Disclaimer: I don't own the most amazing movie trilogy ever made.

Author's Note: New chapter, finally at a reasonable amount of words. Hope you all enjoy.

10: Chapter Nine

September 7, 1885
08:30 AM PDT

Alternate Sarah watched along with the other mind time travellers, as Marshall Strickland caught up with the others, down below. She was really curious how this was going to turn out.

"Marshall!" Clara exclaimed, as Strickland arrived. "Um, I, um…"

"Miss Clayton was just kidnapped by the train robbers" Jules said. "They tried to get away with the train, but Mr. Eastwood and Mr. Brown fought hard. Then, I and me brother here came along, and we tried to help. Finally, we managed to get off the train." He kicked the hoverboard out of sight with his left foot. "Miss Clayton got off the train easily, with our help. Mr. Brown hit his head on the fall, and was knocked out. The robbers then raced out of there, along with Mr. Eastwood, who was trying to defend himself from them. But neither of them knew this spur would run dead, so they crashed the train into Eastw…Shonash Ravine."

"Really?" Marshall Strickland said, not wiping a tear. "That sounds sad. Especially considering that he beat Buford Tannen up, this morning."

"It is" Clara nodded. "Emmett and Clint were good friends. I'm certain that he'll miss him."

Marshall Strickland looked around. "Well, I guess that I should ask you four to come back to the marshall's office this evening, at 7 PM – I'm certain that Emmett will be awake by then. Too bad that the robbers are gone – I could've taught them quite some discipline if they were still here. Discipline is the key to our problems."

"Yes, sir, Marshall Strickland" Clara nodded.

"Good" Strickland said. "All right men, let's go! I got Buford Tannen to bring to justice!" He and the others rode back into town, Clara and the boys looking after them.

"Well, I guess that we should go now, too" Jules said. "Come on, Verne, Mom, let's carry Father towards the cabin. We really do want him to survive. Not only is he of vital importance to repair the time vehicle – he's also necessary for us to live. If father doesn't survive this incident, or comes out of it with nasty repercussions that could affect what happens in about three months…" He gulped. "I'll be history."

"Now who is telling too much about the future?" Verne stated.

Jules frowned. "Come on, brother. Mom, let's carry Dad towards the cabin."

"I came on horse" Clara remembered. "It should be out here somewhere. I can call it, and then the horse can carry Emmett. If I remember well, it was the horse that Clint was riding – as he'd parked it at the shop."

"Then it's one of Dad's horses" Verne said. "And I know the way to call it." He stood on the tracks. "Galileo! Archimedes! Newton! Here!" Clara smiled amused at the names.

After a few seconds, a brown horse came walking onto them. "That's him" Clara said, happily.

"I believe it's Archimedes" Verne said. "Yeah, it's Archimedes. C'mon, Archie. Carry your master." He walked closer to the horse, but the animal gave him a kick in the stomach with his left behind foot. "Aw!" Verne called out. "You were always so nice to me at home, before you died!"

"That was Archie's future self, Verne" Jules said. "This one hasn't met you as father's son, yet. Therefore, he has no reason to trust you – or even know you. I guess that only the presence of Dad will calm him down. Mo-Clara, you try – you have more experience with horses." He chuckled. "It feels funny to call you Clara, you know."

"It feels weird that you called me Mom" Clara pointed out. "I prefer just 'Clara'. It makes me not have to think about the weirdness of all this all the time."

"Good point, Mo-uh-Clara" Verne said. "Now, go ahead – try to calm Archimedes down. I hope it works, because I don't want to have to carry Dad and pull Archie along all the way!"

Clara walked up to the horse, and stroked it's back. "Nice horse. Nice horse." She smiled gently. "Nice horse."

Archimedes frowned a bit, then allowed his master to be pulled onto him. Verne groaned. "I can't believe he does listen to you but not to me!" he exclaimed. "Aren't horses supposed to, as animals, have an instinct which tells them not to trust someone?"

"Maybe you weren't to trust" Jules quipped, before he could stop himself.

"Jules!" Verne looked ready to give his brother a punch.

