Marty shifted in bed. There was somebody else in the room with him; somebody he knew. "Mom?" he then managed to say, his lips dry, his voice cracking. "Is that you?"
There was a dark silhouette of a woman who came to lean over Marty and then placed a cool, damp cloth on his forehead. "There, there now," she said softly. "You've been asleep for nearly half a day now."
Marty let out a sigh of relief as he believed he heard his mother's voice, though she sounded different at first. "Ohh," he groaned instead. "I had a horrible nightmare. I dreamt I was in this Western, and these Indians were chasing me and my friends-"
"Well, you're safe and sound here at the McFly farm." The motherly voice reassured him.
Marty blinked. "McFly farm?" He then jolted and shot upright in the bed suddenly, realizing he wasn't in the company of his mother.
The woman had sat in a chair at the side of the bed. She was in her early 20s, and wore a dark blue, flowered dress and a white apron. Her long brown hair was pinned up behind her head in a bun. She still looked an awful lot like Marty's mother. Except, Marty remembered this now, he had gone back in the DeLorean to The Old West.
"You know... it feels like we've done this three times." Lionel grunted.
"You're telling me..." Cherry groaned and agreed.
"Hopefully this is the last time because this is starting to get ridiculous." Thor remarked.
"You're... You're my..." Marty began to say until he began to look a little confused at the woman. "...Who are you?" he soon asked.
The woman who was not his mother smiled sweetly. "The name's McFly. Maggie McFly."
"Maggie McFly?" Marty replied uncertainly, realizing they were related and he thought that this was why she looked like his mother.
"And that's Mrs. McFly, and don't you be forgettin' the 'Missus'." The woman gently chided.
The group then nodded at each other as they would remember that for future reference as Marty stared at the woman who wasn't his mother, not sure what to say to her.
"And what might be your names, folks?" Maggie asked in that same gentle voice.
Marty wondered what to call himself until he chose the first name that popped into his head: "Uh, Eastwood. Clint Eastwood."
"Lucas Schwartzman." Lionel spoke up.
"Lucas?" The group murmured to Lionel.
"Just go with it." Lionel whispered to them.
Soon, the group decided to go by new names as well. Atticus called himself August, Thor called himself Tony, Mo called herself May, Cherry called herself Clementine, and now it was up in the air for what Sabrina could call herself.
"And I'm..." Sabrina paused until she thought of the best name she could for this era. "...Scarlett O'Hara."
Maggie nodded pleasantly to acknowledge the introduction. She gently patted Marty's head. "You've a bump on the noggin, Mr. Eastwood, but not too serious. You'll be sore, but I think it'll be healin' all right."
Marty gently brushed against the spot where his head had met the fence post before wincing. He never realized wood could be that hard.
"You all seem hurt too, but you should be healed up very soon as well." Maggie then told the group as she checked them over as kindly as she could.
"Thank ya kindly, ma'am," said Lionel. "We appreciate your assistance."
Maggie smiled and nodded softly in response.
"So, uh, what day is it?" Atticus asked. "How long have we been out?"
"It's Wednesday evening. You've... Been out," Maggie said the words like the expression was new to her. "A few hours."
The group then looked a bit relieved that they still had time before they were given steaming cups of something, making them wonder what they were about to drink.
"This'll help clear your heads, bring down your fever," Maggie told the group. "Lucky for you, Seamus found you when he did."
"Seamus?" Marty asked as he brought his cup up to his lips.
"My husband, Seamus McFly," Maggie explained. "He's out getting supper."
Marty sipped his tea... and gagged. It wasn't tea.
"Tasty, isn't it?" Maggie inquired. "An old Irish recipe... we make it ourselves."
The rest of the group murmured in response, feeling unsure about taking a drink. A baby started to cry in some other part of the house.
Maggie stood quickly, her hands smoothing the wrinkles from her apron. "Ah, you'll be excusin' me, Mr. Eastwood and friends, while I tend to the little one." she then said urgently.
"The little one. Right." Marty nodded.
Maggie was already out of the room as she closed the door behind her.
"Guys, we can't stick around here forever." Marty told the others as he put the drink aside.
"But it's an old family recipe?" Thor piped up.
"Not that," Marty groaned and put his hand to his head. "We have to save Doc, remember?"
"Ah, right... Then I guess we should try to look for a way out of here." Thor then replied.
"If we could get back to the you-know-what, I could fix the gas tank," Lionel whispered. "And then maybe we could find Doc Brown and the others."
"It's worth a try." Atticus nodded.
"Could you really fix it?" Cherry asked Lionel in surprise.
"Well, sure," Lionel nodded. "I mean, I did get us all dressed without any physical contact."
"Yeah, that's a good point." Cherry nodded.
"All right, let's make it so." Atticus suggested.
Maggie stood by the cradle, rocking a baby in her arms. The baby's crying was softer now, and stopped now and then for the infant to catch its breath.
The group soon wandered out of the room once they were able to walk properly and keep their heads straight before Maggie saw them and smiled at them.
"This here is William Sean McFly. Aged five months," Maggie smiled and informed. He's the first of our family to be bom in America," She glanced down at the baby. "It's all right, Will. This is Mr. Clint Eastwood and his friends here, visitin'."
The baby looked up at Marty and smiled.
"Sure'n he likes you, Mr. Eastwood." Maggie said.
"Aw... that's just real sweet, y'know?" Mo beamed.
Cherry sniffed the air. "Is something burning?" she couldn't help but ask until there was soon a sizzling noise from the stove behind them.
Marty glanced around to see that the pot was boiling over.
"Oh, Lord!" Maggie took a step toward the stove. She glanced down at William Sean, then thrust him into Marty's arms. "Hold him a moment, Mr. Eastwood, while I tend to that."
Marty looked down at the baby as Maggie rushed to the stove. "Hi, there, fella," he said softly. "Hiya, Will." He wasn't too sure how to hold a baby, especially as important a baby as this one.
Will didn't seem to mind, though. He was still smiling.
"You must be my great-grandfather," Marty continued, almost overwhelmed by it all. The chance to meet your frontier ancestors! It was cosmic. Marty could barely manage to speak his thoughts aloud. "The first McFly of America-"
"I smell something else now..." Cherry remarked.
