The Magic Machine

A Short Story

Image from NOAA, via Repix by Sunny

The two men sat around the potbellied stove in Isaac's farmhouse. Isaac leaned back in a faded and rickety wooden chair and sliced wood chips toward the stove as he whittled a stick into a point. The sun was low in the sky but it would be light for another little while.

“So, what you figure we ought to do about this train thing?”

Billy muttered, “Nothing new to figure. Mail train’ll be here Thursday like always. You say you got it all scoped out.” He aimed a gob at the dented spittoon by the stove. It rang dully.

“Dunno. Just got a bad feeling we’re missing something. Listen, I was over to the hotel last night.”

Billy guffawed. “Spending time with Crystal like always?”

“So what? Anyhow this is something else. This guy was talking about this little machine he had, could predict weather, figure out other stuff, sounded like a kind of sextant, barometer, dowsing rod, telegraph machine and surveyor’s tool. All in one.”

“Isaac, you may be named after a prophet but you’re plumb stupid if you can’t see a big fat hoax with one hand on your wallet and the other hitting you over the head with a mallet.”

“No really.” Isaac sat his chair upright, folded the knife and put it in his pants pocket. Then he pulled out his watch from the other pocket and consulted it. “Gonna go talk to him in a while and sort of sound him out. Wanna come? He said he’ll show it to me if we go out of town a ways. Says he don’t want just anyone to see what it can do.”

“S’pose I can. Don’t want you giving away too much information about the plan. But what’s in it for him to show you, or us, something he says is so powerful? You promise him a cut or something?”

Isaac stood, took his hat down off a peg by the door and went outside without a word. Billy hurried after him. “You did, didn’t you? You son of a bitch!” When he got through the door, Isaac was hopping up on old Martha, and he had to scramble to do the same and follow them out the yard without lagging too far behind. The farm was about five miles out of town.

Billy pulled up his Bonnie next to Martha. “Why are we meeting him at the hotel then? You could have asked him to come out to your place.”           

“Don’t want him to know too much about us. Might be some kind of prankster. After all, sounds crazy. Might be!”

The men rode silently toward the little main street of Murfeestown, such as it was. The sun had set and the last of the light was just disappearing behind the tree line as they approached. The wood storefronts were faded, the cheerful paint that once drew newcomers only a memory for anyone who hadn't smartened up yet and moved on. Murfeestown called itself a mining town, but no one settling there, or passing through for that matter, had ever struck or even panned anything worth bragging about.

Billy pulled out a hunk of tobacco and ripped off a chaw with his teeth angrily. Isaac was fixing to sell him out to this man with the machine. He could just feel it, and he wasn’t going to let that happen. He chewed energetically as they neared the hotel with a few swayback old hacks tied up in front that sort of served to maintain the local color, such as it was. Now the town mostly drew tourists or wealthy men seeking to own a piece of the Wild West as portrayed in  pulp novels.

Big Tommy staggered out the swinging doors and headed for his poor horse. He reared back like he knew what was coming as the fat man attempted several times to set his boot in the stirrup before landing astride him with a loud grunt. Or maybe that grunt was the horse. Billy felt for him. He patted Bonnie softly and whispered in her ear that he’d never treat her like that. She whickered and he pulled her ear gently.

He asked himself what the hell he was doing on this crazy escapade. Why had he ever agreed to rob the mail train? The Pinkerton men, Wells Fargo detectives, marshals and local sheriffs in these western towns had pretty much scared off robbers since Will Chadburn and his gang of miscreants had robbed a train in Mound Valley, Kansas and been apprehended. Isaac was confident they could board the train like regular travelers and then quickly grab the appropriate  sacks, toss them off at the Willow Creek bend and jump out after them. No robbing passengers like the Kid had done, that crew bagging a paltry $32.60 apiece in gold watches and other miscellaneous loot.

