Wild Dream

by Duncan, Alice

  Soon he was close enough to hear Addie above the din of the pursuit, shrieking like a banshee, vilifying Garland as a black-hearted, lily-livered swine. God bless her, she never gave up.

  Her leg kicked out again, catching Luther on the knee. Apparently, she took him by surprise, because Charley saw Luther’s horse weave, and Luther’s gun fly from his hand. Charley’s horse almost hit it. Charley would have shaken his head in disgust if he wasn’t too busy.

  By the time he drew even with Luther, Luther was looking scared to death. As for Charley, he’d begun to wonder if Luther was the only idiot riding on the plains today. He’d completely neglected to think of a likely weapon to use on the evil duo. Mad as fire at himself, furious with Luther and Garland, Charley swung the only thing at hand: Addie’s sunbonnet.

  As a weapon, sunbonnets probably wouldn’t be a thinking person’s first choice, but it did 184╗the job on Luther. The cardboard that Addie had sewn into the brim gave the bonnet just enough weight to carry it through the wind of Charley’s flight and whack Luther’s empty head. Luther flailed, which necessitated the use of his hands, which freed them from the reins, which ultimately freed him of the saddle.

  Even over the noise of three pounding horses, Charley heard the sickening thunk as Luther’s body hit the ground. He spared not a glance at his fallen foe, but drew abreast of Garland when Luther’s horse lost interest in the chase and lagged behind.

  “Addie!” Charley bellowed. “Addie, hold on!”

  Good grief, she was still fighting. Charley wanted to holler at her to calm down and be still. She sat in front of Garland, who had one arm wrapped around her. Charley could tell Garland was not enjoying himself. He had a perfectly vicious expression on his face.

  Garland shouted a vile curse and lolled in his saddle when Addie’s elbow connected 184G with a body part. She wriggled like an eel, and pressed her advantage. Literally.

  Somehow or other, she’d managed to wrestle herself around far enough that she could push against Garland’s chest. She pushed and pushed and pushed, fighting any attempt to thwart her. Then, ultimately spotting something that would do her some good, Addie grabbed Garland’s gun out of his waistband. She couldn’t reach the trigger but, holding it around the barrel, she began using it like a hammer on Garland’s kneecap. He shrieked and jerked in the saddle.

  Charley heard a loud, “God damn!” and realized Garland had reached his limit.

  The next several seconds never did unravel themselves clearly in Charley’s memory. All he knew was that his noble Morgan drew up to Garland and Addie a split-second before Garland thrust Addie away from him.

  “Addie!” Charley shrieked, consigning his reins to one hand and reaching out to her. “Addie, hold onto me!”

  And, by means of a miracle Charley would bless for the rest of his days, she did. He feared for a moment he wouldn’t be able to reach her, but again the Morgan proved its worth. It slowed immediately when it sensed Charley needed less speed, and he was able to throw his free arm around Addie’s waist just as she grabbed for his shoulder.

  Garland, thrown cockeyed in an exchange he didn’t expect, slid sideways out of his saddle and landed flat on his back on a prickly creosote bush.

  The Morgan came to a wheezing, blowing halt a very few seconds later, and Charley was able somehow to retain his hold on Addie. As soon as the horse stopped moving, he lifted her onto his lap and squeezed her tight. She clung to his shoulders as if he were her salvation. She had it backwards, though. Charley knew it. She was his salvation.

  Slowly, he dismounted, bringing her with him. He didn’t let her go when he sat down right in the dirt, but cradled Addie on his lap and rocked her back and forth. He glanced over to where Garland sprawled without moving, and decided the devil could wait until he’d soothed Addie.

  “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

  He wished she’d look at him or say something, but she didn’t. For the longest time, she just sat in his lap and cried. Then she sucked in a deep breath and said, “Take me back to town, Charley.”

  She struggled out of his arms and stood unsteadily. Charley’s heart nearly broke when he realized she didn’t want to look at him. She still hated him.