"My knees feel wet too..." Marty added.
"Oh... Guys... I think I know what that is." Atticus pointed out awkwardly.
Marty looked down. "...And you peed on me." he then concluded as he lifted up his infant ancestor.
"Hoo-boy." winced Atticus.
"Yeah, you are definitely gonna need a fresh shirt." Lionel nodded.
"Thanks, guys." Marty rolled his eyes.
Seamus soon showed up, a shotgun in one hand, a pair of dead jackrabbits in the other. "I got supper!" he announced as he slammed the door behind him.
"Jackrabbits?" Marty murmured.
"Were you expecting Roger Rabbit?" Cherry snarked a little.
"I think I just decided to be a vegetarian." Mo commented.
"Hey, it's okay, maybe they taste like chicken." Thor tried to comfort the situation.
"Maybe, but that doesn't mean we hafta stick around and watch it." Lionel commented.
"I hope we can find Doc soon." Marty sighed to himself.
"Well, okay..." Thor shrugged as he stood up and soon began to walk over toward the couple Seamus gave his wife dinner for them. "I guess I'll go tell Seamus and Mrs. Maggie that we won't be staying for supper."
"Hold on. I just meant we wouldn't stick around and watch them prepare the rabbit." Lionel clarified.
"Ohhhh..." Thor said once he got it and nodded before he held his head. "Sorry, Lionel. I guess I hit my head harder than I thought."
Cherry looked like she was about to say something snarky.
"Don't even think about it, Cherry." Thor tutted.
"Sorry, friend~" Cherry smirked innocently.
"Yeah, I think I'll just wait in the room until after dinner's prepared." Mo suggested to herself as she began to go that way.
"I'll walk with you." Atticus offered as he soon followed right behind her.
"You guys do that." Cherry shrugged.
"...That's cool of him at least," Marty commented as he sighed, thinking about something very special and important waiting for him back home. "I just hope I can be that good with Jennifer, even in the future."
"Who knows? You just might," Lionel said. "As long as you learn not to fly off the handle when someone calls you a certain form of poultry."
"Hmm..." Marty paused thoughtfully.
Eventually, later that night, supper was laid out and prepared for not just the family, but also their guests. The group admitted that at least the food smelled good and welcoming. The smells that had come from the stew pot in the last hour or so had convinced him how hungry he really was. Stewed rabbit was beginning to sound like one of the best meals the group had ever had. Little Will had fallen back asleep, and bunch of adults all sat down at the dinner table, a plate heaped with rabbit and vegetables in front of each of them. Marty reached quickly for his knife and fork. He hesitated when he saw Seamus's folded hands.
"Oh, right." Atticus nodded before he got ready to pray since his family often did that before a meal.
Cherry shrugged, but decided to close her eyes and bow her head before eating to be polite since she was a guest.
"From thy bounty through Christ Chur Lord, Amen." Seamus said reverently.
"Amen." Maggie chorused.
"Amen." Marty and the rest of the group added hastily as Seamus and Maggie crossed themselves.
Both Seamus and Maggie picked up their forks and knives. Marty couldn't think of a better invitation. He carved out a hunk of rabbit and took a hearty bite. It wasn't bad either, as Thor seemed to be right about it tasting like chicken. Something soon cracked in some of the group's mouths as they began to eat.
"Careful," Seamus cautioned. "There still might be some buckshot in there."
Marty reached into his mouth and pulled out a small, black pellet then gave a weak smile.
"How about some nice well water, Mr. Eastwood and company?" Maggie asked as she picked up a pitcher.
"...that sounds good," admitted Lionel. "Couldn't hurt."
"After all, it's only water." Cherry agreed.
"Thanks." Marty added.
Maggie then poured some water into their glasses; except it looked more like mud than water, or maybe really weak chocolate milk.
"Looks like when you get well water, you get some of the well too." Cherry mumbled to the others thickly.
"Hope it comes with free wishes." Thor replied quietly.
"So, if you don't mind me askin', folks, what's your trade?" Seamus soon asked his company.
"Our trade?" Marty asked. He didn't quite understand. Was Seamus asking them about their experience in swapping things?
"By the condition of your hands," Seamus explained, "It's clear that you ain't farmers or lumbermen or miners. I've only seen hands like that on a gambler or a baby, and sure'n you ain't no baby."
"Ohh... Our trade... He means our jobs..." Atticus realized.
"No, actually, we're still in school." Marty replied as he wasn't sure what else to say in that situation.
Seamus looked at them in disbelief. "School? At your age?"
Maggie frowned at her husband. "Where exactly do you come from, Mr. Eastwood?" she asked, gently changing the subject.
Marty hoped he could answer this question better than he had the last one. "Well, actually, we're from around here originally, but we've been sort of traveling. For a long time—years."
Sabrina decided this might be a good time to change the subject all over again. "And you guys are from Ireland?" she then asked.
"Aye," Seamus replied with a grin. "Ballybow Hill."
"Ballybow Hill?" The group murmured since they never heard of that place.
"We married there, but came to America in hopes of a better life," Seamus explained. "To own some land, have a place of our own, with room to grow. That's my dream. Sure'n I think we've finally found it here in Hill Valley."
"Aye," Maggie chimed in brightly, glad, the group guessed, they were on a topic that the two of them agreed upon, "We're gettin' to be a right fine glowin' community, what with the railroad here now, and the new courthouse goin' up. And our festival this Saturday night, why that'll be a celebration to make anyone proud," She smiled at Marty. "Is that what brings you folks here?"
"No, actually, we came to visit an old friend of ours," Mo soon said, trying to keep up. "He's a blacksmith. Maybe you know him; his name's Brown."
"Brown?" Seamus answered with a frown. "Aye, he's that strange fella, kinda drifted into town beginning of the year. Don't know much about him, except he set up shop in the old livery stable in town though I suppose he's not the strangest person I've seen around these parts."
"Have you seen others?" Atticus asked, hoping to maybe hear about Drell, Hilda, and Zelda. "If you don't mind my asking."
