DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations of the television program "Lonesome Dove: The Outlaw Years" are the creations of Rysher Television, and have been used without permission. Also, the characters and situations of the television "Quantum Leap" are the creations of Belisarious Productions, Universal, and NBC and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is not to be published on any ftp site, newsgroup, mailing list, fanzine or elsewhere without the express permission of the author.
All original material included in this story are the creations Darcie Daniels.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, all the Call/Mattie and Mosby/Mattie talk has got me a little nervous. And since the Call we all know and love would never leave his bench in CW and romance Mattie, I've decided he needs a little outside help. So, who would this match-maker be? None other than Sam Beckett from "Quantum Leap"!!
So here it is. In the grand tradition of Highlander: The Outlaw Years comes......
QUANTUM LEAP: THE OUTLAW YEARS or HOW I LEARNED TO GET OFF MY BENCH AND START LOVING MATTIE
Sam felt the unmistakable tingle as he leapt into another life. After his hundreds of leaps, he still had a difficult time adjusting to his new surroundings. He remembered very little of his last leap, except that there had been a vicious storm while some crazy Scotsman was trying to decapitate him.
Sam Beckett thought that was a close shave. He sighed in relief as he looked at his new surroundings.
It looked like he had been transported to some old west saloon. There were several dirty cowboys playing cards, drinking, and doing all sorts of licentious things. There was a picture behind the bar of a bare-backed woman that Sam was sure Al would appreciate. He thought for a moment he'd been transported onto a television show. Sam prayed he wouldn't have to play "Space Boy" again. He looked around for cameras, but he saw none.
"Call, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Sam heard a woman's voice exclaim.
Sam turned to see a cute blond woman staring expectantly at him. She wore a white hat and had a gun belt slung at her hip.
Sam had always learned to think quickly during these situations. He looked down in his fist to find a full shot glass.
"Drinking," he answered, taking a swig of the whiskey. The drink stung like fire. He must have leapt into someone with a gut of steel, he thought. Sam had an uncontrollable coughing fit.
"What's got into you?" the woman asked, impatient. "Mosby's stuff's always watered down, you know that."
"Nothing," he gasped. Sam's face began to turn red.
"Well, are you coming or not?" the blond woman demanded.
"What?" Sam asked, still trying to adjust to his drink.
"Don't tell me you forgot that you were going to ride shot gun for me."
Sam was confused. He had little experience with guns, except for that time in Vietnam, or discounting the time he leapt in Lee Harvey Oswald, or the numerous times he had to use a gun for some plot device. He was a martial arts expert, and, besides, he'd rather sing John Lennon songs than pull a trigger.
"That's it, Call," the woman began to huff. "I've had it with you. You've let me down for the last time." The blond woman grabbed a whiskey bottle and cold-cocked him in the head.
He must have leapt into someone who needed a hard-hat, Sam thought as he sank to the ground. Before he passed out, he uttered an almost incoherent, "Oh, boy."
Sam woke up a little groggy, and he felt a big goose-egg developing on his head. A tall, lanky man with wide eyes helped him stand up.
"Are you all right, Mr. Call?" the man's child-like voice expressed.
"Yeah," Sam nodded, slowly regaining his balance. "Thank you," he told the man.
"Miss Mattie's awfully sore at you. Don't know why she hit you in the head, though. Why'd you think she done it?" The man shuffled about in confusion.
"I don't know," Sam answered, wondering if this was why God or Fate or Time sent him on this leap. This Miss Mattie was some kind of spit fire, Sam thought. He also could see the disappointment in her eyes when this Call character has supposedly let her down. Sam instinctively knew, usually as he always did by this time of the episode, what his mission in this leap was. He needed to get Mattie and Call together. But first he had to find a mirror. It was imperative for Sam to know what this Call character looked like.
Sam looked around for a mirror in the saloon, but had to settle for looking at his reflection in the brass bar pole. He leapt into someone who needed a bath and a shave and a tight-fitting pair of blue jeans, he thought as he scratched his (or rather Call's) day-old beard. This Call character could never get anywhere with Mattie if he looked like a repulsive slob, Sam knew. He also needed to find a guitar. Women just seemed to love it when Sam sang, too.
Sam heard the distinctive sound of the hologram chamber door opening. Al was here.
Al Calavicci, in a white suit with a hot pink and green tie, stepped from the chamber. He rushed to his friend as soon as he saw him.
"Sam!" Al cried, waving his cigar and hand link. "We've been looking all over for you. That crazy electrical storm must have sent you way back in time."
Then Sam and Al heard an alarmed voice exclaim, "Who's that?"
They turned to see the child-like man back away in fright. Both Sam and Al looked at each other, nodding. They both understood that Al was a hologram that only Sam could see and hear, except when plot line purposes dictate that others can see Al. This had be one of those times.
