Read Online Mittman, Stephanie by Bridge to Yesterday - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Bridge to Yesterday
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asked, "anybody ever know what it is you're jawing about?" The leg
bothered him so much he tried using the rifle as a cane to help support him. It
was too short, and he cursed the barrenness of the desert. A saguaro cactus
didn't make a great leaning post.
"Everyone
outside of the state of Arizona understands me," she said, rising easily
from the ground, even with the baby in her arms. "But in Arizona... riding
horses and living without electricity and plumbing... when are you people going
to come into the twentieth century, anyway?"
"The
twentieth century!" He laughed. "When it gets here!"
"Not
the twenty-first, you idiot," she yelled at him. "The twentieth! You
know 1994, 1995." She rolled her eyes as though he were the one who was
confused.
"I
know what the twentieth century is," he shot back. "And I'm afraid
we're all just goin' to have to wait for it to get here. But not in the middle
of the desert. It's gonna get cold and I want to get to shelter before dark. If
the Tates are following me, I want half the territory between us by
morning."
He
went to take the baby from her arms, and she swayed, a dazed look on her face.
She gave the baby up without a fight and stood staring at the sky as if she
expected to see something there. She was as white as a stiff, and Sloan grabbed
her arm to steady her. She didn't notice.
"You
all right?" he asked. She was shaking, and her color went from white to
green.
"What
year do you think it is?" she asked him. She didn't look his way.
She was searching the horizon for something, but he had no idea what it
might be. The Tates? He listened but heard nothing.
"I
don't think, Sweet Mary, I know. It's April of 1894. I believe it's Tuesday the
third, but I was on that ridge a long time. It could be Wednesday, the
fourth."
She
turned her head to him slowly. If he'd ever seen eyes that sad, he couldn't
remember them. She spoke to him like she was in some sort of dream, or one of
those trances at a magic show.
"There
aren't any power lines. No wires. Not one plane since I got here."
Sloan's
horse nickered and shook his head.
"Listen
to me," he said, grabbing the woman and trying to get her attention.
"Someone's coming. No doubt the Tates. I'm gonna have to take off with
Ben. You just wait here and they'll find you. It'll be fine. Just give me the
rest of your petticoat, in case, and then I'm leaving." She made no move
to obey him.
"Sweet
Mary, I said give me your petticoat. Now let's go."
"It's
1894?" she asked. He nodded. He didn't have much time.
"I
gotta go," he said, deciding he'd just have to do without the petticoat.
He took one last look at the woman. She was shaking her head, looking
frantically around. Suddenly she turned away from him, and he could hear her
heaving. He felt the bile rise in his own throat at the sound and stood by
helplessly until she finished.
"Here,"
he said, handing her the canteen. "Rinse your mouth."
The
woman took the canteen, but her hand shook so badly that Sloan had to help
guide the container to her mouth. She drank and then spat.
"Now,
I really gotta go, Sweet Mary. Just tell Mason the truth. It'll be all
right."
She
grabbed onto his sleeve, and he turned to her, cursing his stupidity for ever
bringing her along. He should have just tied her up and left her there. He'd
have gone twice as fast without her on the horse with him, and he wouldn't be
standing here now, knowing the Tates were on the way, and unable to leave her
on her own.
"The
truth?" she said. "The truth is that it can't be 1894. That's a
hundred years ago. I can't be here. I have a job, an apartment, a car with a
phone in it. It can't be 1894. It can't."
Sloan
thought about the first time he had seen the woman. He'd been watching the
river carefully and suddenly she was there, out of nowhere. A nagging suspicion
crept slowly up his spine. Impossible. A year with the Havasupai and he was
believing in their legends. She simply had to be confused. She couldn't be from
1994. That
bothered him so much he tried using the rifle as a cane to help support him. It
was too short, and he cursed the barrenness of the desert. A saguaro cactus
didn't make a great leaning post.
"Everyone
outside of the state of Arizona understands me," she said, rising easily
from the ground, even with the baby in her arms. "But in Arizona... riding
horses and living without electricity and plumbing... when are you people going
to come into the twentieth century, anyway?"
"The
twentieth century!" He laughed. "When it gets here!"
"Not
the twenty-first, you idiot," she yelled at him. "The twentieth! You
know 1994, 1995." She rolled her eyes as though he were the one who was
confused.
"I
know what the twentieth century is," he shot back. "And I'm afraid
we're all just goin' to have to wait for it to get here. But not in the middle
of the desert. It's gonna get cold and I want to get to shelter before dark. If
the Tates are following me, I want half the territory between us by
morning."
He
went to take the baby from her arms, and she swayed, a dazed look on her face.
She gave the baby up without a fight and stood staring at the sky as if she
expected to see something there. She was as white as a stiff, and Sloan grabbed
her arm to steady her. She didn't notice.
"You
all right?" he asked. She was shaking, and her color went from white to
green.
"What
year do you think it is?" she asked him. She didn't look his way.
She was searching the horizon for something, but he had no idea what it
might be. The Tates? He listened but heard nothing.
"I
don't think, Sweet Mary, I know. It's April of 1894. I believe it's Tuesday the
third, but I was on that ridge a long time. It could be Wednesday, the
fourth."
She
turned her head to him slowly. If he'd ever seen eyes that sad, he couldn't
remember them. She spoke to him like she was in some sort of dream, or one of
those trances at a magic show.
"There
aren't any power lines. No wires. Not one plane since I got here."
Sloan's
horse nickered and shook his head.
"Listen
to me," he said, grabbing the woman and trying to get her attention.
"Someone's coming. No doubt the Tates. I'm gonna have to take off with
Ben. You just wait here and they'll find you. It'll be fine. Just give me the
rest of your petticoat, in case, and then I'm leaving." She made no move
to obey him.
"Sweet
Mary, I said give me your petticoat. Now let's go."
"It's
1894?" she asked. He nodded. He didn't have much time.
"I
gotta go," he said, deciding he'd just have to do without the petticoat.
He took one last look at the woman. She was shaking her head, looking
frantically around. Suddenly she turned away from him, and he could hear her
heaving. He felt the bile rise in his own throat at the sound and stood by
helplessly until she finished.
"Here,"
he said, handing her the canteen. "Rinse your mouth."
The
woman took the canteen, but her hand shook so badly that Sloan had to help
guide the container to her mouth. She drank and then spat.
"Now,
I really gotta go, Sweet Mary. Just tell Mason the truth. It'll be all
right."
She
grabbed onto his sleeve, and he turned to her, cursing his stupidity for ever
bringing her along. He should have just tied her up and left her there. He'd
have gone twice as fast without her on the horse with him, and he wouldn't be
standing here now, knowing the Tates were on the way, and unable to leave her
on her own.
"The
truth?" she said. "The truth is that it can't be 1894. That's a
hundred years ago. I can't be here. I have a job, an apartment, a car with a
phone in it. It can't be 1894. It can't."
Sloan
thought about the first time he had seen the woman. He'd been watching the
river carefully and suddenly she was there, out of nowhere. A nagging suspicion
crept slowly up his spine. Impossible. A year with the Havasupai and he was
believing in their legends. She simply had to be confused. She couldn't be from
1994. That
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