"Well, occasionally there's the saloon singer that no man can resist, Lili von Shtüpp, it's almost as though she has some sort of magic spell over the fellas in these parts." Seamus informed, though the keywords to the group were "magic spell" which could either be Hilda or Zelda if Lili was who they thought she was.
"Which way is town?" Marty asked urgently as he stood up from his seat, deciding that now would be a good time to get back to work. "I gotta find-" he then suddenly stopped, realizing he had to do something else first. "Uh, listen, could I—use the bathroom?" he then asked, somewhat tentatively.
"The which?" Maggie asked politely.
"The bathroom." Marty repeated.
"'Bath room'?" Seamus asked with one of his all-too-frequent frowns. "I'm confused by what you're saying, sir. If it's a bath you be wantin', well, the stream's about a third a mile yonder, but I'd suggest you wait 'til morning."
"Oh, man, what would they call a bathroom in 1885?" Marty grumbled to himself. "Actually no," he then tried again. "I just need to take a—uh, relieve myself."
"Then why didn't you say so the first time?" Seamus asked. "Suie'n, we have a privy! It's in the back."
"Oh, thank goodness." Marty sighed quietly to himself in relief.
"Bath... Room?" Seamus remarked, half to his wife, half to himself. "Curious turn of a phrase. Sure'n it don't make much sense."
Marty started quickly for the bedroom.
"Excuse me," Seamus remarked rather loudly, "but where do you think you're goin'?"
"Didn't you say it was in the back?" Marty asked, trying to keep the desperation from his voice as he crossed his legs.
"Aye." Seamus nodded. "Outside. Whatever would possess you to think we'd have it inside our home? And next to where we sleep, yet?"
"...It's outside, isn't it?" Atticus guessed.
"Aye." Seamus nodded.
"Right. An outhouse. Sorry, my mistake." Marty muttered as he then turned and walked as quickly as he was able from the house.
"Heh... I guess we've just been away from home a lot longer than we thought that we forgot simple directions." Atticus chuckled sheepishly until Cherry nudged him a bit since it lasted quite a while.
OUTSIDE...
Marty burst out of the outhouse as he had never smelled anything so foul in all of his life, but at least he was able to relieve himself, but he decided that using the bushes would be better for his and his friends' time in 1885. He then walked around to the front of the house. "Mr. and Mrs. McFly!" he called in through the front door. "Listen, I really appreciate everything you've done, taking care of me and all, but if you could just tell me how to get to town from here, so my friends and I can find the Doc—uh, the blacksmith."
There was silence inside the farmhouse. Marty took a step inside. Maggie and Seamus looked at each other as if Marty had just said the dumbest thing in the world.
Seamus looked back at Marty. "Surely, you're not considerin' settin' out for town now." he then said slowly.
"Why not?" Marty asked as he didn't understand.
"It's dark." Seamus explained.
But Marty didn't understand the explanation. Well, he guessed it might be dangerous out here in the dark, with Indians and outlaws and all. No streetlights either. "Right." he answered, not really convinced.
"There's wolves out at night here, Mr. Eastwood," Maggie added. "And bears."
"Right." Marty said as he was now convinced by the wolves and bears if not the outlaws and Indians.
"Perhaps..." Mo stated, "We should stay the night after all."
"Folks, why don't you sleep here tonight, and tomorrow, well, I can't take you all the way into town, but I'll take you as far as the railroad tracks, and you can follow them to town?" Seamus suggested.
"That's very nice of you, Mr. McFly." Sabrina nodded.
"Hey, look," Marty said, "We don't wanna put you out. We'll walk. No problem."
"Sure'n they can walk," Maggie agreed. "It's only 14 miles."
Marty looked at Mrs. McFly. "Did you say 14 miles?" he then asked as he could feel his feet ache already.
"Which is why we should spend the night." Cherry suggested to Marty.
"Might as well get comfortable." Lionel shrugged.
"We'll move out after some rest and plan out our next move," Atticus suggested quietly. "At least we still have some time before the big day on Saturday."
"I just hope that Drell and Aunt Hilda and Aunt Zelda will be okay by then." Sabrina bit her lip worriedly about her family.
"Hey now, don't worry," Cherry told the blonde witchling. "It's going to be just fine as long as we all stick together."
"Yeah, what she said," Marty added. "It'll be okay, Blondie. I'm a little worried about Doc too, but at least I have you guys."
"Yeah," smiled Mo. "We got your back!"
"And your front!" Lionel added.
"Heh... I guess at least I can count on you guys even if I haven't known you long." Marty chuckled.
"We practically had a series of adventures together," Thor told Marty with a smile. "We could all consider each other as friends."
"Yeah, that's a good point." Marty nodded.
"So let's make like friends and catch some shuteye, okay?" Lionel asked with a yawn. "Today has been... very exhausting."
"Yeah... That's true..." Marty nodded and added before he also yawned while everyone else soon did the same since it grew to be contagious after having full bellies and having to run away from a bear as well as a bunch of Indians all in the same day.
"We did so much all in one day... How does Ferris Bueller do it?" Cherry mumbled as she let out a yawn before stretching.
"Ya got me." Mo replied as she soon rubbed her eyes.
Soon, the group all said good night to each other and began to bundle down and get comfortable for the night and by the next morning, they would continue their journey in finding Doc and hopefully also Drell, Hilda, and Zelda.
Thursday, September 3rd, 1885
Marty waved good-bye to his great-great-grandfather, his friends standing beside him. "And thanks for the hat!" he called. He took off the slightly battered straw derby that Seamus had insisted Marty keep to protect his head from the sun. He waved the hat at the fanner's retreating wagon.
Seamus turned about on his buckboard seat and waved back. "Sure'n you're welcome!"
Marty watched his forefather until Seamus was out of shouting range. Lucky for Marty, Seamus's generosity had won out over Maggie's practicality, and he'd gotten a ride to the railroad tracks.
"Instead of having 14 miles to go, now we only have six," said Atticus. "Six miles wouldn't be that bad, would it?"
"Only one way to find out." Lionel replied.
