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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Science Fiction
- Subject: Time: PAST/Present/FUTURE
- Published: 07/20/2022
The Time Travelers #2
Born 1938, M, from Silicon Valley, United States2-20-22
The Time Travelers #2
Etta returned. “Here! This should be perfect!” She held out an issue of the New York Tribune dated May 21, 1856. “There weren’t very many white men in the area yet, but there were a few, so the Indians shouldn’t be too curious about us.”
“Indians?”
“The Ohlones. They were a peaceful tribe. Surely you’ve heard of them?”
“Oh, yeah. Sure I have,” but vaguely, thought Matt. “Well, you may get your chance.”
“Oh, goody! When can we go?”
“Well, it’s dark now, and I can’t choose what time of day I go back. It’s always the same time as when I left.”
“First thing in the morning, then?”
“First thing in the morning. How about 8:30 a.m.? Meet at my apartment?”
“Great. Well, off you go. I’ve got to see if I can get some sleep.”
It was hours before Etta managed to drift off to sleep. She spent over an hour looking at local history books to see what they could expect to find the next day. She had read them all before, but never with such intense interest; never with the feeling she was actually going to see the spot. There were several photographs of the Mayfield tree, only one of which dated from before the 1890s. That one older photo was of the lone redwood when it had two trunks, both of equal size. It was magnificent. At last Etta got ready for bed and drank a glass of warm milk to help her relax. It was after 1 a.m. before she went off to sleep, thoughts of the long ago running through her head.
At 8:23 a.m. sharp she knocked on Matt’s door. She was wearing her best walking outfit; a flannel shirt, blue jeans and good walking shoes. Around her waist was a canteen and in her hand the 1856 New York Tribune.
Matt was ready. He opened the door and ushered her in. “I see you remembered to bring the newspaper. Good. I called to remind you but you had already left.”
“I’m all ready to go. Are you ready?”
“All ready and rarin’ to go,” Matt replied.
“How we gonna do it?”
“I’ve already written out today’s date and place on two pieces of paper. Here, put this one in your pocket where it will be safe.”
“But don’t you automatically go back to where you left from?” Etta asked.
“No. You’ve got to walk to the spot yourself if you want to return to the same spot you left from. I wrote the town name just in case we get shanghaied and taken to China or somewhere. With the town name at least we’ll come back to the same town, if not the same exact spot.”
“And you hope there’s no one around to see you appear out of mid-air, or that you don’t appear inside a locked vault or something?”
“I’ve never reappeared inside a building, and have been lucky enough not to have been spotted. So far.”
“How many times have you had to take pot luck and use the ‘town’ return ticket along with the date?”
“Twice.”
“Twice. That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“Then you really don’t know for sure that you’re never going to wind up in a bank lobby or down at the local motor vehicle office, do you?”
“Well, no. But I pray a lot,” Matt piped up hopefully. “That seems to help.”
“I’m so glad.” Etta put on her most smarmy expression. She wasn’t pleased with this portion of the conversation. “Let’s just hope then that we don’t end up out of town. Why did you make an extra return ticket for me?”
“Just in case. I’ve never done this before and don’t know what’s going happen. But it occurred to me that if you manage to go back in time, you might be able to return on your own. At any rate, I’d like to try it to see if it works.” Matt added, “and I’m bringing along a pencil and paper so I can write you an 1856 date when we get there. Don’t ask me why. In case we somehow lose the newspaper. I just don‘t want to take any chances.”
Etta looked at him quizzically, but didn’t say anything. A sudden surge of anxiety came over her.
“Let’s get going!”, she said.
“Okay. Here, put this return ticket in your pocket.” He handed Etta the paper with today’s date and place on it. “Let’s go out in back.”
“But that’s your carport.”
“There’s also a secluded patio. We’ll leave from there.”
“Leave.” The word sent shivers of anticipation down Etta’s spine. She followed Matt out to the carport and then around the side to a rather pretty little grass patio. It was fenced in on three sides - the fourth side butting up against the rear wall of the carport - and had a barbeque in one corner. A few chairs, a lounge and a couple of tables made up the furniture.
Matt walked to the center of the lawn area, Etta following. He looked around. No one was in sight and there were no windows overlooking the patio.
“Looks good. Now, the Mayfield Tree is just about there, so that’s the way we’re headed. It’s about two miles away, so we’ll have a pleasant little walk. Ready to go? Let me have the 1856 paper. Here, take my arm.”
Etta wrapped her arm around his and held on tightly.
“You won’t feel a thing. Just close your eyes.”
Etta closed her eyes and involuntarily held her breath. Matt looked at her a moment and then down at the newspaper. He ran his fingers across the line reading May 21, 1856 and closed his eyes as well. A moment later he opened them to another world.
“Okay, we’re here. You can open your eyes.”
Etta slowly opened her eyes just a peep. Then, heart pounding, she opened them fully to view a field of long grass, a mixture of green and golden strands a foot or more high. Grass was everywhere she looked, and dotting the grass were large oak trees. Dozens of them. Hundreds of them! And they were underneath one of the largest trees, which hadn't been there a minute earlier when it was 2022. She felt woozy and clutched Matt’s arm even tighter. Matt, sensing her condition, took her arm in his hand to steady her. “It’s okay, Etta, we’re here. This is it. This is l856. Here, let’s sit down for a minute.”
