Time Travel Adventures of the 1800 Club, Book 14 Read online

  “Please be back here at two this afternoon.”

  The time traveler walked over to 48th Street and entered the Pig and Whistle bar and grill. He took a small table in the corner and ordered some Irish sausage and potatoes along with a tall cool mug of beer. He pondered his situation for the tenth time.

  Okay, Bill. Let’s say you buy the building that will become the 1800 Club, what happens then? If the time machine is never fixed, that’s assuming it is broken, then I’m stuck here in 1887. As much as I love this time period, do I want to stay in it forever? He shrugged. Maybe not but maybe I’m stuck here and will have to accept it. If that’s the case at least I will own the building that I love. Plus, if they fix the time travel glitch, they’ll just come back and find me. Will I get to meet Prescott Stevens the club’s first president and will he know me or must I try and explain my situation to him? He shook his head, Man, this time travel stuff makes a guy’s head spin. Then there’s Shirley Holmes. What happens to her? Do I take a trip to London and tell her about the trouble? Will she hand me back my engagement ring when she realizes that there will be no traveling in time with me? Wait, I didn’t give her the ring yet! Wow! A thousand questions with no answers.

  By the time he drained his second glass of beer he knew that he must buy the building and start over as an ordinary person living in 1887. He smiled to himself, Hey, it could have been worse. I might have been on a mission back to 1800. That’s really primitive compared to the Victorian Era and the Industrial Revolution. He remembered the other two diamonds hidden in his suspenders and the way the jewelers spoke about the one he was selling. Bill Scott, if nothing else you are a wealthy man so hang tight this might be the ride of your life. He finished his beer and paid the bill and walked back to the jewelers.

  There were three other men with Mort and the young man. They watched from a respectable distance and Mort showed them the gem. All three took turns and stepped forward and used their own loupe and soon all smiled at Bill and nodded to Mort.

  “Mister Scott, I’ll even throw in the leather suitcase to carry your money in.”

  Bill opened the suitcase and saw the well-used money was in stacks and after a fast check closed the case.

  “Mister Scott,” said Mort as he shrugged his shoulders, “Don’t you wish to count it?”

  “Mort, I’m as sure that it’s all here as I am that you’ll be here tomorrow. So if it’s a dollar or two short I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Mort grinned and they shook hands. “Please remember that should you wish to sell more diamonds you come here first.”

  “I promise.”

  Bill left the store and took a carriage back to his hotel where he spread out the money on his bed and counted off forty-five thousand dollars which he then put in the suitcase and hid the rest under the mattress. He lifted the suitcase and said to himself, “Well Mister Scott let’s go buy a building.”

  Later Bill walked out of Tillis Rentals with the paperwork in his pocket and the key to the building’s front door. He walked up the stone steps of 520 9th Street and this time the door opened on the first try. He locked it behind him and opened the inside door. Whew! he thought, this place is dusty!

  He lit the first gaslight on the main floor and saw that the place had no furniture. Before going up the huge curving staircase he went into Matt’s room, which was also empty. Bill shook his head, This is tough. For some reason I thought that of all the people, Matt would be here. Oh well. The huge kitchen had the gas stoves covered with sheets and the many bumps on the long preparation table turned out to be all of the pots and pans that one would need to cook up a dinner for fifty plus people. He was happy to see that the bathroom had hot and cold taps plus a toilet and bathtub.

  He took the wooden stairs down to the basement and saw that the building had a coal-burning furnace and there was a pile of coal in the corner. Tomorrow I’ll have to call a plumber and have him show me how to light it up. The basement was as wide as the townhouse and in one section he found furniture once again draped in dust covered sheets. No club member changing rooms yet, he thought.