Soon, the group started to walk down the railroad track as they began their brand new time travel adventure. Six miles began to feel like 12 as they continued along until they soon found the sign for the Hill Valley train station and they soon continued to walk along until they would find who they had to look for in this timeline. There wasn't much activity at the train depot. A Chinese fellow in what looked like black pajamas was sweeping the platform. Another fellow was standing in front of a window-marked telegraph office, and at the far end of the platform, a farmer was pulling boxes and bales of hay from his wagon.
"This is definitely different from the movies I grew up with." Marty commented.
"Well, what were you expecting?" Thor replied. "Gunfights? A brass band welcoming committee? This was the real old west after all, not some movie starring John Wayne or Clint Eastwood; no matter what you called yourself back at the McFly farm."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." Marty muttered as they continued along and he soon walked past the farmer's wagon and saw that they were on the road that led into the town of Hill Valley. He then stopped and whistled. Hill Valley really looked like something out of The Wild West, even, sort of, like a western movie.
A dirt road led down the main street, past an old bam on the left, and a row of stores on the right, fronted by a raised, wooden sidewalk. The group passed by a corral, fronted by a large sign: HONEST JOE STATLER FINE HORSES SOLD—BOUGHT—TRADED These were the same Statlers Doc had told them about: the ones in the new and used-car business in 1985.
"Looks like some things don't change." Sabrina remarked before she looked at the row of stores to her right, a saloon, a barbershop, a general store, the Hill Valley newspaper office, a Chinese laundry, a post office—and there were men riding horses, folks in wagons, even a fellow walking along with a shovel and cart (the sign on the side said A. Jones, Manure Hauling.) —everything you'd expect in a real western town.
"It's just like stepping into the show Gunsmoke." Cherry commented.
"Yeah." Atticus nodded.
People were soon looking at the group kind of strangely as they passed.
"Really? The stares?" Atticus asked himself.
"Well, they don't know us." Mo defended and reminded.
Marty then looked up at a banner stretched above the street: HILL VALLEY FESTIVAL—SATURDAY NIGHT, SEPTEMBER 5 Dance—Food—Games Proceeds to Construct the Clock Tower.
"The Clock Tower is brand new here... Talk about surreal..." Lionel remarked.
The group soon saw the opposite of what was The Marshal's office. The place looked like it was closed up tight. There was even a sign on the front door: "The marshal has gone to Haysville to witness the hanging of Stinky Lomax."
Soon, the group made it to what would be the town square in the future of Hill Valley. In front of the courthouse-to-be was a flagpole, complete with a somewhat different-looking American flag that only had 38 stars on it instead of what the group would be familiar with as the traditional 50 states. The square was bordered on two sides by hitching posts. A few of the posts had teams of horses and wagons tied there. Beyond them, the group then saw a brick building that housed a Wells Fargo Office, and, farther down the street, the Essex Theater— also under construction—and, roped off from the street, the remains of a burned-out building. Hill Valley looked like a small town that was growing pretty fast. There was one more building on the street, the grandest of them all, a full two stories high. It looked brand-new, with a brightly painted sign: PALACE SALOON & HOTEL. The group continue to look about until they heard the sound of galloping horses.
"Whoa! Look out!" Lionel called out before they all ducked out of the way after turning around to see a stagecoach leave the Wells
Fargo office that was headed straight for them. When Marty jumped out of the way, he groaned and wrinkled his nose as he smelled something very gross and stinky until he looked down on the ground to see that he had stepped in horse manure. He then removed the mess as best as he could off of his sneakers after replacing them with tight boots and soon, the group looked at the saloon doors.
"Well, looks like this is the place," Lionel told the others. "Let's see what we can do around here."
"Right." The rest of the group agreed as they soon went through the swinging doors just like how many Wild West movies started.
It looked like a Wild West saloon on the inside, just like in the movies, only bigger than what anyone pictured. There was a long bar at the far end of the room, complete with a couple of cowboys, bolting back shots of whiskey. There was a balcony that ran around three sides of the main room. Women in low-cut, frilly dresses leaned against the polished wooden railings. In the old Western movies, Marty remembered, they always called these women "saloon girls." They glanced at the group as they walked into the room. Mostly, though, they looked bored. The rest of the main room was filled with round, wooden tables. A couple of them had groups of men around them, playing cards with even a silver vase at the end of the bar that was possibly a spittoon. Three of the card players, older fellows with well-worn clothes who kept their drinks and pistols on the table and looked like they might all have come out of old western movies themselves, glanced up as the group walked past.
"Take a look at what just drifted in the door." cackled the first of the three, a clean-shaven, heavy-set fellow wearing a vest and brown derby hat.
The second fellow, who sported a tall, black hat and a snow-white beard, took the cigar out of his mouth to add: "Why, I didn't know the circus was in town."
"They musta got those shirts off dead Chinese." added the third fellow from behind his drooping, dark mustache.
All three men at the table laughed.
"Hey..." Cherry firmly pouted.
"My son once come home from back east wearin' fancy ass duds like that." The oldster with the derby drawled.
"What'd you do?" The fellow with the beard asked.
"I set fire to him." The first one allowed.
"What's wrong with our clothes?" Marty frowned.
"Ah, don't listen to them," Cherry shrugged. "They're probably just jealous of a bunch of jerks."
"And none too bright, either." Lionel added. "We don't have time to worry about clothes. We can think about that stuff after we find Doc and the others."
Marty and the group walked up to the bar. The bartender stared at them for a long moment. Marty wondered if maybe their clothes were really out of place.
"What'll it be, strangers?" The bartender asked at last.
Uh, well, I'll have—" Marty began, though Tab and Diet Coke seemed to be out of the question. "Uh, some iced water?" he then requested.
The three old-timers burst out laughing behind him and his friends.
The bartender, however, wasn't amused. He shook his head and pointed at the door. "You want water, you can use the horse trough outside there," He reached beneath the bar and picked up a brown bottle and a shot glass. "In here, we sell whiskey." The barkeep plunked the glass on the table and poured Marty a drink.
A bit of the whiskey splashed on the top of the bar. The spot where it hit the wood started to smoke.
Lionel's face turned green. "...suddenly all those anti-drinking PSAs are seeming twice as effective..." he muttered.