He gently lowered Etta to the luxurious grass and sat down beside her. Her look was reminiscent of the look she had when she had opened the valuables box - or rather would open the box, 166 years in the future.
Etta sat silently, her eyes darting from one area to the next. Now and again she shifted her position to look behind her. Everywhere she looked was grass and oak trees. Off in the distance was a hill side, looking very much as it would a century later. At last she spoke. “Where’s the Mayfield Tree?” She barely whispered, as if to speak too loudly would cause the spell to pass.
Matt looked around. “I don’t see it.” He got up and walked over to a small clearing. “There it is!” he yelled, pointing in a direction parallel to the hills. Etta got up and ran to his side.
“Oh, wow!” she exclaimed, as her gaze followed his outstretched finger. “It’s magnificent.”
In the distance stood the twin sequoia tree, dwarfing everything else in the area. Etta spoke: “No wonder the Spaniards used it as a landmark. Did you know they considered building a mission by the tree? But they changed their plans when they saw that the creek dried up in the summer. They built the mission at Santa Clara instead.”
“Is that right?” Matt replied, impressed with her knowledge once more. She stood there staring - just staring - at the Mayfield Tree, as if trying to absorb what she saw into her very being. Matt couldn’t recall when he had seen such an expression. Maybe he never had before. But even though Etta’s face could pass for expressionless, behind it was a mixture of awe, longing, disbelief and extreme pleasure. Matt feared to move or speak, not knowing what she would do if he disturbed her.
At last she lowered her eyes and, turning to him, spoke. “Let’s go.”
Without waiting for his response she started walking in the direction of the tree.
“Wait a minute,” he called after her, “We’ve got to take our bearings.”
She stopped, and turning her head, looked at him over her shoulder. She regarded him for long seconds, as if in a trance. “Oh, yeah,” she replied, and walked back to him. She stared at him quietly, as if waiting for him to get the bearings and get going.
Matt took the hint and looked around. “Of course we can find the exact spot by where the grass is trampled down. And I think we can use that dead oak tree over there as a marker. We’re about,” Matt looked at the position of the sun in the sky, “200 yards east of the dead tree. That should get us back here okay.”
Etta didn’t say anything or look where he was looking, she just stared at him as if patiently waiting for him to finish so they could get going. Matt looked at her and decided he was finished.
“Off we go,” he said, and led the way, Etta right behind him. In a few steps she was beside him and they walked on together.
A few minutes passed by when Etta grabbed Matt’s arm and pointed. “Look!” Matt looked and saw, about a quarter mile away, an Indian settlement. They stood looking at it for a while. “Let‘s go,” said Etta, starting in the direction of the Indian camp.
“Wait a minute. Are you sure these Indians are friendly?” Matt called after her. “Perfectly,” she responded, “They’re Ohlones. As long as we mean them no harm they won’t harm us.” Matt, not so sure, followed along. As they got near he reached her side.
The Indians had seen them coming and half a dozen braves stood facing them, in front of the camp. Behind them Matt could see some women and children. They were all naked except for loinclothes, some having painted areas of their bodies. They had stopped what they were doing and were quietly watching the approach of the strangers. When Matt and Etta were about fifty feet away Etta grabbed Matt’s arm and stopped them both. “I don’t think we want to go any closer.”
“I thought they were harmless.”
“I didn’t say they were harmless, I said they wouldn’t hurt us if we didn’t hurt them. There’s a difference.” She continued, “We can’t talk their language and they wouldn’t know why we were there if we just walked into their camp. Of course we mean them no harm, but they don’t know that. We might scare them. It could get unpleasant.” Matt understood.
For a few minutes Etta and Matt stood quietly, trying to see all they could of the Ohlone village. The Ohlones looked back at them just as quietly.
Etta spoke softly. “They live off of deer, small animals they can catch and shellfish from the bay. Also acorns, berries and other edible plants.”
At last Etta turned and started walking away. “Let’s go,” she said. The Indians watched them walk away for a while, then returned to their tasks. When they had gotten some distance away Etta grabbed Matt’s arm tightly. “Oh, Matt, that was wonderful.” She laid her head on his shoulder for a few seconds while they walked. It was that part Matt thought was the most wonderful.
They continued walking towards the Mayfield Tree. Before they knew it the tree loomed over them. “Isn’t this something?” Etta said. “This tree shouldn’t be here, it should be up in the mountains with its companions. And yet it will be as healthy as you see it until the smoke from the railroad locomotives and then the automobile exhaust make it sickly. Of course after the twin falls during a storm some years from now it will be less impressive looking.”
“How tall is it?” Matt asked.
“About 187 feet, as I recall,” answered Etta. “Not exceptionally large, except were it is. It’s all relative. Compared to the oaks around here it’s a monster. And right on the side of the creek to boot.”
Matt stole a glance at the creek, which was the same creek he was in last night, but then he was about a mile further upstream. Boy, didn’t that seem like a million years ago, he thought.
Just then they heard a cry from the creek. Rushing to the edge, they saw a young Indian girl lying on the creek bed, obviously hurt. The girl saw them and started yelling.
