Somewhere to Dream (Berkley Sensation)

by Graham, Genevieve

  “I love you, Jesse Black, and yes. I will marry you.”

  I had thought he was handsome, kneeling at my feet. When his expression lifted in a self-satisfied grin at my answer, well, he went beyond handsome. He rose and took my face in his hands. “You won’t regret this,” he said.

  “I know.”

  He narrowed his eyes, serious again. “Really? How do you know? Did you dream something?”

  I laughed, and he joined me. Marry me.

  Yes. I would be all right, I told myself. I would. As long as I had Jesse, I would be all right.

  CHAPTER 34

  Ambush

  The afternoon wore on, oblivious to the story I’d had to share, then to a wonderful, passionate moment where Jesse and I celebrated what we’d found in each other.

  I didn’t tell him that when he locked his arms around me and we kissed, I saw his father again. I saw the meanness in the older man’s eyes and the intent burning there, but this time I was braver, believing in myself just enough to keep the shadows at bay. I shoved the image from my mind, directing everything I had at the man who held me. The man who loved me.

  Our kisses grew stronger, but it wasn’t only he who brought heat to our passion. I had discovered a part of me I had never experienced before, except with him. His chin scraped gently against mine, like a slow burn, but I didn’t care. I tasted his breath, warm and delicious in my mouth, inhaled the strong, powerful reality of him, and loved what I breathed.

  He suddenly stopped kissing me and sat up fast. As if he’d forgotten something. “We should go now,” he blurted.

  I blinked up at him, bewildered. “Did I do something wrong?”

  His crooked smile flashed, and he shook his head. “Oh no, darlin’. Problem is, you were doing too many things right. I don’t exactly trust myself at this moment.”

  I didn’t think I could blush any deeper than I already had, but I did. I sat up beside him, and he took my hand.

  “We should go,” he repeated.

  A cool reminder of approaching evening agreed with him, blowing through the trees so that they swayed above us, graceful dancers preparing for the night. Jesse and I stood and walked on, this time holding hands and sharing a beautiful secret. Wouldn’t Wah-Li and Soquili be surprised when I told them that I would indeed be marrying Jesse! Then again, Wah-Li never seemed surprised by anything. I wondered if that was a good thing for her or whether it took all the joy of discovery out of life. I found myself considering spontaneity and wondering if it was really as dangerous as I’d always feared.

  Jesse held out his arm, keeping a branch from my face, and I saw him wince and press his hand to his side. “You have to let me tend that,” I said.

  “Later. I want to get to the village.”

  “I am sorry about—” I shrugged helplessly. “About everything he did to you.”

  “Yeah. Well. I still don’t understand that whole thing.”

  “I know. I’ve lived with this my whole life, and I still don’t understand it all that well. But the thing is, Maggie saw my dream with me, and she sent Andrew out.”

  “But why me?”

  I was surprised. “Because the dream—it looked like you, but it couldn’t have been you. Maggie’s never seen you, so she couldn’t know that.”

  “I suppose. It’s just . . . You told the Scotsman some guy was coming to get you? That’s it? Nothing a little more specific? Like there was also a man coming to take care of you, but in a good way? Nothing like, ‘The guy you want to avoid is older and real mean’?”

  “I’m sorry. He just wanted to protect me. Please don’t hate Andrew.”

  He sighed and shook his head, but the quirk on the side of his mouth told me he wasn’t angry. “No matter. I’ll recover. And don’t you worry about your Andrew. I guess I gotta thank him someday for lookin’ out for you.”

  He stopped and turned to me again. “I don’t hate many folks, Adelaide. Truth is, I don’t like many, either. But you’re different. You are the only person on earth that really matters to me.”

  How could I argue with that? I put my arms around his neck and kissed him as if I’d done it a thousand times.

  One would think that if one had a dream, then found oneself living that specific moment in time, they would avoid the darker aspects of that dream. If they knew they were going to fall off a cliff and the mountain plunged suddenly beside them, they’d choose another route. But it doesn’t work that way for my dreams. It hadn’t worked that way for Maggie’s, either. We saw what would happen, regardless of what we did.