"Winners don't do drugs." Thor added with a nod.
"Uh, listen, Mr...?" Atticus spoke up.
"Chester." The bartender gave his name.
"Chester," Atticus nodded before he continued. "We were just looking for the blacksmith along with a couple of ladies and a kinda big guy?" he then started to say.
"Hey, McFly!" A voice soon called out.
"Here we go again..." Sabrina sighed and shook her head.
The group soon turned around. A mean-looking fellow dressed all in black—complete with black hair, black stubble, a long, black, handlebar mustache, and a scowl that would encourage anybody to walk in the other direction—pushed his way through the swinging doors. He was followed by three other guys who didn't look much nicer—in fact, all three of them looked like finalists in a mean-and-stupid contest.
"McFly," The man in black demanded as he approached Marty, "I thought I done told you never to come in-" He stopped and stared at the teenager he thought was the man he wanted. "Hey, you ain't Seamus McFly. You look like him though, especially with that dog-ugly hat," she suddenly said, still not sounding any friendlier than he could have possibly been before. "Are you kin to that hay barber? What's your name, dude?" he soon demanded.
"Uh..." Marty stammered until he decided to stick with the same story he'd used with Seamus and Maggie. "Eastwood. Clint Eastwood."
"Clint Eastwood?" The man in black jeered. "What kind of stupid name is that? And who are you folks s'sposed to be?" he then looked at the group next. "The Sundance Kids?"
The group just glared in response as Mad Dog and his gang gave them a hard time.
The second of the sidekicks puffed on his cigar as he stepped forward to peer into Marty's mouth. "Hey, lookee at these pearly whites!" he yelled to the others from around his cigar. "I ain't never seen teeth this straight what warn't store bought."
"There's a real shocker." scoffed Lionel.
The third sidekick, whose long face made him look, if that were possible, even dumber than the others, pointed at Marty's feet. "And take a gander at them moccasins. What kinda skins is them? And what's that writin' mean?"
The guy with the cigar frowned down at Marty's sneakers. "'Nee-Kay.' Must be some kind of Injun lingo."
The man with the black mustache slammed a fist down on the bar. "Bartender! I'm lookin' for that no-good, cheatin' blacksmith. You seen 'im?"
The bartender took a step back. "Uh, no, sir, Mr. Tannen."
"Tannen?" Marty asked. He took a step toward the leader of the gang. "You're Mad Dog Tannen!" Now that he looked at the guy, he did look something like his great-grandson, Biff.
Tannen looked back at Marty, his expression as grim as Biff in his worst possible mood. '"Mad Dog'?" he demanded, almost choking on the words. "Nobody calls me Mad Dog! I hate that name! I hate it, you hear?!"
"Whoops." Marty muttered as that seemed to be another mistake he made without even trying as he stepped back toward the bar and lifted his arms from his sides, to show he wasn't carrying a gun.
"This oughta prove interestin'." One of the old-timers cackled as all three put down their cards.
Marty had the feeling that every eye in the saloon was looking at him. He just hoped that it wouldn't get too interesting if he ended up killed first instead of Doc.
Mad Dog stared down at Marty. "The name's Buford Tannen. Mister Buford Tannen. I don't hold with no disrespect, especially not from no duded-up, egg-suckin' gutter trash!" he hissed.
"Now, now, maybe we can talk about this and settle this like civilized human beings," Atticus spoke up, being his usual self-righteous way before he took out a holy book randomly. "Gentlemen, let us not allow anger to rule the day. As your spiritual leader, I implore you to pay heed to this Good Book. And what it has to say."
Suddenly, Mad Dog shot his gun which caused Atticus to duck down and hide before he could get hit.
"...Sorry, Marty. You're on your own." Atticus then said before finding a bullet hole in the book he picked up.
"Dude!" Mad Dog paused just long enough to let a smile curl up the comer of his mouth. "Let's see how good them fancy-ass shoes are for dancin'," He pointed his gun at Marty's sneakers. "Dance!" He fired.
The bullet left a hole in the floor inches away from Marty's toes! Mad Dog aimed at Marty's other foot. He pulled the trigger again. Marty hopped sideways as the bullet hit the floor.
"That's right, dance!" Mad Dog laughed at him.
Tannen's three sidekicks pulled their guns and started to shoot, too. Marty hopped from foot to foot.
"Maybe we should've taken that gun after all." Mo suggested nervously as Marty was really in for it now.
"C'mon, runt," Mad Dog demanded, "You can dance better than that!" He aimed the muzzle of his revolver even closer to Marty's toes.
Marty hopped faster. Mad Dog and his bad guys hooted and cheered.
"We can't just stand here, we gotta help him somehow." Atticus suggested.
"And I don't think those dance moves are gonna help out," Thor added before Cherry seemed like she was heading that way. "Cherry! No!" he then cried out.
Cherry soon made faces and moved all around, trying to distract Mad Dog so he would shoot at her before he soon saw her and tried to shoot at her until she ducked out of the way to give Marty some help in a diversion. Marty then started to suddenly do a different style of dancing which involved the moonwalk as he muttered the song "Billie Jean" to himself. These cowboys had never seen somebody walk backward on his toes. They had stopped shooting, and were watching him, openmouthed. Marty had to think quickly as this dance diversion couldn't last long, so he soon saw that there was a warped floorboard near his sneakers, a plank that had popped out of the floor near the end of the bar. And, resting on the other end of that plank was the spittoon. Lionel seemed to have caught on to his idea, and gave a thumbs-up. Marty moonwalked quickly to the warped board, hoping what he thought would happen would definitely happen. He twirled around, jumped, and whooped—the last mostly for dramatic effect—landing with all his weight on the warped plank.
Lionel gave a gesture of his finger, and the spittoon went sailing, way up into the air, way farther than Marty ever thought it would. There was a loud clang as the spittoon hit Tannen in the head, knocking him down and spraying him with spit and old tobacco. The saloon became very quiet. The three sidekicks stared down at their boss, who sat there, stunned, dripping tobacco juice. Tannen blinked. His mouth turned down into what started as a frown but quickly turned into a look of intense rage as he wiped the brown sludge from his face with the back of his hand.