Besides, Isaac said, the longer they remained on the train, the more likely they’d be to get caught. When Billy mentioned the Pinkerton men hired to ride in the mail cars now, Isaac laughed and said they wouldn't be a problem. He knew a guy who’d worked for them before he was let go for sleeping on the job. He knew just where they placed the bags, what they looked like, and how heavy they’d be. He suggested ether on a rag in the face would put the guards out of commission long enough to pull this off. Billy sighed just thinking about it. He made up his mind to opt out of the plan, regardless of the magic machine and Isaac’s forceful personality, his never taking no for an answer.

They tied up their horses and headed inside, Isaac strutting like some kind of gunslinger, spurs jingling and gun belt low on his hips. Billy rolled his eyes and fell behind. He didn’t need to play that game. The few regulars in the place nodded at Isaac or poked their hats with one finger to acknowledge him. Billy followed him to a table in the back where a man sat facing the door. They sat while Isaac introduced Billy and asked the man, a Mr. Blaine Addison, to show them the machine.

“Well, fellas, I could do that, but then I’d have to kill you, “he said with a laugh. Billy cringed inwardly. This was not good. It wasn’t the least bit funny, and he stood to leave.

“Where you going?” Isaac asked angrily. “You sit back down so we can talk about this.”

“I’m mightily thirsty,” Billy replied, walking up the the bar and getting a shot of fortitude. He threw it back and instead of heading to the table, walked out and hopped on sweet Bonnie, galloping off as he heard his name threading the wind weakly as Isaac tried in vain to bring him back. He knew their friendship was good and over now. He rode over to Irving where he lived with his sister and began to formulate his next move. A lot was changing now, what with the railroads joining so a man could ride from California to Chicago and beyond so long as he could pay the fare.

Folks were homesteading all over and he thought he’d work the cattle drives for a bit and save up his wages and then get himself a parcel. He probably would need a wife, and he’d consider the good unmarried women he knew, but right now he was riding hell-bent for leather to get out of range of Isaac and his confounded plan. Fortunately Isaac had no idea where Billy lived since he’d been in town doing some bronc breaking for a guy and the job had included a bunk and vittles in addition to the pay. Ironically, they’d parted company yesterday and he was going go stay at Isaac’s until after the heist. He had his rifle on the horse and wore his pistol in its holster, saddlebags had some of his belongings but whatever he left at Isaac’s could stay there. Anything of any value he’d left at his sister’s. You never knew what would happen in your bunk when you were on the job. Leaving Murfeestown felt pretty good to him right now.

Susannah was surprised to see Billy so soon, not expecting him back for a month or more, but she had beans on the stove and made a tasty cornbread. Billy was famished and ate two plates full before he told her was he was thinking of doing. He declined to share the crazy antics of Isaac and his unusual acquaintance. If they actually pulled it off, he didn’t want the law to know he knew anything about it.

* * *

Isaac shrugged when the man asked about Billy. “Got cold feet, I reckon, so I’m mighty glad we hadn’t told him anything about that machine of yours.”

“Cold feet, eh? And he was your accomplice in this endeavor of yours? Kinda speaks to poor judgment on your part if your buddy bailed on you. How do we know he won’t run and tell the sheriff what you were up to.”

Isaac shrugged and scratched under his hat. “Don’t know what you mean. He’s shy, don’t like to meet new people is all. I only wondered if that contraption could change the speed of a train. Only seeing’s you said it’s able to do anything, pretty near.”

“See, that’s what has me curious. When you say that, I assume you planned on some sort of criminal enterprise.”

Isaac took off his hat to wipe his forehead with his bandana. He stood up. “Mister, I don’t know you and you don’t know me neither. What I aim to do with anything ain’t no business of yours. But your machine surely sounded fascinating and I’d have liked to see it. But I guess I’m done with this little visit.” He began walking but Addison hopped up from the table and walked close behind him as he pushed through the saloon doors and made his way to his horse.