  Wiping her eyes with her apron, Addie guessed she probably looked a mess, but she didn’t care much. Left-over terror made her heart thump frantically. Every muscle and bone in her body felt as though they’d had been shattered. Her throat was raw from shrieking, and her tongue felt swollen. Her mouth was so dry, she could hardly swallow.

  She wished it had been anybody other than Charley Wilde who’d rescued her.

  “Addie, please let me—”

  “No!” The syllable exploded from her heart and she had to catch her breath or burst into tears again. More softly, she managed, “No. Take me back to town.”

  He looked crushed, and Addie’s heart twisted bitterly. When she regained her composure, she might give him a piece of her mind. Right now, she only wanted to get back to her aunt—the only person on the face of the earth who loved her—and get herself a drink of water.

  Charley stood with a massive sigh. “Reckon we’d better scoop up Luther and Garland and take ‘em back with us.”

  She nodded sharply and turned away.

  # # #

  It was the longest ride of his life. Addie didn’t say more than “Yes” or “No” all the way back to Rothwell. Together they tied Garland to his winded horse. Sharing the Morgan, Charley and Addie slowly walked back across the desert. They found Luther wandering around, dazed, some ways back. His horse grazed nearby, and it didn’t take much persuasion to get Luther to give up, remount, and allow himself to be tied to the saddle horn.

  Charley led the two horses behind the Morgan, Addie sitting stiffly in front of him. She clung like a vine to the saddle horn and shook off his arm when he tried to put it around her waist. Charley felt as low as dirt.

  When they returned to town, the citizens were still in the park, and still sounded like they were celebrating. Charley could hardly believe it. He drew up in front of the jail, dismounted and helped Addie to the ground. She still seemed unsteady, but she wouldn’t let him help her.

  “Addie, will you talk to me?”

  At last she looked at him. Charley wished she hadn’t.

  “No, Mr. Wilde, I don’t want to talk to you.”

  Abruptly, she turned and walked away from him. Charley’s heart shriveled in his chest until it sat, as dried, wrinkled and lumpy as a year-old English pea. He watched Addie make her way slowly up the street, her stride faltering, until she turned into—Charley could hardly believe his eyes—the Catholic church.

  He couldn’t imagine his little Addie consorting with Catholics at a time like this, but there she went. Sadly, he guessed he’d better take care of Garland and Luther before he set out after her.

  Feeling worse than he’d ever felt in his life, he ushered the two criminals into the sheriff’s office. Fermin Small was nowhere in sight, but Waldo snoozed behind the desk. Charley woke him up and consigned his cargo into the deputy’s hands. Then he turned and left the office. He stopped on the boardwalk long enough to take a deep breath and pray for courage.

  Then, his footsteps dragging in time to his aching heart, Charley walked to the Catholic church. The building was very small and had been fashioned out of adobe bricks years earlier. Its whitewashed walls were thick, and a crude cross had been nailed over the arching doorway so long ago the wood had cracked in several places, giving it an ancient, weathered appearance.

  Feeling uneasy, Charley removed his hat in a show of respect, and went through the archway. It was very dark and surprisingly cool inside the church. Rows of candles lit the walls, but no other light seeped in, as curtains had been drawn over the two small windows. Ten rows of wooden benches served as pews. Charley expected no more than fifty people could fit in the place at any one time. Fifty was plenty by his reckoning.

  A small platform had been built at the front of the bu
ilding, upon which rested a simple altar. Another cross hung on the wall behind the altar. A couple of tall brass candlesticks next to the altar were about the only decorations in the place. Obviously, the Catholics in Rothwell possessed more piety than money.

  Two wooden partitions screened the front of the church, leaving only the platform and altar exposed to worshipers who would sit on the benches for mass.

  Charley peered around sadly, seeing nobody. Then his heart gave a painful lurch when he heard a muffled sob. It seemed to be coming from behind one of the partitions. He heard the rumble of a soft, masculine voice, pitched in a comfort-giving tone, but he couldn’t make out any words. Another wretched sob nearly broke his heart.

  Very slowly, he dared approach the front of the church. He’d never felt so humble.

  He suspected the comforting male voice to belong to Father Bernardo. Although Charley didn’t relish confessing his many black sins in front of the priest, he’d do it. For Addie’s sake, he reckoned he’d do just about anything.