  So when I saw the familiar group of trees around me, felt the air tighten with quiet, I knew it was almost time.

  Jesse and I had gotten into a silly challenge that had me giggling until my ribs hurt. I didn’t remember ever laughing so hard without reservations. The game had started innocently enough. I’d plucked something pink from the greenery along the path and asked him what it was. He made up a ridiculous name for it, then told me he knew of another one in the same family that was useful for curing hiccups. We took turns finding a new plant that the other had never seen before and giving it a story. I scouted deeper into the trees and came back with a fern of some kind, which I claimed had fallen from the moon. In turn, he brought me an extremely rare, brown flower that ate bugs. In fact, it was a nondescript green something he’d rolled in mud. It was just a silly game. Now he was looking for something yellow. He was about fifteen feet ahead of me, peering into the forest, when he froze.

  “What is it?”

  He held out a hand in my direction, telling me to stay put, but his eyes darted through the trees. Clearly, he’d heard something I hadn’t. My heart thundered in my chest, and I suddenly knew.

  A man leapt out of nowhere, bursting from the trees and roaring like a grizzly. Jesse turned just in time to meet a solid fist as it slammed across his face. Echoing the roar, he pounced on top of the man, and they rolled down the path, screaming obscenities.

  “Think you can get back at me, do you? Miserable cur!” The man was on his feet first, and he kicked Jesse hard in the stomach, one kick for every word he yelled. “Damn . . . waste . . . of . . . my . . . life!”

  I ached for Jesse, remembering the mottled black and blue already staining most of his body. He was rolled into a ball, trying to cover himself, hands over his head.

  The man kept on. “Goddamn Injun lover!” He paused for a moment, catching his breath, and Jesse took the moment to roll away and get to his feet, though he was curled in on himself with pain. Blood flowed from his nose, dripping off his chin, but his eyes were on fire. They flicked to me for the briefest of blinks. A warning. Stay away.

  But his enemy saw the signal. He spun around and stared at me, his expression wild. Just as I’d seen in the dream, Thomas Black had so many of Jesse’s beautiful features, though crevasses of hate had dug into his face. He took a step toward me, and Jesse tackled him from behind. This time, it was Jesse’s fists that flew and Thomas who covered his face, but both men were bloodied.

  I heard my own voice, screaming, sobbing. I knew the outcome, didn’t I? Jesse would never get up, and I would be in this man’s hands.

  Thomas rolled so quickly to one side that I didn’t see it happen, and Jesse fell off him. Thomas grabbed his son by the throat and slammed his head to the ground. Except it wasn’t the ground that he hit. It was a rock.

  The light died from Jesse’s eyes. I saw it flicker, then disappear.

  “Goddamn right,” Thomas growled, getting to his feet. “Think you can get the best of me, do you? Goddamn mistake from the get-go.” He gave Jesse’s body another kick, then reached back and pulled out a pistol. Its black barrel rested on one arm, and he pointed it directly at Jesse’s head. “Should’ve been you them Injuns got, not your brother.”

  No no no no no!

  My fear forgotten, I stooped, grabbed a th
ick branch lying at my feet, and ran toward Thomas. “Get away from him, you bastard!” I screamed, striking at the gun so it fell uselessly to the ground.

  Thomas stared at me, incredulous, and turned from his son to me. I wanted to run, but he was right there in my face, as I had seen him before. He was quicker than I’d imagined he would be, ripping the branch from my hands and coming up close. Just as he had done with Jesse, he gripped my neck, shoving me hard against the solid trunk of an oak. His breath was hot and reeked of alcohol.

  I knew that stench. Whisky, sweat, hate, lust . . . the day, that night, that nightmare suddenly resurrecting itself . . . Oh God, what am I doing? Why am I here? Please no, no, no, no, no . . . Every bruise, every tear and slap came back to me. It was all happening again. If only I could escape again, like I did every time the dream reached this point. But I couldn’t move at all. His bristles scratched against my face, and his face came clear, that face I loved . . . and yet it wasn’t. His lips were the same, but they’d twisted into a feral grin that made me shake almost convulsively. His eyes terrified me the most. This wasn’t Jesse at all. The eyes narrowed at me, bloodshot and shining with conquest, were gray, not gold.

