~
The house had an attached sleeping porch at the back that extended all the way across the width of the house. A long wooden table ran almost the entire length of the room. When we returned to the house, the men were sitting at the long table, being served food by several young Mexican women. Everyone turned and looked at us as we entered, and I swear they sniffed the air and wrinkled their little brown noses. They ignored the new aroma and continued to eat, so I guess we weren’t too offensive.
Mrs. Opal wanted us to come in the kitchen and help ourselves to some food. I must admit this was better than the canned food from the night before. There were scrambled eggs, pork sausage, pancakes, and homemade biscuits and gravy. Mrs. Opal was summoned back into the dining room, so to speak, and left Gertie and me standing with plates in our hands and drool forming in our mouths.
“I think I have died and gone to heaven,” Gertie said. “Do you know how long it’s been since I had gravy?”
“Why has it been so long?” I asked, helping myself to a generous scoop of scrambled eggs.
“Do you know how many points gravy is? I don’t even think it’s in my diet book.”
“Won’t this gravy mess up your diet?” I was sure this food was made with real butter and whole milk. I doubt 2 percent had been invented, judging by the number of Mrs. Opal’s chins.
“This is time-travel gravy. I bet I could eat whatever I want and then when we poof back to the twenty-first century, I’ll be the same size as before.”
I really hoped she was right and we were going to poof back. I was hoping it would be soon. One day had already transpired, and I didn’t want to find out what happened if we were here for more than three days. The way Caiyan had avoided explaining the uncomfortable feeling you got when you exceeded the moon’s waning cycle was disturbing.
Where was Caiyan? Surely he knew we were gone by now. Gertie and I ate in silence. She was savoring every moment of her gravy, and I was trying to figure out an escape plan. Crap, I hate planning. When I was younger, my mom planned everything. I just went along for the ride, not a care in the world. She told us where we were going, and we went, happy to be there. Now it was up to me, SuperJen, to get Gertie and myself out of this mess. My mantra from childhood began to play in my head but was disrupted by a commotion outside. The men remaining at the table went out to see what was up. I saw all the men leave the porch and proceed around the side of the house. Except for Paco, who kept one wandering eye on us at all time. I was sure if we got away, Paco would be next in line at the firing squad.
Gertie finished her Grand Slam breakfast, and we went outside to see what was happening. As we passed the living room, Pancho Villa was going over what looked like a map with some of his men.
Gertie and I stepped out on the front porch. Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins were hugging a skinny kid who had just gotten off a skinny horse. He looked like he was in his early twenties. Mrs. Opal motioned us to come over.
“This is our son, Johnny,” she said, her chest puffing up proudly. “Johnny, this is Jennifer and Gertrude from up north.” I was amazed how the words “up north” were enough information for these people. They didn’t need specifics. They just didn’t give a hoot. If you weren’t from this part of Texas, you were from “up north.” We exchanged hellos, and Mrs. Opal told us Johnny was on a big mule drive. He was bringing down mules for Pancho Villa to buy. Apparently Johnny lived “up north” in Fort Worth, a city located in northcentral Texas close to Dallas, and by the way she said it, you would have thought he lived in Alaska. He had ridden ahead to get the corral ready for the mules. The Hawkinses took Johnny inside to talk with Mr. Villa.
Paco watched us from the porch. He was getting to be a real annoyance. How were we going to escape if we were watched twenty-four/seven? I was tired after being sprayed by a skunk, becoming a hostage, and eating a full breakfast; I needed some sleep. Maybe if I could just get a little shut-eye, I could figure out a way to find my key and get back to my vessel.
“I think that Johnny is kinda cute,” Gertie said.
“I thought you said Brodie was kinda cute.”
“Well, he is, but they ditched us, and there’s nothin’ I hate worse than a man who don’t stay around. My momma went through three husbands before she found one who would stay, and he ain’t been around that long yet.”
“I doubt they would really leave us in 1915. If Caiyan had known who I was in Scotland, he would never have left me.”
“To see it is to believe it,” she said, flipping her braids over her shoulder.
Johnny came out of the house drinking a glass of sweet tea.
“Sure is hot today,” he said, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.
Gertie nodded in agreement, then batted her lashes at him.
I rolled my eyes and silently asked the Lord to give me patience.
“Are y’all planning on going to Mexico with Mr. Villa?” he asked.
“No,” I responded firmly. “We are definitely not going to Mexico.”
“That’s too bad; I’m riding as far as the border. I sure would enjoy your company,” he said, his face turning a little red.
“Well, we might go to Mexico,” Gertie replied.
“No!” I said loudly. “We are not going!”
Johnny shrugged and started to walk off. “I need to get started on the corral; the mules should be here by dusk.”
“Why don’t I come help you?” Gertie tagged along after him.
Johnny turned to look at Gertie. “That would be mighty fine, Miss Gertie.”
Gertie gave me a sly grin. Oh brother, I’m exhausted, and Gertie is chasing around after the mule boy. I returned to the house and asked Mrs. Opal if there was a room I could use to rest.
The Hawkinses’ house was very tidy. Mrs. Opal called the front room, where Pancho Villa had taken court, the parlor. It looked like a living room to me, with a brown floral couch and two matching floral chairs. There was a yellow afghan folded and neatly lying across the back of the sofa. A cherry coffee table stood in front of the sofa, and a matching side table split the two chairs. An old kerosene lamp sat on the side table, and I had a feeling of déjà vu. I shook off the chill that crept up my spine and reminded myself there was no way I had ever been to the Hawkinses’ house.
To the right was a staircase that went straight up to the second floor. The kitchen was across the back of the house, and there was a bedroom off the kitchen. Mrs. Opal took me upstairs, where two bedrooms split off the landing. The wood floors creaked below our feet as we entered the room to the left. I took off the bonnet I was wearing and laid it on the dressing table. I loved the furniture. I would consider them antiques, but Mrs. Opal told me the furniture was delivered last week.
The bed was double sized and white wrought iron, centered in the room. It was a gift from Johnny, so when he came to visit, there would be a comfortable bed for him to sleep in, Mrs. Opal was explaining as I tried to hide a yawn. She told me she would wake me to help with supper and left the room. The bed looked lumpy and was quite a ways off the floor. I guessed Johnny wouldn’t mind if I stretched out on it for just a few minutes. I climbed up and fell into the softest mattress. It engulfed my medium-sized frame. There was a crazy quilt folded at the foot of the bed, and I reached down and dragged it over my tired body. The warm breeze coasted in through the open windows and gently caressed me to sleep.