Doctor Who_ Peacemaker - James Swallow [6]
The schoolteacher hesitated for a moment, her caution warring with her curiosity. But as usual, caution won. She shook her head, dismissing the moment, and carried on her way.
The Doctor closed the TARDIS door behind him and took a lungful of the morning air. ‘Smell that?’ he asked. ‘That’s history!’ He sniffed.
‘Ooh. And someone frying grits, if I’m not mistaken.’
Martha wandered up to the mouth of the alley, and she smiled broadly as a man rode past her on a black mare. ‘You know, every time we land somewhere I think I’ll get used to it, I’ll be blasé about the whole thing. . . ’ She turned back and laughed. ‘But I’m not. I can’t be. This is it. We’re really here!’
He shared her smile. ‘We really are.’
There were clapboard buildings on either side of the road, shallow single-storey stores and offices made of rough-hewn wooden planks, some with grassy sod on their roof, others with heavy shingles. She saw an uneven sidewalk made of cut logs, horses at hitching posts outside, and men and women in period costume going about their business. But they’re not in costume, are they? Martha shook her head, answering her own question. This isn’t like some Disneyland-type theme park playing at being the Wild West, this is the real thing.
The Doctor joined her, licking his thumb and holding it up to the air.
‘This is 1880-something, I reckon. A Monday. Just after breakfast.’
12
‘How can you tell that?’
He gave an offhand shrug. ‘Ah, you know. It’s a talent.’ He nodded at the street. ‘C’mon. Let’s have a wander.’
The town had an unfinished look to it, with tents here and there, houses that were half-built and others that were clearly brand new and unweathered by the elements. Martha saw signs for a bakery, stables and a tannery. There was even a post office, with a telegraph cable looping away from a tall pole outside the building. She glanced left and right, taking it all in. ‘Look at me. I feel like such a tourist. I wish I’d brought a camera.’
The Doctor chuckled. ‘Really? And what would you tell people when you showed them the pictures?’
Martha caught sight of a storefront with a sign that read ‘Under-taker’; outside there were four pine caskets, each one propped up and open with a shrouded body visible inside. She looked away. ‘I’d tell them it’s not like it is in the John Wayne movies.’
13
Theteacheradjustedthebonnetonherheadandpickedupherpace, still turning Blaine’s words over in her mind. In all honesty, Jenny Forrest wasn’t much for dancing, although she enjoyed the playing of a piano when the mood struck her; but, try as she might, she found it hard to conjure an upbeat mood in the wake of what had happened in the township. It seemed like she was the only one who dared to dwell on it. Everyone else was going about their business as if nothing had happened, afraid to talk about it.
Jenny shook off the moment of introspection and became aware of a couple walking ahead of her, talking animatedly. It was their accents that immediately took her attention; English, the pair of them.
One was a tall, wiry man in a long brown coat, without a hat upon his head, wandering along the street with his hands buried in his pockets. At his side was a dark-skinned girl in an oxblood jacket with a wild shock of hair. Jenny couldn’t place it, but there was something about the clothes that struck her as odd. New styles from the East Coast, perhaps?
The girl’s head was darting left and right, as if she was trying to take in everything around her. ‘This is amazing,’ she was saying. The Wild West. Wow.’
15
‘Actually, they don’t start calling it that for a long time yet,’ said the man. ‘Right now it’s known as the “New West”. Because it is. New, I mean.’
Think of all the places we could visit!’ enthused the girl. ‘The Alamo!