Daria On the Trail
Back At The Ranch Part Three
DISCLAIMER:
This story is written for my amusement, not for profit. I do not own Daria Morgendorffer or the other characters from MTV's Daria cartoon show. Nor do I own the plot or background material from A Song of Ice and Fire.This story is based on my research on the REAL Oregon Trail (And the Lander Cutoff) not the Oregon Trail computer game.
I do lay claim to my original characters.
This story is a western, a western with some original Westerosi characters, not a swords an sorcerly epic involving the main characters. It is set on the REAL Oregon Trail
ADVISORY: This chapter is rated T for adult situations and for foul language
Daria on the Trail*Daria on the Trail*Daria on the Trail
Elaine Barksdale's phone rang just after dinner. She set her television on "Mute," then picked up the receiver. It was Helen.
"Hi, Mother," said Helen.
"Hello, Helen, how's it going?" said Elaine Barksdale. Elaine had been aware that her granddaughter Daria had been missing for over a month, so the two of them had called an armistice.
"Better than it was," said Helen. "There's been some developments about Daria."
"What sorts of developments?" said Elaine.
"Daria called me and Amy the other day," said Helen. "She said that she's alive and healthy, but she's trapped out west."
"How so?" said Elaine. "Is she in a hospital someplace? Does she need a ride somewhere?"
"She says it was a time and dimensional shift."
"Dimensional shift?" Elaine said incredulously.
Daria told Amy that she's in a parallel world, except that over there it's 1860, not 2006."
"Helen, are you sure this is real?" said Elaine. "This does sound like poppycock."
"I think she knew that, but she sent pictures," Helen replied.
"Helen, pictures might be good for proof-of-life, but they're not that good for much else," said Elaine.
"Perhaps," said Helen, "but I think you really ought to see these. So should your friend Audelia."
"Why should I rope poor Audelia into this?" said Elaine.
"One of Daria's pictures shows Daria standing next to Bethany Ann and Marcus Ashfield when they were married, along with a little girl I don't know about," said Helen. "She said it was from someplace called Fort Laramie in July, 1860."
Elaine said nothing. Could Helen be making this up? Her middle daughter was perhaps the most intelligent of her daughters, but even the most intelligent people could construct dream castles for themselves if they found reality too intolerable to live in.
"So how long did you talk to her?" said Elaine.
"A few seconds, then I lost the signal," Helen said grudgingly. But Amy talked to her for a couple of minutes, then Daria sent her some pictures."
"Why did you have such brief conversations?" said Elaine. "Couldn't you have talked to her longer? And I hate to ask you this, Helen, but could your daughter have been pulling some sort of scam?"
"I might have thought that but Rikka of all people came up with a coherent, sensible explanation," said Helen.
Elaine found herself smiling in spite of her suspicions concerning Helen's daughter's situation. Over the years Elaine had come to respect Helen's and Jake's adopted girl's intelligence, good sense, and grit. When she and the girl had conversations, she'd come to accept that the girl was not only willful but also thoughtful, a trait she thought were in short supply in younger people in general and teenagers in particular.
"So what does Rikka think?" she said.
"Rikka thinks Daria's behavior matches that of someone who's got a cell phone with a low charge," said Helen. "Rikka said that Daria must have realized that she had only a couple of minutes to contact us and tell us what's happening with her and did what she could to send us as much information as she could before her cell phone went dead."
"And you're convinced?" Elaine said gently.
"It took me a while to work through Rikka's assumptions and Daria's likely responses, but what she said makes good sense," said Helen. "I'm inclined to believe her."
"Rikka is young, you know," said Elaine, "and teenagers often don't think very clearly."
"Rikka doesn't always charge blindly ahead," Helen said fondly. "Rikka's picked up a lot from me and Daria."
"Helen, I know you want to believe that Daria is on the up and up, but I remain skeptical," said Elaine. "But I do want to see the photos."
"I'll see that you get them," said Helen.
-(((O-O)))—
Helen's pictures arrived a couple of days later. Actually, there were two sets: one from Helen, the other from Amy. Both daughters used priority mail.