“Oh, Matt, she’s hurt. We’ve got to do something.” Matt looked around. “I’ll look for a way to get down there.”
“Try that way,” Etta pointed upstream, “El Camino Real crosses the creek about a hundred yards up. You might be able to climb down from there. But be careful. The creek is deep.”
“Right,“ and Matt was off. A few minutes later Etta heard his footsteps laboriously picking their way over the rock-strewn floor of the creek. “I made it,” he yelled as he came into view.
The Indian girl heard him too and crouched behind a boulder.
“She’s behind that rock right below me,” Etta called from the top.
“I see her,” Matt called back. He started walking in her direction when a large rock whizzed past his head. Matt involuntarily ducked. Another rock flew by him, and another. “What’s she doing, throwing rocks at me?”
“She’s scared, Matt. She doesn’t know what you’re going to do.”
“Oh, yeah,” Matt shot back, dodging another rock, “Her mother must have taught her not to accept candy from strangers. Hey, that hurt!” yelled Matt, as a rock caught him in the side. He moved back out of range and considered what to do.
“I think we’re going to have to bring her people, Matt,” Etta said, “She’s not going to let us get near her.”
“Okay, who are her people?”
“They must be in that Indian camp we just passed back there. At least they’ll know who she belongs to.”
Matt climbed back out of the creek and returned to where Etta was standing. At a rapid pace they started back to the Indian settlement.
As before several braves were outside watching their approach. This time Etta and Matt didn’t stop but went directly into the camp.
As the Ohlones gathered around them Matt excitedly pointed at one of the Indian women and raised his hand to about the four foot level, attempting to signify a young child. The Ohlones, aware of the excitement felt by Etta and Matt, crowded in closer and carefully studied what Matt was trying to say. They looked at Matt and at Etta and at each other. They talked rapidly to each other, trying to understand what Matt was saying. Then Etta, pointing to a woman of childbearing age, made a big semi-circle over her own belly, as if to imply a woman with child. She also made the four foot high sign. Another Indian woman who had been looking at her started screaming hysterically, then yelling to a brave who must have been her husband. He and the others seemed to understand now the message Etta and Matt were telling. Seeing this, Matt made a “follow me” motion with his arm and walked rapidly out of the village. Several braves followed him, along with the apparent mother of the child and a couple other women. Etta followed along. Other braves and squaws stayed in camp with the children. All were now strongly agitated.
Breaking into a trot, Matt lead the band to the creek, where they looked down and saw the girl, who began yelling up to them.
Leaving Matt and Etta behind with the squaws, several braves ran over to the future highway entrance to the creek and soon reached the girl. The man assumed to be her father gently lifted her into his arms and slowly made his way up creek. In a few minutes they joined the rest of the rescue party.
The apparent mother fawned over the girl, but seemed to not know what to do. Etta motioned she wanted to check the girl and the mother moved over, allowing her room. Gently Etta checked the girl’s left ankle. The girl winced in pain. “It looks like a simple sprain. She ought to be okay in a couple of days”, she said to Matt. ‘‘But how do we tell the Ohlones that?’’ She looked about her at the anxious faces.
They silently thought for a moment. ‘‘Say,’’ Matt said, “If we can make a sign like the sun moving across the sky, coupled with a limp that gets better after a couple passings of the sun, they might understand.”
“Brilliant, Matt,” said Etta. “Now, how do we make a sun?”
“Let’s see how this works.” Matt pointed at the sun, which was by now nearly overhead. Then he pointed to where the sun had risen from, made an arc right across the sky and through the sun to where the sun would set. He did that slowly a couple of times, pointing at the sun between each sweep. Finally the Indians started pointing at the sun and making the sweeping arc, along with pleased grunts that seemed to signify they understood.
“Okay, let’s put this together. You be the girl. Make a limp that gets better.” With that Matt swept the sky as the sun as Etta limped on her left foot, pointing at the girl as she did so. The Ohlones grunted and nodded their understanding. Matt swept the sky a second time as Etta, still pointing at the girl, limped less. The Indians grunted and nodded some more. Matt swept the sky a third time, and this time Etta walked naturally, again pointing at the girl. The Ohlones seemed delighted, grunting and patting each other with enthusiasm.
“Good job, Matt, good job”, Etta looked at him appreciatively.
Matt said, "I’m surprised they didn’t know that."
"I’ll bet they did. they just wanted to see how we would explain it." Etta smiled. Matt smiled back, and just for a moment they were as one.
The father again picked up the girl and the party made its way back across the field to the Indian camp. Upon arrival the father sat the girl down outside a hut and the mother attended to her. The father, who seemed to be one of the leaders of this camp, motioned for Etta and Matt to sit down. They did so. Most of the rest of the camp - there were twenty-five or thirty Ohlones there - sat down along with them. When they had gotten settled the leader grunted and motioned to a woman tending a fire. She picked up two gourd bowls and, using a spoon made out of a smaller gourd, filled the bowls with some thick liquid. Picking up two more of the gourd spoons, the squaw walked to Matt and Etta and set the bowls in front of them. Then she handed each of them a spoon. The rest of the Ohlones watched them as they stared at their bowls.
“Oh, boy. They want us to eat this,” Matt said unhappily.
