Wild Dream

by Duncan, Alice

  Charley, who had been looking hard at Lester, suddenly turned his attention back to Addie.

  “You know, ma’am, maybe it would be a good idea to stay here a while after all. If you and your aunt can really use the help.”

  “Why, of course, we can, Charley. We can always use the assistance of a couple of able-bodied gentlemen.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Charley said humbly.

  “But you’d better not do any heavy work until that arm heals, Mr. Charley Wilde, or you’ll have to answer to me.” Addie thought of something and, although it almost gave her indigestion, decided she’d better bring it up. “But what about Albuquerque?”

  Charley looked at her blankly. “Albuquerque, ma’am?”

  “Yes. What about your job in Albuquerque? When do they need you there?”

  With sudden comprehension, Charley said, “Oh, Albuquerque! Er, I don’t think there’ll be a problem there, ma’am. I—I’ll—ah—send ‘em a letter.”

  Addie frowned prettily. “Well, if you’d rather. There’s a telegraph in town, though, which might be quicker.”

  Charley offered a smile that made her heart skitter and bump in her chest. “The telegraph will be just fine, then, ma’am. Thank you.”

  Lester said, “Ivy.”

  Chapter 2

  “Adddeeeee! There’s a man in the parlor!”

  Aunt Ivy’s shriek jolted Addie out of her delicious dream and her bed as if she’d been shot from a gun. Her brain had not yet convinced her body to wake up before she found herself stumbling down the hall.

  Drat it. Her mind clung frantically to wisps of her dream. She felt almost desperate to store it before it was lost forever. Charley Wilde had been in her dream. And he’d been doing things to her Addie hadn’t even known she knew about until she’d dreamed them.

  “It’s all right, Aunt Ivy,” Addie croaked. She frowned when she realized her voice wasn’t working any better than her body. Then she got to the parlor door, looked inside, and groaned. “It’s all right, Aunt Ivy,” she said again.

  Ivy, of course, being as deaf as the parlor sofa, did not hear her. She jumped up and down and pointed, lifting the skirt of her dressing gown as if she’d seen a mouse running across the floor instead of poor Lester Frogg sleeping on the sofa. Lester had pulled the blanket up to the bridge of his nose and stared at Ivy, cowering as though he were watching a rampaging bull that had somehow managed to get itself loose in the house instead of a rather small woman with a hearing problem.

  “It’s all right, Aunt Ivy,” Addie said again. This time she grabbed her aunt by her slender shoulders

  Aunt Ivy quit jumping up and down. She threw her arms around Addie, almost causing the both of them to fall over.

  “It’s a man, Addie! It’s a man!”

  Although Ivy had knocked the breath clean out of her, Addie patted her on the back and managed to scream in her ear, “It’s all right, Aunt Ivy. I invited him in.”

  Apparently her words penetrated because Ivy gasped horribly, then screeched, “You what?”

  “His friend was hurt, Ivy.” Addie stuck her finger in her ear and wiggled it, trying to dislodge Ivy’s scream.

  Ivy did not hear her. She whirled away from Addie, grabbed a cushion from one of the parlor chairs and used it to pummel poor Lester, who gave up watching and pulled the blanket the rest of the way over his head. Addie grabbed her aunt from behind.

  “It’s all right, Aunt Ivy! He and his friend were attacked by robbers!”

  Hysterical by this time, Ivy ignored Addie and shrieked, “Ravisher! Defiler! Fiend! Vile seducer!”

  Addie pressed a hand to her head for a moment and stared at her aunt trying to slay poor Lester Frogg with the sofa cushion. Finally, in a flash of inspiration, she hollered, “He’s from Georgia!”

  As if a good fairy had flitted into the room and tapped her with its magic wand, Ivy straightened. She snatched the cushion away from the huddle of Lester Frogg and hugged it to her meager bosom. She quit screeching. She pushed her wild hair, usually tucked away in a discreet knot, away from her face. She smiled.

  “Georgia?”

  A movement that might have been a nod emanated from the head of the sofa.

  Addie sighed and said loudly, “Yes. He and his friend are from America City, Georgia, and they’re grand musicians. They were on their way from El Paso to Albuquerque when they were attacked by robbers. There was a terrible fight, and the other man was wounded. I let him sleep in Papa’s room since he needed quiet.”

