April jack-knifed upright from the fainting couch sending a shockwave to her brain. She rubbed at the ache. Where am I? Blinking her eyes to adjust the dim lighting, she took stock in her surroundings.
The couch she sat on was merely the tip of the authentic antiques in the room. The modest flat had a simple layout. The living space doubled as a dining area, living room. A wood burning fireplace occupied an outside wall where two mahogany Edwardian salon chairs faced a hearth made of an ore rock façade. There was a magnificent floor to ceiling bookshelf standing on the opposite wall filled with a variety of books, scrolls and periodicals. She’d explore that, momentarily. A roll top writing desk graced the corner of the room with an octagon shaped window above to let in natural light. The adjacent room was a galley style kitchen. A round table occupied the formal dining area. At the back of the room, an ornately painted, free-standing, folding screen divided the living from the sleeping area. It was stunningly authentic, this window into the past. I need the name of their interior designer, she mused. Taking deep breaths, April waited for her equilibrium to return, then swung her feet to the floor.
A woolen blanket slid from her lap as April stood. Her head still throbbed, from what, she couldn’t say. At least there was no dizziness, and her balance was good. The last thing she remembered was tucking her head between her knees and kissing her ass goodbye as the windstorm swept into the Whitewood creek valley. She rubbed her head feeling for bumps but found nothing. Smacking her dry lips, she reached for the lip balm in her zipped pocket. It was—gone. No matter, her mouth was parched, and walked to the kitchen.
The kitchen looked like something out of an early 1900’s Sears and Roebuck catalog. Herbs and wildflowers hung drying from the rafters. A cast iron woodburning stove occupied a great deal of the space. There was an old-fashioned ice box on the wall next to the larder. A butcher block work area cluttered the middle of the kitchen with barely enough room to walk around. An actual hand-pump for a water spigot sat next to the sink located at the end of the wooden counter. Not a single appliance was in sight.
April worked the pump for several minutes just to get a trickle of water. The water had an offensive sulfate odor and a rusty color. She crinkled her nose and cupped her hand to drink. The taste was as bad as the smell with a high concentration of iron, and dissolved minerals. She drank it anyway, thirsty enough to drink from a horse trough.
“Wouldn’t you rather use a cup?”
April nearly choked, startled by the young feminine voice. Standing in the archway separating the kitchen from the living room stood a young girl, it was hard to gage her age. She watched as she made her way gracefully toward a cupboard retrieving a delicate teacup and handing it to April. “Perhaps you would like tea instead? I find herbs help disguise the foul taste.” Without waiting for a reply, she collected the teapot from the stove and began filling it with water.
April had no time for tea. She needed to get home. The hour was late and surely her neighbors would notice her absence. “Do you know how I got here?”
The young girl continued her task, “My father said he found you by the trainwreck near the Wasp mine and brought you here. He’s gone to fetch the doctor.”
“Trainwreck? How can there be a trainwreck without train tracks? Are you sure you heard him, right? Where am I?”
“In Deadwood. We live above my uncle’s store.”
April was relieved and confused. Why hadn’t she been taken into urgent care, and what doctor still made house calls? She asked, “Is your dad one of the volunteer first responders working the Mickelson trail ride this weekend?”
The young girl turned to face her, “My father works for the railroad.” She furloughed her brow, “What is the Mickelson bike trail?”
“The George Mickelson, you know, the trail along the old Chicago, Burlington, Quincy line.”
“What’s a bike trail?”
April rubbed her forehead. A different line of questioning was in order, “I own a business in Deadwood. I might know your uncle. What’s his name?”
“Fee Lee Wong.”
“Fee Lee—” That made no sense, “You’re trying to tell me we’re standing in the Wing Tsue building?”
Li smiled, “Yes, Fee Lee Wong emporium.”
“But that’s not possible. The Wing Tsue building was torn down Christmas Eve, 2005. And don’t you mean, great uncle? Lee Wong took his family back to China years ago and never returned.”
The girl’s skin paled, “How do you know of my uncle’s plan to travel to China?”
That’s her takeaway, April exclaimed inwardly. To Li, “It’s all part of Deadwood’s history. Being family, how would you not know that?’