“And we’d better do it or it might be considered an insult.” Etta smiled at the leader, who smiled back. The leader then made a motion as if to bring a spoon from a bowl to his mouth.
“I know, I know,” said Etta, shaking her head to signify she understood. With that she took some of the thick brown liquid on her spoon and ate it.
“How is it?” Matt asked.
“You don’t want to know. At least it’s warm. Try some.”
Matt took a spoonful and ate it. “Try not to make a face”, Etta cautioned.
“I won’t, but I’d sure like to,” Matt replied. “What do you think it is?”
Etta took another spoonful. “I’m pretty sure it’s acorn gruel. It was a favorite with the Ohlones. We should feel honored.”
“Oh, I've never felt so honored,“ replied Matt, taking another spoonful.
The Ohlones watched them as they ate their entire bowls of gruel. When they were done the chief motioned to the squaw. She and a couple woman helpers passed bowls of acorn gruel and spoons to the rest of the Indians, who dug in with relish. Then she picked up Matt and Etta’s bowls. Returning, the squaw handed each a large piece of meat.
“Must be deer”, said Matt hopefully.
“Pretend it is and act like you like it,” Etta responded, then bit off a piece of the meat. “Say, if we had some salt this would be really good!”
The meat was easier to get down than the gruel, and Matt made a motion asking for some water to wash it down with.
“Ought oh, I shouldn’t have done that. They’ll probably bring me a cup of deer’s blood or something”, Matt said. But shortly the squaw sat before them two hides of water - not cold water, but it seemed fresh and clean. “I guess there’s a spring around here somewhere.”
“There’d have to be,” Etta said.
All this time the Indians were eating their gruel and deer meat and chatting happily among themselves, with an occasional look in Etta and Matt’s direction. “I’ll bet they’re talking about us,” Matt said.
“Wouldn’t surprise me in the least. Wouldn’t you if you had two people joining you for lunch who had never eaten acorn gruel before.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Hey, I think we ought to start back. From the looks of the sun it must be after 2 p.m. We don’t want to take any chances on getting lost and having to sleep outside overnight.”
“I don’t know,” replied Etta, “I really don’t think that would be such a bad thing. It’s so peaceful here. So quiet. It’s such a simpler, different life than we’re use to.”
But matt was already on his feet and the leader was getting up, so Etta got up too. Matt pointed at Etta and himself and motioned they were going to walk away. The leader took Matt’s hand and lead them both around the group of Indians to where the mother and girl sat, each with her own lunch. The girl seemed okay now, here among her family again. The leader faced Matt and pointed at the girl. Then he placed a hand on each of Matt’s upper arms and squeezed firmly, all the time smiling and nodding his head. With his hands still on Matt’s arms, the leader looked at Etta and smiled and nodded his head.
“I guess it’s unseemly for him to touch you, but he’s thanking us, Etta.”
“I know.” Etta smiled back, and then smiled and nodded her head at the mother and daughter.
After nodding and smiling at the group (who nodded and smiled back), Matt and Etta found their path of trodden grass and headed back towards their starting point.
Suddenly Etta stopped. “Oh, look, Matt!” she exclaimed, pointing towards the El Camino Real, where a horse-drawn object was kicking up dust as it steadily moved along. “It’s the stagecoach to San Jose!” Etta stifled an urge to wave and they stood silently for a moment watching it, each alone with their own thoughts. Matt noticed tears streaming down Etta’s face and gently took her hand.
In a while they reached their starting point under the magnificent oak tree.
“Here’s the spot where we landed,” Matt said. “In 2022 this will be the center of the patio at my home. Hard to believe, isn’t it. And this wonderful old oak tree will be gone.”
“Oh, Matt, let me take one last look around.” Matt nodded his assent and Etta walked over to the clearing once more and quietly stood staring at the Mayfield Tree for a while, then she looked in the direction of the Indian village, which was out of sight. She looked around at the oaks and ran her hands through the grass, which was above her knees. At last she returned to Matt, who had been sitting down watching her. “I’m ready,” she said.
“I’d like to try the experiment I told you about,” Matt said. “You know the 2022-dated paper I gave you? Take it out and see if you can get home without me. You couldn’t have gotten here in 1856 on our own, but there’s a chance that once you’re here you can get back by yourself. Let’s give it a try, anyway.”
Etta took the paper reading, “Mayfield, Calif., Sept 12, 2022” from her pocket. “What do you want me to do?”
“When I tell you, gently run your fingers back and forth over the date and close your eyes. That should do it. When you’re home move off the lawn so I don’t land on top of you. I’ll follow along in about thirty seconds, once I know you’re there.”
“How will you know I’m there?”
“I won’t, actually. Not until I get there myself. But if you’re gone from here I don’t know where else you could be. Ready?”
“Ready. Here goes.” Etta gently rubbed her fingers over the 2022 date on the paper and closed her eyes. Matt watched her rub the paper and gave a little jump when she disappeared. Although he’d done it himself a number of times, it was startling to see someone else disappear before his eyes. He stared at the spot where she had been for a few seconds. Then, satisfied that Etta had made her way home, he took his own sheet of paper out of his pocket, rubbed the date and closed his eyes. A moment later he opened them and was back in his patio in 2022. He looked around expecting to see Etta, but she was nowhere in sight.