  Back on the first floor he went up the stairs to the second floor where he found the many guest rooms also bare. He entered the main dining room where he had entertained club members so many times. Now the three chandeliers were covered with a sheet and the fireplace had a large sheet of canvas over the opening. Bill entered the large great room where he had mingled with the club members so many times before. Once again the chandeliers were covered with dusty sheets and the fireplace was covered as well. He opened one of the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony that faced west and smiled as he saw boats, many powered by sail going up and down the Hudson River. The hundreds of seagulls that followed the ships were just like the hundreds that followed the ships in his time. “Some things just never change.”

  He went back inside and locked the doors behind him. Boy, he thought, how many times have I had a cigar out here with John Brand and Rocky Perna.

  Bill then went up to the third floor and lit one of the gaslights. He walked down the hallway and just for kicks opened the doors to the four guest rooms only to see them bare of furniture. “Here goes,” he said as he opened the door to the small living room with the alcove that he usually ate in. Of course it was bare as well. Bill next entered his den, lit a gaslight and shook his head at the unfurnished room. He went to his bedroom, then his bathroom. Nothing’s changed, he thought, just no furniture.

  He went out into the hall and up the stairs to the fourth floor where there were another five guest rooms each with its own bathroom. He opened the door to the gym and of course it was bare.

  Up on the fifth floor he checked the room where the printing press for the club’s newspaper would be and then the small swimming pool, which also was empty.

  Up on the sixth floor Bill noted that it was bare of everything, rooms included. “This will be Matt’s favorite floor with all of the clothing needed for trips back in time plus the money, diamonds and identification papers section that allow a member to travel back in time.”

  Bill went down to the basement and carried up a chair to the alcove where he sat looking out the window to watch the sunset. He had never felt so alone in his life.

  “Well I’ll never do that again,” he told himself the next morning over breakfast in the hotel. “Sit and sulk until eleven at night? Nope! I’m staying positive.”

  He finished eating and took a carriage to Pearl Street to Wonder Wood Furnishings. Try as they might, Bill would not allow the eager salesman to accompany him on his walk around the huge warehouse. He used a small pad and pencil to jot down the pieces he wanted and on the way out gave him his list, the address and paid half up front. The salesman promised him that the furniture would be delivered in two days as Bill had asked. He then went to Joseph’s Cleaning Service and hired a cleaning crew for the next day. Satisfied, he walked back to his hotel.

  “Sir,” said the clerk, “There’s a gentleman sitting in the lobby waiting for you.”

  Bill looked in and saw Mark Twain sitting in one of the soft leather easy chairs reading a newspaper with his feet propped up on a potted plant.

  “Mark!” How are you my friend?”

  “Just fine,” he answered as he stood and they shook hands. “And looking for someone to have dinner with. You free?”

  “Yes I am! Come on up and I’ll be ready in five minutes.” He turned and added, “Dinner is on me this evening.”

  “I never argue with a man that’s got his mind set.”

  One hour later the two men were seated in Delmonico’s restaurant and enjoying a Delmonico steak.

  “Dang! That was a fine piece of meat. Tell me, do ya come here often?”

  Bill shook his head, “Naw. Just when I want to impress someone.”

  Twain laughed and passed him a small black cigar. “Well partner, ya sure impressed me. This has to be one of the finest restaurants in the city.”

  “One o
f the oldest anyway. 1837 I believe.”

  Bill sat back and lit his cigar. “Mark, some things have taken place in my life recently that have made me take a long look at my life style.”

  “Well I sure hope you find the right star to ride, my friend.”

  Bill smiled, “You certainly have a unique way of putting something that another person would have to say in a long sentence.”

  “I take that as a compliment.”

  “Please do . . . you cut to the chase.”

  Twain squinted his eyes again, “And you my friend have a unique group of sayings that I’ve heard nowhere else. ‘Cut to the chase.’ Believe me, that will appear in my next book.” He flicked an ash into the glass ashtray. “Hey, do you know a man named Tom Madden? He uses the moniker ‘Whitey.’”

  Bill’s face fell. “What? Why do you ask that?”

