The travelers spent most of the two days on the train in the lounge car despite the smoke.  One person, Doctor Malory seemed determined to drive everyone out of the car with his cigars.  One woman complained, but the stewards told her there was nothing they could do.  Doctor Malory appeared to have the run of the train, and he sat alone at a two-person table right next to the back-to-back four-person tables where the travelers ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner. That might not have been so bad, but he kept his cigar lit the whole time he was eating.  The food was excellent, served on the finest china on cloth-covered tables, but the smoke kind of ruined it.

Doctor Malory finished each meal with a leisurely drink.  Gin and juice in the morning, scotch whiskey after lunch and brandy after supper.  He never left the table until after the travelers left, so there was never any time to really talk.  Doctor Malory watched them the whole time, and while the travelers quickly learned to ignored him, realizing that he was probably bored, traveling alone, and while they might have felt a bit sorry for him, no one was about to ask the man to join them.

When they arrived at the Oakland California station, they felt like they had enough of trains for a while.  They took the Union Pacific transit across the bay to San Francisco where they agreed to stay the day and take the train to Los Angeles in the morning.

First thing, they found the Wells Fargo Bank where Marshal Casidy deposited some money on account back in 1875.  He had both Lincoln and Lockhart sign signature cards at the time.  After fifty-five years of interest, the account had grown to quite a sum.  Once Lincoln was able to prove his identity with his signature, it was an easy thing to take out five hundred dollars, a substantial enough sum in the 1934 depression.  Everyone got ten dollars to spend on whatever they wanted, and they booked four rooms in a posh hotel where Sukki roomed with Lockhart and Katie, Decker and Nanette had a room to themselves, Lincoln and Tony agreed to share a room, and Elder Stow got his own room because on the train he snored so badly.

They went sightseeing.

They rode the cable cars, saw the giant redwoods, and went to fisherman’s wharf which in 1934 had mostly fishermen.  “Put-puts,” Katie told Sukki and pointed at the little green boats.
“That was what my father called them when I was twelve. They have small engines, though I see some are still rigged with sails.  By the time I came here at age twelve, they had mostly been replaced with bigger boats with diesel engines. He said at first the bay filled up with put-puts, and now I see he was right.”

Lockhart and Katie delighted in introducing Sukki to saltwater taffy, and then they all got some fudge, chocolate, of course, and after that Sukki said she was never going to eat anything except chocolate.  Elder Stow chuckled.

In the morning, they had a surprise.  When they went down to the dining room for breakfast, they found Doctor Malory sitting there, watching.  They politely said hello before they asked for a table, or rather two tables that were not near the man and his cigars.  Then they took the ferry back to Oakland and got to the station where they had a forty-five-minute wait before the train left for Los Angeles.

While they waited, Sukki complained that she did not feel too well.  Nanette and Tony agreed with her.

“Too much rich food?” Katie guessed and looked at Lockhart.  “Her system is not used to that.”

“Maybe Doctor Malory’s cigars,” Lincoln suggested.

“Maybe just too much sugar,” Lockhart shrugged.

The trip to Los Angeles went smoothly, and only Lincoln thought they would run into Doctor Malory in the city.  Lockhart said the man did seem to be following them.  Decker agreed, but his attention focused on Nanette who had an upset stomach.

 They got hotel rooms for that night and first thing in the morning, they headed off to one of the big fenced-in Hollywood studios where they had to figure out how to get through the gate.  Security in those places was tight.  The studios figured every two-bit kid from Kansas wanted to be in moving pictures, so they did not let anyone in except those on the list.  Lockhart sent word to Doctor Mishka.  Lincoln looked up her real name, Doctor Nadia Iliana Kolchenkov-Richter.  Richter was the name of the German Major she married after the first world war.

They had a long wait.

Lincoln and Tony got them all rooms in a nearby hotel where they paid for a week in advance.  Lincoln and Tony agreed.  The price for four rooms for a week was highway robbery.  The others watched while people went in and out of the gate all morning.  Fortunately, there was a restaurant nearby with outdoor seating.  They took two outside tables at eleven and continued to sip their tea and coffee until two in the afternoon.

Katie thought she saw Buster Keaton, or one of those silent film stars, but she could not be sure because the man kept smiling and laughing.  She could not remember ever seeing Keaton smile.  Later, she imagined one man looked like Clark Gable, or maybe Spencer Tracy.  They looked so young.  Lincoln swore that one young man was Carry Grant, but Katie was not sure he was around that early.  At last, around one o’clock when the waiters made noises about them needing to move on, they saw a couple that Lockhart recognized.  He went to say something, and Katie and Lincoln followed.

“Wonderful to meet you,” he said.  “I’m Robert Lockhart.  My wife, Katie, and friend Ben Lincoln.  I just wanted to say I love your movies.  I’ve seen all of them.”  He stopped himself when he realized what he did.

The woman grinned but the man nearly choked on his drink.  “All?”

“Sorry,” Katie apologized for the group.  “My husband probably should not have said anything.”

The man and woman looked at each other, and the woman spoke.  “We just escaped from a photo shoot.  Our movie will be released in two weeks.”

“Late lunch,” the man said.  “So, tell me, swami, how many of these movies do we make?”

Lockhart looked at Katie, who looked at Lincoln, who said, “More than one more.”  Lincoln did not fully answer the question.  He stayed too busy grinning at Lockhart who blew it and feeling good knowing that he was not the only screw-up in the group.

Lockhart sighed.  “Honestly.  We were just talking about time travel.  I should not have said what I said.”

The man pointed to the group.  “I imagined you were actors, what with the guns and all.  Some western?  What is with the black naval officer?”  Most of the holsters had a western-like look.  The woman got it.

“Time travel?  Oh, Nicky.  Our movie gets to have children.”

“Wait a minute Missus C.,” the man said sternly.  “Time travel?  You come from the future looking for autographs?”  He was joking

“Not really,” Lockhart said and turned to Katie.

She sighed to match Lockhart’s sigh and had a thought.  “We are trying to get in touch with Doctor Richter—Doctor Mishka, but the studio is locked down tighter than Fort Knox.”

“Doctor Mishka,” the woman said, excited.  “I made a silent with her once.  She made a lot of silent movies, just bit parts, when they needed a fill-in.  The studio wanted to give her a contract, but she turned them down.  She said she was already contracted with the studio, as the studio doctor and she did not mind filling in here and there to keep the productions rolling, but she did not want her face plastered all over the world.”  She turned to the man.  “You remember the good doctor.”  She turned back to Katie.  “He hurt his leg during the filming, and she fixed him right up, good as new.”

The man put his hand out as if covering the woman’s mouth, without reaching across the table to actually cover her mouth.  The woman jolted but shut her mouth and gave him her snooty look.  The man said, “Time travelers, like H. G. Wells?  I don’t go for much of that science fiction stuff.”

“Me neither,” Lockhart said, honestly enough.

The man and woman appeared to speak to each other with their eyes alone.  Finally, the woman nodded, and the man spoke.  “Give us a chance to have lunch and we will take you through the gate and to the doctor’s office.”

“Thank you,” Katie said, as Lincoln shelled out two five-dollar bill tips for the impatient waiters with a request for more coffee.