  Feeling stupid and very, very dejected, Charley braced his hand on the partition and peeked around the corner. The sight that greeted his eyes made him swallow and blink hard. He hadn’t cried since he was a boy and hoped he’d be able to control his tears, as he didn’t want to add to his misery by humiliating himself.

  The priest sat on a crude bench, Addie’s head on his robed knees. A pottery cup sat beside the priest on the bench, and Charley guessed Father Bernardo’d given her a glass of water to soothe her parched throat. Her pretty hair gleamed under the priest’s brown hand.

  Charley heard her say brokenly, “Oh, why did I ever believe him, Father?”

  The priest answered quietly, “Because you love him, child.”

  “But he didn’t deserve my love, Father Bernardo!”

  “Love is a gift, Addie. Everybody deserves it.”

  Exactly what Addie’d told him, Charley thought miserably. What had he done to her?

  He’d betrayed her, is what. Charley wished somebody’d just take a bullwhip and flay the skin from his bones. Even that wouldn’t atone.

  “I feel so stupid,” slipped from her lips in shredded fragments.

  “Perhaps he’s not such a bad man, Addie. Perhaps he had reasons for his actions. Reasons you can’t know.”

  Apparently such a possibility was not one Addie believed; she only shook her head again and didn’t respond. Charley wanted to fall to his knees and beg her to forgive him, but knew histrionics would be inappropriate under the circumstances. He had some clear explanations to give and some honest forgiveness to ask.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t have the smallest idea how to begin.

  Father Bernardo noticed him first. To Charley’s amazement, the priest smiled at him; a soft, gentle smile that made Charley swallow again. Then Father Bernardo lifted a hand and gestured for Charley to join them.

  He did so, tentatively. When he reached them, he didn’t know what to do, so he merely stood still, his hat clutched in a death grip, and stared down at the woman he loved. He never would have credited his capable, romantic, happy, good-natured little Addie with this much grief. He knew he wasn’t worth it.

  Lifting his gaze to the priest’s face, he discovered Father Bernardo still smiling at him. A little gesture in Addie’s direction indicated the priest expected Charley to say or do something.

  Charley didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Clearing his throat, he tried again.

  “Addie?” emerged, sounding as though it had leaked from a sick bullfrog’s throat.

  With a gasp, Addie jerked her head from Father Bernardo’s knee and stared at Charley. Her expression made his insides grip up so tight his stomach ached. He fell to his knees beside her, although he didn’t dare touch her.

  “Addie? May I talk to you for a minute?”

  Her dusty, tear-streaked face, swollen eyelids, pink nose, and the dark circles under her eyes made his stomach ache even harder. She didn’t answer him, but only looked at him as if he were the devil.

  Shaking his head forlornly, Charley said, “I’m sorry, Addie. I’m so sorry. There’s no excuse for me. I’m exactly what Fermin Small always called me. I’m a villain. A criminal.”

  She didn’t say a word. Every now and then a sniffle escaped her. Once she lifted a hand to wipe a streaming eye and drew a muddy streak across her cheek, but she didn’t speak.

  “We were starving, Addie. The boys and I hadn’t eaten for two days and nobody could find work. We didn’t want to break up the band. We all swore we’d stick together.” Charley bowed his head “I was their leader. They always looked to me to fix things. It—it was my idea to rob a saloon in El Paso.”

  This was so blessed hard. Nevertheless, Addie deserved to know. “We were no good at thieving. We bungled that robbery. Just barely escaped the town before they killed us. All we got out of it were some tortillas and a little bag of wormy beans. They kept us alive, though, and saw us into the territory. When we got to Arleta, we were worn down again, and it looked like your aunt’s store was empty. We were only going to steal some more beans and some salt, but she was there and she shot me.”

  Why didn’t she say anything? Charley gazed at her and thought how truly pretty she was, even coated with dust from her perilous ride across the desert. She wasn’t a beauty; not the kind she wanted to be: a fragile, white-skinned southern belle who was about as useful as a magnolia blossom. Addie’s beauty went deeper than that; it came from within.

