Copyright 2006, Terry F. Phillips Sr.
All rights reserved
“Now, look guys,” Eddie sneered. “I am on my way to New Mexico and I don’t want any of your sass.”
He tried to imitate Humphrey Bogart. He had the lisp already.
He patted his pocket, as if he had a gun stored there.
His voice was deeper, more masculine, now. It surprised him. He guessed the singing voice training was coming through in a pinch.
“It looks like we’re all going to ride this car together, so back off and we’ll get along fine” he said, with legs wide apart in a masculine fighting stance.
Eddie found a spot to lay down. It was several yards from them, but he closed one eye, keeping the other eye on the two until they began snoring.
The bluff worked.
A few days later, Eddie jumped off the train outside Roswell.
He wasn’t sure what to do next but, checking the date on a newspaper, he found he had two days to kill before the time travelers were scheduled to appear.
The rendezvous had been planned for years. Eddie had been in the 1900s for a few years on this trip and he was anxious to go home.
Checking at the public library, he determined the Brazel ranch had the correct coordinates to meet his fellow time travelers.
Now he had to have a reason to be on the premises when the ship arrived.
Given the secluded location, he couldn’t risk staying in town until the rendezvous time. No matter how he made the trip to the location, he risked being caught and thrown off the property -- or shot -- before he could make contact.
It seemed obvious -- this thin boy with the high-pitch voice would have to get a job on the ranch. He would have to become a cow-puncher, a ranch hand. He hoped he survived. The other hands might just kill him, if they thought he was a homosexual.