Notes to reviewers:

Anakin McFly: I got it right in Past-Forward, but? I'll fix it when I get around to it.

Dubya Kerry: Um, maybe he didn't really have a chance to turn much. He was pretty close to the booth and had little time to react.

General note: I wish I could have more spacing, but takes it out.

And now, on with the chapter!

Chapter 9

"The next morning, I woke up, hoping it was all a dream. But there was no denying that it was unusual that I woke up sitting in a DeLorean with lots of weird wires and cables and lights. I actually cried for a minute, but I stopped myself after convincing myself it wouldn't do any good. I was awfully hungry, so I decided to leave the time machine in the came and look for somewhere to eat."

"Hmm. Was that wise? Your clothes..." Emmett began to protest.

"I was still wearing 50's clothes fortunately. I never had time to change when I gave up finding Marty and joined you in Courthouse Square."

"That's a good thing. Where did you find to eat?"

"I immediately found a farm, rather near the cave. An Irish family lived there, and they were really nice to me.

I had a bit of time to think about my situation while eating. I knew there was no way for me to use the time machine, and no technology to help me, and no way to predict lightning.

"I had the idea that in a hundred years, the plutonium would be available and the DeLorean would be usable. But I would be long dead after that time. Then I realised that if I somehow stored the DeLorean somewhere safe for a century, you could come back to get me."

"I had much the same idea, but Marty returned to rescue me after only seventy years. Also, I did not intend for him to actually come back for me, but just to go home."

"You mean Marty was stuck in 1955?"

"Yes, but that was a second, more complicated trip. The two of us went to November twelfth for an entirely different reason. In the course of events, the DeLorean was struck by lightning while I was flying it..."

Catherine interrupted with her story. "So I decided to find a good place to stash it for a hundred years. I knew I would need some materials to help preserve it properly, so I determined to find myself some sort of paying job. I quickly discovered the Palace Saloon was in need of someone to keep the place clean and marginally tidy, and to help out with the cooking and drinks. I got the job straight away, in return for a small pay and board. I gradually saved what I needed for my plan, aided by tips."

"Not the most respectable job, but I agree that it was necessary," Emmett calculated. "But I forgot to ask, what day precisely did you travel to?"

"Funny enough, it was the evening of the third of July, so the next morning there was plenty of need of my help in the Saloon. It took nearly two months for me to save up, and I managed to find the perfect resting place for the time machine to sit in storage."

"There's only one suitable place that I know of: the abandoned silver mine."

"I assume that's where you put the DeLorean in your memories."

"Precisely."

"That done, I posted a letter to you in the future. That is, I arranged it to be delivered to your house on October 25th to warn you about the terrorists again, and to give you instructions on what to do after I left. I considered asking you to prevent the whole mess, but I realised that was rather pointless."

"Indeed," Clara agreed, not having said much throughout the tale.

"I 'posted' the letter, or parcel rather, on the first of September and..."

And a car pulled into the driveway.

"That's Bess's car!" Catherine observed. "I wonder what she's doing here."

"She has Marty with her," Emmett noticed, turning to look out the living room window.

"Doc! Doc!" Marty called as he burst through the door. "I think I'm going to be erased some time!"

"Really? That is possible, if you're supposed to be trapped in the 50's in this timeline."

"Yeah, Bess told me all about it. I figure Catherine's been filling you in?"

"Indeed she has, and I believe we should continue with the story to try to find exactly what went wrong."

"Where are you up to?" Marty asked his extra sister.

"I'd just send the package to be delivered to Doc in 1985," she answered.

"That's exactly where I was up to," added Bess with a small laugh. "We can tell the rest of it together."

"Good idea," agreed Catherine. "Now as I remember, it was September 2nd, a Wednesday, and business was fairly slow. I was hoping you, Doc that is, would turn up right away, but I didn't really know when to expect him...

10:42 AM
September 2 1885
Hill Valley, California

"You look like you're expecting something," Chester remarked to his young assistant.

"Oh, nothing in particular. We aren't getting many customers today."

"Don't you worry, they'll be here in droves in the evening, and doubly so at lunch time."

The door swung open and Buford Tannen walked in. "Gimme a drink," he ordered.

Chester didn't argue, although he hated to allow Buford to put alcohol into his system. He behaved badly enough without.

Catherine found something to keep herself busy in the back. She didn't like Buford at all and avoided him when possible. Her business caused her to miss noticing a girl walking into the saloon behind Buford. She did notice when the girl snuck into the kitchen. "What are you doing back here?"

"I can come back here if I like. I'm not touching anything."

Catherine noticed that the girl looked a lot like Bess Tannen, but with entirely different clothes and no makeup. "Are you by any change related to Buford?"

"Who's Buford?"