[Don’t worry, dear friends, Part 3 will come as soon as I proof it. - Jay]
The Time Travelers #2(Jay Colt)
2-20-22
The Time Travelers #2
Etta returned. “Here! This should be perfect!” She held out an issue of the New York Tribune dated May 21, 1856. “There weren’t very many white men in the area yet, but there were a few, so the Indians shouldn’t be too curious about us.”
“Indians?”
“The Ohlones. They were a peaceful tribe. Surely you’ve heard of them?”
“Oh, yeah. Sure I have,” but vaguely, thought Matt. “Well, you may get your chance.”
“Oh, goody! When can we go?”
“Well, it’s dark now, and I can’t choose what time of day I go back. It’s always the same time as when I left.”
“First thing in the morning, then?”
“First thing in the morning. How about 8:30 a.m.? Meet at my apartment?”
“Great. Well, off you go. I’ve got to see if I can get some sleep.”
It was hours before Etta managed to drift off to sleep. She spent over an hour looking at local history books to see what they could expect to find the next day. She had read them all before, but never with such intense interest; never with the feeling she was actually going to see the spot. There were several photographs of the Mayfield tree, only one of which dated from before the 1890s. That one older photo was of the lone redwood when it had two trunks, both of equal size. It was magnificent. At last Etta got ready for bed and drank a glass of warm milk to help her relax. It was after 1 a.m. before she went off to sleep, thoughts of the long ago running through her head.
At 8:23 a.m. sharp she knocked on Matt’s door. She was wearing her best walking outfit; a flannel shirt, blue jeans and good walking shoes. Around her waist was a canteen and in her hand the 1856 New York Tribune.
Matt was ready. He opened the door and ushered her in. “I see you remembered to bring the newspaper. Good. I called to remind you but you had already left.”
“I’m all ready to go. Are you ready?”
“All ready and rarin’ to go,” Matt replied.
“How we gonna do it?”
“I’ve already written out today’s date and place on two pieces of paper. Here, put this one in your pocket where it will be safe.”
“But don’t you automatically go back to where you left from?” Etta asked.
“No. You’ve got to walk to the spot yourself if you want to return to the same spot you left from. I wrote the town name just in case we get shanghaied and taken to China or somewhere. With the town name at least we’ll come back to the same town, if not the same exact spot.”
“And you hope there’s no one around to see you appear out of mid-air, or that you don’t appear inside a locked vault or something?”
“I’ve never reappeared inside a building, and have been lucky enough not to have been spotted. So far.”
“How many times have you had to take pot luck and use the ‘town’ return ticket along with the date?”
“Twice.”
“Twice. That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“Then you really don’t know for sure that you’re never going to wind up in a bank lobby or down at the local motor vehicle office, do you?”
“Well, no. But I pray a lot,” Matt piped up hopefully. “That seems to help.”
“I’m so glad.” Etta put on her most smarmy expression. She wasn’t pleased with this portion of the conversation. “Let’s just hope then that we don’t end up out of town. Why did you make an extra return ticket for me?”
“Just in case. I’ve never done this before and don’t know what’s going happen. But it occurred to me that if you manage to go back in time, you might be able to return on your own. At any rate, I’d like to try it to see if it works.” Matt added, “and I’m bringing along a pencil and paper so I can write you an 1856 date when we get there. Don’t ask me why. In case we somehow lose the newspaper. I just don‘t want to take any chances.”
Etta looked at him quizzically, but didn’t say anything. A sudden surge of anxiety came over her.
“Let’s get going!”, she said.
“Okay. Here, put this return ticket in your pocket.” He handed Etta the paper with today’s date and place on it. “Let’s go out in back.”
“But that’s your carport.”
“There’s also a secluded patio. We’ll leave from there.”
“Leave.” The word sent shivers of anticipation down Etta’s spine. She followed Matt out to the carport and then around the side to a rather pretty little grass patio. It was fenced in on three sides - the fourth side butting up against the rear wall of the carport - and had a barbeque in one corner. A few chairs, a lounge and a couple of tables made up the furniture.
Matt walked to the center of the lawn area, Etta following. He looked around. No one was in sight and there were no windows overlooking the patio.
“Looks good. Now, the Mayfield Tree is just about there, so that’s the way we’re headed. It’s about two miles away, so we’ll have a pleasant little walk. Ready to go? Let me have the 1856 paper. Here, take my arm.”
Etta wrapped her arm around his and held on tightly.
“You won’t feel a thing. Just close your eyes.”
Etta closed her eyes and involuntarily held her breath. Matt looked at her a moment and then down at the newspaper. He ran his fingers across the line reading May 21, 1856 and closed his eyes as well. A moment later he opened them to another world.
“Okay, we’re here. You can open your eyes.”
Etta slowly opened her eyes just a peep. Then, heart pounding, she opened them fully to view a field of long grass, a mixture of green and golden strands a foot or more high. Grass was everywhere she looked, and dotting the grass were large oak trees. Dozens of them. Hundreds of them! And they were underneath one of the largest trees, which hadn't been there a minute earlier when it was 2022. She felt woozy and clutched Matt’s arm even tighter. Matt, sensing her condition, took her arm in his hand to steady her. “It’s okay, Etta, we’re here. This is it. This is l856. Here, let’s sit down for a minute.”
