This morning, after a good night's sleep, aided by the antitussive that Doctor Ned had given him for a persistent cough, Wild Bill met with Tavish and Jasmine and they explained to him the theory of Worm-Holes in the Space/Time Continuum which enabled people to travel from one place and time to another, and that – so far as was known – this had happened to a number of people from the past and present who had suffered life-threatening injuries and seemed to be the Astral equivalent of a Rest-Cure, although not all the 'Cures' had been restful! it seemed that little could faze Hickok, he listened, nodded, asked pertinent questions and seemed quite amused that he had been selected for this version of "a kinda Sanatorium, this, then?" he chuckled, and Tavish studied him for any hint of sarcasm, but there was none, indeed Hickok seemed to be one of those honest people who say what they think without malice or another 'agenda' and that, in Tavish's experience, was a rare virtue; "so these folks, these travellers, can they decide where or when they wanna go?" asked Hickok, and Tavish, rather warily said, "there's a bird on Hawaii, the nene bird, and some of them – who don't seem any different from the rest – simply cannot fly and nobody can explain this; some people. not through choice or intention, find that they have left their time and place and wake up somewhere else; in fact there has only been one case, involving a group, who managed to travel forward from the Middle Ages and arrive here; but that was unique," and at this, Wild Bill got to his feet and paced the room, his chin in his hand and seeming deep in thought, until he stopped suddenly by the window as if he had seen a ghost, turned and asked Tavish: "is God enjoyin all this? like schadenfreude? havin a good old belly-laugh at us while we move around the board of this game you described, Snakes and Ladders?" and when Tavish seemed unable to reply, Hickok pointed at the garden visible through the window, where the trees were beginning to fructify, the pollen-carrying insects having done their work, though bees and butterflies had seemed much rarer than in previous summers; Tavish. puzzled, stood and looked where the American was indicating; "it's her!" Hickok exclaimed, "are you behind this? howdya do it? are we in New England? how long'd it take to hustle me over from Deadwood by Pony Express or in a Wells Fargo mail-coach? now c'mon, cut the crap and tell me true; that's her all right, so how is that possible if this is 150 years after I was shot? are you sayin sumdy shot her too? I'm sorry Mr Tavish, sir, but I don't believe in coincidences," and then Tavish saw a stranger, seeming to be dodging around among the trees at the rear of the garden, as if trying to avoid being spotted, and dressed for the occasion, in brownish clothes; "do you know her, Mr Hickok," asked Jasmine, who had joined them and Wild Bill's eyes seemed filled with a barely suppressed anger, as he snapped back: "course'n I recognise her, she's the bane of my existence, she's been stalkin me ever since I had the misfortune to cross her path and here she turns up, like the proverbial Bad Penny!" and then the penny dropped for Jasmine, who exclaimed: "I have absolutely no idea how she's reached this time and place, I assure you Mr Hickok, for as far as I know she died at a good age of natural causes, but from what you say, would I be right in taking it that she is Calamity Jane?" and the answer could be deduced from the burst of expletives for which Hickok quickly apologised, before saying: "darn tootin' Miss Jasmine, that's her, in buckskin as always, but for a so-called scout, she's makin a total hash o creepin up on us, now, ain't she? livin up to her name all right, a silver-plated calamity if there ever was one!"