seasoned wood was heavy on the air as he neared the little building. Opening the door, the smell seemed to roll over him in a wave.

"It's a smoke house. I've read about them but I've never really seen one."

The low afternoon sun cast a light into the shed and Tyler could see something hanging from a cross beam. A large form was wrapped in what looked like burlap sacking; beneath the wrapping was a large slab of bacon. Tyler knew from his research and stories his father had told that the smoked and cured meat would be useful for a several months.

"Well at least I won't have to go into town to eat every day." He pulled a folding Buck knife out of his pocket and cut two thick slices of bacon. On the way back to the cabin Tyler saw that a root cellar had been dug next the north side wall. He put the bacon in the kitchen and came back to the cellar. Pulling back the door he saw four wooden steps leading down. Inside he found a large bag of dried beans, some potatoes spread out on a shelf, and several bunches of wild onions.

Back in the kitchen he poked at the coals in the stove with a short andiron and added three or four pieces of split wood to make a fire and while it was building he used the hand pump to draw a bucket of water. Tyler put two double handfuls of beans into a large pot and covered them with water. The beans would soak overnight, soften, and be ready to cook with some fat back or bacon the next day.

"Funny thing, Grandpa's been gone for at least a week but when I woke up the coals were still hot and the coffee was warm. Sorta like I'd been asleep instead of just getting here."

Tyler sliced a potato into a large cast iron skillet and added two onions. When the potato was nearly done he added bacon that he'd sliced off the slab. After the meal was ready, Tyler didn't bother with a plate; he ate directly from the skillet. "It's a good thing Mom made me learn how to cook a bit. Of course now I'd have to learn or go hungry. Not the healthiest meal but it'll have to do until I can get some supplies from the general store."

After supper Tyler sat on the front porch in the rocker with Ernie's whisky. He took one drink and set the bottle at his feet. It had been a stressful day and as the tension ebbed out of him he became sleepy.

"I'm tired of thinking about this. I'm going to bed."

********************

Three days later Tyler made the ride into New Braunfels. "I don't know how long I'll be here but I need a few things from the general store if I'm going to stay. Can't keep eating at the café all the time; it's cheap but I've only got so much money." He snorted and said, "Like I've got any choice about being here. Hell, I may wake up tomorrow in my own bed."

He tied Midnight to the hitching rail and walked into the store. Tyler had to smile again; the store looked exactly like the ones depicted in western movies and on TV.

"Howdy, can I help you Mister," asked an elderly man behind a counter.

"Hello. I'd need some coffee, a little flour, sugar and five or six pieces of this stick candy."

A few minutes later the man had the supplies gathered on the counter. "That be all for you?"

"Three boxes of .44-40 cartridges too please," Tyler answered. Other than what was loaded into the weapons, he hadn't noticed any ammunition back at the cabin.

"That'll be $21 Mister. Let's make it $20 even for your first time in my store." Tyler dropped a Double Eagle on the counter, gathered his packages and left.

Putting the supplies in his saddle bags he mounted and walked Midnight down Main Street to the Rock Bottom saloon. "Might as well have a beer before I head back."

Tyler pushed through the swinging doors like he seen happen so many time on TV, chuckling to himself as he did so. "Reckon I'm a sure enough cowboy," he said softly with a put on Texas drawl.

Ernie saw Tyler come into the saloon. He drew a beer sat it on the bar then turned, got a bottle of his private stock, poured a glass, and sat the whiskey on the bar next to the beer.

Tyler smiled and nodded at the bartender. He drank about half the whiskey and followed with a long drink of the beer. "Thanks Ernie," Tyler spoke for the first time.

"Welcome Tyler. What brings you back to town?"

"Needed some supplies. Much as I like Rosita's cooking it's a long ride every day for supper."

Ernie refilled Tyler's beer glass and the two new friends talked for a few minutes. Tyler heard the swinging doors open and turned to see who had come into the saloon.