He gently lowered Etta to the luxurious grass and sat down beside her. Her look was reminiscent of the look she had when she had opened the valuables box - or rather would open the box, 166 years in the future.
Etta sat silently, her eyes darting from one area to the next. Now and again she shifted her position to look behind her. Everywhere she looked was grass and oak trees. Off in the distance was a hill side, looking very much as it would a century later. At last she spoke. “Where’s the Mayfield Tree?” She barely whispered, as if to speak too loudly would cause the spell to pass.
Matt looked around. “I don’t see it.” He got up and walked over to a small clearing. “There it is!” he yelled, pointing in a direction parallel to the hills. Etta got up and ran to his side.
“Oh, wow!” she exclaimed, as her gaze followed his outstretched finger. “It’s magnificent.”
In the distance stood the twin sequoia tree, dwarfing everything else in the area. Etta spoke: “No wonder the Spaniards used it as a landmark. Did you know they considered building a mission by the tree? But they changed their plans when they saw that the creek dried up in the summer. They built the mission at Santa Clara instead.”
“Is that right?” Matt replied, impressed with her knowledge once more. She stood there staring - just staring - at the Mayfield Tree, as if trying to absorb what she saw into her very being. Matt couldn’t recall when he had seen such an expression. Maybe he never had before. But even though Etta’s face could pass for expressionless, behind it was a mixture of awe, longing, disbelief and extreme pleasure. Matt feared to move or speak, not knowing what she would do if he disturbed her.
At last she lowered her eyes and, turning to him, spoke. “Let’s go.”
Without waiting for his response she started walking in the direction of the tree.
“Wait a minute,” he called after her, “We’ve got to take our bearings.”
She stopped, and turning her head, looked at him over her shoulder. She regarded him for long seconds, as if in a trance. “Oh, yeah,” she replied, and walked back to him. She stared at him quietly, as if waiting for him to get the bearings and get going.
Matt took the hint and looked around. “Of course we can find the exact spot by where the grass is trampled down. And I think we can use that dead oak tree over there as a marker. We’re about,” Matt looked at the position of the sun in the sky, “200 yards east of the dead tree. That should get us back here okay.”
Etta didn’t say anything or look where he was looking, she just stared at him as if patiently waiting for him to finish so they could get going. Matt looked at her and decided he was finished.
“Off we go,” he said, and led the way, Etta right behind him. In a few steps she was beside him and they walked on together.
A few minutes passed by when Etta grabbed Matt’s arm and pointed. “Look!” Matt looked and saw, about a quarter mile away, an Indian settlement. They stood looking at it for a while. “Let‘s go,” said Etta, starting in the direction of the Indian camp.
“Wait a minute. Are you sure these Indians are friendly?” Matt called after her. “Perfectly,” she responded, “They’re Ohlones. As long as we mean them no harm they won’t harm us.” Matt, not so sure, followed along. As they got near he reached her side.
The Indians had seen them coming and half a dozen braves stood facing them, in front of the camp. Behind them Matt could see some women and children. They were all naked except for loinclothes, some having painted areas of their bodies. They had stopped what they were doing and were quietly watching the approach of the strangers. When Matt and Etta were about fifty feet away Etta grabbed Matt’s arm and stopped them both. “I don’t think we want to go any closer.”
“I thought they were harmless.”
“I didn’t say they were harmless, I said they wouldn’t hurt us if we didn’t hurt them. There’s a difference.” She continued, “We can’t talk their language and they wouldn’t know why we were there if we just walked into their camp. Of course we mean them no harm, but they don’t know that. We might scare them. It could get unpleasant.” Matt understood.
For a few minutes Etta and Matt stood quietly, trying to see all they could of the Ohlone village. The Ohlones looked back at them just as quietly.
Etta spoke softly. “They live off of deer, small animals they can catch and shellfish from the bay. Also acorns, berries and other edible plants.”
At last Etta turned and started walking away. “Let’s go,” she said. The Indians watched them walk away for a while, then returned to their tasks. When they had gotten some distance away Etta grabbed Matt’s arm tightly. “Oh, Matt, that was wonderful.” She laid her head on his shoulder for a few seconds while they walked. It was that part Matt thought was the most wonderful.
They continued walking towards the Mayfield Tree. Before they knew it the tree loomed over them. “Isn’t this something?” Etta said. “This tree shouldn’t be here, it should be up in the mountains with its companions. And yet it will be as healthy as you see it until the smoke from the railroad locomotives and then the automobile exhaust make it sickly. Of course after the twin falls during a storm some years from now it will be less impressive looking.”
“How tall is it?” Matt asked.
“About 187 feet, as I recall,” answered Etta. “Not exceptionally large, except were it is. It’s all relative. Compared to the oaks around here it’s a monster. And right on the side of the creek to boot.”
Matt stole a glance at the creek, which was the same creek he was in last night, but then he was about a mile further upstream. Boy, didn’t that seem like a million years ago, he thought.
Just then they heard a cry from the creek. Rushing to the edge, they saw a young Indian girl lying on the creek bed, obviously hurt. The girl saw them and started yelling.
“Oh, Matt, she’s hurt. We’ve got to do something.” Matt looked around. “I’ll look for a way to get down there.”