"You don't know him? I was sure you looked like a Tannen"

"Tannen? That's my family name, but I don't know any Buford."

"Then why did you walk in with him?"

"I did? Oh, that must be him. He kinda reminds me of my father, but a lot dirtier."

"Wait a second... Bess?"

"Hi Catherine. I wondered if you would recognise me."

Catherine laughed. "That costume sure works well. Doc brought you with him?"

"Yeah, he wanted a hand, so he brought me along. And I know perfectly well who Buford is."

"You found the DeLorean alright?"

"Yep, it was fine. That is one cool car!"

"Sure is. Any news on Marty?"

"We haven't looked for him, no, and we haven't seen any signs of his existence. That means either we already rescued him or he's..."

"Don't worry, we'll find him. Where's the Doc?"

"Er..."

"Well? Is something wrong?"

"He stayed with the DeLorean, to see if there was anything he could do to..."

"Tell me, what's wrong?"

"We crash landed, and damaged the engine somehow. We can't get it to run."

"Crash landed?"

"We clipped a tree and that busted the..."

"A tree? Bess, are you telling me the DeLorean was flying?"

"Was is the right word for it. The hover circuits were shredded by the tree, with a few other things."

"Where did you get hover circuits from? And... are you hurt? You practically fell out of the sky!"

"No, there's some sort of emergency landing system as a backup. We can't have cars dropping out of the skyway onto buildings can we?"

"What skyway?"

"The one in twenty-fifteen."

"You went to the year two thousand and fifteen?"

"We sure did. We wanted to do away with the problems of plutonium, and we didn't want to risk appearing in the wrong place in 1885. So we checked out the future. It has all kinds of cool technology. It didn't help prevent our crashing though."

"You mentioned the plutonium. What did you do about it?"

"Replaced the reactor with this thing called 'Mr. Fusion'. It takes plain garbage and does whatever reaction to generate enough power to run the flux capacitor thing. It's no different in practice to the plutonium chamber thing, but you fill it with garbage and stuff, not plutonium."

"That's one good thing. I guess we'd better see what he's concluded. I hope it's not damaged beyond repair, or we'll really be stuck for plans. I can't think of any other way to get home. It's not as if we can store the DeLorean for 130 years in another came."

"Don't worry, it won't come to that," Bess reassured her."

"What are you girls talking about back there?" Chester asked unexpectedly.

"Oh, this is a friend of mine, Bess. I need to leave if you don't mind."

"Leave?"

"Yes, I'll need some time off. I might even need to leave town sometime soon. I'll likely be able to come back in today, but I suggest you start looking for someone else to help out."

"If you say so Catherine. Just be in during lunchtime if you can."

"Will do. Let's go Bess."

Bess looked around and said softly, "I'd rather we avoided that Buford fellow." Catherine nodded, so she called to Chester, "Listen, you got a back door to this place?"

"Yeah, it's in the back."

"C'mon, Catherine let's go."

The girls left the building and found their way to the place where the time machine had landed. Emmett heard them approaching.

"Ah, you're back. Catherine, I see you're alright."

"Yes, I'm fine. Nothing a little sleep in my own bed won't cure."

Emmett laughed, remembering what he had said about her missing sleep. "I'm afraid you'll need to return a day late. Bess and I left as soon as we could, but the engine took a little work to start it after one hundred years."

"Did you try hitting the starter motor?"

"Yes, we did that," Emmett answered. "You had quite a clever plan, and carried it out splendidly."

"I see you avoided the terrorists. That was the one possible kink in my plan."

"Actually, I found your original note after a few days and decided to read it after all. I figured that anything you felt was so important to warn me about I'd better read."

"So what did you do?"

"Ah, I wore a bullet-proof vest. It wasn't exactly painless, but it sure did the trick."

Catherine had one more important question. "What happened to them?"

Bess jumped in and answered, "They did what any other criminals would have done in that situation: crashed into the photo-booth. I wish I'd seen it."

Catherine paused, not wanting to ask about the disposition of the DeLorean just yet. "Are you felling alright after being shot?"

"Couldn't be better. I had some work done on myself in the future - medical technology makes many advances in the future - and I feel thirty years younger."

Catherine laughed at that. "I wondered why you looked younger, but considering that you were thirty years younger last time I saw you, which is in seventy years time, and seeing that you were thirty years in the future which is 130 years from now, it wouldn't be a big shock if I became seriously confused at to what anyone's proper age should be."

Bess stared at her blankly. "How's the time machine looking?"

Emmett shook his head. "There's no point in thinking about the hover-circuits. That would be fine, except the fuel line was cut by some sharp debris."

"You can't fix it?" both girls asked talking over the top of one another and laughing about it despite themselves.

