When the Clock Strikes Twelve

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"Get 'u'm!" Mad Dog Tannen yelled, chasing after Marty and Rosie. They ran as fast as their legs would carry them outside in the warm heat. The group ran through the dirt, nearly running into people and horses alike. Marty and Rosie turned back to realize that the gang had jumped on horses, and were in their pursuit. They ran faster, panting. Tannen swung a rope overhead, and tossed it. It caught onto Marty, wrapping around his body, pulling him to the ground.

   "Marty!" Rosie exclaimed, stopping her fast pace. Suddenly, Marty was being dragged behind the horses, still connected to the rope. She ran after the group, hoping that Marty would be safe. He held onto the rope tightly. He groaned as he heard gun shots behind him. He crashed into a large pile of wood, and Rosie winced, continuing to run after him. Eventually, they came to a stop.

"We got ourselves a new courthouse," Mad Dog yelled behind them. "High time we had a hangin'!"

"No!" Rosie yelled, catching up to them and seeing them pull the rope around Marty's neck. They hooked it onto the clip, and pulled it into the air. Marty lifted off of the ground. As he suffocated, Rosie couldn't help but feel the same feeling. She looked around, trying to find something to help him. A stray tear fell from her eye at the sight of her boyfriend dangling in midair, watching him struggle. Out of nowhere, she heard a gun cock, but didn't pay much attention to it. She heard a shot, and saw Marty fall to the ground. She turned around and saw none other then Emmett Brown. She ran to Marty's side, taking the rope from around his neck.

"It'll shoot the fleas off a dog's back at 500 yards, Tannen!" Doc yelled, looking past the gun. "And it's pointing straight at your head!"

Mad Dog tossed the remaining rope onto the floor, guiding his horse towards the Doc.

"Rosie?" Marty said quietly, slightly out of it.

"Yeah sweetheart. I'm here," she said, helping him sit up. She kissed his forehead, leaving her hand on his cheek. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I think so," he replied. She nodded, and he looked at her hands.

"Rosie you're shaking," he said in a caring voice, and he moved his hands to hold hers.

"I'm okay. Don't worry about me," she said. The two looked over towards Doc, who was now pointing his gun towards the sky.

"You owe me money, blacksmith," Tannen said.

"How do ya figure?" Doc asked,

"My horse threw a shoe. Seein' as you was the one that done the showing that makes you responsible," Tannen argued.

   "Well, since you never paid me for the job, I say that makes us even," Doc replied.

   "Wrong! See, I was on my horse when it threw the shoe, and I got throwed off! And that caused me to bust a perfectly good bottle of fine Kentucky red-eye. So the way I figure it, blacksmith, you owe me five dollars for the whiskey and 75 dollars for the horse," Tannen said. As he was saying this, Marty was beginning to stand up, with the help of Rosie.

   "That's the eighty dollars," Marty said hoarsely, holding his throat.

   "Look, if you're horse threw a shoe, bring him back and I'll reshoe him!" The Doc exclaimed, frustrated that this conversation was still upholding.

   "I done shot that horse!"Mad Dog said. This continued on, until Tannen and his gang rode off on their horses. Rosie couldn't help but think that the whole situation looked vaguely familiar in many ways. Doc turned from facing the horses galloping away to face Marty and Rosie, who were dusting themselves off.

   "Doc!" Marty and Rosie exclaimed, relieved that they had finally found the man.

   "Kids?" Doc called out. "I gave you both explicit instructions not to come here, but to go directly back to 1985."

   "We know Doc, but we had to come," Rosie said as they walked towards him. He set his gun down and set his hands on their shoulders.

   "But it's good to see you two," he said, pulling the two into a tight hug. "Marty you're gonna have to do something about those clothes. You walk around town like that, you're liable to get shot."

   "Or hanged," Marty said, and Rosie rolled her eyes, not thinking that it was the time to joke about it.

   "What idiot dressed you in that outfit? Rosie's is fine," Doc said.

   "You did," Marty said, setting a hand on Doc's shoulder, glad that they had accomplished their goal. They began to walk back to Doc's place, and the older man noticed how tightly Rosie and Marty were holding hands. When they arrived there, they explained everything that had happened so far.

   "Shot in the back by Buford Tannen over a matter of eighty dollars? September 7? That's this Monday! Now I wish I'd paid him off. And who's this beloved Clara? I don't know anyone named Clara," Doc exclaimed, reading the paper they had given him.

   "We don't know Doc," Rosie said.

   "Yeah. I thought maybe she was a girlfriend of yours," Marty continued, taking the paper from the man and inspecting it.

   "Marty! My involvement in such a social relationship here in 1885 could result in a disruption of the space-time continuum. As a scientist, I can never take that risk. Certainly not after what we've already been through," he said. Rosie agreed with what he said. But still, something was suspicious about 'his beloved Clara.'

   "Emmett!" Someone called out from outside.

   "Hubert! It's the mayor!" Doc explained quickly to the teenagers. A man wearing a bowler hat, a bow tie, and a long coat walked in.

   "Excuse me, Emmett. You remember last week at the town meeting when you volunteered to meet the new schoolteacher at the station when she came in?" He asked.

   "Oh yes, quite so," Doc said.

   "We just got word. She's comin' in tomorrow. Here are the details for you. Thanks for all your help," the mayor said as Marty fidgeted with his new outfit, inspecting himself in the mirror.

   "Anytime Hubert!" Doc replied.

   "Oh! Her names Miss Clayton. Clara Clayton."