  Twain sat forward and studied Bill’s eyes as he answered in a low voice, “So you do know him.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “If ya didn’t know him you would have simply said, ‘no’ and that would be the end of that conversation.” He sat back and took a pull on his cigar, “Now I have ta ask ya a simple question.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Twain suddenly sat forward and hissed through clenched teeth, “Why are you following me?”

  Bill recoiled, “I-I’m not following you. What would make you say that?”

  “Because back in 1883 I became good friends with Mister Whitey Madden and he used phrases that evidently were common where he came from and you are doing the same.”

  Bill shrugged and answered, “Maybe we both came from the same region.”

  “You mentioned my book, A Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur’s Court. Well that’s funny as it was Whitey who suggested that I use that name in my time travel yarn.”

  “And you did, right?”

  Twain smiled, “Ya mean I will. Ya see I haven’t written it yet and there just ain’t no way that you could have known about it as I never told anyone about it. So now I ask ya once again; how come you guys keep following me?”

  Bill sat and pondered his situation for a moment then said, “Mark, it’s not what you think it is. True, I do know Whitey Madden and he told me all about you and him meeting in New Orleans and pretty much saving the city. You’re correct that we can travel in time but that was until just recently. You see I came back to save Stevenson from getting hit in his head by that rock the boy threw. After we all ate and drank I tried to go back to my time but for some reason the time portal is not working. I can understand how you think that we are following you, but it was simply being in the wrong place at the time when Stevenson had to be saved.”

  Twain sat back. “My lawd! Why I couldn’t write a plot line such as this.” He scratched his head, “So how do ya go home?”

  “I’m starting to think that this is my new home.”

  Twain grinned, “It ain’t so bad, partner. Especially if ya know what’s coming down the track ahead of time.”

  “That’s a whole lot of remembering my friend. I’ll have to jot down all of the pertinent happenings coming up if I can remember them.”

  “Just so ya don’t tell me when I go to meet my maker.”

  Bill shrugged, “Believe me Mark I don’t know that date.”

  “So where is this time port?”

  “Time portal and it’s in the building I just purchased or rather it used to be there.”

  “Ya purchased a building? Mighty fast work, my friend.”

  “It suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks; I might be here to stay and needed to get myself set up.”

  “So ya bought a whole building in New York City? Might not that be over-kill?”

  “Could be, but it’s home to me. You see besides going back to fix things I also lived in the building. In fact I was the president of the time travel club.”

  “Sure would like ta take a look at that place.”

  “Come on, then. Let’s go over there right away.”

  “After you, partner.”

  Bill paid the bill and they stepped out of the restaurant and into a night that was warm with a sky dotted with millions of stars. Bill suddenly felt alive as he was not only back in the time he loved, but was with a friend who he could trust. They caught a cab with an open roof and after Bill told the tall, slim, silver haired driver the address he decided to tell Twain all he could about his time in the future.

  “Mark,” he said, “look up at the sky from inside of the cab and imagine a yellow steel and glass carriage being propelled without horses down the same street. The steel roof is open and, as we are now, we can look up at the stars.”

  “Tarnation! It must be an exciting time.”

  “Was,” he corrected as they both grabbed the side leather grips as the cab’s wheels slipped on the cobblestones.

  Ten minutes later he paid the driver and took Twain to the front door, opened it and they entered the first floor.

  “Just need some furniture,” Twain quipped as Bill lit two gaslights.

  “Coming the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow the cleaning crew comes in.” He showed his friend the entire place and explained what each room was for. Finally he took him to his apartment and showed him around. Twain was impressed by it all but loved the alcove the best.

  “It’s a room with many reasons. To eat in, to study the traffic on the river and look over into New Jersey or down to lower Manhattan and Brooklyn beyond. Why if I were to live here this would be my writing spot. I could conjure up all sorts of scenes including cowboys and Indians, sea stories, and traveling.” He turned to Bill, “Partner, you got to understand: to you, you are stranded back in time, while to me you are a new friend from my time.”