Elaine opened up Helen's first, expecting to be disappointed. To her shock and surprise, they looked surprisingly realistic. Both Marcus and Bethany Ann (If that was who they were) looked very much like they were posing against some wooden wall somewhere, not some Hollywood movie backdrop. So did the Trouts, although the Trouts were posed next to an ox-drawn covered wagon that defied a number of Hollywood clichés, such as the wagon looking a bit battered and dirty and the Trouts looking like their clothes needed laundering. Elaine still wasn't sure whether she believed Helen's or Amy's stories.
She looked more carefully at the image of Grand Bethany Ann. After staring at the photo she was forced to admit that the woman in the picture probably wasn't an impostor: she looked too much like the other photos she'd seen of Bethany Ann, despite the fact that the ones she'd seen earlier were those of a much older woman, including those of the war widow who'd married Jonathan Watkins after the guns had fallen silent after the War Between the States.
She continued to look at the photo of the officer's lady standing next to the buildings. Something jogged her memory: didn't Grand Bethany Ann have a couple of miscarriages while she was married to Marcus Ashfield? Suppose Helen's guess was true and this was a parallel universe's version of Bethany Ann? Might it follow that one of her pregnancies came to term instead of miscarrying? If so, little Ruth could indeed be one of Bethany Ann's offspring. This was more complicated: she needed to think about this. She surprised herself a couple of minutes later by saying "This could be real."
-(((O-O)))—
She contacted Audelia Preston and they agreed to get together a couple of days later. Elaine made sure to frame it as a social visit. She did not want her friend to take her new revelation as some sort of prank. It took a little bit of maneuvering and manipulation, but Elaine was able to shift the conversation around to ancestry and the Civil War era. She then made a faint towards the early 2000's and Audelia followed.
"So have you heard anything about your granddaughter Daria?" asked Audelia.
"As a matter of fact I have," said Elaine. "Daria called Amy, then Helen from someplace called Casper, Wyoming. She said that she was trapped in a parallel universe and that it was 1860 over there."
"Is she serious?" said Audelia.
"Very," said Elaine. "She even sent pictures. They impressed me enough that I'd like you to see them and tell me what you think."
Audelia said nothing. Before the Westerosi Incursion, she probably would have dismissed talk about time travel and alternate universes out of hand, but King Joffrey and his mother had not only proved it possible but left evidence—either in the form of dead children who'd earlier fled their world or casualties from people from this world who tried to stop them. Most recently Joffrey's sorcerers had sent a party to Afghanistan of all places and had taken heavy casualties when they ran into a fire team led by Sergeant Gendry Waters, US Army, leaving corpses, chain mail, swords, and bullet-ridden shields behind them. Unlike previous attacks, no civilians were killed and the battered, bullet-ridden shields and swords ended up in some Afghan bazaar someplace.
"So what did your granddaughter send Helen and Amy?" said Audelia.
"These," said Elaine. She handed over the photographs Amy had sent her. "Daria sent these to Amy, then Amy sent copies to Helen."
Audelia looked at the first print and let out her breath. That was definitely Elaine's granddaughter. The soldier was certainly a dead ringer for Marcus Ashfield: she'd seen a daguerreotype of Marcus as a youth and tin-types of the Confederate Major who'd been in the war. This Marcus was older than the boy, younger than the soldier, and lacked the beard Marcus had grown later.
The woman standing next to Marcus in the photo was also the spitting image of Bethany Ann Watkins, or Bethany Ann Ashfield, as she preferred to call her. But who was the little girl standing next to Marcus and Bethany Ann? The real, no "her" Marcus and Bethany Ann hadn't had any children.
She continued to stare at them. "Incredible," she said.
"Isn't it?" said Elaine.
"What sort of camera was your granddaughter using?" said Audelia.
"One of those digital things," Elaine replied.
"And they're in color," said Audelia.
"Another paradox, or one of several," said Elaine. "My granddaughter shouldn't have been standing next to Marcus and Bethany Ann, the photographer was using a digital camera and took a color picture, which people weren't using back then. On top of that, there's a little girl we can't account for that looks like she could be Marcus' and Bethany Ann's daughter. That's at least three impossible things before breakfast or before lunch."
