Chapter 11
"Well, here we are, at the town festival. I have a bad feeling about this," Catherine declared in a worried voice, keeping her voice low so the smitten scientist could not hear her. She needn't have worried, as he was paying little attention to the teens.
"Don't worry," Bess comforted. "Doc will make sure nothing happens to us."
"I was more worried about him."
"Hmm. That's why we're here," was Bess's conclusion.
They had no more time for discussion, since the Mayor, who was standing in front of the clock that would be built into the Courthouse, began to speak. "Ladies and gentlemen! As mayor of Hill Valley, it gives me great pleasure to dedicate this clock to the people of Hill County. May it stand for all time! Tell me when, gentlemen!"
The townspeople began to count down the seconds. "3...2...1...now!"
The Mayor started the clock, which clicked into immediate action, and bright fireworks were released into the evening sky.
"Let the festivities begin!" the Mayor declared in his husky voice.
The three time travellers watched from their vantage point a little way behind the main crowd. Emmett had an interesting thought. "Catherine, wouldn't you say it's fitting in some way for us to witness this?"
Bess agreed. "Yeah, I've heard about your adventure with the clock, Catherine, and how it's partly responsible for our being here. It's just too bad I ran out of film in my camera just before we came here, or I would take a picture of you with the clock. I should'a bought another roll."
"Well, we can't change that now, what with the time machine in its current state. I don't..."
She was interrupted by a blinding flash of light. The trio, after blinking several times, turned to see a photographer taking pictures of townsfolk beside the clock.
"Here's your answer," Emmett said with a twinkling eye and a broad gesture.
A few flashes later, the out-of-time townsfolk found themselves arranged around the clock. "Ready, gentlemen?"
"The only problem is we'll never be able to show it to anybody," Emmett commented to the girls a little regretfully.
"Smile, Doc," Bess admonished.
All smiled and the picture was taken, blinding them yet again. Catherine rubbed her eyes and shook her head vigorously so she could walk without tripping.
"I should have the photograph printed tonight, so pick it up when the party's over," the photographer announced. Emmett nodded and the trio moved towards the recently started music.
Bess had noticed that Catherine's smile looked somewhat strained. "What's wrong?" she asked compassionately.
Catherine sighed bitterly. "Marty should be here with us."
Bess nodded. "I miss him too. Don't worry, we can still find him when this mess is over."
"Yes, but it seems that time travel has brought us nothing but trouble."
"Not totally true. I got the coolest thing in the future."
"Really? What?" Excitement crept onto Catherine's gloomy face.
"A hoverboard."
"A what? Is that like a skateboard, but with that hover equipment like what got broken on the DeLorean?"
"I don't think it's quite the same. It seems to use some sort of magnetic energy, so it's like a skateboard that doesn't use wheels and doesn't need a sidewalk. It runs just as well over the road and on grass, but it isn't so hot over water, unless you have some sort of power other than your foot."
"How did you get it?"
"Er, you see, these bullies were chasing me and I borrowed it from a little girl. She said I could keep it, 'cos she took one of the bullies' boards, a powered one, after they crashed through the courthouse."
"Whoa, slow down. You were being chased by bullies and then crashed how?"
"I was dead in the water - the courthouse has a cool water feature in the square, near where we are standing now - and they came after me on their powered boards - well, one was and the others were towing - and I tried to duck out of the way at the last moment and fell straight into the water. They all flew past and launched up in the air and smashed right through the windows."
"Uh, windows?"
"Yeah, there were - or will be - these whopping big glitzy windows. You see, the building seems to be more of some sort of mall. And the clock still doesn't run. And they're still raising money to keep it that way. But prices are so terribly high: a Pepsi Perfect costs fifty dollars."
"Pepsi what?"
Bess shrugged. "Some new flavour. The clothes in the future are really bright and a bit on the gaudy side in my opinion. Some really odd styles too. I didn't really stick out too much, until I got soaked in the pond. Then people started giving me strange looks."
Catherine considered the data, as she started munching some food. "It still seems like you got the bad end of the deal. Who were these guys anyway?"
Bess still disagreed. "The hoverboard was worth the trouble." Then she answered, "Actually, the gang leader guy was a lot like my brother."
"Matt?"
"Yeah, and he had Matt's mean streak too, like my dad before your dad dealt with him. They called him 'Griff'. Probably my nephew."
"Scary thought."
"Even scarier were his weird bionic implants. You wouldn't want to mess with him."
"So how did you get on his bad side?"
"Dunno, he must have mistaken me for someone else. Must have been some family quarrel. Maybe I..."
Whatever she was going to say was drowned out by an overwhelming silence, that is to say, the music stopped playing and everyone stopped talking at once, Bess included.
They stared to see Emmett, Clara, and Buford with the other dancers. Emmett had just pulled free of Buford's underlings, Clara had just pulled away from Buford, and Buford himself was standing with an incredibly pained expression.
"Clara's here! And Buford! Perfect luck!" exclaimed Catherine in a highly disgusted tone. But Bess was more attentive: she heard the two enraged men yelling and reads their expressions. This was not good.