"Oh, I can, but the fuel tank is empty."

Catherine was about to ask a dumb question, but Bess beat her. "And there aren't any gas stations around, correct?"

"Oh, I guess not," Catherine realised. "So we can't get up to 88? Or can we use that fusion thing somehow?" she asked, tapping the Mr. Fusion.

"No, that device is only connected to the flux capacitor. To use it to propel the car, I would need to wire up a large electric motor, which is not possible in the current time period. Of course, such an arrangement would drain power from the fusion reactor, possibly not leaving enough material to run the flux capacitor."

"What power source did the hover circuits run off?" Catherine wondered.

"They drew power from the alternator, which means they need gasoline also. They could easily be connected to the fusion generator, but the question is moot due to their damage.

"Could we run the engine off something else, other than gas?" Bess suggested.

"That is quite possible," Emmett agreed, "but we can't do anything else with the time machine sitting out here. Is there a good place I can put it?"

Catherine scratched her nose thoughtfully. "The blacksmith's shop has been empty since before I arrived."

"Blacksmith? Perfect." A twinkle came into the scientist's eye.

"I need to get back to my job, for the lunch rush," Catherine pointed out.

"They have lunch rushes in the nineteenth century?" Bess asked.

"You should see it. Actually, you should come and help out: we'll need the money."

Bess tried to nod and shake her head at the same time. "I'll come, but Doc already has plenty of money for this time zone."

"That's a relief," Catherine sighed. "I wondered how we'd afford to stay here. C'mon, let's get going."

The two girls arrived back at the saloon just in the nick of time.

"Catherine, you arrived in the nick of time," Chester declared.

"Me too," muttered Bess.

"Chester, this is my friend Bess Ta, er, Thomas. She'll be in town for a little while. Can she help out a little?"

"We'll need it, so she can, but not for as much pay as you get."

"Oh, I wouldn't expect that," Bess put in. "Where can we start?"

The girls were soon up to their eyebrows in work, trying to fill out orders fast enough to keep the customers happy. The pair became lost in a happy blur of activity. They were rudely interrupted by the unwanted arrival of Buford Tannen, who Bess knew to be her great-great-grandfather.

"Where's that good-for-nothing girl with the name that begins with a 'K'?" he roared.

One of the men behind him, a gang member, corrected him. "I think it's a 'C', Buford, not a 'K'"

"Whatever. There she is." He glared at Catherine.

"Um, hello?"

He stepped closer. "You owe me money, girl."

"H-how do ya figure?" Catherine stuttered.

"My horse threw me off yesterday, after I left this here saloon."

"We'll I don't see how that concerns me," Catherine answered bravely.

"Well, it does. It made me bust a perfectly good bottle of fine Kentucky Redeye you sold me."

"Well, that's just too bad. Seeing as you never paid me for the bottle, I guess that makes us even."

"Wrong! My horse threw a shoe and broke his leg."

"That's a pity. I like horses. I hope he recovers alright."

"I shot him."

"Well, that's your problem. If you hadn't been drinking whiskey..."

"I see it as your problem, since you sold me the whiskey. I figure you owe me 5 dollars for the whiskey, and 75 dollars for the horse."

Bess turned white and whispered, "That's eighty dollars."

Chester decided to step in. "Are you gunna order something, Tannen?"

Buford ignored him. "So where's my eighty, girl?"

"Leave her alone, Tannen," interrupted a low voice from behind. "That girl is under my protection."

"Well, if it aint an old man. What're you doin' in this here town, old timer?"

Emmett stopped a grin at the word 'timer' and answered, "I do not intend to be in town for long, but I will be doing some blacksmith work."

"Well if that don't beat all. I figure you might have turned up sooner and done something 'bout fixing that shoe what got throwed off my horse. And since you're responsible for this here girl, then you can pay my eighty dollars if you please."

"I don't, so get out of here, Tannen. It's your problem."

"Wrong. I've made it yours. So from now on, you better be looking behind you when you walk. 'Cause one day you gonna get a bullet in your back." He turned to his gang. "Let's go!"

The gang tramped out of the saloon, pushing by one another to be first and making a general racket.

"What did you do that for Doc?" Catherine asked. "He's trouble, and now you're his target."

"I'll explain later. I've arranged for the use of the blacksmith's shed, and I must go and secure some bedding and such materials. Do you wish to continue your stay at the hotel?" Emmett queried.

"That would be most comfortable," Catherine admitted.

"Would you mind if Bess shared your room?"

"Not at all."

Bess appeared to be aware of this arrangement, so she said nothing, but continued washing dishes.

"Splendid. I'll make all the necessary arrangements, and you can meet me at the blacksmith's shop, now mine, in an hour."

"See you then," Catherine farewelled.