"I would say so," said Audelia.
"So what do you think?" said Elaine.
"I might have said this was a hoax, save for the fact that creating these photos would have been an incredibly expensive one," said Audelia.
"That's what I think," said Elaine. "I could imagine Daria making this sort of hoax, except that creating it would be expensive. I imagine that we could afford it, but a middle-class college gird staggering under a load of student debt probably couldn't."
"So what can we do for the poor girl?" said Audelia.
"Pray for her, definitely," said Elaine. "I can give moral support to Helen and Jake. I might also set funds aside to bring her back east if she finds her way back to our time."
"And this other Marcus and Bethany Ann?" said Audelia.
"Daria said that it was 1860 over there," said Elaine. "I fear that their Civil War is going to go off for them, too. I think we should spare a few prayers for them, too. They'll need it."
-(((O-O)))—
Amy called Daria's professor at Raft. She was blessed by miracles after she dialed. First, the professor answered the call instead of letting it go to voicemail, then he kept talking to her after she told him who she was.
"I shouldn't be talking to you," said Professor Schreiber, "but my curiosity overwhelms my good sense. I've already been interviewed by the local cops about your niece's disappearance."
"Actually, my sister and I believe that you're in the clear," said Amy. "We both recently heard from Daria and she informed us that she's still alive. She's off the grid but she sent us several photos from where she'd been. We think you might help us identify where they are. Could we take a meal together, either lunch or dinner?"
"So where should we meet?" said Professor Schreiber. "I'm guessing that you don't live in Providence or anywhere nearby."
"I don't," said Amy. "I live in Alexandria."
"I would like to talk to you about what we've uncovered. Could we take a meal together, either lunch or dinner?"
"So how would I recognize you?" said Professor Schreiber.
"I look like my niece except I'm taller," said Amy.
Amy took the train up to Boston. It was a long journey from Alexandria. Air travel might be quicker, but it had a lot more hassles, particularly since 9/11. Amy wanted time to look at the photos and think. She checked into a hotel near Raft, then called the professor. They met at a restaurant a couple of streets away from campus. Professor Schreiber was a hale middle-aged man dressed in slacks and a long-sleeved shirt. He was very attractive, perhaps a little too attractive. He clearly went to the gym and he was also wearing a wedding band.
They looked at the menu, then made small talk after they made their selection.
"So where are you from, Professor?" asked Amy.
"I grew up in Idaho," Professor Schrieber replied. "A small city called Pocatello."
"That's off the old Oregon Trail, isn't it?" said Amy.
"You know your history," said the professor. "Yes, it was."
"Did any of your ancestors travel on the trail?" asked Amy.
"As a matter of fact, some of them did," said the Professor. "They started at St. Joseph, Missouri and traveled all the way to the Willamette."
"So you know something about the Trail yourself," said Amy.
"I do," the professor replied. "There's a replica of old Fort Hall in my hometown and I also visited some of the places along the Trail when I was younger."
"Did you ever get to Fort Caspar?" asked Amy.
"No," said the professor. "I've been to Casper, but that was because one of my cousins was in the Rodeo. I never saw any reason to go see the fort. Besides, it's not the original; it's a replica."
"Interesting," Amy said with a smile. "I want to talk about it later."
Amy changed the subject and talked about herself while they waited for dinner. Former small-town Idaho boys didn't get to talk to Virginia society girls very often.
They were still talking when dinner arrived. Amy asked him about Daria and learned that while Daria was but one of his graduate students, he liked and respected her.
"She's extremely intelligent, hard-working and thorough," the Professor said over coffee. "I don't know if she'd be able to get tenure after her doctorate, but she's a better instructor than many I've had."
"How flexible do you think she is?" asked Amy.
"I know she's open-minded, although she has a low tolerance for fools or people who hadn't done their assignments," the professor replied.
"How adaptable is she?" asked Amy.
"I've never thought about it," said Professor Schreiber. "You probably know her better than I do."
"Adaptable enough to survive being dumped out on the Oregon Trail?" said Amy.
