There is a plaque on the wall, some durable alloy of iron.
"Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings"
You're not sure where that snippet came from. Wait, you have an image in your head of some world war one pilot, but... Wait, world war one? Pilot? You know these words, you know the context, somehow. You even know what the word 'snippet' means. Strange.
With your translation to Tombstone Station, you have been altered. Your clothing, your skin, even your bodies are different. They're 'contextual'. Your weapons have transformed into appropriate analogs. Revolvers are now blasted, rifles are electromagnetic propulsion weapons, or maybe even vibro-swords. Even your cyphers are different, turned into objects that fit the Recursion.
Your memories are intact. You remember the Rio Grande, but some of it is hazy. But your time with Louis, and the preacher and the colonel, and each other, are all crystal clear.
You feel weak however, suffering from some sort of translation distemperment. Louis told you that it would pass, usually in about an hour. Your not as weak as a kitten, but just a little off. You could wait in the room that you're in until you feel better, our you could explore.