Above the Bridge by Deborah Garner Page B

undergarment of a corset, tightly laced beneath a soft, red satin bodice, trimmed with antique ivory lace. A full skirt of matching fabric flowed down from a tight, pleated waistline.  The hem rested mid-calf, just above a pair of dressy black boots with tassels dangling from their upper edges.  Several layers of colorful petticoats peeked out from below the hem of her skirt. 
    Paige felt a shiver of fear run up her spine and crossed her arms in an attempt to fight off nervous shaking. She struggled against the restrictive corset to take deeps breaths and bent forward to rest her hands on her knees.  Whatever was happening to her, panic would not help the situation.
    Straightening up, she looked around and shook her head in disbelief.  Perhaps there had been some sort of drug mixed in with her latte.  It all seemed so real, not at all like the haziness of a dream. As if to affirm this feeling, a clatter of horse hooves approached on the left.  Paige watched as a weathered wagon passed by, haphazardly loaded down with supplies – barrels of vegetables, an old stove pipe, a couple of bales of hay and other assorted goods.
    She glanced cautiously around, noting very few buildings. Those that caught her eye were weathered and rustic in nature.  A store of some sort stood across the open grounds, bearing a sign across the top that announced it as “Deloney’s General Mercantile.”  There were large gaps between the buildings, simple, open spaces of dirt.  The scene resembled a ghost town movie set, so sparse were the surroundings.  Still, other commercial establishments lined the dusty streets – the Jackson Hotel and a pitched roof structure called The Clubhouse.  A handful of smaller businesses were also scattered about, offering services of varying trades.
    Paige moved hesitantly across the open space and, still struggling to breathe, took notice of a few more details. A slight twinge of curiosity began to seep into the continuing feelings of uneasiness and fear.  She stepped into Deloney’s store and glanced around.  A portion of the shop clearly served as a market, offering apples, potatoes, flour, corn starch, syrup and numerous other types of provisions.  The remainder of the establishment housed just about every type of household item one could imagine, from sewing supplies to hardware, as well as basic machinery and farming tools.
    Back outside, she slowly began to wander through the town - if it could be called such, with only a handful of buildings in sight.  Yet, as empty as the landscape appeared, activity surrounded her.  Customers emerged from Deloney’s store carrying boxes of assorted household goods.  A few men leaned against the outside of a blacksmith shop, having an animated conversation that involved a good portion of laughter and knee-slapping.  A mother walked by holding a young boy’s hand tightly in her own, scolding him for misbehavior. Though sparsely populated, it was clear to Paige that the activities of a town were going on – trade, communication, and various aspects of community life.
    Paige paused in front of the building with the sign above the door identifying it as The Clubhouse.  Playful sounds of piano music floated out into the dusty air and seemed to beckon her from within.  Hoisting her skirt up to avoid tripping, she climbed a handful of stairs to the front door and slowly stepped inside. 
    The music was upbeat and grew louder as she entered. A few other women stood around, some dressed in similar garb, though the colors and fabrics varied.  One neatly coiffed woman with auburn hair and elegant green attire fanned her face with one hand and rested the other on the arm of a rough looking man. Yet another, a slender brunette with sultry eyes, sat in a chair against the wall, her back straight and poised, as if waiting for a cue.  The music stopped briefly and immediately started up again with a different tune, this one even livelier than the last.  The woman