The two females stared at one another. Neither understood what the other was talking about. April tried a different approach, “My name is April,” she said extending her hand. “I own the coffee and gift shop on the south end of town near Chubby Chipmunk chocolates. What part of town is this?”
The young girl looked at April as if she’d asked an obvious question. “I am Li. And you are in Chinatown of course. How does a chipmunk make chocolate?”
Again impossible. Nothing but markers and plaques existed of the original Chinatown in Deadwood, least of all the building in which they were allegedly standing. April walked to the window over the sink facing the street looking for familiar landmarks. She gasped. Where are the cars? Where was the highway? Where was the new construction on the north end of town? Her knees buckled. This couldn’t be Deadwood, at least the Deadwood she knew. Holding onto the counter, she looked closer at her surroundings, suddenly realizing there was absolutely no evidence of modern convenience, technology, or electricity anywhere. She said in a half-crazed tone, “What year is this?”
Li looked at her strange, “it is the year of the dog.”
“The Georgian calendar, please.”
“It is 1910.”
April sat on the floor. “That can’t be.”
She began replaying in her mind the events leading up to her current situation. She either went mad, was dreaming, or something beyond comprehension happened during the storm at the Wasp number two mine. “I need to leave,” she said abruptly. Rising to her feet, she felt woozy and lightheaded. Li came quickly to her side.
“You can’t leave April. The doctor hasn’t seen you yet.”
“Don’t you see? I don’t belong here.”
Li’s posture straightened, “I know Chinatown isn’t desirable, but the doctor is white, and he will come to see a white person.”
“No, no.” April looked at her bike shorts, shirt, and athletic shoes. “Look at me. I don’t belong here. Look at what you’re wearing and look at how I’m dressed. Are you part of a reenactment?”
“You mean, like a play?”
“Yes, are you dressed in costume for a play?”
Li smoothed her dress, “Why, no. These are my everyday clothes,” she said sheepishly.
“Then you understand. I don’t belong here; I don’t belong anywhere in this Deadwood.”
“Where do you belong?” Li said looking puzzled.
That was a complex question.
“I come from a different place. A place like Deadwood, but not your Deadwood. A place where there’s electricity, cars, computers, and concrete roadways. Water doesn’t need to be hand pumped, you simply turn on a faucet and it flows freely. In the Deadwood I come from; Chinatown is gone. Your uncle and his family go back to China, never to return to America. I must get back there, and quickly. I don’t belong here.”
“I don’t think I like your Deadwood. Are you a devil, or a trickster?”
April shook her head, “No, at least, I don’t think so. But someone is playing a trick on me. I’m in the wrong space and time, and I need to get back to my time.” She began making her way toward the door.
“Wait, you can’t go out there,” Li pleaded. “People will see you don’t belong as you said. They will become very superstitious. They may think you’re an evil spirit.”
April couldn’t argue that. If it was truly 1910, mystique and the supernatural still existed in the minds of guileless people. She grabbed the rain slicker hanging on a wooden knob near the door, “May I borrow this?”
Li nodded, “It’s my father’s.”
Donning the jacket, April opened the door.
“Wait, I’m coming with you.” Li scrambled to grab a shawl and tossed it around her shoulders.
April questioned the wisdom of a white woman and a young Asian girl seen together on the streets of Deadwood in 1910. Perhaps Li would be viewed as a house servant of a prominent family. Historically, a great deal of prejudice still lingered toward the Asian community. There may have been exceptions, at least according to the annals of the local historical society. Fee Lee Wong being among them. But was she willing to risk the child’s safety on an assumption? Glancing down at her attire, she rolled her eyes inwardly. Well, if Calamity Jane got away with it, I can too. The child may prove useful in navigating back to the mine. Conceding, she said, “Alright, let’s go.”
It was astonishing at how sparse the rest of the town east of Main Street appeared. At least the main thoroughfare hadn’t changed much. The streets were paved in cobblestone, minus the horse drawn carriages. And, instead of cars and motorcycles lining the parking stalls, horses tied to hitching posts in front of water troughs while pedestrians made their way along the boardwalks. The buildings looked stunningly new, freshly painted, with the stone façades absent of present-day moss and weathering.