Before they could come up with an explanation about Al for the man, he saw Al's tie and bolted for the door. "It's a ghost!" he shouted, waving his arms. "Spirits have come back from the dead!"
"What a relief. Break out the champagne," a cynical, Southern voice commented.
Sam and Al turned to see a dark, bearded man pouring alcohol in a glass. "What's wrong with Unbob, Call?" the bearded man continued.
Al hit his hand link to find out who this new guy was, while Sam shrugged sheepishly at the Southern man. Al gasped in admiration and awe. That always made Sam curious.
"Excuse me, please," he told the bearded man. The bearded man looked strangely at him.
Sam and Al drew off to the side. Usually they talked by a phone booth or in a bathroom, but none of those seemed evident in this saloon. They would have to make do.
"Al," Sam whispered. "Where am I? When am I?"
"You're in Curtis Wells, Montana, 1880. It's that electrical storm. Gooshie thinks it sent you all the way back here."
"Why?" Sam asked, his eyes suddenly noticing something outside the saloon window.
"Gooshie thinks it's because you had some prior history with this place."
Sam barely heard him. He could have swore that is was just muddy outside. Sam knew he wasn't crazy. It was muddy in the last scene. Now it was dry as a bone. That or this place had psychedelic windows.
"Al," Sam cried out in alarm. "Where am I? This place can't be real! The mud dries up between scenes!"
"That's what I've been trying to tell you, Sam," Al said, concerned for his friend. "You're in Curtis Wells." He waved his cigar around for good measure. "Sam, with that Swiss cheese brain of yours, you've forgotten that you did a dissertation about the weird weather phenomenon of Curtis Wells, Montana. You focused on the year 1880...." Al became distracted when he saw a bar girl walk by. His face expressed his obvious appreciation.
"You mean I'm a meteorologist, too?" Sam demanded, incredulously. Sam was a lawyer, doctor, physicist, and all-around Leonardo da Vinci, which made good for plot-line purposes whenever it called for it.
"Huh?" Al asked, still distracted. "Oh yeah, Sam. You dallied with it when you were in junior high. Speaking of dallying...." Al's eyes narrowed wickedly as they roamed over another bar girl walking by.
"Al!" Sam reprimanded him.
Al, annoyed at his friend for being a spoil sport, returned, "Oh, quit being a goody two-shoes!" Al sighed, continuing to brief his friend. "Anyway, Ziggy says there's a 75.9% chance that you have to control the weather -- " Al hit his hand link a couple of times in frustration, " -- the weather editing around here." Al grew angry. That made no sense. "Gooshie!" he yelled to the project operator off screen. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Sam was annoyed and distressed. "You mean I'm supposed to play God? I can't control the weather in another universe, any more than I can make it rain in mine!"
The bearded man, previous forgotten, overheard the conversation and stated in obvious disgust, "You must have hit your head pretty hard that time, Call. Those are mighty high aspirations for man whose primary function in life is to warm a bench."
Sam turned toward this bearded man, wondering who he was. Al seemed excited about this man before when he downloaded the information from Ziggy.
"That's Francis Clay Mosby," Al told him. "You wouldn't believe it, Sam. He's one of my ancestors."
Sam could believe it. This Mosby dressed impeccably, obviously standing out from every drunken slob in the place. He even puffed a cigar.
But Sam could not be distracted by this new information. He did not forget his original purpose here. He had to find that cute blond woman, what's-her-name.
He cleared his throat. "Say, Francis. Where's Mary?"
"What did you say?" Mosby spitted out furiously, drawing his revolver.
Sam gulped. He would have to use some martial arts on this man.
"Sam, no!" Al cried. "That's my great-great grand-daddy. You can't hurt him." Al hit his hand link. "Good God, Sam, you are erasing my existence!"
At the same time, Mattie walked into the saloon. "Mosby," she said irritably. "Quit pointing that thing at him."
Sam had to end this leap as soon as possible. This was getting ridiculous. He got down on one knee and began serenading Mattie. "Imagine all the people, living life as one. Ooo-hoo, hoo-a-hoo.."
"Why, Call," Mattie smiled sweetly. "You sure have a funny way of proposing marriage. But, why not? Yes, Call, yes! Come here, and give Mattie a big ole kiss!"
She grabbed Sam's head a kissed him right then and there. Sam was shocked.
"You did it, Sam!" Al cried. "The weather's cured! Mattie and Call were causing some kind of weird weather continuum by staying apart." He looked at Sam and Mattie, still in a lip-lock. "Sam, uh, Sam.... It's time to say goodbye."
By now, Sam was really into this kiss. He rather liked this blond woman. It was just his luck when he felt that blue tingle circle around him.
The last thing Sam heard was Mosby. "What the hell's going on around here?" he heard Mosby exclaim. "It's like living in a monkey house!"
END
5/26/97
Darcie Daniels
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