Doctor Who_ Peacemaker - James Swallow [5]
The Doctor trailed behind her, stepping up to unlock the door of the police box as they returned to the alley where it had materialised. He seemed to sense her change of mood. ‘I’m sorry, Martha.’
She tried to make light of it. ‘Oh, who wants stale popcorn and runny ice cream anyway?’ But she couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice.
They entered the wide, domed chamber of the control room, stepping into the thrumming heart of the TARDIS.
All at once, the Doctor’s expression changed. He grinned. ‘You know what? You’re right. And I have a much better idea.’
He bounded past her to the console that ringed the crystalline central column. Without any apparent order to his actions, the Doctor skipped from panel to panel, nipping switches and spinning dials.
He paused, chewing his lip, and then worked a crank handle.
Martha’s momentary melancholy faded before his burst of excitement. She had to smile; the Doctor had a way about him, as if he took each piece of sadness in the universe personally, like he had sole responsibility to banish the gloom from things. ‘What are you up to now?’
He peeked at her from around the column. ‘Why bother watching the Wild West?’ he asked her. ‘Why bother watching it when we can, well. . . ’
‘Go there?’ Her smile widened.
The Doctor grabbed the TARDIS’s dematerialisation control.
‘Martha Jones,’ he said, slamming the lever down, ‘Saddle up!’
Jenny hitched up her skirt an inch or two so she could cross main street without getting more than a speck of mud on her. She picked her way around the trestle tables and makeshift chairs set up along the boardwalk outside the Bluebird saloon.
10
A couple of the bar girls gave her a respectful smile and a wave, pausing in their work. They were putting up some bunting to string along the storefronts, in preparation for the street party that evening.
Jenny smiled back and kept on her way, stepping up past Vogel’s General Store. Held in a bundle by a leather belt, the books she carried were an awkward burden, and she had to keep stopping to adjust them so they didn’t fall. They were a precious cargo; there was little enough reading matter hereabouts, and Jenny felt like it was her duty to keep as much of it safe and secure as she could.
As she passed the jail, the sheriff stepped out, taking a draw from a thin cigarillo between his lips. He saw Jenny and tipped his hat.
‘Good morning, Miss Forrest.’
‘Sheriff Blaine,’ she replied, bobbing her head.
‘And how’s the day been treatin’ you, might inquire?’
She showed him the books. ‘I’ve had a minor windfall. After Mr Toomey’s passing, his widow donated these to the schoolhouse li-brary.’
Blaine nodded. ‘The sour old fella was good for somethin’, then.’ He eyed the books. ‘Myself, I never been blessed with an over-abundance of schoolin’, but I see the merit in it.’
‘His passing was a sad matter.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose we must thank providence that more didn’t follow him.’
‘Toomey was never a fit man,’ Blaine noted. ‘If the sickness was gonna take anyone, I would have wagered it’d be him.’ The lawman took another drag on the cigarillo and blew out smoke. ‘I reckon we’ve been blessed to lose so few.’
Jenny shifted uncomfortably. ‘That is one way to see things, I suppose.’
Blaine showed a crack-toothed smile. ‘Heh. If you’ll pardon me sayin’ so, Miss Forrest, but I’ve never been clear why it is a woman as fair and as educated as yourself finds it so hard to see the good in things.’
She frowned. ‘I’m just. . . just cautious, is all.’
‘Well, I hope that won’t stop you comin’ along to the festival tonight.
Gonna be a talent contest outside the Bluebird, a potluck and singin’, 11
Just what folks need, after what happened.’
Jenny moved on. ‘Perhaps I will,’ she told him. ‘I have some work to prepare for the children’s lessons tomorrow. Perhaps, if I get finished in time.’
Blaine tipped his hat again and walked off. ‘Hold you to that, ma’am.’
She left him behind, turned the corner and ventured