“Well, sir, I won’t show you my device but I’ll tell you this. In about five minutes lightning is going to light up the night. Now it might take ten or fifteen minutes, even half an hour, but it will happen. Just so you know I wasn’t making up how powerful my device is.” He put on his hat and walked away, down the street and out of sight around another building.

Isaac laughed. True, there were no stars visible the sky but it didn’t feel like rain. He decided to go back inside and have a drink before riding back to the farm. Maybe see if Crystal had some time for him. He asked for a whiskey and leaned on the bar as he collected his thoughts. He began to think the whole machine story had been a crazy one. Billy was probably right that this guy was just trying to find out what he was thinking of doing and getting in on the goods. He decided to see if Crystal was free and ventured up to her room looking for her. He tapped on the door and she opened it a crack.

“Well, well, who do we have here? Thought you were busy tonight.”

“Might have been but plans fell through.” She hooked her arm through his as he entered her room. Just as he hung his gun belt over a chair and was pulling down his suspenders a tremendous crash sounded and a vivid white light turned the world outside bright as noon. He looked out the window and saw the big live oak across the street smoldering where it had been split in two.

“What in tarnation,” he sputtered as Crystal screamed and pulled up the bodice of her dress she’d slipped off her shoulders. “C’mon,” he said, suspenders up and gun belt strapped back on. “We gotta get outta here.”

“Why? It was just lightning,” She said after looking out the window for herself. “Noise just scared me, is all.” And she sidled up next to Isaac and slipped an arm around his waist.

“Listen, this isn’t what you think!” Isaac left the room with the pretty woman staring after him with her mouth open. She knew it was only lightning. What was wrong with him? And she followed him down the stairs to look for another lonely man seeking company. By the time she got by the bar, he had gone out and his horse was gone as well.

* * *

Isaac didn’t know what to do or where to turn. Mr. Addison had said something like this would happen. How did he know? Must’ve been that magic machine he had. He decided then he’d had proof enough and rode home, thinking he would seek him out tomorrow.

It was pitch dark with a sprinkling of stars as he led Martha into the barn, draped her saddle over a low wall, wiped her down and brushed her. He led her into her stall, pumped her a bucket of water and gave her another of oats. He forked in some of hay for good measure. Tomorrow he’d be riding her into town again and wanted her fresh and happy. He was glad the stall was clean, thanks to his nephew Johnny who did a few chores around the place in exchange for a bunk. He washed up at the pump and checked the icehouse for buttermilk and brought the pitcher into the kitchen. He lit an oil lamp and scouted for something to call supper. A pan on the stove covered with a dishtowel held the remains of yesterday’s cornbread and he cut some and took it to the kitchen table. He sat and drank and ate and wondered if this plan of the train heist made any sense, magic machine or not. Trouble was, Addison had somehow gotten wind of the thing. Maybe Billy had slipped him the scheme behind his back and they were planning to cut him out of the deal. He began to get angry at the thought. He’d go to Billy’s work tomorrow before searching out Addison. He knew the man ate breakfast in the cafe so he’d start his day early. He went outside for a smoke, and eventually he lay on his bed and slept a restless sleep.

In the morning, Isaac rose with a neighbor’s chickens, the rooster’s call piercing his drowsiness with annoying clarity, given the distance over which it traveled. He shrugged into his clothes and pulled on socks and boots and lit the stove. He set the coffee pot where it would get the best heat and soon was drinking a strong, albeit bitter, cup to get the day going. He wished he had a few chickens so there’d be eggs for his breakfast. But, alas, no such luck, so he saddled up Martha and headed off to find Billy and then Addison. He hoped he’d be able to get some breakfast at the cafe himself.

The sun was peeking over the mountains as he rode into Murfeestown. A few early risers were around but he didn’t stop to chat or waste his time in any other way, riding out to the spread where Billy worked. He saw a ranch hand by the barn, and he pulled up and tied Martha at a fence rail.

“Billy here?” He spoke casually to the hand, hoping he’d just point the way, which indeed he did.