They’d cut down Pine Street and began following the Whitewood creek canal eventually paralleling the train tracks. But the most shocking difference between the past and present was the robust train yard at the south end of town. April had only seen pictures and diagrams of what the train yard had looked like before it was demolished. Now, it was a beehive of activity as the depot manager shouted orders to men dressed in overalls laboring over manually operated switch track levers, maintaining signal boxes, and inspecting freight cars. What a thrill it would be to stick around and observe a part of Deadwood history in action. Li pulled her from her musings. She whispered, “This way. If I’m seen, my father will whip my hide.”
April followed, quietly considering what she could recall of the man who’d carried her to his loft. “Somehow, I don’t believe your father seems the type to use corporal punishment for such a minor offense.”
Li conceded, “It is true, my father is not a violent man. He doesn’t even carry a gun. But you must understand, two females wandering about the train yards unescorted is unacceptable in this Deadwood. For a Chinese girl, I think it’s illegal.”
April posed no argument, “Then, I guess we’d better stay out of sight.”
To the best of her knowledge, the two managed to circumvent the train yard unseen. Crossing the trolley line heading up the mountain to Lead, they disappeared into the trees along the railroad track. Again, April found herself behaving like a tourist, enchanted by the landscape. Marked by the crisscross of railroad tracks and signs of commerce, access to civilization seemed everywhere and yet, it all felt wild and untamed. She searched for familiar roads, natural landmarks, buildings, historical markers, anything that would give her a clue as to her location. None of it existed, not U.S. highway 85, Kirk and Yellow creek road nor the homes and resorts along the way. Even Whitewood creek ran an unfamiliar course. There was only one constant between timelines. She said to Li, “We best stick to the Chicago, Burlington, Quincy railroad.”
They’d walked several miles, a typical midweek workout for April and yet, she felt drained of energy, as if an unseen force were siphoning it away. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate, or even went to the bathroom. And other than the water she had back at the flat, she felt parched and dehydrated. When she and Li reached a familiar junction, April leaned forward resting her hands on her knees, “Finally.” The kirk trail spur was about a two-mile walk to the Wasp number two gold mine. April glanced at Li, then up at the sky. The sun was edging over the western side of the valley. That wasn’t near concerning as the daily afternoon storm clouds banking up over the horizon. Li’s eyes followed.
“We need to go back,” Li said keeping her eyes peeled upward. “That’s a dragon storm, it doesn’t belong in the year of the dog.”
April didn’t know much about the characters of the Chinese calendar, except what she’d read on a place mat in a restaurant. All she knew was that she’d been born in the year of the rat, whose characteristics were uncannily well matched to hers. It prompted the question, “What happens when the dragon interferes with the dog?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen it before. Perhaps my uncle knows. We should consult him about this before moving onward.”
April shook her head, “There’s no time. Besides, I think this dragon may have brought me from my time to you, for what purpose, I couldn’t say. But now that you mention dragon, I could swear, I’d seen a black dragon in the sky, right before I came here. If this dragon brought me here, maybe it can take me home.”
Li’s face brightened, her voice filled with awe, “Then you are truly fortunate. You saw Li Tie Giai’s black dragon. He is one of the immortals eight and a protector from evil spirits. He is depicted as a frail old man with an iron crutch. He symbolizes strength in spirit and stability despite his physical limitations.”
“I don’t know anything about that, all I remember are clouds in the shape of a black dragon appeared when I touched the amethyst stone.”
“You mean the great talisman near the gold mine?”
“You know of it?”
“I know it well. I used to go there often to gather medicinal herbs and to meditate.”
“Why did you stop?”
Li’s voice became low, “An evil has poisoned everything that grows there. It is unsafe.”
“Do you know of the pieces of parchment hanging on tree branches with Chinese letters?”
“Yes, they are Fulu, magic symbols and incantations for deities and spirits. They are used for exorcism and recipes for potions or charms to treat ailments. They protect from evil spirits and misfortune.”
“Did you make the Fulu’s?”