"Boys, boys, calm down" Clara said, sighing. "We're going to need all the help we can get to carry poor Emmett back to the cabin. If he wasn't knocked out, it would've been much easier." She snatched a bit of grass from the ground, and held it in front of the horse, walking forward. "Easy, easy, Archimedes. Easy."

While Jules reminded to get the hoverboard and Verne carried the bag with the history book inside with him, the three slowly walked towards the school teacher cabin. Verne groaned – this was probably going to take quite some time. Even while the bully in question was in jail, the mere thought that the history book was still intact didn't fit well with him. If Buford broke out and tried to get the book back from him… Tannen had seen his face, or else he wouldn't have called for his men. And however Verne had watched the gang being arrested while hanging off the airplane, he couldn't help but wonder… what would happen, now?

oooooooo

Seamus McFly smiled happily, as he was on his way back to the farm. He wondered what Maggie would say, when she heard where he'd gone. After all, she didn't like him going to the saloon that early – or coming there at all. His wife was usually very strict, but, well, he could always tell her that he'd went to see the young Eastwood fellow.

The farmer silently hummed a tune, as he thought about Clint. The young man sure had showed an act of bravery today. And even if it wasn't quite what Seamus inspired him to, it still had ended up fine. He now hoped that Clint would have a nice future in front of him.

He then blinked, as he could see the farm in the distance. He was looking forward to see Maggie again, and wondered what his wife would think of young Clint's adventures. He mentally wished Clint and the blacksmith good luck with what they were going to do. He was confused about one thing, though. He remembered that, when the blacksmith had been about to get shot, he'd called out "Don't worry about me Marty but save yourself!" Wasn't that supposed to be 'Don't worry about me Clint? The only other 'Marty' Seamus knew was his brother, Martin, but the poor guy had been stabbed with a bowie knife in Virginia City, almost three years ago now. There weren't any other Martin's in Hill Valley.

Silently looking around, he moved closer to his horse. "Come on boy" he whispered. "Just a few more moments, and then we'll be back at Maggie's. Aye." He smiled, looking around happily. Today sure was a day to remember.

oooooooo

Old Buford Tannen groaned, as he'd reached the DeLorean time machine. He'd never known that it was so exhausting to walk all the way through Hill Valley and back to the lake – most likely since the last time he'd done just that was almost twenty years ago… or over thirty years in the future? Never mind. Anyway, he was tired.

Pushing the DeLorean gull-wing door open with his cane, he managed to crawl inside and sit on the seat. He sighed deeply, as he realized how old and tired he was. He really should go back to the year 1935, soon.

The bully then faintly smiled, as he'd had a good day, after all. He'd visited the future year 1985, and he'd managed to give himself the history book. He was sure that the Clint Eastwood incident should've happened by now. His younger self should be in jail. He just hoped that Younger Buford would realize his older self's words were true – and keep the history book. If he did, he was certain that he would manage to get a lot of money with it.

He grinned evilly, as he thought of what he'd be like if he'd be rich. He would certainly get a lot of pretty ladies to entertain him, and let them all work for him. He'd get girls as many as he wanted, as he was rich. He dreamed of somehow turning the town of Hill Valley into the trash it really was, and rebuild it as a gigantic gamble-empire. He remembered how his son, Driff, owned illegal alcohol in the 20s. He wondered if his younger self would manage that, too. Maybe he'd even get the stupid Prohibition law ignored before it's time – or maybe it wouldn't even happen at all.

As he started the motor, Buford checked the time circuits. DEC 23 1935 12:46 PM was still the Destination Time, and he decided to keep it that way. As he managed to turn the hover-circuits on, he sat back and relaxed from the long walk. He then pulled down the gas.

Buford sighed in exhaustion, as the car shot through the cloudy sky backwards towards Hill Valley and the place he'd departed. As he almost was there, he landed diagonally downwards, while still accelerating. The fall made his speed go higher, and about 40 feet from the ground the temporal displacement kicked in. Twin trails of fire shot through the sky as Buford Tannen left the year 1885.