I'll See You In Your Dreams

by Miller, Tony

  “Sounds like good advice,” added Sam.

  “I guess that is my critique of Dr. Freud and his approach. It uses too many bully techniques like labeling certain behaviors as mental illness instead of as the result of being bullied. Also, trying to make the patient agree with a theory as though it were undisputable fact is exactly what most bullies do. So, Freud and his colleagues are just one more in a line of bullies, even if that isn’t their intention.”

  “It seems your father’s wisdom wasn’t lost on you.” Sam smiled.

  “Thank you, Sam.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  As Sam walked away from Freud’s office and the enlightening Elsie, he pondered his newfound information. He realized he had to expose Ludwig and break his web of deceit before the approaching deadline of Tillie’s rape and the succeeding events. Of course, it was impossible to tell exactly what might transpire because of the changes in the past.

  Sam looked out the window of the train to London. He knew he needed to contact Colton’s mother and solicit her and her husband, the Duke’s, help. He would need all the help he could elicit, to alter what would surely be a nasty fate for he and Colton, not to mention the fate of the citizens of Fresno. If Ludwig’s grand scheme played out there’d be far-reaching effects of a Rockefeller-Ludwig merger.

  Sam hoped that he had time to make the voyage by ship and train back to Fresno. He would possibly have to rely on the telegraph to somehow get enough credible evidence into the right hands to expose Ludwig and Paul’s plans. Sam’s own credibility was a major obstacle. A black man’s word would never hold against a white man’s. He needed the Duke, and perhaps his father, to use whatever power they had to get the truth into the right hands.

  Sam arrived at the train station and rented a hansom cab for the ride to the Goodwood House, home of the Duke and Hannah, Colton’s mother.

  After a long thought-filled ride, the hansom cab turned into the driveway. Sam was taken back by the beauty of the vast lawns and manicured grounds. The house was a magnificent regency mansion, set in beautiful wooded parkland, at the foot of the South Downs. It was built of flint, with copper topped round towers; it was an unusually striking house. The estate used to be the seat of the Dukes of Richmond, one of the Ducal houses to have been descended from the illegitimate children of King Charles II. The house was also purported to contain quite a fabulous art collection. Sam would soon find out.

  The hansom pulled up to the entry and its row of columns, reminding Sam of pictures he’d seen of the White House. The driver jumped down and moved around to open the door for Sam. A butler and two assistants stepped out onto the portico. “Mr. Novak, I presume?” the butler said crisply and bowed formally.

  “Might we take your things to your room?”

  As the butler’s two assistants disappeared down a walkway to the left with Sam’s luggage, the butler gestured for Sam to enter the front hall.

  As Sam entered the spacious hall he saw what he knew was Colton’s mother, Hannah, entering the hall at the other end as she pulled a leather glove from her hand. “Sam,” she said warmly, as she strode briskly across the hall. Her smile was radiant and Sam saw where Colton got his good looks.

  “You must be Hannah?” Sam answered as he extended his hand. Hannah ignored his hand and went into a bear hug instead.

  “I’ve heard so much about you in Colton’s letters, and I love you already,” she whispered into his ear. She stepped back from the hug while still holding Sam’s shoulders. She warmly gazed into his eyes as she continued. “It could only be providence that Colton met you. I can’t begin to tell you how relieved I was to hear that he found a mentor of such experience and integrity. A mother must always worry for the safety of an offspring, no matter what age they reach.”

  Sam was almost overwhelmed at her beauty and warmth as he tried to hold her gaze. She wasn’t yet forty-years-old, and the few lines in her face only added to her overwhelming presence. Sam’s voice broke slightly as he replied, “it is providence indeed, but it is I who benefits from the kindness of the man above. Colton has been a godsend, and at this moment it is as though I look into the face of the angel that created him.”

  “Oh my, Sam, you make a girl blush.” Her hands slid from his shoulders to his hands as she leaned back, and her eyes sparkled with excitement as she said, “come, I can’t wait to show you around the Goodwood Estate.”

