THE DEVIL'S ROPE

Once again, we had landed on Earth, not Nyssa’s native planet, and one on which she had spent very little time in any one location or era. I wasn’t at all sure she knew how things worked, especially in 1888 Los Angeles. (I’d been trying to get us to 1967 San Francisco -- the Summer of Love! -- but the TARDIS is not always completely cooperative.) I watched Nyssa walk off, down a roughly macadamed road with an odd assortment of buildings lined up along wood-plank pavements, and the odd horse tethered to one of the many hitching posts outside of various establishments. She’s not terribly tall, but she strode right down the middle of that street with such confidence that I had to smile, and eventually I turned to the lever and closed the door. “She’s growing up so fast,” I sighed.

“Was that Nyssa?” Tegan yawned her way into the console room, sipping at her teacup, realizing it was empty, sighing and looking around for a place to set it down. “Where was she off to, then?”

“I don’t know, but I could use a cuppa too,” I said, and we repaired to the tea room.

“Where are we?” asked Tegan, getting herself a fresh cup of Earl Grey and pouring one for me, too, milk first, then the tea, then two lumps of sugar.

“Thank you.” I sipped, then gulped, before answering. “Almost awake. This helps. Los Angeles. Not sure of the date. Sometimes she gets so secretive!”

“Nyssa?”

“No, the TARDIS! But from the look of it, late nineteenth century. Maybe we can ride some horses.”

“I’d like that,” admitted Tegan. “Can we go out and look around, too?”

“Well, Nyssa said she’d be right back. She seemed to know what she was doing.”

“How could she? We’ve never been here before! Not here and now, anyway!”

“That’s true.” I gulped down more tea. There is something about how hot tea hits the throat just right; sipping is pleasant but gulping is indulgent. “Anyway, she knows where we’re parked and she’s got her key. I can’t imagine she’s got herself into trouble already. We could go out for a walk, and, if we’re lucky, a ride.”

“Doctor,” said Tegan, very soberly, “are we going to steal horses? That’s a hanging offense, isn’t it?”

“No, and I think you’ve been watching too many American westerns.”

“I’m teasing you, Doctor! You’re such a mug!”

“I take it that’s not a compliment.” I stood up and set my empty cup in the sink. “Come on. Let’s see a little history.”

“I suppose I need to change into some kind of prairie dress, don’t I? And... boots? I don’t think cowgirls wore high heels!”

“You’re not a cowgirl, Tegan!” I thought for a moment, then shook my head. “I don’t think I’ll change. But yes, you should, cowgirl or not.”

“Doctor,” said Tegan, looking pained. “I am in fact a cowgirl. Also a sheep girl.”

“Well,” I advised her, “you can’t be both here. There’s a big war on between the cattle folk and the sheep folk. Barbed wire changed the west.”

“At least you don’t need rabbit-proof fences around here!” She rinsed her cup and set it on the draining board. “I guess I’ll need some bloomers under it all if we’re going to ride.”

I am pretty sure I didn’t blush, but I did mutter, “Tegan, I don’t really want to discuss your knickers.”

“Bloomers aren’t exactly knickers,” she started, then rolled her eyes and left the tea room. I have never claimed to be an authority on women’s fashion. When she returned, half an hour later, dressed in what she assured me were the items she’d mentioned (“calico,” she said), plus a little crocheted bonnet with ribbons and ribbon-flowers on it. “I borrowed the boots from Nyssa. She has lots of boots! How was she dressed?”

“How was... I don’t know! The usual way, I guess. You know, a little bit like how I used to dress before, when I was... you, know, before I was me.”

“Her maroon jacket and... slacks? Oh, Doctor, will that be all right?”

“Why... oh! Come on!” We hastened out of the TARDIS without further discussion and immediately found ourselves accosted by a boy who looked to be about 12 or 13 years old. At first he didn’t speak; I thought maybe he’d caught a glimpse of the TARDIS interior before I could shut the door. “May I help you?” I prompted him.

“Yeah... uh, are you the Doctor?”

“I am.”

“Uh, we have a prisoner who calls herself Nyssa, won’t tell us her family name. She said I’d find you near a blue box at Main Street and Arcadia. under a big electrical thing. We assumed she meant the light and here you are. Looks like a blue box to me. The Doctor and Tree-gun.”

“That’s Tegan Jovanka!” retorted Tegan.

“She ordered some food and she wanted you to pay for it. Oh, and she wants you to go her bail, too.”

“She does, does she?” I was both alarmed and amused. “You’ll have to wait here. Tegan, keep an eye on him...”

“I’ll keep an eye on her, sir!” declared the boy.

“... and I’ll be right back. I’m going to try to find some American money from this... anyway, early American currency so we can buy Nyssa’s freedom.”

“Maybe I should come with you, sir, just to keep an....”

“You wait right here,” I instructed the boy, holding a finger up to emphasize my authority. “I’ll be right back.”