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gave John a straight shot at the door.
    He acted as if she might make a run for it.
Unless an express bus back to the future waited at the corner, that
didn’t seem like an option. Of course, John didn’t know that. He
thought she’d returned home to fleece his unsuspecting mother out
of her retirement money. Sarah Number One must have been a real
piece of work. Not that that was any of her concern. Her issue was
finding a way back, but first she needed to find a way past the
formidable John Beckett, who, at this very moment, seemed
determined to keep her separated from the rest of the living world.
The men had moved over to Fred’s horse, a huge beast of an animal,
and Fred had his saddlebag open, his head down, as he looked for
something.
    Even to Sarah’s inexperienced eye, the
saddlebags seemed to be bulging. Fred, it appeared, had packed for
some kind of trip. What if he was headed west? What if, at this
very moment, the two men discussed such a trip? Would John think to
tell his friend that Sarah would appreciate a lift?
    She hadn’t had the chance to tell him that
California loomed as her final destination. Sarah debated all of
five more seconds, then pushed open the front door.
    She walked with purpose, as much as one could
with a bandaged foot, her head held high, her shoulders squared. At
least until the moment the two men saw her. She’d expected John’s
reaction. Rage. Even though it hurt her, she’d prepared for that.
But Fred surprised her. The big man who looked like he ate small,
uncooked animals for breakfast stood still for a few seconds, his
broad mouth hanging open. Then, with each step she took, he took an
equal step backwards. As if he were prepared to walk forever to
keep distance between them.
    “Christ Almighty,” Fred said, his voice loud
in the quiet morning. “How the hell did she get here? And why
doesn’t she have a dress on?”
    Oh boy, did she have a story for him. He
wouldn’t be able to get away fast enough.
    Sarah looked at John, waiting for him to
explain. He, however, had his lips locked together, as if afraid of
what might come out if given half a chance.
    “I had a bit of bad luck,” Sarah said. Let
them make of that what they would. She didn’t feel inclined to say
more. She remembered just enough history to know that the crazy
people, or those at least perceived to be crazy, faced all kinds of
inhumane treatment over the years. She didn’t want them to add two
and two and come up with the answer that she was one fry short of a
Big Deal Meal.
    Fred ran his long, thick fingers through his
red hair, making it even wilder. He looked from Sarah to John, then
back to Sarah. She smiled at him. He frowned at her and looked at
John. “Say something, man,” Fred instructed. “Don’t just stand
there and pretend she’s not there.”
    “Go back inside, Sarah,” John said, not
looking at her. “It’s not proper for you to be out here dressed in
such a manner. I know you probably don’t care about things like
that, but I do.”
    That stung a bit. “I’m sorry to interrupt,”
Sarah said. “I couldn’t help wondering if Mr. Goodie is headed
west. I’m interested in getting to California.”
    “California?” Both men spoke at the same
time, their voices vibrating over the quiet land. The dog barked,
too, as if he couldn’t quite believe it either.
    “Yes. I…I have a friend there. I thought
maybe I could ride along.”
    “I ain’t going to California, Mrs. Beckett,”
Fred said.
    Sarah was so disappointed that it took her a
moment to realize that Fred spoke to her. Mrs. Beckett. She
didn’t want him calling her that. “Sarah is fine,” she said.
“There’s no need for formality. After all, we’re friends.”
    Both John and Fred looked surprised. She
realized too late that Sarah One probably didn’t have a lot of
friends. “If you’re not going all the way, maybe I could catch a
ride partway.”
    “Fred is only going to town,” John said.
“He’ll be