Surrender A Dream

by Jill Barnett

  "Pssssssst!"

  She sounds like the old steam boiler in the basement. Addie squelched a grin and turned around slowly. Hilary's dimpled hands gripped the scrolled edge of the mahogany issue desk. Her buxom torso obliterated a large portion of the counter as she leaned over it. Addie glanced at her face. It was so strained with her effort to fuel her next pssst that it was deep purple, like one of those newfangled red onions.

  Addie pointed to her own chest, her face the picture of innocence, and mouthed the word, "Me?"

  Hilary's onion head bobbed up and down in agitation.

  Addie widened her eyes and blinked.

  One queenly arm, encased in green taffeta ruffles, waved her over. The abundance of green flounces on Hilary's arm continued to ruffle, like a tossed salad. The action made the black fringe of her shoulder epaulets sway as if windblown.

  They probably were windblown, Addie thought. All that hot air had to go somewhere; it probably came out her ears. Addie sauntered over to the desk. "Did you need me, Hilary?"

  "I swear, Adelaide, you must be deaf!" Hilary straightened and shoved her wide belt back into its proper place, crowning her royal-sized hips. "What do you expect me to do, shout? You know the rules about quiet."

  "What do you want?" Addie couldn't hide her perturbed tone.

  "Just a minute." Hilary started to rummage through a stack of paperwork that sat on her desk. "I found something that belongs to you."

  Now what?

  "Ah! Here it is!" Hilary held up a tea-stained envelope. She handed it to Addie. "I hope it's not bad news," she added in a honeyed tone so false that it rang warning bells in Addie's head.

  It was a telegram, which had obviously seen some wear. She turned it over. The flap had been opened and badly resealed. She looked up at Hilary, whose round face couldn't hide her wicked glee. It was all Addie could do not to slap her silly. Instead, her voice cloaked in ice, she said, "Thank you," and turned. With her head held high, she walked away. Almost immediately she heard the thunder of Hilary's feet, scrambling to catch up with her.

  "Wait! Aren't you going to open it?" Hilary huffed along, right behind Addie, who turned and marched toward the ladies' necessarium. She flung open the door and spun around just in time to slam it, hard, in Hilary Dappleton's Cheshire-cat face.

  She looked for a place to sit, other than the obvious one, and spied her stool, sitting in a corner of the pink-tiled room. She walked past the pedestal sink and sat down. The envelope flap was half open and she ripped it the rest of the way. Unfolding the telegram, Addie stared at the date: March 20. The telegram was over a month old.

  That witch! She'd bet that Hilary had kept the cablegram on purpose, just to be mean. Then Addie read the message and knew how really mean the other girl was. Both Aunt Emily and her husband were dead, killed in a freak accident. A flash flood had swept down the road and overturned their buggy. Both had drowned.

  Oh God, now I really am alone. Addie sagged back against the wall and stared at the rest of the message. She was the only relation. The farm was hers.

  She took a deep breath and tried to control the tight ache in her chest. For the second time this year, and for the third time in her short life, Addie had to accept death. It hurt. The accident that killed her father had happened so long ago that the grief had lessened with time. Her mother's passing was painful, but since she had been an invalid for so long, bedridden and crippled, Addie had worked through the loss by justifying it as an end to her mother's suffering. And it had been expected.

  This wasn't. Her mother's sister was special to Addie, and though she hadn't seen Emily for almost eight years, they had always written. Her mother could never understand her own sister's wanderlust. Marrying at almost thirty-five and then taking off for some godawful place in the wilds of California. But Addie had always envied her aunt's gumption. Her vivid descriptions of the farm, the town, and the people, had always made Addie laugh. And the space. When Aunt Emily wrote of the openness of the land, Addie's dreams began.

  She read on. The telegram was sent by a lawyer named Levi Hamilton, and he requested that she contact him as soon as possible regarding the disposition of the farm.