An hour later, Catherine led Bess to the blacksmith's shop. The pair was greeted heartily by Doctor Brown.

"Ah, come in, come in. It's a comfort to have visitors in this day and age."

Bess giggled, thinking his comment quite funny. Catherine, however, thought it was no laughing matter. "What did Bess mean by whispering 'That's eighty dollars'? She seemed to mean something deeper than just confirming Buford's math."

"Well you see, while we were getting the DeLorean out of that mine you hid it in..." Bess began."

"Yes?"

"Einie was kinda acting strange around one of the tombstones, 'cos the old cemetery is right next to the opening."

"And?" Catherine prodded.

"It was yours," Bess ended bluntly.

"Mine? Really?" she questioned Emmett with pleading eyes.

"It seems so. The inscription read, 'Here lies Catherine, an unknown girl and hard worker. Shot by Buford Tannen over a matter of 80 dollars, September 7 1885."

"Oh boy." Catherine didn't know what to say.

"I took a photo," Bess said softly.

"Show me," Catherine murmured, in an even softer voice.

Bess pulled out the photo, passing it to her friend.

Catherine shook her head. "It looks blank. Where did the inscription go? All it says is, 'September 7 1885'. There's no name on it anywhere."

Emmett took the photograph and examined it closely. "I believe it means that Catherine will not be shot, so the photograph has changed to reflect the change in history. One of the odder effects of time travel, I believe. However, the date has remained, which can only mean someone still dies on September 7. That's this Monday. If someone is shot, and it isn't Catherine... it could likely be me. I've really put my foot in it now. Maybe I should have paid Buford off."

"Don't worry, I'm sure we can get out of here by Monday," Catherine comforted. "We just need to put our heads together."

"I have one idea already, but I need to work on a gauge and rent some horses. We'll have a try tomorrow."

"C'mon, go higher!"

"Faster!"

"Yah! Yah!"

Bess, Catherine, and Emmet sat on the stainless steel roof of the DeLorean, trying to get the horses to pull them faster.

"It's on twenty-two," Catherine reported.

"Yah! Yah!" Emmett urged.

"Maybe it would help if I got off," Bess suggested.

Emmet shook his head sadly. "It's no use girls. Even the fastest horse in the world can't run faster than 35 or 40 miles per hour. The three of us and the DeLorean don't help one bit."

Catherine sighed. Another day had been wasted.

"Plan B?" Bess asked.

The others nodded.

Emmett slowly poured the contents of the bottle into the fuel tank, not spilling a drop.

Bess looked on anxiously. "Catherine said it was the strongest stuff they had, so it had better work."

Catherine nodded in agreement.

The scientist finished pouring. "Try it, Bess."

Bess tried the engine. It almost started, and then stalled. Catherine looked worried at the strange noise coming from the back.

"Need more gas," the scientist suggested.

An explosion rocked the building, ripping part of the engine off.

"No, not that!"

"What, what was it?" Bess asked breathlessly.

"The fuel injection manifold. It will take a whole month to rebuild."

"But Doc, we gotta get home, and Buford might kill someone on Monday, three days away. We can't wait a whole month. And besides, I don't think it'll work even after fixing the manifold thing. It just won't run on anything but regular unleaded gasoline."

Bess agreed. "We need some other way to propel it."

"I know, I know, I know! I wish... wait, I've got it! We can roll it down a steep hill... no, we'd never find a smooth enough surface. Unless... of course... ice! We can wait until winter when the lake freezes over..."

"No Doc, we can't wait."

"No, I don't suppose we can. Wait. Let's just think this thing through logically. We know it can't run on its own power, and we know we can't pull it. But, if we can figure out a way to push it up to 88 miles per hour... huh?"

"With what shall we push it..." began Bess in a singsong voice.

But she was interrupted by a loud whistle. Emmett looked around, spotting a steam train that had just pulled into the station. "That's it!" He rushed out of the shop, his face blackened by the explosion. The girls, also rather untidy, followed close behind.

The engineer was happy to chat. "How fast she can go? Why, I've powered her up to 55 myself. I hear that fearless Frank Fargo got one of these up to near 70 out past Verde Junction."

"Is it possible to get it up to 90?" Bess asked.

The engineer laughed. "90? Tarnations, missy, why'd ya ever be in such a hurry?"

Emmet thought of a quick answer. "Well, it's just a little bet that the girls have, that's all. Theoretically speaking, could it be done?"

"Well, I suppose if you had a straight stretch of track with a long level grade, and you weren't hauling no cars behind you - and if you could get the fire hot enough, I mean hotter than the blazes of hell and tarnations - well yes, you might be able get her up that fast."

"When's the next train coming through here?"

"Monday morning at 8 o'clock."