"Blech... That will ruin his day." Thor remarked with a slight grimace.
"Let this be a lesson not to use tobacco either." Mo murmured to Lionel.
The old-timer with the white beard whistled softly at the group. "You'd better run, kids. Fast. And far."
Marty looked at the beet-red Buford, the three sidekicks with guns still drawn, and the saloon door, only a few steps away.
"Let's get outta here." Marty told the group around him.
"Right," The group replied.
Lionel merely nodded before he crossed his arms and bobbed his head like in "I Dream of Jeannie".
Suddenly, there was a "boing!" sound and the group was outside of the bar and once outside, they took the time to run before Mad Dog would be after them.
"$5 says they don't live more'n five minutes." They heard the oldster with the derby drawl.
"$10 says they don't last four." The codger with the mustache replied.
"Time to run for it!" Lionel declared. "On the bright side, we're at least closer to finding our missing amigos!"
"I guess that's true!" Atticus replied.
They all soon heard the sound of hooves galloping in the dirt, followed by whoops and raucous laughter.
All four cowboys were bearing down on them—and Buford Tannen was twirling a lasso! They didn't even have to catch
up to the youngsters! They could toss a rope over at least one of them and pull them in!
"Man, I'd kill for that hoverboard right about now!" Marty said to the others.
"Too easy!" Cherry replied.
"Why wouldn't you wanna do things the easy way?" Atticus shrugged.
"JUST KEEP RUNNING!" Thor shouted.
The group soon back in the direction their feet were going, and almost ran into a man on a horse. Marty stopped as the horse reared and he didn't want to fall under those hooves.
"Oops. Sorry." Mo said nervously.
"Our mistake." Sabrina added.
A lasso fell around Marty's shoulders as he seemed to be the unlucky one. Mad Dog and his boys had caught up with the group! Marty tried to tug it off, but the rope was yanked tight, pinning his arms to his chest. All the commotion out in the street had brought some of the local townspeople out of the stores along the street to watch, but none of them interfered. Marty imagined all the townspeople already knew about Mad Dog Tannen's temper, and what lengths he would go to when he was riled, not to mention covered with gunk from a spittoon—something that Marty, unfortunately, was going to learn firsthand.
Tannen turned his horse around and pulled Marty, half walking, half stumbling, back up toward the saloon. "We got us a new courthouse!" he then called to the others with a grin. "High time we had a hangin'!"
Meanwhile, back in the Palace Saloon, Chester the Bartender squinted out a dirty window pane. Mad Dog Tannen had followed his boys out into the street, and was laughing with the others as they dragged the helpless dandy between their horses. And the marshal wouldn't be back from the Stinky Lomax hanging for a couple of hours yet. There was only one thing to do. The barkeep waved for Joey to come close, then whispered in the youngster's ear: "Better get the blacksmith."
Soon, the adventure group looked on and horror and suspense for their friend. "MARTY!" they then cried out.
Mad Dog's gang soon brought out their own ropes to at least get more of the group to go along with Marty.
"Back off, Mad Dog!" Lionel retorted as he undid the lasso knots.
"This little one's got quite the fire on him!" Mad Dog smirked. "Maybe we can make that li'l piggy squeal while the others watch!"
"Go drink your own urine, you greasy loser!" Lionel shouted.
Mad Dog Tannen tied his rope to another one, and looped through a pulley that hung from a section of the courthouse scaffolding. Some of the townspeople gathered around to watch, but all from a safe distance from Tannen and his gang. The rest of the group got out of the way, but they still panicked for Marty. Now that Mad Dog and his gang stopped, maybe Marty could get out of this mess. He tugged at the rope, lifting it above his shoulders. The rope was jerked from his hands as Tannen tightened it around Marty's neck! It was too tight. He was choking. The bad guys had Marty down, but they had left his hands untied. He grabbed at the rope, trying to breathe, but the noose wouldn't come loose as Marty began to feel like it was pointless to struggle. Buford had tied the other end of the pulley rope around his saddle home. He backed his horse down the street, and the rope tightened over the pulley, closing sound Marty's neck and dragging him to his feet.
Tannen and his cronies were all laughing, as if this was the funniest thing they had ever seen.
"We gotta help him!" Atticus cried out.
"Stop laughing! This isn't a joke!" Thor glared at the gang.
"You runts are next!" Mad Dog called out before he backed up his horse again, and Marty was lifted in the air for a second before his feet hit the ground again.
Atticus looked like he was about to do something until they all then heard a gunshot. A brick shattered on a comer of a building; a brick close to Mad Dog Tannen's head.
"What was that?" Sabrina asked.
"It came from over there." Chery pointed out across the street.
Soon, the group saw a man with a rifle standing at the door to the local blacksmith's shop. "Cut him down and leave those other kids alone, Tannen." The man demanded.
Even before he heard the voice, even with the brown duster coat and the tall, black hat Marty recognized that man in the doorway.
"Doc!" Marty called.
The rope jerked up again, lifting him from the ground.
"Well, well, if it ain't the blacksmith. Just the man I come into town to see?" Mad Dog greeted the inventor casually as he rested his hand indifferently on his holstered gun. "We got us some business to settle."
The group soon tried to help Marty down while Mad Dog was distracted.
"The only thing we got to settle, is that you cut him down, leave those other kids alone, and get outta here." Doc called back.
"I don't see where you're in any position to be tellin' me anythin'," Tannen replied as he glanced at his henchmen with a wide grin. "Boys—"
All three sidekicks whipped out their revolvers,
"Three guns against one," Buford pointed out. "And I haven't even drawn yet. The odds ain't exactly in your favor, smithy."
Doc raised his rifle in reply. With the additional height the noose around his neck gave him, Marty could see everything quite clearly, maybe too clearly. Doc's rifle looked like a Winchester, except it had some sort of special addition. The inventor had rigged up some kind of telescope on top of it, not some little sight, but a full-size telescope tied to the top of the rifle. Doc fired, scaring the group away so they wouldn't get shot, but luckily, Marty hit the ground. Doc's bullet had cut right through the rope! Marty grabbed the noose and pulled it away from his neck.