  A sudden pounding rattled the door, followed by a "Psssst!"

  "Yes, Hilary?"

  "Are you going to stay in there all day? You have no right to hog the room, Adelaide!"

  Addie stood up, put the message in her pocket, and went over to the sink. She washed the grief from her face and walked back to the door. She flung it open and looked the woman in her squinty eyes. She wanted to tell her off, but common sense told her that nothing she could say would do any good. So, she walked right past her, heading over to clean up the card catalog, again.

  Two hours later she was just finishing with the D's when she felt Hilary walk toward her. Addie didn't look up.

  "Aren't you finished yet?"

  "No."

  "Well… ?" Hilary's foot drummed on the wooden floor.

  Addie sighed and looked up. "Well what?"

  "Are you going?"

  Going where? Addie thought. Then it dawned on her. Hilary wanted to know if she was going to California. Addie took a deep breath and ran her tongue over her teeth before she replied, "Do you find other people's mail more interesting than your own, Hilary?"

  The witch smiled. "I've been thinking, Adelaide. A farm would be a good place for you, working in all that dirt. It would suit you…'' Hilary examined her nails. "And you wouldn't have to be able to spell." She gave the card drawers a pointed look. "Make sure those are all in the right order. I hate it when the cards are misfiled." With that five-pounder of an order, Hilary rumbled away.

  "A farm would be a good place for you," Addie mimicked under her breath. All that dirt, humph! After working with Hilary, farming should be a breeze. Hilary had sure flung enough dirt at her lately.

  Setting her elbows on the desktop, she rested her chin on her hands. Could she do it? Work a farm alone? She did have some money, so she could hire help. There were plenty of books on agriculture and farm life. She'd read enough of them.

  Books had always been a source of learning for her, so why not learn farming? God knows she didn't want to stay here. There certainly was nothing left for her in Chicago. And she had no future here at the library. Working with Hilary had dampened any enthusiasm she'd had for her profession. This was a chance for a whole new life. She might never get an opportunity like this again. It wouldn't be easy… But her aunt had done it, and so could she. In fact, that's exactly what she would do. But first…

  Addie looked over at Hilary, who was lording over the issue desk. So you hate misfiled cards? She grabbed a stack of cards from the D drawer and another from the R's. With the dexterity of a riverboat gambler, she shuffled the catalog cards. For the last fifteen minutes of the library's operating hours, Addie went, at random, from card drawer to card drawer, shuffling Hilary's beloved catalog cards. The library closed and Addie grabbed her belongings. With the happiest smile she'd worn in months, she walked past Hilary's throne.

  Hilary glanced up, her face in one of its pouts—the one that made her look as if she'd been sucking on pickles. "You're not leaving? There's still too much work to do."

  "Yes, I am leaving. For good."

  Hilary smiled in triumph.

  Addie glanced at the card files and smiled back. "Goodbye, Hilary." Then she walked out the door.

  Chapter 2

  Heat from the midday sun beat down. Above the bleached pine planks of the station platform, the hot air waved. A white cloud of steam spit from beneath the train and was swallowed by the thirsty air. The conductor slammed open the door and a load of passengers debarked. Soon the platform filled with train travelers, all anxious to get about their business. Addie grabbed her hat and stepped off the train.

  A man walked past her, carrying a white, handwritten sign that said:

  HOTEL HAMILTON

  BLEEDING HEART'S BEST!

  ONLY TWO DOLLARS A NITE,
WITH BREAKFAST.

  Next to Addie a child cried, its overeager grandparent hugging it too tight. A couple of buggies for hire were tied to an iron hitching post that stood at the platform's north end. But no one approached Addie.

  Stepping up to the ticket cage, she looked through the bars, searching for a clock. She spied one on the back wall and it read: 2:25. The train had arrived early, by five minutes. Addie smiled. This must be California. Nothing was ever early in Chicago.

