[lincoln county]

[scurlock]

[after highways 2]

The drive across White Sands is quick - little traffic, open road, clear sky - and they don't slow down until they hit Carrizozo, and it's not too much farther until they reach Capitan.
He tells her stories as he notices landmarks, but it's really just landscape, save for the few small towns they've come across.

It's so familiar it makes him nervous and excited at the same time.

It's like it ain't changed a bit.

The road into Lincoln is only a two-lane highway, with worn pavement and faded stripes, the hills on the side of the road brown and green from mix of heat and spring rain. It's quiet (they've turned the radio off at this point) and he's shed the sunglasses, eyes focused on the landscape.

There's a two-story brick building coming into view on the right side of the street, and they're already going pretty slow (not much traffic, but there are a few other people around), but he leans back and exhales, giving a nod to indicate what he's talking about.

"That's the courthouse." A beat. "Welcome to town."

Comments

[justdidntseeit]

They're leaving Capitan when the realization hits -- she can't believe she forgot sunscreen.

(At least they have hats.)

But she's forgotten to care about potential harm from UV rays thanks to Doc's running anecdotes -- he really is a walking riding, talking history text -- and she's almost surprised when they approach Lincoln, because it doesn't feel like they've been in the car as long as they have.

"Welcome to the future," she says softly, taking in the courthouse as she slows down even more. "Do you want me to park here, or a little more into town?"

[scurlock]

He shakes his head, motioning for her to continue on.

"Nah, go on up a bit. We can find a place t'park more in the middle."

It's not very long, but there's not much between the courthouse and the 'middle' of town. A few small buildings, a set of adobe brick ruins on the left, a wooden building in the style of what might have been a store or saloon.

After another short distance (no more than a quarter-mile) he tilts his head and nods.

"Anywhere 'round here's fine t'park."

He wants to get out and walk. There's a lane on each side of the highway for cars to park, and a silver SUV in front of a low, long building with a dusty red paint job and wooden porch.

[justdidntseeit]

She pulls in next to the silver Jeep, powers up the roof and cuts the engine.

Taking a quick sip from her half-empty water bottle, she gives Doc a small smile beneath the brim of her hat and hopes her expression masks the slight concern.

These aren't exactly good memories for him.

"Ready?"

[scurlock]

As soon as the roof is closed, he pushes the door open.

"Yeah I am."

Doc gets out of the car and lets the door click shut, and there's something different about his stance and his walk. It's definitely not a swagger, but his shoulders are held a little bit squarer than she might be used to.

This is his territory.

He circles around, nodding at the building across the street. There's an old oak tree near the porch, branches gnarled and twisted.

"The stories that tree could tell you," he mutters, before he motions for them to cross the street. "This is...was Tunstall's store."

[justdidntseeit]

She sees something in his stride that she can't quite define.

(It's more certain. Sure. Purposeful.)

Her eyes snap from the tree to the store.

"It's still standing."

She's not sure why she's surprised; she's been to Giza, seen the pyramids. But this, here -- a long, low building in what was a rough-and-tumble Wild West town, with Doc next to her -- is different, somehow.

[scurlock]

"Paint isn't quite the same color, but it is just how it..."

The door is open, and the inside is a well preserved replica of the store. It's almost surprising, to him.

Doc walks in and immediately trails his fingertips over the counter.

"...just like it used t'be. Things ain't quite right but it's close."

[justdidntseeit]

She follows him in, studying the store.

"This has to be pretty strange."

[scurlock]

"It's almost feels like I'm dreamin', to tell you the truth."

To the left side of the room, there's a doorway that opens into another room of the building (the post office) beyond.

His fingertips pause on a deep gouge in the wood, and he tilts his head, then looks at her, tapping it lightly.

"I put that there."

[justdidntseeit]

Her eyes drop to the scarred counter before flicking back to his face; a slow half-smile lifts one corner of her mouth.

"Did not."