She reached for the nearest weapon - a Frisbee pie plate - and hurled it at the thug. He reached for his Derringer and fired at Emmett. The hard-flung plate hit him at that critical moment and the shot went wild.
Emmett was somewhat stunned, and his hat fell of his white mop of hair. Buford spun around to see who threw the offending dinnerware. He spotted Catherine and Bess.
"You! I know you're with this smith fella. Which one of ya threw it?"
Neither girl could think of anything to say in response.
"I know it's one of ya's, so tell me right now." He pointed the gun toward them for emphasis.
"Don't worry, it's only a single shot," Emmett pointed out to the frightened girls.
But Bess was already over her fright. "I thew the plate. There. You can leave now, or I'll... I'll call the... er, the marshal." She stumbled over the ending a little, but managed to remember what time period she was in.
"Who d'ya think yer are, missie?"
"I'm Bess... er... Calamity Bess. So don't mess with me or my friends or calamity will befall you and your descendents. Marshall!"
"Someone call me?" Marshall Strickland asked, holding up his rifle.
"Yeah, this criminal is trying to kill my friend, and pointed a gun at me too."
"All right now, break it up. What's all this about? You causing trouble here, Tannen?"
"No trouble, Marshall. Just a little personal matter between me and this blacksmith, and his friends what owe me money. This don't concern the law."
"Tonight everything concerns the law - now break it up. Any brawling, there's fifteen days in the county jail. In fact, since you've brought a gun into this festival, despite my efforts to the contrary, and since you appear to have attempted to kill an innocent man - who looks like a slacker nonetheless - I believe I have ample reason to lock you up right now. Everyone who saw it agree?"
Several of the festival nodded in Bess's support.
Marshall Strickland slapped cuffs on the outlaw to cart him away. He turned back and addressed the crown again. "Come on, this is a party! Come on, let's have some fun!"
Buford's gang members looked at each other, muttering, "Looks like Buford's going to jail," and such. They dispersed from the courthouse area and vanished on their horses faster than you could say 'time-space-continuum'.
"Well, all's well, that ends well," Bess quipped. "I think we're well rid of him. But what exactly happened?"
"Buford showed up and was about to shoot me. Clara tried to stall him by letting him dance with her, if you could really call what he was doing 'dancing'. She kicked him, and that was when the music stopped and everyone turned to watch. I thank you for your quick work with that Frisbee - I mean, Frisbee pie - Bess. If it hadn't been for that, I would be dead on Monday."
Clara didn't grasp the hidden meaning of his words, but she certainly agreed strongly. "Thank you for your gallantry, Bess."
"Aw, it was nothing really. Just a pie plate."
"No, it was a very well placed shot. Emmett, I'm afraid I don't really feel like dancing any more after that."
"That's quite understandable. Girls, I'm going to take Clara home. Don't stay out too late. I'll see you in the morning."
"You're going, and not coming back? But what about the festival?" Catherine protested.
"Clara doesn't feel like dancing, so what point is there in returning?"
"Um..." Catherine wasn't sure what to say. "Never mind. I'm going to find something else to eat." She hurried over to a table.
"What's her problem?" Emmett asked.
"I think she feels abandoned or something. Don't you stay out late either, Doc."
"Er yes, I mean no, I mean... well, we'd better be on our way." And with those confused parting words, he escorted Clara to her cabin.
Bess grabbed herself a drink, some apple cider several of the women and children were sharing (making her assume it was probably not alcoholic), and then danced on her own with the music for a number of songs. Catherine soon joined in, and soon the girls found themselves trying to outdo one another. After five minutes of hard dancing to the music that continually became faster, Bess wore herself out and had to concede to her friend. She noticed that they were receiving a number of strange looks from the townsfolk. "I guess they aren't quite ready for our style of dancing yet," she whispered to Catherine.
Catherine laughed. "I think we should get back to our hotel then." She dropped her voice to a hushed tone. "If we stay any longer, I won't be able to stop all those boys from trying to dance with me, and who knows what trouble that might cause to history? I'm surprised Doc let us come after the way he kept me cooped up in the fifties."
Bess made a thoughtful sound. "Doc has been acting a little unusual lately. I mean, he intends to 'borrow' an entire steam engine, strand all the passengers, and run it into the ravine. That isn't exactly something I would expect a responsible time traveller to do."
"No, but it is the only way to get home. All his ideas about ice won't really help get enough speed, and even if he managed to fix the fuel injection whatsit, I doubt he could get the engine to run well enough on contemporary alcohol. And if you knew Doc as well as me, you'd know that he doesn't always act in the most rational way. He usually comes out on top though."
"Well, he pulled off that stunt with the lightning, so I guess we can trust him with the train."
"I'm not so sure of that myself. I understand that it is the only practical way, but as for it actually working, there's too many unknown variables."
"C'mon, Catherine, you sound like a math teacher. Leave that up to Doc. He has everything worked out, I'm sure."
"What about Clara? He does realise we're leaving on Monday, right?"
"I sure hope so. At least the trouble with Buford is over."
"Well, lookie what we have here," said a rough male voice.
Bess gasped. He sounded exactly like her own brother, Matthew. "W-who are you? Where are you?"