  After leading Sam through the palatial rooms of the magnificent mansion, she led him excitedly outside to a wooded lane with a marker identifying it as Kennel Hill. “This, Sam, is my favorite place on earth. Well, it leads to my favorite place, and I love the daily walks up and down this lane.”

  “Where does it lead?” Sam inquired.

  “To heaven.” She barked a spry laugh.

  Sam smiled with curiosity.

  “Just be patient, and you will soon hear angels.” She beamed in anticipation.

  Sam listened. His ears perked up as he heard it. It was the neighs of horses.

  “See, the angels trumpet for us!” She laughed again. Soon there were many horses neighing as Hannah and Sam rounded a corner past a stand of trees into a breathtaking view of a horse racing track with a square rock barn standing in the center. It had two tiers of viewing areas for spectators. The surrounding grounds were impeccable. Several horses suddenly danced excitedly at the rail of their corral. Their attention was riveted on Hannah.

  “Seems like they know you,” Sam teased.

  “Hi, babies!” Hannah cooed at them.

  She walked to the rail and began to rub noses and pat necks. They snorted and bounced their heads in excitement.

  “Can I show off for you, Sam?”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  Hannah climbed to the top of the rail fence. Sam was taken aback as Hannah had on what appeared to be a long skirt. She whistled and the horses fought for position next to the fence. Hannah skillfully leaped onto a glistening stallion’s back and was quickly racing around the corral. Her skirt, it seemed, was disguised pants.

  “Look, Sam, no hands.” She tore by with her hands raised and her upper half steady. Her knees gripped and her lower half became like the springs on a carriage, absorbing the movement. She was poised and in control. She galloped up and brought the stallion to a sudden dust-filled stop at the rail. In one swift move she jumped to her feet atop the horse and hopped to the rail and down to the ground.

  “Please forgive my impetuousness, Sam. Your visit and the thought of my son have put me in an incredibly good mood. I can hardly contain myself.”

  “Don’t be silly. There is nothing to forgive. Praise, perhaps, would be more the order of the day. Hannah, I see why Colton loves you so much.”

  “Trying to make me blush again?” Hannah asked.

  “Well, you started it, climbing up that fence in what I thought was a skirt.” He laughed.

  “How do you like it?” She curtsied. “I had it made. It looks like a skirt, so I seem proper when the bluebloods are looking. When they’re not, I can ride horses like they are supposed to be ridden, not side saddle, which is so silly, and the redingote isn’t practical.”

  “Redingote?” Sam said in puzzlement.

  “That’s a long coat we womenfolk are supposed to wear.” She chuckled as she mocked the phrase. Hannah looked up, shaded her eyes with her hand, and looked to the distance. “The Duke is approaching our driveway, perfect timing. Come on, Sam, let’s go meet the Dukie poo.” She laughed heartily.

  Once again Hannah timed it perfectly and entered the front hall from the back, with Sam in tow, just as the Duke made his entrance at the front.

  “Look Henry.” She mocked his accent. “I’ve caught an intruder trying to steal my horses.”

  Hannah pulled Sam across the room, and the Duke extended his hand.

  “You must be the famous intruder, Sam Novak?” The Duke smiled broadly.

  “It is I, your highness.” Sam bowed to add his bit to the charade.

&n
bsp; “Please, no formalities at Goodwood, lest I have you tortured by the dungeon keeper who grips your hand.” the Duke teasingly responded.

  Hannah gave the Duke an evil look.

  Sam turned to Hannah, “On what charges will you torture me? I gladly will serve my time!”

  “That could be a long time, Sam. The tall thief here,” maintaining the evil stare as she nodded to the Duke, “got a life sentence.”

  “What did he steal?” Sam asked cautiously.

  “My heart.”

  They all laughed, and the Duke gestured toward a doorway to the right of the entrance. “Let’s step into the drawing room, and we will chat and enjoy some refreshments while you recover from your first torture session. It gets more severe. You will need the strength,” he said somberly, but smiling broadly.