Li bowed her head slightly, “My uncle is a healer, or doctor as you would call him. He uses the talismans for healing alongside medication, meditation, acupuncture, astrology, or massage. I thought I could use them too.”
“What are you trying to heal?”
“The water. It is extremely sick. There is an evil presence at work killing the plants, fish, and birds. The people who drink the water downstream from this place are also sick as well as the animals. Many have died. My uncle tells me I can no longer harvest the plants from this place.”
“And the amethyst stone?”
“It is the energy center, the great talisman that binds it all together.”
April considered this information, “I know for a fact, the cyanide used to extract the gold from the ore high on the mountain is highly toxic along with the tailings dumped into the creek. It poisons everything it encounters.” She pursed her lips, “Your spells will work, but not for another seventy years. Whitewood Creek won’t receive attention until the year 1983 when the federal government will order the Homestake Mining Company to clean up the toxins to protect the environment. Even then, it will take over a decade before things begin to grow and live along the creek.” Rumbles of thunder echoed off the valley walls and lightning danced across the tops of the western mountains announcing the eminent storm. Panic caught in April’s throat, “I must hurry.”
Breaking into a full out run, April and Li raced along the spur to the base of the mountain below WASP mine number two. April was surprised how well Li was able to match her pace with the restrictive clothing and delicate footwear. The path was a minefield of rocks, fallen trees and other debris and she was grateful for her athletic shoes, while Li bound over the obstacles gracefully as a deer. They’d reached their destination to find the amethyst still glowing as it had in the previous storm. The pieces of parchment paper whipped in the wind like a tailless kite caught in a storm. April proceeded forward, surprised when her shoes sunk just below her ankle bone in water. The creek was higher too, something she hadn’t noticed before. “That’s strange,” she said aloud, trudging across the grassy area, her tennis shoes squished as she walked closer to the stone.
Li kept her distance, calling out from drier ground, “be careful.”
Fat droplets began hitting the ground, first a few, then in greater numbers. The sky was completely black now over the west mountain. Removing the rain slicker, April stepped closer to Li and tossed it to her, “Take this. I won’t need this where I’m going.”
Li’s expression was one of concern, “What are you planning to do?”
“I’m going to place my hands on the stone and see what happens.”
She was about to move away when Li touched her hand, “good luck.”
There was a feeling of static electricity where Li’s hand rest in Aprils. Not like the shock one received from friction when they touched an object, but a welcoming sensation, like a boost of energy. “Best you get back home. Your father will worry. Please thank him for finding me. And thank you for helping me find by way back home.”
“What the hell are you doing?” an angry male voice shouted.
April and Li turned, stunned to see Li’s father atop a brown horse riding toward them. A thunderous boom like and explosion rocked the valley walls as quarried tailings and ore created an avalanche on the eastern slope. Frightened, the animal suddenly reared on its hind legs throwing Li’s father to the ground. Wasting no time, the horse bolted away. Li cried, “Father, are you alright?”
Li’s father popped to his feet undeterred by the incident. Cursing, he’d pulled his fedora low over his eyes hiding his expression, but his body language said it all. He was a powerful man, both in physical stature and determination. To April, it felt as though he’d channeled the storm sending a bolt of lightning in her direction.
Her voice filled with dread, Li shouted, “Father, how did you find us?”
“Never mind that,” Li’s father said vehemently. “We have to leave this place, now.”
April whispered to Li, “Goodbye,” and she hurried toward the glowing geode.
“Get out of the water,” the man shouted angrily, “If lightning strikes, you’ll be electrocuted.”
The clouds began swirling into a familiar pattern. Within seconds, the great black dragon appeared. April heard the man arguing with Li, urging her to stay put as he rushed toward her. How will this work, she wondered? Will father and daughter be swept up in the dragon’s wings if they get too close or be electrocuted? Unwilling to find out, April urged, “Stay back. I know what I’m doing.” She had no idea what she was doing, all she knew was that she had to get home.
A flash of lightning danced through the valley like a high-speed rail as April reached the stone. Placing her hands on either side, she watched, helpless as her two companions fearlessly stepped onto the marshy soil. In an instant, everything went dark.