Back to the Future Fan-fiction

Chapter Twenty-Eight || Red Dirt Road

September 5th, 1885

Doc smiled to himself. This was the first time he had felt so alive in a long time.

He was extraordinarily old; 80 years old, but over 135 years old in terms of time traveling. Yet, his spirit had never been so young. He truly was a young soul at heart, and his dancing abilities proved to be no less. He had also just saved and fallen in love with a beautiful woman named Clara, which again, made Doc feel like a teenager. He hadn't felt this way, so passionate, about a women he loved in such a long time. What a magnificent feeling it truly was. And to live it all out in an era he had dreamt of since he was a little boy— absolutely amazing!

So it really took him by surprise when Buford changed those things.

The night had started fairly normal. Being that Clara and Doc were still somewhat hesitant to make first moves, he had nervously walked up to her and asked her to dance. Being that this was the man who saved her life, Clara of course obliged to the offer and off they went dancing together. Doc and Clara shortly got into it, creating a whole routine. Every twist and turn of his moves filled them both with pleasure and glee.

But unbeknownst to the Doc, Buford had sneakily showed up to the festival that very night. He smirked to himself as he thought about his plan— he would sorely get his much-needed revenge. No one, absolutely no one, would dare steal $80 from him and get away with it. No, Buford would ensure that. A bloodthirsty look clouded Buford's eyes as he searched for the Doc. His gang members had asked him what his specific plans were and he laid it out for them. "I figure..." He explained. "I'll bury this muzzle deep enough in his back, nobody'll hear the shot."

One of his buddies reminded him. "Careful, Buford, you only got the one bullet with that." To that, Buford gave a malicious smile, saying that he'd only need one.

Just like that, Tannen confidently marched over to Doc. He whipped out his mini revolver, and pinpointed it to Doc's back.

Doc was extremely surprised. He tilted his head to see the commotion, and was instead face-to-face with the malicious Buford Tannen. When Doc looked down, he could see in his spine... a pistol. "I told you to watch your back, Smithy," He grumbled in his usual drunken tone. Doc could smell the liquor and booze on his breath, along with some other unpleasant things.

Oh, Great Scott. This was not good. Tannen was not supposed to shoot Doc— he couldn't! "Tannen," he choked out, his voice unbelievably raspy in imminent surprise. A pistol?!

"It's a Derringer, Smithy," Tannen explained, a bloodcurdling, thin grin on his face. "Small but effective. Last time I used it the fella took two days to die. Bled to death inside, it was real painful. That means you'd be dead by about suppertime Monday."

Oh, Great Scott! Again! Doc was frozen in time, literally— an unbelievable amount of terror shocked his body. The pistol was still buried deep into his back, and somehow Doc had a feeling that it wouldn't be going away. For now. This cannot be happening.

But by a living miracle, and strand of luck, Clara was still standing next to him. She didn't see the gun, but regardless she defended Doc and grabbed his arms to dance once more. "Excuse me," she claimed, a hint of anger in her tone. "I don't know who you think you are, but we're dancing here." Oh, Clara-dear, thank you!

Suddenly, Buford's attention diverted to the lady. "Well looky what we have here..." he grinned. "Introduce me to the lady; I'd like a dance."

This caught Doc's attention immediately, and without second thought Doc spun around onto his feet. Doc would never allow Buford to place her filthy paws onto the woman he loved. In fact, he would be willing to die for it— he attested to that now. "I wouldn't give you the pleasure," He exclaimed boldly, a strong sense of determination ringing within his eyes. "You'll just have to go ahead and shoot!"