  His other hand tore the neck of my tunic straight down, and the quick blast of air on my stomach told me he’d bared everything I’d tried to hide before. I fought harder, pushing at him with my hands, screaming, and trying to scratch at his face, but his fingers tightened around my throat until stars wobbled in my vision. My knees weakened, but I used one in a desperate motion, thrusting it hard between his legs. He stepped back to avoid my pathetic kick, then slapped me hard across the face. I stumbled to the side as my vision flashed white and my cheek burned. I landed on my back and he’d straddled me before I could move. At least my attempt to hurt him had accomplished one thing: his hand had left my neck for that moment, and I gulped down air.

  His eyes were wild, and his hungry grin had widened. I had given myself a moment of lucidity, but he meant to take much more. His hand clamped onto my face, and one thick thumb slid over my lips. My nose was bleeding; I could see the evidence on his thumb just before he licked it off.

  “You’re a tasty chicken,” he said, his voice raspy. Spittle shot from his mouth, hitting my face as he spoke. I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking helplessly. “And guess what? I’m one hungry son of a bitch.”

  “That’s one thing you got right,” came another voice, one that sent a shock through my system. My eyes flew open, and I would have wept with relief if I could have. Jesse sounded weak but aware. And cold with rage. “You are a son of a bitch. And this here’s my woman. Let her go.”

  Thomas grinned down at me, blood from their earlier fight leaking onto his teeth. “Don’t be telling your Pa what to do, whelp.”

  Jesse leaned in so I could see him. He stood behind his father, eyes glued to mine, his lips drawn tight. “I said let her go, old man.”

  Thomas Black’s smile was a wide crack in a face that might have once held charm. Might have, long before, said pretty words to someone. Now it offered only violence, promised only pain. He held my chin in one large hand, squeezing my cheeks so my lips puckered between his fingers. He leaned in, and I whimpered, squeezing my eyes shut again, unable to move.

  The hammer of a pistol clicked, and I looked up again. Jesse had come around and now squatted behind me, the pistol Thomas had once pointed at his son shoved hard against Thomas’s own forehead.

  “Uh-uh,” he said. “You don’t wanna be doing that. Nobody kisses my girl but me.”

  Thomas straightened slowly, his eyes hard with wariness but still focused on mine. The grip on my chin eased, and I bit my lower lip hard, tasting the blood that leaked from my nose.

  “Put that thing down, boy.”

  “Let her go.” Jesse’s voice was deep and deliberate, and final as death. The skin on Thomas’s forehead indented around the barrel as Jesse pressed, a white circle cutting into sun-darkened flesh. The finger on the trigger was tight, not the least bit tentative. When he spoke again, it was done slowly, hatred sharpening the edges of his words. “I will kill you. You know I will. I’ve been waiting for an excuse to do this for near on twenty years.”

  The steely gray eyes finally blinked and left mine, drifting calmly toward his son’s face. The rough hand slipped once more to my throat and stayed there, as if waiting for instructions.

  “You’ll kill me, will you, Jesse? You’ll shoot your Pa over some whore of a girl? After all I’ve taught you, you still don’t get it. You’re stupid, boy. Always have been. And now you’re half Injun, you’ve gotten dumb as that old mule McKenna shot last week.” He nodded, then grinned. Something in his face shifted, hardened further and one of his shoulders rolled back. “Well, if you’re gonna kill me, then this girl of yours—”

  His fist exploded into my stomach at the same time Jesse’s pistol went off. The instant, blinding pain was incredible, like stubbing a toe hard, but having it start deep inside and resonate throughout my stomach. Both Thomas and I rolled to the side, but he wasn’t moving or making any sound. I curled into a ball, gasping, desperate for air I couldn’t find, fighting a haze as it settled over my vision. Jesse knelt beside me but seemed to float just out of my reach. I saw his mouth move, but I heard nothing beyond the ringing in my ears. Something pressed on my head, and I squirmed, feeling trapped, until I realized it felt good. Soothing. Jesse’s hand on my hair, calming, his lips brushing my ear.