  “America City? Why, Addie, I do declare I was there once.”

  Ivy’s face had assumed an expression of benevolent goodwill by this time. A short woman, Ivy nevertheless generally held herself with dignity. Right now she beamed at the lump on the sofa, her hysteria evaporating as though it had never existed.

  “Were you? Well, now, isn’t that just fine, Aunt Ivy.”

  Relieved to have finally gotten through to her aunt, Addie put an arm around her shoulder. “This gentleman’s name is Lester Frogg, Aunt Ivy. He plays the baritone horn in the band.”

  “Why, Mr. Frogg, I declare, it’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. A fellow Georgian, and especially one who plays so fine an instrument as the baritone horn, is always welcome in the Blewitt house.” Ivy might have been addressing a gentleman at an ice-cream social.

  Lester dared lower the blanket to reveal one eye. The blanket wrinkled up, as if he were nodding.

  “Why, you’re as welcome in this house as can be, Mr. Frogg. You just rest all you want, and when you’re ready, you just hop on out to the kitchen. Addie and I will be preparin’ you biscuits and gravy. I believe we have some grits, too. Why, you’ll think you’re back in Georgia when you eat the fine breakfast we’ll fix you.”

  Another eye appeared from under the blanket.

  Ivy had the Blewitt mouth, generous and made for smiling. She smiled now, and it lit her face. Addie was grateful she’d finally been able to penetrate the thick fog of silence that so often stood between her aunt and the rest of the world.

  She said softly, “I’m sorry, Mr. Frogg. I’m afraid my aunt was startled to see a stranger sleeping in the parlor.”

  At last, Lester felt bold enough to reveal the full glory of his face. All in all, it wasn’t too ill-favored a countenance, if one didn’t count the scar on his forehead, or the stubble decorating his cheeks.

  Oh, perhaps his brow was low and maybe his chin receded ever so slightly. Some people might object to his nose, which was long and thin and pointy. But at least it wasn’t a grumpy face, nor was it warped by cunning. No. Lester’s face was as wide-open and guileless as the plains outside the Blewitt door.

  He said, “I ain’t no defiler.”

  A deep chuckle from the doorway made Addie whirl around.

  Charley Wilde leaned against the frame, his open shirt revealing a chest bare to the cool morning air and Addie’s eyes. Her gaze flew to it.

  The man’s chest was a work of art. It was broad enough for two men, easy. And it was tanned by the sun and intriguingly adorned with curly dark hair, just like a knight’s chest should be. It tapered into a belly corded and lean. Charley’s trousers rode low on his hips and Addie was stricken by the wicked thought that she wished his fly were unbuttoned—just a little bit. With an effort, she tore her attention away from Charley’s magnificent torso and directed it at his equally magnificent face.

  Gulping, she stammered, “G-good morning, Charley. Please allow me to present my dear aunt, Miss Ivy Madeline Blewitt.”

  She reached out, grabbed Ivy by the arm, and jerked her around to face Charley Wilde.

  “Aunt Ivy, this is Mr. Charley Wilde. Mr. Wilde plays the E-flat cornet, and he was wounded in the terrible battle that ensued when those wicked men attacked his band on the road last night.”

  As though embarrassed, Charley stood up straight. He said, “Well, ma’am, actually—” but got no further.

  “Oh, Mr. Wilde!” screeched Ivy. “What a disaste
r!”

  She tore over to Charley and grabbed him by his good arm. “Why, you have no business being out of bed, Mr. Wilde. You come over here and sit down.”

  After leading Charley into the parlor, Ivy stuffed him into an armchair. “Addie, what are you thinking of, child? You run upstairs and fetch Mr. Wilde your daddy’s robe and slippers.”

  “Why, of course, Aunt Ivy.” Addie was annoyed with herself for forgetting those things. Of course, a wounded gentleman should be shown every courtesy. Her aunt had taught her better than this.

  “I’ll be right back, Charley. Please forgive me for not thinking of it sooner.”

  She saw Charley open his mouth to say something, but didn’t stick around to hear what it was. Taking the stairs two at a time, she dashed into the attic and dug out her father’s robe and slippers. As an afterthought, she grabbed his pipe, too. Although she hadn’t inquired, Charley looked like a pipe-smoker.