"That's a strange question," said the professor. "Do you have something to show me?"
"Yes," said Amy. "Here are some pictures my niece sent me. I'd like you to look at them and tell me what you think." She opened the envelope and passed over her prints to Professor Schreiber.
The professor glanced at the first photo, which showed Daria posed next to a man and a woman dressed in clothing appropriate to the mid-19th century. "Who are those people?" said Professor Schreiber.
"I got identifications for both of them after talking to my mother and one of her cronies," said Amy. "My mother identified the woman as Bethany Ann Watkins and her then-husband Marcus Ashfield. He was killed in the Civil War."
"Is that a Confederate Army uniform, then?" asked the professor. "Sorry, my bad. That's a blue uniform, so that's a US Army uniform."
"It's United States Army," said Amy. "It's not photoshop, but before you say anything, I want you to look at the third photo."
That didn't stop Professor Schreiber from looking at the second photo. "So who are these people?" he said.
"I'll talk about it later," Amy replied. "But I want you to look at the third photo."
The professor picked up the photo showing the covered wagons crossing the bridge and stared at it. Amy saw his eyes widen the more he stared at it. He set it down and muttered "it can't be."
"What can't be?" asked Amy.
"The bridge," said the Professor.
"Why not?" said Amy.
"It looks like a color image of the original Guinard Bridge at what was then the Platte River Station," he said.
"So?" said Aunt Amy. The professor looked like he'd been confronted with something that ought to be impossible.
"Ms. Barksdale, either that is a computerized alteration or that is an image of the original Guinard bridge."
"What would make you think that?" asked Amy.
"Two things," the Professor Schreiber. "The skyline and the fact that the bridge is whole and complete."
"And what would be the problem with that?" said Amy.
"First, where's the skyline? I've been to Casper and any picture I've seen of the replica bridge would have to include the downtown buildings. Casper doesn't have much of a skyline, but it does have one. Those buildings would be visible from that angle."
"What would be the second problem?" asked Amy.
The original Guinard Bridge no longer exists. It has not existed for over 130 years. It was burned by the Indians in 1867," said Professor Schreiber. "How did you get this?"
"This is going to sound very X-files, but I got a telephone call from my niece a couple of weeks ago," said Amy. "She sent me the photos right after she hung up."
"That's impossible," said Professor Schreiber.
"I would have thought so myself, but we've seen or heard of some weird stuff after the Westerosi Incursion back in 1994," said Amy. "Faking the photos would have been incredibly expensive. I think the pointer shifted from the impossible to the improbable, then shifted from the improbable to the possible."
"So what do you believe?" said the Professor.
"We think she's over there," said Amy. "And it's not just me, but my sister and her husband, my mother, and Audelia Preston, a descendant of that soldier you saw."
"So you think she's back in the Wild West?" said Professor Schreiber.
"We think she's in the Wild West," said Amy. "But not our Wild West."
"What evidence do you have?" said Professor Schreiber.
"Daria said that that picture of Captain Ashfield was shot at Fort Laramie, Nebraska Territory, in June of 1860," said Amy. "My mother's friend Audelia says that there's a big problem with that."
"What sort of problem?" said Professor Schreiber.
"According to the records, Captain Ashfield was never posted there," said Amy. "And that was just one of the paradoxes we have."
"So you think…" said Professor Shreiber.
"Yes, we think she's over there."
"And that pioneer family in that other picture?" asked Professor Shreiber.
"Daria said they're the Trout family," said Amy. "She's traveling with them."
"So are you asking me to do anything?" said Professor Schrieber.
"You just did it," said Amy. "You just confirmed that that bridge was the Guinard Bridge. The original, not the replica that got put up later."
Author's Notes: This story is about to go on a long hiatus, due in part to real-world circumstances and in part to my personal egotism. I DO like the occasional positive review for what I see as a lot of hard work, even if it's only a "Nice!" or an "Attaboy!", and reviews have been blamed few. To those guests who did post reviews, my heartfelt thanks. For those who didn't bother, the least you could have said is "Good story" or "Good chapter!".
