MINE is a hard story to tell. For I can't expect that anyone would ever believe that it happened. Something did happen though. But I expect I should give you particulars so you can understand.
I'm your typical modern day Bonanza fan. I'm in my twenties and grew up watching Bonanza re-runs on television, and am left now with a healthy interest in the Old West and old things in general. Which is why my story begins in an antique shop. I was visiting a rather forlorn one in Nevada- some people cannot pass by a shoe store without looking in, and antiques are my particular weakness. I rarely buy anything but looking is always fun.
It was a typical specimen of antiques dealery- small, crowded, dusty. Just the perfect place to find something amazing for cheap. Except I didn't really get the chance to look around. No sooner had I entered and taken a deep breath, I felt the floor drop out from underneath me, and it seemed as if I landed in a whirlwind of choking dust. At least that's what my lungs told me. When my coughing and sputtering became less life threatening, I cautiously opened my eyes. And could only see dust clouds. Which slowly coalesced into the shape of a man standing before me. It was then I realized I was down on my hands and knees. But I couldn't quite get myself to stand yet for as my eyes focused and struggled to see in the slowly dissipating dust, I could see a very familiar green jacket on the man standing before me. And when I raised my eyes to his face, I felt my mouth drop open in shock. Little Joe Cartwright? He was the spitting image of him that was sure.
"Miss?" he began hesitantly.
I tried to make my mouth work but it wasn't cooperating.
"Are you alright?" He reached out a hand to help me up.
Cautiously, I took it, giving it an experimental squeeze just to see if he was real. He looked at me in surprise.
I said hesitantly, "Michael Landon?"
Maybe I had died and I was in some marvelous heaven where favorite actors picked you up at the gate.
"Umm, no, I believe you've got the wrong man, miss. My name is Joe. Joe Cartwright."
"Mine's Heather." I couldn't believe I was talking to this apparition. For surely that's what he must be. Or a very good look-a-like. A figment of my imagination? Or I had fallen into a coma! With very real, very vivid hallucinations. This was crazy.
It was by the quality of the silence that I realized my coma-induced hallucination had asked me a question.
"What did you say?" I asked.
"Did you need to be escorted somewhere?" he patiently repeated.
"Yes, back home," I mumbled, lost in thought.
"Where's that?"
I stared at him. Carefully and slowly I explained. "I was in an antiques store when suddenly I fell and landed here in this…" I looked around. I was in a stable! And there were horses! And… tack! I looked up. I fell though a trap door in a hayloft! I looked down and had a bigger fright. My clothes were different. I was in a dress and… I took a restrained breath… a corset. Ugh. And putting a hand tentatively to my hair I found that, yup, it was coifed, if a little disheveled now. I looked open mouthed at Little Joe who returned a very similar look to me.
"Are you lost?" he asked uncertainly.
"I fell through that… trap door," I said slowly, not sure what happened. Joe seemed to have come to a decision though.
"I'll check the hayloft and see if you dropped something."
Before I could remind him that I was the one who had dropped, he swung up into the loft.
I was then surprised to hear a rushing of wind- I hadn't noticed any open doors or windows. Was someone coming in? Looking up to ask Joe, I saw him disappear. First I could see the sleeve of his green jacket and then it kind of shimmered out of being. He was just gone. I hitched up my skirt and climbed up. He was not there.
"Little Joe?" I called out tremulously. A thought occurred to me. What if he went back to my time? Would I hallucinate that? Maybe I could follow him? I started stepping carefully around the hayloft in an attempt to find the way back. When that resulted in nothing, I did it again, this time waving my arms around. Nope, still here.
Before I could think of some other addition to my exercise in futility, I heard the stable door open. Some men came in, it seemed. With some very familiar voices.
Peering over the loft railing, I could see Ben, Adam, and Hoss Cartwright gathering their saddles for their horses. I stared so hard at them I thought they should feel my gaze as a physical blow.
One Cartwright look-a-like, okay, but four? This has to be a hallucination. Or had I traveled to an alternate reality? No matter, for things were about to get a lot more complicated.