  “Breathe, Adelaide. Slowly now. He knocked your wind out, but it’ll come back. You’re all right, my girl. Just breathe. That’s right.”

  Aided by his touch, I began to unfold my body, letting the muscles loosen as the tension in my stomach released bit by tiny bit. Jesse settled some kind of blanket over me, and I felt even weaker with gratitude. The first whispers of air snuck into my lungs, and I gasped for more.

  “That’s it. Breathe now. You’re okay. Just breathe. Now don’t you cry. You need to worry about breathing, not crying. You can cry later.”

  CHAPTER 35

  A Soft Place to Fall

  Slowly, after much coaxing, my breathing returned to normal, though my ears still felt as if something had been stuffed into them. I lay flat on the uneven ground, staring at him, delirious with relief. I was alive. The worst had not happened. Had I allowed the dream to finish way back when it had started, I would have seen Jesse save me. I would have known things would turn out all right. And now he looked down at me with such tenderness I was hard-pressed to behave when he told me not to cry.

  When he saw my colour return to normal, he slid one hand behind my neck and helped me sit. The blanket started to slide off, and I grabbed it and pressed it hard against me. I used one edge to wipe the blood from under my nose and caught a whiff of the material as it passed. Jesse. It smelled like Jesse. I smelled horse and dust and trees and his own sweet sweat. It wasn’t a blanket after all. It was his shirt. He’d torn it off so he could cover me.

  Jesse’s father lay unmoving beside him. I couldn’t see more than his back, but a dark puddle seeped from behind. I turned away.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  His frown was incredulous. “You’re what? Why?”

  “Your father. If I hadn’t come here, you wouldn’t have had to—”

  Jesse drew back, looking as if he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. “Don’t you ever apologize for that. Thomas Black was a snake who got what he deserved.” He glanced behind at the body, then grimaced and turned back toward me. “He shouldn’t have touched you. It’s me who should be sorry.”

  We watched each other in silence, then I shivered. Night was closing in, and the forest was getting dark. A chill cut through the shirt he’d layered over me.

  “Wait a moment,” he said, then got up and rustled around in the forest.

  I curled around my stomach, wrapping my arms around my knees. My body still throbbed on the left, w
here Thomas had struck me, just under my ribs, but it didn’t feel as if he’d broken any of them.

  Jesse returned with his arms full of sticks. He heaped them on top of dried grass, leaves, and a pale fungus I recognized as coming from the bottom of a birch. His flint struck, sending cheerful sparks into the dusk. A spot of orange appeared and was almost entirely swallowed up by a puff of gray smoke from the wet leaves. Jesse crouched low, breathing life into the young fire and adding sticks when it was capable of catching. I shivered again and drew nearer to the little flames.

  Jesse stood and plodded toward the lump of his father’s body. I watched him squat and look down at something—a memory, I imagined, and hoped he had at least one happy time he could bring back. I looked away. When he returned to the fire I noticed he wore his father’s shirt and Thomas’s haversack was slung over his shoulder.

  “I’ll move him out of here as soon as I get you a little warmer.”

  The light of the fire helped, but warm? I doubted I could ever stop shivering, and it was only getting worse. It wasn’t just the chill of the night. My body shook in reaction to what had happened and what could have happened. My teeth chattered hard enough that it would have been difficult to speak, had I any words that needed saying. I didn’t. I couldn’t think of a thing. As the fire caught, Jesse looked across it at me, the orange glow against his face showing his worry, then taking it away as the fire jumped and fell. He came back to me, then we sat, side by side, staring at the growing flames.

  “Your poor head,” I said, touching the side of his skull Thomas had struck against the rock. Blood had painted half of Jesse’s face a ghoulish red, flickering black in the firelight. When I touched its sticky source, he flinched.