  The servants bustled about, pouring tea and placing thin cucumber and egg sandwiches on a bed of lettuce, as well as an assortment of pastries, jams, and cheeses. Mid-afternoon approached, and Sam was starving.

  As they all dug in, Hannah broke the silence. “I can stand it no longer, Sam. Colton’s telegram said you were his friend and partner, and that we were to do all we can to assist you, as it was a problem of paramount importance. I can tell you, I haven’t slept well thinking of all the possibilities of that statement. We will do anything to help!” Hannah’s furrowed brow and her serious demeanor portrayed the anguish within at the thought of her son’s unknown predicament.

  Sam recounted the situation just as he did with his own father. He even related his father’s assessment. After an hour the story was out. The remains of the light afternoon tea were removed. Sam could see the Duke was calculating and turning over in his mind the factors involved.

  Finally he spoke. “I agree with your father’s assessment. He’s a wise man. I, too, will use my connections to help. Rockefeller will be a formidable force. He has certainly disproved the old saw, crime doesn’t pay, and that will be to the detriment of the rest of us. It’s sad at just how much influence his money and philanthropies will have on the decline of western civilization.”

  “The decline of western civilization?” Sam asked.

  “Oh, yes, just like we English have done to China with opium. Drugs are an effective control factor for the population and a great source of income. It is a government’s dream, be good or we take away your drugs.”

  “It doesn’t seem so effective if only a small proportion of the society takes drugs,” Sam rejoined.

  “True Sam, and that’s why I say the impending decline of western civilization. Rockefeller knows well the power his father William had over the poor cretins foolish enough to believe his slick snake oil mantras. They hung on every word and were completely convinced they must have his elixirs or they would surely perish. Thanks to the opium he added to the sugar water.”

  “But, Henry, surely most of the population wouldn’t buy into the snake oil pitch?”

  “Only because the more intelligent majority is proficient in herbs and natural solutions. We found that out in China. Chinese medicine was the biggest obstacle to opium sales. Take away that option and they’re hooked. If I were Rockefeller, I’d view cures and other solutions as the major barrier to untold wealth and total population control. The collar being gently placed around an unsuspecting public’s neck, are drugs.”

  “My god, if this is true and you do seem to hold the same views as my father, why haven’t you or my father or anyone in authority done something to stop it?”

  “For the same reason the local constables couldn’t stop Rockefeller’s father, the famous Dr. Livingston. The pitch was so convincing and the demeanor so perfected that the constable would be in danger to attempt an exposé. It took reinforcements and careful and accurate documentation to even get to the point of revealing the deception. So, few will oppose John D. as he’s buying up newspapers and will soon control the public view. He is the richest man in the world and has organized most of his other wealthy cohorts, so it’s a foregone conclusion that his gold will rewrite the golden rule. He is certainly the god of the rich.”

  The Duke’s demeanor was one of a man forced to deliver bad news. He kept a stiff upper lip, as a good Englishman should, but his own displeasure seeped through.

  “Henry, you are rich, and he wouldn’t be able to control you, and surely other wealthy individuals would not allow themselves to be controlled like some lackey. But the rest of society is of course at their mercy.”

  “I, or other wealthy people, have no choice but to abide by the dictates of those who manage to corral the public into its point of view. That’s the advantage of snake oil salesmen. They have perfected the pitch. Honest people foolishly try the truth, but frankly the public would find it boring by comparison.

  “Rockefeller leaves no stone unturned. He lives an exemplary life. He attends church and donates generously. He gives to charity and has an almost puritanical public image. He does all this just to hide his insatiable appetite for money and social control.

  “All of us who know him, or have dealt with him, know that he lacks even a modicum of conscience. He will literally lie, cheat, or steal as long as he has lawyers to assure he’s never challenged and, trust me; no one can survive the politicians, judges, and other officials he controls.”

  “It seems hopeless.” Sam sighed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Colton lightly rapped his knuckle on the front door. He waited patiently for Anne to answer. Soon, the door opened softly. “Your carriage is ready, madam,” Colton said quietly.