  The lawyer, Mr. Hamilton, was to meet her train, but no one was left on the platform, except the stationmaster, who was deep in conversation with a couple of men. Addie sat down on a shaded bench and waited.

  A loud thud rumbled from the south side of the platform. Addie peered around the roof support beam. Another bang echoed from the baggage car, and a second later a large suitcase catapulted from the open doors. A volley of valises clunked onto the plank platform, landing by two boxes with their bands broken. A myriad of clothing spilled from the open boxes. Whoever was in that baggage car had all the finesse of a stable mucker. Addie watched in horror as one of her trunks was shoved to the car edge. It teetered for a long moment and then crashed to the platform.

  Oh, my God! she thought. My bicycle's in there! Addie shot to her feet and marched to the baggage door. "Hello!"

  A grunt sounded from the dark corner of the car.

  "Yoo-hoo! Hello, I said!" She leaned farther into the dark car. A scraping noise grated from within, and the back end of a baggage man appeared from the recesses of the car. He tugged, with what looked like an immense effort, on another large trunk. As he hauled it into the light, Addie could see the markings blazoned on the side. It was her brand new Crystal Gibson barrel trunk. The one that held all her farming books.

  "Oh sir! That's mine." Addie raised her gloved hand, waving a pointed finger at the trunk.

  The man placed his hand on his lower back and creaked upright. He turned and, from under his bushy, white brows, stared at her. His face was weathered by sun and age and his chin and cheeks were completely obliterated by a full white beard. He had a barrel chest that was covered in red plaid flannel, and a big fat stub of a cigar hung from his mouth. If he'd had a jolly hat, he'd have looked like Santa Claus.

  He rolled the cigar to the side of his mouth. "Ya say this here thing is yers?"

  Addie nodded.

  "Whatcha got in here, lady, anvils?"

  She frowned. "No. It's filled with books."

  "Books?" He sat on the trunk. "I ain't got no use fer them things."

  "Well, I do." She raised her small chin a notch.

  "Waste a time, I say." He pulled a match from his shirt pocket and struck it on her new trunk. Puffing on his tobacco stub, he asked, "Whatcha gonna do wit'em?"

  Addie watched him inhale a mouthful of the smoke and then she smiled proudly. "Learn to farm."

  The man convulsed in a fit of hacking coughs. He finally got his breath and looked at her as if she were standing there naked, and with two heads. "Jesus H. Christ! Not another one. Damn fool easterners ain't got 'nough sense to spit downwind!"

  So much for Santa Claus. Addie's smile faded. She wondered briefly if maybe her plans were ridiculous. She had wired the lawyer of her decision, and his response hadn't been the least bit discouraging. This old geezer sure made his opinion clear. He thought she couldn't do it. Well, she could, and she'd make sure he was one of the first people to see it. But for now she changed the subject. "Sir, there should be a bicycle in there somewhere. Would you please find it for me?"

  He gave her a long, crusty look before he moseyed back into the depths of the car. She heard a loud crunch and a string of curses that could sizzle bacon.

  She cringed. "Yoo-hoo, sir? Please be careful. I need that bicycle."

  She heard some more grousing and then he appeared, rolling her bike toward the door. His look had changed. It was even more stunned.

  "What in the Sam Hell are ya goin' ta do with this here contraption?"

  "Ride it."

  He leaned back, looked her up and down, and then eyed her bicycle. "Now that I'd like ta see."

  Addie sighed, looking for patience. "You probably will. Now please put it down here… gently!"

  His forehead wrinkled into even more of a frown. "Why?"

  "Because I wanted to make sure it doesn't end up like these." She pointed at the broken bandboxes and the clothes strewn around them.

  He glanced at the clothing and shrugged. "That's not what I meant. Why are ya gonna ride this here thing? A horse is a helluva lot easier, 'specially on them there dirt 'n' gravel roads." He nodded toward the dusty road that intersected the north end of the train station.

  Addie swallowed hard. "I don't like horses."