He walked toward the main house that the man had indicated with a jerk of his thumb as he saddled his own horse. Isaac walked to the side door and rang the bell hanging there by pulling its rope a few times.

“Hey, what you want,” asked a bearded man opening the door a crack and looking at Isaac with squinting eyes.

“Just looking for a hand named Billy,” Isaac responded. “Guy with a limp?”

“Gotta a few of them.”

“Red hair?”

“Oh, him. Well, he’s not here.”

“Where can I find him?”

“Sorry, can’t tell ya. Settled up yesterday and quit.” With that the bearded man pulled the door shut and left Isaac standing there frustrated.

There was no point wasting more time, especially being as hungry as he was despite his growing anxiety. He rode as fast as Martha would take him back into the heart of the little town and tied up at the cafe. He strode in trying to look confident and at ease, scanning the tables for Addison. He didn’t see him but rather than keep looking, he took a seat and asked for the breakfast plate, a hodgepodge of eggs and potatoes with whatever meat the cook had on hand. He got a welcome cup of coffee and savored it as he waited. In no time the plate arrived, with some kind of gray meat, maybe pork, maybe chicken, maybe squirrel for all he knew. He cut it up into little pieces and mixed in with his eggs and potatoes and began shoveling the food in.

“Hey, there, friend.” A voice disturbed the second forkful on its way to Isaac’s mouth. He set it down and looked up. Addison. What damn timing!

“Addison.” He pointed to a seat across from him and the lanky man sat down. He wore odd colors for men in those parts, a sort of dark red shirt that seemed kind of fuzzy and no suspenders, just a shiny black leather belt. Even the jeans were different than he was used to, faded in spots but very clean looking and slim in the fit. The man’s boots were dark brown with red stitching and a slanted heel, the leather decently worn but the soles looked new.

“Where’s your buddy? Thought for sure you’d have him glued to your side.” Addison took off his hat carefully and laid it on an empty chair. It looked pretty new, too.

By now Isaac had the fork back up his mouth and this time shoved it in. He chewed thoughtfully and considered how he was going to play this whole situation now. The split tree had convinced him Addison had something with this machine of his. Either he could predict the future or control lightning, and both possibilities scared him witless. So he said nothing as the waitress asked Addison what he wanted and listened as he asked for fried eggs over easy and hash browned potatoes. She stared at him and said the cook made fried eggs and potatoes pretty much the same way everyday and did he want that. Addison looked over at Isaac’s plate and seemed to cringe, but he said, “Fine.” He nodded when she offered coffee. He cringed again as he took a tentative sip. “Strong stuff.” Isaac nodded and they sat in silence for a bit.

After Addison’s plate came and he was wiping up the last of the eggs with a soggy piece of toast, and Isaac had already done the same, he sat back. “Look, I know you had nefarious interest in my device. Something in your eyes when you overheard me talking to Smith about it the other day. When you said you wanted to see it and bring your friend, I figured he was part of that evil interest of yours.”

“Evil? No sir!” Isaac was alarmed at the turn this was taking. Billy was right this man sensed their plan and wanted in. Now that Billy was gone, he surely didn’t want to be dealing with Addison alone. Something was off about the man. Take his clothes, for instance. Almost more like a costume than a regular man’s duds. And his speech was odd, too. “Don’t know what you’re trying to say, Addison.”

“I’m saying you had a look in your eye that said, ‘Oh, this guy has something that’ll help me rob a bank’ or something equally criminal.”

Huh. At least Addison wasn’t exactly a mind reader. He’d been starting to wonder. “Your machine could do that?” he asked, trying to seem nonchalant.

“See! I knew you were thinking along those lines. Listen, my device is unlike anything you, your pal, those lawmen over there”, and he nodded to a deputy and marshal eating across the room, “or anyone else around here has ever seen.” He pulled a few coins out of his pocket and set them on the table.

“Not sure how you’d know that, sir,” Isaac said.

“Oh, I’m very sure. You can take that to the bank.”