  “Thank you, Mark. That means a lot to me.”

  “Now I bet ya don’t even have a small bottle of bourbon, do ya?”

  “No, but we can stop in Diamonds to fix that problem.”

  They walked over to Paddy Diamonds and sat on the two end stools enjoying bourbon and each other.

  When it was clear that they could not be overheard Twain asked, “So tell me, partner, how is it that ya travel in time?”

  He laughed when Bill shrugged his shoulders and answered, “I really don’t know.” He showed Twain the small Time Frequency Modulator and said, “I use this to enter the date that I wish to go to and press the activate button and I’m there. Of course I have to be near the door of my building as that’s where the time portal is . . . or was.”

  “I remember being so intrigued when Whitey showed me his hairbrush that changed into a typewriter of sorts. Boy, I wanted one of them ta write one of my books on. Make a mistake an’ just backspace an’ it’s gone.”

  Bill nodded. “I have something like that but smaller at the hotel. If you want I’ll show it to you tomorrow.”

  Twain downed his drink. “I go back to N’Orleans tomorrow. Got a speaking engagement in three days.”

  “When will you be back in New York?”

  “Not sure. Hope you’ll be here.”

  “Well when you do return just ring the bell and ask for me. I don’t know who will answer the door but there’s a good chance that it’ll be me. If there is no answer walk around to the garden and see if I’m in it.”

  The two friends sat and chatted with Twain telling Bill stories of people he had met and stories he planned on writing while Bill told him of some of his missions back in time.

  “Last call” was called out at 2:00 A.M. by Paddy as the big Irishman started to empty the bar so he could go home.

  “Bill, can I ask ya for a wish?”

  “Whatever you want, my friend. What is it?”

  “If that confounded time port thing-a-mee starts working again will ya give me a peek at the future?”

  Bill grinned and shook his hand. “Mark, I promise that when it starts working again we take a trip to my time. That’s a promise my friend.”

  Once again the two men walked in different di
rections.

  Back in his hotel Bill opened the small hand held communicator and entered SAMSON followed by MATT. ARE YOU THERE? BILL. He pressed the send button and put it on the night table where it sat quietly all night.

  After breakfast the next morning Bill went to the building and opened the door for the cleaning company. A few hours later Bill was so impressed by their work ethics that at lunchtime he went out and brought them all sandwiches and soda pop. They finished at four-thirty in the afternoon and Bill tipped them two dollars apiece.

  After good byes he walked the entire building and it was spotless.

  “Tomorrow the furniture comes,” he said to himself as he walked back to the hotel. Once again he sent a message to Matt and went to bed and once again the communicator stayed silent all night.

  After breakfast the next morning he stopped in a grocery store and picked up a bottle of milk and an apple pie before going to his building. Once there he put the milk and pie on the window sill to help keep them fresh and then opened the front double doors for the men with the three horse drawn wagons loaded with furniture. He was happily surprised at how well the entrance way looked without dust. He removed the glass tassels on the overhead oil lamp, lit it and replaced the tassels. He personally had the eight burly men place the furniture as close to where he remembered the pieces were in his time. Once again he went and got them lunch.

  The coal company representative came to his place at one o’clock in the afternoon and once in the basement he went through the starting up of the big furnace. He pointed to the small mound of coal in the corner and said, “There is a small opening on the sidewalk in front of the building. The coal delivery man will open it and pour coal into it by way of a long steel chute from the truck to the hole.” He then pointed to a round hole in the wall of the basement and continued. “The coal goes down the sidewalk opening and comes out here. Some people just let it accumulate while others build a bin so that it stays in one place. At least once a day you need to empty the ashes that build up from the burnt coal by opening this door.” He pointed and opened the heavy iron door. “Shovel the ash into a steel ashcan and put it by the curb for the trash men to pick up. Then add some more coal to the fire and you’re good for another day. When I get back to the office I’ll set up an account and a delivery man will drop off coal once a week without you even having to be here.“