"It'll shoot the fleas off a dog at 500 hundred yards, Tannen, and it's pointed straight at your brain, so I'd say the odds are definitely not in your favor." Doc called as he aimed his Winchester.
Tannen glared at Doc for a moment, then grinned amiably, waving for his boys to reholster their guns, while he dismounted. "You owe me money, blacksmith." Buford remarked as casually as before.
Doc lowered his gun, but kept his finger resting near the trigger. "How do you figure?" he then asked.
"My horse threw a shoe and seein' as you was the one who done the shoein', I say that makes you responsible." Buford explained, still grinning.
Doc shook his head in disbelief. "Well, since you never paid me for the job, I say that makes us even."
"Wrong!" Buford's face fell into a much more natural scowl. "See, I was on my horse when he threw the shoe, and I got 'throwed' off. And you know what happened when I got 'throwed off'? I busted a perfectly good bottle of fine Kentucky Red Eye," His hands turned into fists as he thought about it. "And that made me so mad that I shot that damned horse and then I had to go off and git me a new one!"
Tannen paused and grinned back at Doc. "Now, the greaser I stole him from said that horse was worth $75. So, the way I 'figger' it, blacksmith, you owe me $75 for one horse and $5 for the whiskey." He opened both his hands, then rested the right one lightly on the handle of his gun. "I'll take cash money now, or you can pay with your life later."
"Oh, no!" The group now realized what that tombstone meant about Doc owing money.
"That's the $80..." Marty mumbled aloud.
"Look, if your horse threw a shoe, bring him in and I'll reshoe him." Doc said reasonably, but his suggestion was met with rage.
"What's wrong?" Mad Dog demanded. "Are you deef? I told you, I done shot him!"
But Doc wasn't going to get tripped up by Buford's logic. "That's your problem, Tannen." he replied.
"Wrong!" Buford roared. "It's yours! So from now on you better look behind you when you walk, 'cuz one day you're going to get a bullet in your back. And in the two seconds it takes for you to hit the ground, you'll remember that it was me that done it."
Doc still wasn't impressed. "That doesn't sound very Christian to me, Tannen."
But Buford grinned at that. "It's in the good book, Smithy. An eye for an eye! One blacksmith for one horse!" He glanced at the three members of his gang.
All three nodded back, agreeing with Tannen's logic. Tannen tugged his horse's reins as if he was going to turn away, but his other hand whipped his gun from its holster.
Doc had the rifle pointed straight between Tannen's eyes. "Try it, Tannen." he then suggested.
Buford snickered and let his revolver fall back in its holster. He looked at his henchmen and spoke to them in a low voice: "Saturday, boys." Tannen dug his spurs into the flanks of his mount and led his gang—shooting, whooping, and hollering—down the street and out of sight.
Marty stood up, massaging his neck. "Well, we found Doc, now we gotta get out of here." he then said to the others.
"Well, we found Dr. Brown... Now all we gotta do is find Drell, Hilda, and Zelda." Atticus soon concluded.
"Right." Cherry replied as Doc walked quickly over to his teenage friends—the last people he ever expected to see in 1885.
"Children," Doc announced sharply, "I gave you explicit instructions not to come back here, but to go directly back to 1985!"
Marty gave up rubbing the rope bums on his neck to smile at the inventor. "We know, Doc."
"We're sorry, but we had to help you out." Mo added.
The group all expected to hear a long lecture and scolding, but they heard something comforting instead, even if Doc didn't know the rest of the group like he knew Marty.
"But it's good to see you all." Doc said with a warm smile.
"Yeah, same here." Lionel responded.
"Marty, we've gotta do something about those clothes," Doc said as gently as possible. "You walk around town dressed like that, you're liable to get shot."
"Or hanged." Marty agreed as he rubbed his neck.
"What idiot picked out that outfit?" Doc scoffed and shook his head.
"You did, Doc," Marty grinned sheepishly. "Lionel just went with what you suggested."
"...sorry, dude," Lionel said, sheepish.
"These things happen, especially with no accurate reference sometimes." Atticus commented.
Doc apologized quickly to the teen and suggested they go someplace a little less public. The group needed to change their clothes, and Doc decided he would prefer somewhere that their backs weren't such open targets to Buford and his boys. He would have to be doubly careful now that he'd managed to get on Mad Dog Tannen's bad side.
Doc led the group back to his blacksmith's stable, remembering, rather wistfully, when he thought The Old West would have been a good place to find some peace and quiet. As soon as they were inside, Marty gave Doc the photo of the tombstone as there was no time to lose. Doc, in turn, gave Marty a pile of old clothes, real old western work clothes, to choose a new outfit from so that Lionel could maybe try to work his magic again or better, if not, then perhaps Sabrina or Atticus being a teenage witch and teenage Wiccan. Doc had set up his shop in that old, dilapidated stable that Marty had passed when he first came into town. It was typical that Doc hadn't thought to put a sign outside to advertise his services. Still, Marty guessed, in a Western town as small as Hill Valley, word of a new blacksmith probably got around pretty fast.
Doc had fixed the inside of this place up pretty well and he had divided the stable into three different parts. There were living quarters at one end, a stable with a handful of horses at the other, and, in between, all the blacksmith stuff, including a forge and anvil, plus some of Doc's usual inventions, improving on the local tools. Marty read the horses' names on the stable doors as he pulled on jeans, a work shirt, a pair of boots that actually fit, and a sauropod, just like the real Clint Eastwood always wore in those Spaghetti Westerns. Galileo, the first horse's sign read, then Archimedes, and Newton. He grinned. No matter when Marty ran into him, you could always depend on Doc for some things.
"That at least looks better," Sabrina commented at how Marty looked before she looked at Lionel. "Now, do you think you can try again with something more like these outfits?" she then asked him.
Lionel took a look over his references. "Okay!" he replied, before wiggling his fingers and giving a nod.
*PWONG!* In a sudden puff, the group was now fully clothed in more period-accurate Western clothing.
"Nice..." Thor smiled as he looked down at his new outfit along with the others.
"I don't know if I'll ever get used to that." Marty commented.
"It's a process." Atticus shrugged.