A dark figure carrying a lantern appeared out of the darkness. "The name's Tannen, Thorn Tannen."
"Thorn? What kind of a name..."
"Never mind. You're the girl what threw that plate at my old man."
"Really?"
"I saw you."
"Oh. In that case, it was me. Wherever did you come from?"
"We were at the festival, staying out of the way. We've been following you so we can talk where there aren't too many people around."
"We?"
Three others stepped into the light. They all seemed to be in their mid to late teens. One looked skinny and wiry, one was short and stocky, and the third was a Native American with intense beady eyes and feathered tribal costume. They all looked vicious.
"Uh, hello. So, what did you want to talk about?" Bess asked nervously. She glanced at Catherine, as if to prompt her to do some of the talking.
Catherine shrugged. The bullies were ignoring her so far, so she would ignore them.
"You're lucky," Thorn began. "If that marshal hadn't been around to take care of my father, that old fellow would have been in big trouble, gun or not. He wouldn't have hurt you though. He doesn't hurt women."
"What about Clara?"
"The schoolteacher lady? That was different."
"Oh," Bess agreed sarcastically.
"Unfortunately for you, I do."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning you got my father sent to jail and I'm making you pay for it."
"Pay? That's what he wanted too. He wanted eighty dollars that were never his and there's no way any of you are making us pay you a cent."
"Not that sort of pay. I mean a fight."
"What, we try to shoot each other? I've never used a gun."
"No, I mean with fists. I'm mad at you, so I'll try to knock you down. If you knock me down, I'll leave you alone."
"In the dark?"
"No, I'm not a scoundrel like my father."
"Even though you hurt women?"
"I don't, you're a girl."
"Same difference."
"That isn't my point. Tomorrow morning, in the street."
"I thought you wanted to avoid being seen or something."
"No, just during the night. I can get away easily during the day. It's too dangerous to ride fast at night, you might end up in the ravine. And anyhow, we're mainly staying out of sight because we took some of the fireworks, and Mr Sloane threatened to wallop us for it if he caught us. He'll have forgotten by tomorrow."
"But Thorn, we're cutting the axle of Mrs. Finch's wagon, cutting the flagpole rope, pinching sweets from the general store, catching frogs from the lake to scare girls with and letting off those fireworks tomorrow," protested the shorter guy.
"How 'bout Monday? We doing anything on Monday?"
The three consulted among themselves. "Monday's fine," the skinny fellow answered. "You can lick her on Monday."
"Great. Monday, I'll settle this quarrel. Right in front of the Palace Saloon. And if you're not there, I know where you're staying."
Bess wasn't quite sure what to say. This boy, evidently her great-grandfather Theodore Tannen, was picking a fight with her? This was certainly unexpected, to say the least. "Uh, what time Monday? High noon?"
Catherine poked her, whispering, "Uh, Bess, I don't think that's a good idea."
"Noon? I do my lickin' before breakfast. Seven o'clock!" Thorn answered haughtily.
"No Bess," Catherine urged.
A mischievous smile played across Bess's dainty face. "Eight o'clock. I do my licking after breakfast. I don't fight well on an empty stomach, and I'm taking every advantage I get."
"Alright then, I'll see you Monday at eight o'clock blunt."
"It's sharp, Thorn, eight o'clock sharp," corrected an accented voice.
"Who asked you, Fox-Tail?" Thorn replied, trying to regain his dignity.
Bess remembered something important. "Oh, and it's our fight only. No help or interference from your friends here. Fair fight. And no guns, knives, clubs, swords, or whatever you might try to use."
"Whatever, just be there," Thorn spat out as he turned to leave. "Oh, and one more thing."
"Yeah?"
"I think you look really cute. We should dance some time."
"Forget it!"
The boys vanished into the night.
"Whatever did you do that for, Bess? That was totally idiotic."
"What was I supposed to do, tell him I won't come? How do you think he'd react to that?"
"Point taken. But you can't fight him. You saw the look in his eyes. He might think you're 'cute', but you landed his father in jail, and he wants revenge above all. You would end up either seriously injured or... or on that tombstone."
"You mean under the tombstone," Bess said jauntily. "But who cares. We'll be on the train and headed for home at that time, so it doesn't really matter."
"Remember, the train might be late."
"And it might not. C'mon, stop being so pessimistic about these random variables of yours. Everything will turn out fine. And besides, I know some great self-defense moves. Thorn isn't about to be beating me."
"But Bess!" Catherine pleaded.
"What now?"
"He won't stop fighting you until he beats you."
"So?"
"So slowing him down won't help."
"True, the only way to stop him is to beat him myself."
"And since he wants revenge so much, that would be extremely hard to do without totally incapacitating him. And you can't do that."
"Because he's my great-grandfather, right?"
"Now you're thinking. You sure made a bad choice in great-grandfathers."
"And great-great-grandfathers. My own father wasn't so nice himself, at that age. But don't worry, eight o'clock Monday, I'll be nowhere near the saloon, whether the train is on time or not."
The girls reached the hotel, and Catherine finished the conversation saying, "Okay, but I still have a bad feeling about this."