"Howdy Ernie, Mr. Gibson," Marshal Thomas said as he stepped to the bar. "Short beer please Ernie."

Dooley took a small sip of the beer and turned to Tyler. "I saw you ride in Mr. Gibson. I'm surprised that Jack would leave Midnight with you."

"Jack asked me to take care of his horse for him while he was gone. He said that he could make better time going by stage coach and train." Tyler took a pull on his beer and smiled. "That's part of my rent; taking care of Midnight."

"You seem like you know horses. You'd better because Midnight can be a handful. Jack's about the only one that can ride that horse."

"I guess it's like riding a bike Marshal," Tyler said. "Once you learn you never forget how."

"Riding a what?"

Damn Tyler thought, I did it again. Bicycles weren't common in the west until after 1900.

"Back in Tennessee we call a spirited horse a bike," Tyler answered trying to explain. It was the first thing he could think of. "I meant that once you learn to handle a horse like that, you never forget."

"I see," Dooley replied, indicating by the tone of his voice that he wasn't sure he understood.

"Dooley Thomas, I want to see you," a loud voice called from the door way. A large rough looking man pushed his way through the swinging doors. He carried a repeating rifle in one hand and wore a pistol in a cross draw holster in front of his left hip with the butt of the gun pointed forward. The big man fingered the pistol as he walked toward the Marshal.

"Stover, if you ain't careful you're gonna see me once too often," Dooley replied.

"You shot my brother."

"I did."

"Riley was my brother," Stover repeated.

"Riley was also a rustler, horse thief, and a bandit."

"Why'd you shoot him?"

"He was shootin at me Stover. Riley robbed the freight office and shot Bill Justin; shot a man for $23 and then he tried to shoot me." Dooley shook his head, stepped away from the bar, and put some distance between him and Tyler. "I trailed Riley and when I caught up to him he started shootin. I'm a better gun hand than him."

"Reckon I'll have to even things up Marshal," Stover said putting his hand on the butt of his pistol.

"You'll just end up like Riley. Now why don't you have a drink and then go arrange for your brother's funeral?"

"Nope," Stover said and pulled his gun.

He never got the chance to bring his weapon to bear. As the pistol cleared the holster and started to turn toward Dooley, the Marshal drew his own weapon and shot Stover twice. The big man took two steps backward and crumpled to the floor. Dooley pickup up Stover's gun from the floor, set it on the bar, and bent to examine Stover.

"Well hell," Dooley said almost to himself. "Guess I'll have to bury both brothers." Turning he ordered, "Ernie, best send your swamper for Mr. Temple." He noticed Tyler for the first time since Stover had walked into the saloon. "Mr. Temple is the undertaker," he explained. "Sorry you had to be here Tyler."

Tyler nodded; he was shocked by the gun fight and the dead man on the floor. He finished his drink, said good bye to Marshal Thomas and Ernie, and left the saloon. He mounted Midnight and started the big horse on the road back to the ranch.

"That man is dead," Tyler talked out loud as he rode. "That wasn't a cowboy shooting tournament; those were real bullets and real consequences. I've been thinking about wearing the Colt; now I'm not sure that's the thing to do. I'm not a coward but I've only used a gun for hunting and the action shooting contests. It never struck home when I did research or played at being a gunfighter what would happen in a real gun fight."

He rode for a long time with his mind going in circles. Back at the T2S, Tyler rode to the corral, tended to Midnight, and took the supplies back to the cabin. He warmed up the leftovers from supper the previous night. I'm not hungry but I'd better eat, he thought. After cleaning up he took the Winchester down and laid it on the table. Tyler went into the bedroom, brought the Colt into the kitchen, and laid it next to the rifle.

"If the country's still this wild why would Grandpa leave his guns? It's June, as I remember the story Grandpa and Stella came back to the ranch in late September. If I'm still here what will happen if we meet?" Tyler paused in thought for a minute. "Here's a good one; will anything I do back in this time change the future?" Tyler started to laugh but stopped before it turned hysterical like it had before.