“Bank?”

“You have banks here in this backward burg, don’t you?”

“We got one, but what’s backward about it?”

“Never mind. Listen, you want to learn more about my device or not?” He patted his shirt pocket. Thing must be smaller than Isaac figured, whatever it was. “I won’t be around here much longer. Heading west.” He stuck a toothpick in his mouth and worked on it while Isaac thought about his answer. He figured the train heist was probably a really stupid idea. Billy was a bright enough guy, and if he got a bad feeling just taking his measure of this man, then he figured he shouldn’t trust Addison either.

He had no intention of breaking up rocks someplace if they got caught, or worse, getting shot dead in the process of trying to pull it off. He just shook his head slightly and gestured to the woman for more coffee. She hurried over with it and poured him some. As she went to fill Addison’s cup, he placed his hand over it. How odd! She rolled her eyes, pocketed the coins, and walked off shaking her head from side to side emphatically.

“Hey, what do have to say for yourself? Cat got your tongue?”

Cat? This guy was plumb strange. “Don’t have no intention of doing anything, how’d you say it, evil? But I am curious what you’ve got there. You was sure bragging to that guy Smith and I wondered about it, is all.”

“Like I said, if I show you, I’ll have to kill you,” and he burst out laughing and leaned back his chair on two legs as he did so.

“What?”

“Just a figure of speech!”

“Not any I ever heard a’for.” Issac stared at him intensely.

“I do not doubt that, sir!” Addison laughed. “You people speak a different language than I.”

Isaac was dumbstruck. The man was right about that but he was the one with the different language. Even the waitress thought so.

“So let’s take a walk and I’ll show it to you.”

“After what you said back there a ways, don’t see’s how I want to after all.”

“I was just pulling your leg!” And Addison guffawed as Isaac looked down involuntarily .

He had no idea what this unusual man was up to, but his curiosity got the better of him and as Addison stood, he did too and followed him out of the cafe.

Addison turned away from the street and down a dirt lane between the hotel and the optician’s storefront. He walked past the other buildings and yards until they were out past everything and he walked over and stood under a big tree.

“Coulda rode out here,” Issac said, a bit out of breath.

“Don’t ride myself,” Addison said.

No surprise there. He had the manner of a stagecoach passenger, a greenhorn for certain, and Isaac really wondered why Addison was in this neck of the woods at all.

Leaning against the tree trunk, Addison pulled a thing out of his pocket that was about the size of a deck of playing cards. Except it was thinner and a little longer than that. It seemed to be made of glass. “This is my device.”

“What does it do?” Isaac leaned closer to get a better look at it.

“What doesn’t it do? It tells the time like a watch, it takes a photograph like a camera, it tells the weather, as you witnessed last night, and I can use it to send messages like a telegraph.”

“Mister, I do not believe any of that. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Addison laughed. “Well, you’re a lot closer to yesterday than you think!” He held up the device and on the back were two holes. He did something with it and then turned it so Isaac could see the front, and on it was his own likeness. In lifelike color even! He was used to seeing the sepia toned images that started out with a large camera after the subjects stood stock still for way too long, and then the photographer took the camera somewhere and later brought out stiff paper with the portrait on it.

This upset Isaac so much he nearly lost his breakfast. Talk about evil! This man was the devil himself, and he turned and ran back all the way back to the post where he’d tied up Martha and galloped back towards the farm. But suddenly he was afraid the man would follow him somehow, even without a horse, and therefore would know where he lived and kill him like he said, so he rode to the farrier’s and asked the smithy to check Martha’s shoes.

As he ran off, Addison chuckled to himself. This sort of encounter never ceased to amuse him. He fiddled with his device and then walked back to Main Street and sat in front of the hotel until the next coach, which by his estimation, would be along in about forty minutes. He thought to himself it was worth a million dollars to do this time travel. After he’d had his fun with it, he would sell his technology and make billions. Just as he had with electric cars and rocket ships.