  “Thank you, Colton.” She stepped out onto the porch and gingerly closed the door behind her. She smiled at Colton as she slowly stepped off the porch and walked beside him to the nearby carriage. Colton gently took Anne’s arm and helped her up and into the carriage.

  Colton walked around the carriage and swung up and into the driver’s seat. “Downtown please.” She smiled at the thought of ordering Colton.

  Colton popped the reigns, causing the horses to start with a jerk. Anne’s hat brim flipped up, and she had to catch her hat. Colton laughed.

  “Yes, boss lady,” he teased.

  “You have a cute butt for a driver,” Anne said slyly.

  “Thank you, boss. I hope to ‘work under you’ for some time to come.” Colton said grinning.

  “Well then, take me to ER Higgins, the photographer friend of Sam’s. I need a picture of you.”

  As they left the ER Higgins studio with Colton’s picture, Anne turned to Colton. “Now, when the time is right, I’ll have this picture to give to the newspaper, announcing our engagement, then our marriage.” She smiled brightly at Colton.

  “And at the birth of each of our ten children you can look at the picture to see who’s the most likely father,” Colton teased.

  “Ten children!” She feigned fright. “That means we would have to do the, uh, nasty thing at least ten times?” she asked mockingly as she gave him a sideways glance.

  “I was hoping for ten times, just today!” he rejoined.

  “Silly boy, not until we’re married.”

  “There’s a justice of the peace only blocks from here,” Colton replied as he approached the carriage.

  “Silly and impetuous!”

  Colton took her arm and helped her up into the carriage. He snuck a glance at her butt.

  “Stop looking at my derriere, you bad boy, Mr. Impetuous,” Anne teased without looking around.

  “Oh, you have eyes in the back of your head, hmmm.”

  “Yes, and don’t forget it!”

  “I believe you started it. You looked at my butt first!”

  “Okay, we’re even. Let’s change the subject.”

  “Buuuutt why?” Colton grinned.

  “It’s not ladylike to discuss derrieres in mixed company, so we should end it!”

  “Is that hind end of it?” Colton added.

  Anne laughed out loud.

  “What am I in for if I marry you? Don’t answer that. S
hush, let’s take a ride to Roeding Park.”

  “Roeding Park?”

  “Well, not a real park yet, but a wealthy member of the German syndicate, a Mr. Frederick Roeding, has donated seventy acres for a park. I love to watch the construction. Frederick’s son George is a much respected nurseryman and is overseeing the plantings. I chat with him often, and he gives me delightful ideas for our own house. There’ll be a lake at the park and boat rides and many other wonderful attractions. I’d love to go there.”

  “Then Roeding Park it is. I remember it well from, umm, another time.”

  Anne’s eyes widened. “Oh, that’s right. How did it come out?”

  “Beautifully, but, compared to today with you adorning it, it pales.” Colton smiled.

  “Oh, stop it, you silver-tongued devil. You are just trying to weaken my defenses to take advantage of me!” She laughed.

  “Not only beautiful, but psychic as well.” Colton chuckled.

  Anne snuck glances at Colton as he guided the horses along the sometimes bumpy road to the park. He talked to them gently as they rode.

  Finally they arrived at the park, and Colton expertly maneuvered the carriage to the side of the road, near a grassy area. They could see a beehive of activity farther into the park as construction workers turned a dream into a reality.

  There was a moment of silence as Colton turned to Anne. Time seemed to stop. Colton looked deeply into Anne’s hazel eyes. Anne also seemed to melt into Colton’s universe that transcended the physical universe.

  “I love you, Colton, so much it hurts.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. Colton leaned to her and slowly and softly touched his lips to hers. He could taste the salt of her tears, which seemed the nectar of love itself. Her full lips were soft and warm as he lightly kissed them. Anne closed her eyes and seemed to drift into a magical dream. In her dream she was unable to move or open her eyes. She was only aware of Colton holding her hand and talking to her softly. In her dream she fought desperately to escape the dream and yet she feared the reality, for it may not contain Colton.