“Try that way,” Etta pointed upstream, “El Camino Real crosses the creek about a hundred yards up. You might be able to climb down from there. But be careful. The creek is deep.”
“Right,“ and Matt was off. A few minutes later Etta heard his footsteps laboriously picking their way over the rock-strewn floor of the creek. “I made it,” he yelled as he came into view.
The Indian girl heard him too and crouched behind a boulder.
“She’s behind that rock right below me,” Etta called from the top.
“I see her,” Matt called back. He started walking in her direction when a large rock whizzed past his head. Matt involuntarily ducked. Another rock flew by him, and another. “What’s she doing, throwing rocks at me?”
“She’s scared, Matt. She doesn’t know what you’re going to do.”
“Oh, yeah,” Matt shot back, dodging another rock, “Her mother must have taught her not to accept candy from strangers. Hey, that hurt!” yelled Matt, as a rock caught him in the side. He moved back out of range and considered what to do.
“I think we’re going to have to bring her people, Matt,” Etta said, “She’s not going to let us get near her.”
“Okay, who are her people?”
“They must be in that Indian camp we just passed back there. At least they’ll know who she belongs to.”
Matt climbed back out of the creek and returned to where Etta was standing. At a rapid pace they started back to the Indian settlement.
As before several braves were outside watching their approach. This time Etta and Matt didn’t stop but went directly into the camp.
As the Ohlones gathered around them Matt excitedly pointed at one of the Indian women and raised his hand to about the four foot level, attempting to signify a young child. The Ohlones, aware of the excitement felt by Etta and Matt, crowded in closer and carefully studied what Matt was trying to say. They looked at Matt and at Etta and at each other. They talked rapidly to each other, trying to understand what Matt was saying. Then Etta, pointing to a woman of childbearing age, made a big semi-circle over her own belly, as if to imply a woman with child. She also made the four foot high sign. Another Indian woman who had been looking at her started screaming hysterically, then yelling to a brave who must have been her husband. He and the others seemed to understand now the message Etta and Matt were telling. Seeing this, Matt made a “follow me” motion with his arm and walked rapidly out of the village. Several braves followed him, along with the apparent mother of the child and a couple other women. Etta followed along. Other braves and squaws stayed in camp with the children. All were now strongly agitated.
Breaking into a trot, Matt lead the band to the creek, where they looked down and saw the girl, who began yelling up to them.
Leaving Matt and Etta behind with the squaws, several braves ran over to the future highway entrance to the creek and soon reached the girl. The man assumed to be her father gently lifted her into his arms and slowly made his way up creek. In a few minutes they joined the rest of the rescue party.
The apparent mother fawned over the girl, but seemed to not know what to do. Etta motioned she wanted to check the girl and the mother moved over, allowing her room. Gently Etta checked the girl’s left ankle. The girl winced in pain. “It looks like a simple sprain. She ought to be okay in a couple of days”, she said to Matt. ‘‘But how do we tell the Ohlones that?’’ She looked about her at the anxious faces.
They silently thought for a moment. ‘‘Say,’’ Matt said, “If we can make a sign like the sun moving across the sky, coupled with a limp that gets better after a couple passings of the sun, they might understand.”
“Brilliant, Matt,” said Etta. “Now, how do we make a sun?”
“Let’s see how this works.” Matt pointed at the sun, which was by now nearly overhead. Then he pointed to where the sun had risen from, made an arc right across the sky and through the sun to where the sun would set. He did that slowly a couple of times, pointing at the sun between each sweep. Finally the Indians started pointing at the sun and making the sweeping arc, along with pleased grunts that seemed to signify they understood.
“Okay, let’s put this together. You be the girl. Make a limp that gets better.” With that Matt swept the sky as the sun as Etta limped on her left foot, pointing at the girl as she did so. The Ohlones grunted and nodded their understanding. Matt swept the sky a second time as Etta, still pointing at the girl, limped less. The Indians grunted and nodded some more. Matt swept the sky a third time, and this time Etta walked naturally, again pointing at the girl. The Ohlones seemed delighted, grunting and patting each other with enthusiasm.
“Good job, Matt, good job”, Etta looked at him appreciatively.
Matt said, "I’m surprised they didn’t know that."
"I’ll bet they did. they just wanted to see how we would explain it." Etta smiled. Matt smiled back, and just for a moment they were as one.
The father again picked up the girl and the party made its way back across the field to the Indian camp. Upon arrival the father sat the girl down outside a hut and the mother attended to her. The father, who seemed to be one of the leaders of this camp, motioned for Etta and Matt to sit down. They did so. Most of the rest of the camp - there were twenty-five or thirty Ohlones there - sat down along with them. When they had gotten settled the leader grunted and motioned to a woman tending a fire. She picked up two gourd bowls and, using a spoon made out of a smaller gourd, filled the bowls with some thick liquid. Picking up two more of the gourd spoons, the squaw walked to Matt and Etta and set the bowls in front of them. Then she handed each of them a spoon. The rest of the Ohlones watched them as they stared at their bowls.
“Oh, boy. They want us to eat this,” Matt said unhappily.
“And we’d better do it or it might be considered an insult.” Etta smiled at the leader, who smiled back. The leader then made a motion as if to bring a spoon from a bowl to his mouth.