"Yeah." Mo added.
Doc, for his part, stared at the photograph of his tombstone for a long, long time. "'Shot in the back by Buford Tannen, over a matter of $80'?" he said at last, reading the gravestone's inscription on the snapshot. "September 7th, 1885; that's this Monday!" He glanced up at the calendar behind him and today's page read: "Thursday, September 3."
"That's four days away." Marty said quietly.
"Now I wish I'd paid him off," Doc muttered. "And who's this 'beloved Clara'? I don't know anyone named Clara."
"It sounds like she's like she's a girlfriend or something?" Marty guessed, not sure what else to tell his friend.
"Children, my involvement in such a social relationship here in 1885 could result in a disruption of the space-time continuum," Doc lectured the teenagers. "As a scientist, I could never take that risk, certainly not after what we've been through!"
"Emmett!" A voice called from outside. "Ho, Emmett!"
Doc stopped his pontification as a man wearing a suit and derby hat stepped through the stable door. "It's the mayor!" he then called back to the group. He turned to the newcomer. "Hello, Hubert."
"Excuse me, Emmett," The important-looking newcomer apologized jovially. "Remember at the town meeting last week you volunteered to meet the new schoolteacher at the station when she came in? Well, we just got word she's coming in tomorrow from the town called Rock Ridge along with some company of hers. Thanks for helpin' us out, and here're the details for you," He handed Doc a piece of paper, quickly speaking again before the other man had a chance to reply: "Oh, and her name's Miss Clayton. Miss Clara Clayton."
"There it is." Atticus said to himself.
Doc's mouth dropped open as the mayor turned around and quickly left the stable.
"Well, now we know who Clara is." Marty remarked softly to end the silence.
Doc shook his head, still not taking his eyes off the paper the mayor had given him. "Children, it's impossible. The idea that I could fall in love at first sight—it's romantic nonsense! There's no scientific rationale for that concept."
"You sound just like my Aunt Zelda." Sabrina remarked.
"Speaking of which, what happened to her, and Hilda, and Drell?" asked Lionel.
"Last I heard, they were visiting the next town over to try to reinvent themselves." Doc replied.
"Reinvent themselves?" The group asked each other.
"We all decided to go our separate ways until we could find a way back to where we had to go even though I was quite happy in this timeline," Doc nodded. "They said they needed to find some kind of spark that could help send them back home, but they might be back in time for the festival, but that was quite a while ago."
"Then we'd better go find them," Mo said. "You know, make sure they're alright."
"All in due time, you all, all in due time," Doc nodded. "Such as falling in love at first sight which is so trivial and not scientific."
Marty grinned at that. They had finally come to a subject where Marty was the expert. "Doc," he said gently, "it's not a science. When you meet the right girl, it just hits you, like lightning."
Doc looked up, all color drained from his face. "Marty, please, don't say that."
"Maybe mentioning lightning around Dr. Brown isn't such a good idea." Atticus suggested.
"Oh, that's right." Marty nodded once he realized it as well.
Doc walked over to a large machine and switched on what appeared to be a steam-powered motor. Wheels spun, gears turned, and a long conveyor belt jerked forward as smoke spurted from the top.
Marty decided to make his point right now. "When I first met Jennifer, we couldn't take our eyes off each other. We just... clicked," he then started to say until he suddenly stopped and thought about the girl from back home and he realized that he more or less abandoned her. "Jennifer! I sure hope she's all right. We just left her on her porch swing-"
"She'll be fine, Marty. When you burned the almanac in 1955, the normal timeline was restored," Doc reassured Marty as it was his time to help his friend. "That means that once we're back in 1985, you just have to go over to her house and wake her up."
"Hopefully anyway." Sabrina remarked.
"Once we're back in 1985 of course." Doc replied.
The machine began to clang violently.
"Uh... What are you doing?" Sabrina soon asked.
"One of you, quick!" Doc barked, pointing at the lower-left comer of the wildly vibrating device. "Turn that valve all the way to the left!"
Marty did as he was told, causing the machine to cough and a single ice cube dropped onto the table below.
Doc dropped the cube into a glass and filled it with brown liquid from a kettle. "Iced tea?" he then offered the group.
"Honestly? That... sounds okay right about now." responded Mo.
"You can have mine." Marty shook his head.
Doc then decided to share the iced tea with everybody else except for Marty. He then glanced at the paper one more time. "I guess Miss Clayton will have to find other transportation," He shoved the paper into the pocket of his overalls. "Let's go get the DeLorean and get ourselves back to the future."
The group blinked as they suddenly remembered something that they probably should have told the inventor before.
"Uh, well, there's one minor problem, Doc," Marty replied nervously. "We ruptured the gas tank when we landed. We'll have to patch it and refill the tank."
"Great Scott!" Doc exclaimed, clapping a hand on his forehead. "You mean you're out of gas?"
"That's basically what we said." Thor replied.
Doc was even more upset than Marty had expected.
"What, is that some kind of big deal?" Marty asked out of confusion. "We've still got Mr. Fusion."
"Mr. Fusion powers the time circuits and the flux capacitor, but the internal combustion engine runs on ordinary gasoline. It always has," Doc explained patiently as he slammed a fist into his other hand. "There isn't going to be a gas station around here until sometime in the next century! And, without gasoline, we can't get the DeLorean up to 88 miles per hour!"
"So did Marty just strand us here in 1885?" Atticus asked with wide eyes.
"Well, when you say it like that, it sounds awful." Thor commented.
Cherry had a bit of a deadpan look on her face.
"If so, Doc might be just as good as dead." Marty murmured in realization.
"What are you all talking about?" Doc soon asked them.
"Uh, nothing..." Sabrina replied with a nervous smile. "Surely there's an alternative we can try, at least until we can go back home to 1985."
Doc scratched his chin thoughtfully before he smirked after a few moments had passed. "Maybe there is, Sabrina..." he then said as he seemed to have an idea.
The others glanced at him, looking extremely curious about that.
"What're you thinking, sir?" Thor wondered.
"Come follow me." Doc replied as he walked off suddenly.
The group looked at each other and soon went after him to see where this was going.