But by her tone, it's clear she believes him.

[scurlock]

"Did too."

He smirks at her and shakes his head, amused.

This is so damn surreal it's ridiculous. Doc looks at the stuff behind the counter, the 'merchandise' all meticulously preserved.

"Git rid of the cars out front and the paved road, and add a bit more dust..."

[justdidntseeit]

"And it's just like you walked in from your side of the door," she surmises quietly, her eyes roving over the shelves.

"Did you spend a lot of time here, in the store itself?"

[scurlock]

"Not really," he admits. "I guess out of the other boys, yeah I probably did. I actually spent most of my time sitting out front on that bench," he says. "Keepin' an eye on things. Or down at Juan Patron's."

[justdidntseeit]

She glances toward the door and the porch beyond, imagining Doc on the bench outside with his rifle.

"Juan Patron's?"

[scurlock]

His boots echo quietly as he makes his way outside, dropping himself down onto that bench, waiting until she's joined him to speak.

"Eatin' house, saloon, whatever you'd want to call it. Just 'cross the street. Tunstall and Alex took lunch there, usually."

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"He had really damn good rootbeer, s'what I usually drank, sittin' at the bar near the front door."

[justdidntseeit]

Root beer.

That detail makes the back of her throat itch.

(She's seen him drink it before in Milliways.)

It's another reminder of just how young he is, and how easy it is to forget, after the things he's told her.

"No ice cream?"

[scurlock]

"Didn't really have ice," he says. "You got things cold either by keepin' 'em in the cellar or durin' the winter, you could get snow on occasion."

A pause.

"S'probably why I prefer beer regular rather'n cold, come t'think of it. No fridge."

[justdidntseeit]

"Some types of beer actually taste better when they aren't cold. Wine, too."

She peers down the street, trying to envision Lincoln in Doc's time.

"When you were keeping an eye on things here, were there a lot of ... run-ins?"

[scurlock]

Doc glances over at her.

"President Hayes once called this street," he motions along the highway. "The most dangerous street in America."

There's a bare hint of pride in his voice.

[justdidntseeit]

"Oh."

[scurlock]

He shakes his head.

"Wasn't like we had blood runnin' in the gutters or nothin'."

Doc leans back and puts his arm against the back of the bench, looking down the street.

"Y'didn't start a fight for no reason."

[justdidntseeit]

"I didn't think that."

A beat.

"Exactly."

(Only kind of.)

"So how many, um, reasons came into play?"

[scurlock]

"Well we kept t'bein' civil, for the most part. No reason t'git to shootin' off pistols when a war of words or fists'll do."

He shrugs slightly.

"Sometimes we'd have t'have words over disagreements. Didn't help that Murphy had Sheriff Brady in his pocket, though it wasn't long 'fore Billy got rid'a Brady."

[justdidntseeit]

Billy got rid of him.

He killed the sheriff.

She ignores the hollowness in the pit of her stomach, reminding herself that it's different; this sheriff was corrupt.

It's different.

She crosses her ankles and clears her throat quietly, eyes moving back to Doc.

"Do you and Bill ever talk about law enforcement? What he does and what it's like in your time?"

[scurlock]

Doc's never killed a sheriff, but he has picked off a handful of deputies.

He nods slowly, looking over at her.

"We have."

Then he looks back out at the street, letting his eyes focus on the building across the way. They get a little distant.

"Bill's a damn good sheriff," he says. "Honorable. Lawmen are different, they're...respectable. They're actually interested in doin' right rather than doin' what gets them ahead."

A better man than Brady or Peppin.

"He cares 'bout people."

[justdidntseeit]

She nods, her throat tight.

"Being on leave hasn't been easy for him. He hasn't said it, but I know he can't wait to get back to work."

She looks down at her hands in her lap.

"But not every officer is like Bill -- I know that. The corruption's still there, even if times are different. It all comes down to politics, no matter what century it is."