“I know, I know,” said Etta, shaking her head to signify she understood. With that she took some of the thick brown liquid on her spoon and ate it.
“How is it?” Matt asked.
“You don’t want to know. At least it’s warm. Try some.”
Matt took a spoonful and ate it. “Try not to make a face”, Etta cautioned.
“I won’t, but I’d sure like to,” Matt replied. “What do you think it is?”
Etta took another spoonful. “I’m pretty sure it’s acorn gruel. It was a favorite with the Ohlones. We should feel honored.”
“Oh, I've never felt so honored,“ replied Matt, taking another spoonful.
The Ohlones watched them as they ate their entire bowls of gruel. When they were done the chief motioned to the squaw. She and a couple woman helpers passed bowls of acorn gruel and spoons to the rest of the Indians, who dug in with relish. Then she picked up Matt and Etta’s bowls. Returning, the squaw handed each a large piece of meat.
“Must be deer”, said Matt hopefully.
“Pretend it is and act like you like it,” Etta responded, then bit off a piece of the meat. “Say, if we had some salt this would be really good!”
The meat was easier to get down than the gruel, and Matt made a motion asking for some water to wash it down with.
“Ought oh, I shouldn’t have done that. They’ll probably bring me a cup of deer’s blood or something”, Matt said. But shortly the squaw sat before them two hides of water - not cold water, but it seemed fresh and clean. “I guess there’s a spring around here somewhere.”
“There’d have to be,” Etta said.
All this time the Indians were eating their gruel and deer meat and chatting happily among themselves, with an occasional look in Etta and Matt’s direction. “I’ll bet they’re talking about us,” Matt said.
“Wouldn’t surprise me in the least. Wouldn’t you if you had two people joining you for lunch who had never eaten acorn gruel before.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Hey, I think we ought to start back. From the looks of the sun it must be after 2 p.m. We don’t want to take any chances on getting lost and having to sleep outside overnight.”
“I don’t know,” replied Etta, “I really don’t think that would be such a bad thing. It’s so peaceful here. So quiet. It’s such a simpler, different life than we’re use to.”
But matt was already on his feet and the leader was getting up, so Etta got up too. Matt pointed at Etta and himself and motioned they were going to walk away. The leader took Matt’s hand and lead them both around the group of Indians to where the mother and girl sat, each with her own lunch. The girl seemed okay now, here among her family again. The leader faced Matt and pointed at the girl. Then he placed a hand on each of Matt’s upper arms and squeezed firmly, all the time smiling and nodding his head. With his hands still on Matt’s arms, the leader looked at Etta and smiled and nodded his head.
“I guess it’s unseemly for him to touch you, but he’s thanking us, Etta.”
“I know.” Etta smiled back, and then smiled and nodded her head at the mother and daughter.
After nodding and smiling at the group (who nodded and smiled back), Matt and Etta found their path of trodden grass and headed back towards their starting point.
Suddenly Etta stopped. “Oh, look, Matt!” she exclaimed, pointing towards the El Camino Real, where a horse-drawn object was kicking up dust as it steadily moved along. “It’s the stagecoach to San Jose!” Etta stifled an urge to wave and they stood silently for a moment watching it, each alone with their own thoughts. Matt noticed tears streaming down Etta’s face and gently took her hand.
In a while they reached their starting point under the magnificent oak tree.
“Here’s the spot where we landed,” Matt said. “In 2022 this will be the center of the patio at my home. Hard to believe, isn’t it. And this wonderful old oak tree will be gone.”
“Oh, Matt, let me take one last look around.” Matt nodded his assent and Etta walked over to the clearing once more and quietly stood staring at the Mayfield Tree for a while, then she looked in the direction of the Indian village, which was out of sight. She looked around at the oaks and ran her hands through the grass, which was above her knees. At last she returned to Matt, who had been sitting down watching her. “I’m ready,” she said.
“I’d like to try the experiment I told you about,” Matt said. “You know the 2022-dated paper I gave you? Take it out and see if you can get home without me. You couldn’t have gotten here in 1856 on our own, but there’s a chance that once you’re here you can get back by yourself. Let’s give it a try, anyway.”
Etta took the paper reading, “Mayfield, Calif., Sept 12, 2022” from her pocket. “What do you want me to do?”
“When I tell you, gently run your fingers back and forth over the date and close your eyes. That should do it. When you’re home move off the lawn so I don’t land on top of you. I’ll follow along in about thirty seconds, once I know you’re there.”
“How will you know I’m there?”
“I won’t, actually. Not until I get there myself. But if you’re gone from here I don’t know where else you could be. Ready?”
“Ready. Here goes.” Etta gently rubbed her fingers over the 2022 date on the paper and closed her eyes. Matt watched her rub the paper and gave a little jump when she disappeared. Although he’d done it himself a number of times, it was startling to see someone else disappear before his eyes. He stared at the spot where she had been for a few seconds. Then, satisfied that Etta had made her way home, he took his own sheet of paper out of his pocket, rubbed the date and closed his eyes. A moment later he opened them and was back in his patio in 2022. He looked around expecting to see Etta, but she was nowhere in sight.
[Don’t worry, dear friends, Part 3 will come as soon as I proof it. - Jay]
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