  When Addie got back to the parlor, Ivy was in the processing of embarrassing Lester Frogg to death by fluffing his pillow and cosseting him. Addie grinned at the sight.

  She discovered Charley still hunched in the easy chair, looking ill at ease. He lurched out of the chair when she entered the room, and she frowned at him.

  “You put on this robe and sit yourself down right this instant, Mr. Charley Wilde. You’re a wounded man and need to rest.”

  Bustling over to him, she hauled up the ottoman her father used to love. “Now lift your feet, Charley, and put them right up here. We’ll bring your breakfast into the parlor. Please feel free to use my daddy’s pipe, if you want. There’s still tobacco in the humidor and I put a slice of apple in there last summer to keep it fresh.”

  “I don’t smoke.”

  They were the first words Charley had been able to squeeze into the conversation and they popped out rather forcefully. When Addie jerked back and gave him a somewhat wounded frown, he cleared his throat and murmured, “Excuse me, ma’am. Didn’t mean to yell. But I don’t smoke.” He tacked on, “Thank you very much,” because it seemed appropriate.

  Addie looked disappointed as she peered down at the pipe in her hand. Charley had the absurd thought that he should take up smoking to cheer her. Instead, he patted his chest and said by way of explanation, “It’s not good for the air.” It sounded lame. The girl brightened immediately, though, so he guessed it was all right.

  “Oh, why, I never even thought of that, Charley. I’m sure you’re right.” Addie plumped the pillows at his back. “You know, my daddy was the dearest man on the face of the earth, but he wasn’t musical. Couldn’t sing a note and never played an instrument in his life. Guess he didn’t need his lungs the way a musician like you needs yours.”

  She smiled at him as though he were some kind of special being, and Charley got embarrassed again. He looked over to where Ivy Blewitt was tormenting Lester Frogg and murmured, “I expect you’d better call off your aunt, ma’am. Poor old Lester isn’t used to ladies fussing over him. He’s apt to bust something.”

  With an appreciative giggle, Addie went to her aunt’s side and put an arm around her. “Come on now, Aunt Ivy. Let’s go on out to the kitchen and fix something to feed these starvin’ gentlemen.”

  Ivy seemed to find Addie’s suggestion a sensible one, and the ladies departed. The room suddenly seemed smaller, as if an entire army battalion had left rather than two rather smallish women. Charley shook his head, puzzled by his odd impression. And it was quieter, too. He peered at the sofa and grinned, then got up and walked over to bump what looked like it might be Lester’s shoulder.

  “You can come out now, Lester.”

  Ivy Blewitt had obviously completely discomposed poor old Lester. He had curled himself up into a little ball, drawn the blanket over himself and tucked it in, top, bottom, and sides. Silence greeted Charley’s suggestion.

  “Lester?”

  Oh, dear. Charley hoped Addie’s deaf aunt hadn’t scared Lester so much he’d had an attack or something. He breathed a sigh of relief when the blanket inched down and Lester’s left eye appeared. Charley watched the eye dart back and forth, as if Lester were looking for Ivy.

  “She’s gone, Lester.”

  The blanket edged further down Lester’s face. It stopped below the nose but above the mouth. Charley heard a muffled, “Grits?” and guessed Lester would survive.

  Since his nurse insisted upon treating him like an invalid, Charley guessed he’d oblige, but first he drew his chair closer to the sofa. Then he sat and leaned over so he could speak softly to his cohort.

  “Lester, did you hear what Miss Adelaide said about rubies?”

  Charley knew Lester had heard because he’d commented on the rubies last night. Long ago, however, Charley had learned you had to sneak up on Lester slowly. He couldn’t handle a direct question if it referred to something which had been discussed more than fifteen minutes ago.

  Although Lester didn’t answer, Charley knew him too well to believe he’d answer every question put to him, so he continued. “I’ve been thinking, Lester. Maybe we should stick around here for a while and work for these ladies. They seem nice, even though they do talk a lot. They can use the help, and maybe I can find those rubies. If they’re worth as much as I think, maybe the band could settle down somewhere and stop having to steal.” He frowned. “We’re sure as the devil not very good at stealing. What do you think?”

  Silence reigned for a moment or two. Then Lester cautiously pushed the blanket over his chin and sat up. He darted a look around the room.