  She wiped her eyes again and didn’t say a word.

  A glance at Father Bernardo found the priest all attention. Charley thought he saw the good father nod slightly, perhaps encouraging his confession, but he wasn’t sure. Anyway, Charley’s words weren’t for Father Bernardo.

  “You—you took us in, Addie—Lester and me—and doctored my arm. I couldn’t believe there was a person as kind as you left alive in the world. It was real hard for us after—after the war.”

  And that was all he would say about that. There was no adequate excuse for his behavior.

  “We were going to rob the Rothwell Bank after the cattle money had been deposited next month. Then we were hoping to go to Albuquerque and find work.”

  Dropping his gaze, since to keep looking at Addie’s stark unhappiness hurt too much, Charley whispered, “I was going to steal your rubies, Addie.”

  To Charley, it seemed like the quiet after this last, most vile, admission stretched out for hours. It could only have been minutes, although his nerves pulled tighter and tighter until he was sure they’d snap like so many dried twigs.

  Addie wiped her eyes yet again and sniffled. Since he didn’t know what else to do, Charley drew his clean bandanna out of his shirt pocket and offered it to her. She looked at it blankly for a second or two, then reached into her own pocket and pulled out a wet, crumpled handkerchief and used that to wipe her cheeks and blow her nose.

  Charley let the hand holding his bandanna fall slowly to his side. Finally, when he couldn’t stand the silence a second longer, he said, “I don’t deserve your understanding, Addie. I don’t deserve anything from you. I—I just wanted you to know . . .”

  He didn’t know what he wanted her to know. His words trailed out and died, and the oppressive silence closed in again.

  He said, “I’m sorry, Addie.”

  Then he said, “I love you.”

  And then he guessed there was nothing more he could say. She still didn’t speak.

  Another several moments of silence filled his heart with lead. Addie just stared at him. Charley looked at the priest and read compassion in his gaze, but no advice.

  Aw, hell.

  With a heaviness he guessed he’d bear for the rest of his life, Charley rose to his feet. He stood still and stared down at Addie for another second or two, then slowly turned around and headed towards the front of the church.

  He’d almost reached the door when he heard, softly, behind him
, Addie’s tentative, “Ch-Charley?” He stopped as if shot. He didn’t quite dare turn around in case his aching heart had deceived him.

  A little louder, it came again. “Charley?”

  Drawing an audible breath, Charley braved turning and looking. “Yes, Addie?” He was about as scared as he’d ever been.

  “You—you always told me you weren’t a gentleman.”

  He didn’t trust himself to say anything more. Anyway, he didn’t know what to say. He only nodded.

  Addie sniffed again and Charley saw her grip her ruined handkerchief in white-knuckled fists.

  “You were right.”

  His heart, which had dared lift a fraction of an inch, fell again, landing a foot beneath the stone floor of the church.

  He was on the verge of turning and continuing his dismal journey out the door and alone into the world, when Addie’s voice came again.

  “Charley?”

  Lifting his head fractionally, Charley saw she’d wiped her cheeks again, this time cleaning away the streak she’d left before. It looked as though she’d almost stopped crying, for which he felt grateful. He saw her and Father Bernardo exchange a glance he didn’t understand. When she looked at him again, she seemed stronger, and Charley was glad.

  “I love you, too, Charley.”

  Her whisper shocked him senseless for a second. Then he felt sure he’d misunderstood.

  Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe she’d said she’d loved him. That would mean she used to love him, but didn’t anymore. Of course, that’s what she’d said. She couldn’t possibly love him now. It wouldn’t make sense for her to still love him. Not now that she knew what he’d done—tried to do—almost done.

  He stood as if struck from stone, having no idea how to respond; hell, he wasn’t even sure what she’d said. There was no possible way she could have said what he’d heard.

  Addie’s eyes narrowed. When she wiped them this time, there was more force behind the gesture. “Well?”

  Blinking, Charley opened his mouth. Nothing came out so he shut it again. Then he lifted his arms in a gesture of helplessness. They fell uselessly to his sides.