  “Ivy around?” He looked frightened.

  “She’s gone back to the kitchen to fix us some breakfast.” Charley stared at Lester, troubled by his thoughts. “I know it’s a rotten thing to do, stealing from these ladies who’re being so nice to us. But shoot, Lester, where else can we get us anything worth so much with so little trouble. I sure as the devil don’t want to get shot again.” His arm throbbed in agreement.

  “Ain’t no place.”

  Well, Charley guessed, Lester should know. Not a quick thinker, Lester could appraise a precious gem better and faster than anybody Charley’d ever seen. Of course, that didn’t count for much since Charley’s scope of operation in the world of precious gems was admittedly not large.

  “You have to own we’re pretty bad at being outlaws,” he added, in case Lester needed prodding.

  “Hearts ain’t in it,” said Lester, and Charley guessed he didn’t need to prod much.

  “So, what do you think, Lester? Think you could stand it here working for the Blewitt ladies whilst I find those stones?”

  Lester was still thinking about it when Addie waltzed back into the room with a tray several minutes later. Charley’d never seen so much food piled on one tray in his life, and he leapt from his chair to help her.

  “You sit yourself right back down in that chair this instant, Charley Wilde,” Addie commanded, glaring at him. “You can’t be carrying trays with your arm wounded that way.”

  Since she sounded genuinely cross, Charley guessed he’d better oblige. Meekly, he sat back down.

  “And you moved your chair!”

  Setting the tray down on the parlor table with a loud clatter, Addie stood back with her hands on her hips and gave him the hottest scowl he could recall having received since he was a boy. He scooted back in his chair. Lester, he noticed, had hidden himself back under the blanket.

  “My arm’s not that bad, Miss Adelaide,” he said in his own defense. Then he wondered what ailed him, that he was allowing this little snippet of a thing to intimidate him. He sat up straighter. “It’s really not so bad, ma’am, thanks to your good nursing.”

  He gave her a smile that had been known to melt much harder hearts than he figured Adelaide Blewitt possessed. It worked. She colored right up, and Charley felt a cynical surge of satisfaction. He might be a blasted criminal now, but he still had the old Wilde charm. He used to knock ‘em dead back in America City.

  He guessed Addie wa
s too embarrassed to scold him anymore. Bending over the tray, she made a show of fussing with the breakfast things, allowing Charley a pleasant view of her nicely rounded derriere. Miss Adelaide Blewitt might not be a beauty and she might talk like a runaway locomotive, but she was sure put together well.

  “Well, all right, Charley, but don’t blame me if you get an infection.” She still sounded snappish.

  “I won’t, ma’am.”

  Addie had changed into her best day dress while the grits cooked, because she wanted to impress Charley. Fashioned out of a pretty blue-and-white-checked gingham which, she thought, went particularly well with her eyes. She’d sewn some white cotton lace around the throat and the arms and tied her hair back with a strip of the same cotton lace she’d saved for the purpose. She’d even given herself a good once-over in the mirror and pinched her cheeks for color before she’d dished up the biscuits and gravy and grits. Even with her starchy white apron thrown over her gown, she approved of the results, and now she felt confident as anything.

  “Here you go, Charley. If you need me to help you with the cutlery, just give a holler.” She eyed the sofa doubtfully and added, “I’ll just be over here, tryin’ to find Lester.”

  Charley, who hadn’t expected anything akin to wit from Addie Blewitt, gave a startled laugh. “Thank you kindly, ma’am.”

  All at once, Lester popped out from underneath his blanket. He looked at Charley, grinned, and announced, “I’ll do it.”

  After casting a glance at the Blewitts’ parlor ceiling, Charley said, “Good, Lester. Now eat your grits.”

  # # #

  The men had finished eating and were out back bathing in the little washroom next to the kitchen when Addie heard horsemen ride into the yard.

  “Now who can that be?” She slapped her towel on the kitchen table and hollered, “I’m going to see who’s comin’ to call, Aunt Ivy.”

  Earlier in the morning Addie’d tried to get Ivy to fetch her hearing horn, but so far she’d had no luck. Ivy was trying to look pretty for Lester Frogg and considered her horn unattractive. Addie told her she thought everybody having to yell at her was more unattractive than the horn but, as yet, Ivy had not been swayed.