  "Uh-huh…'' He nodded. "But yer gonna learn ta farm, right?"

  She'd had it with this meddling old coot. "Look, Mr.…''

  "Custus…'' He doffed an imaginary hat. "Custus McGee."

  Custus? His mother must have been a prophet. "Well, Mr. McGee, I don't see how my plans are any of your business. Now if you—''

  "I make ever'thin' my biznuss, missy. Ain't much gits past ol' Custus." He rolled the bike over and put it down next to Addie, mumbling something that sounded like "damn fool female." Then he disappeared once again into the car, and before she could blink, two more bandboxes bounced across the station deck. Addie rolled out of the line of fire.

  The stationmaster stood by the gate to the baggage room, and Addie turned her bicycle over to him and made arrangements to have her belongings held until she finished with her aunt's lawyer. After getting directions to the law office, she made her way through the small town of Bleeding Heart.

  By the time she arrived at the yellow clapboard building that housed the office of Levi Hamilton, Esq., Addie was absolutely sure that moving here was the right decision. Unlike that coot Custus, the rest of the townspeople appeared so friendly. Five people had wished her a good day as she passed them on the narrow plank sidewalk. Five people! The only people who greeted her in Chicago were drunks or pickpockets, both with ulterior motives. She was sure going to enjoy this small-town life.

  Addie opened the office door and stepped inside. A lone desk sat in the middle of the small room. It was stacked high with ledgers and papers, and a dusty Remington Rand typewriter sat at a cockeyed angle. Tangled across its keys were the unraveled remains of three ribbons, and the spools hung like pendulums over the backside of the desk.

  Although the room was empty, a door beyond the desk stood open just a crack. As Addie neared the door she could hear voices coming from the back room. It sounded like some sort of argument. She hesitated and then took a deep breath while knocking on the frosted glass of the door.

  The voices stopped and a moment later the door flew open. A small man with thinning brown hair and a red face stared at Addie. His gaze shot to a regulator clock on the back wall and he groaned. "Miss Pinkney?"

  Addie nodded. "You're Mr. Hamilton?"

  "Yes, yes, and I'm so sorry! I forgot all about the train. Please, please come inside." He stood back so she could enter the room.

  Inside, there were two other men. Both of them turned and stared at her. One of them, a gentleman, stood up almost immediately, but the other man continued to look right at her, gauging her. He had deep, bay-brown, curly hair that hung over his collar and shoulders and looked as if it hadn't seen a pair of scissors in months. His square jaw was dark with thick beard-stubble, and his upper lip was hidden by a thick, light brown mustache that was just as scruffy as his hair. His skin was tanned and his cheekbones high, a face that seemed to be all sharp angles. But his eyes were what froze Addie's steps. They actually looked yellow, timber-wolf yellow, and just as raw.

  Slowly he stood, and as he did, Addie's head went up, higher and higher, until she could feel the knot of her hair rest against her own shirt collar. Her knees locked. Suddenly she had the same sensation she'd had when riding Mr. Ferris's giant wheel. The dizzy feeling swelled, and she lo
oked away, hoping to dispel it.

  "Please sit here." The other man smiled and gestured to his chair.

  "Thank you." Addie returned his smile and sat down. He had dark hair. His brown eyes were kind. They had crinkle lines in the corners. That and his smile convinced her that this man was more… civilized.

  Mr. Hamilton scurried around his desk. He seemed high-strung, nervous. He glanced at them, rubbing his forehead with his fingers as if the gesture would help him find his lost words. When he dropped his hand, his forehead was covered with ink smudges.

  Addie smiled. He looked at the black ink stains on his fingers, flushed, and pulled out a handkerchief. He swiped at his fingers and then took a deep breath.

  "M-Miss Pinkney, this is Mr. Parker…'' He gestured to the civilized man, who gave her another smile. "And this is Mr. Creed."

  Addie turned her head toward the tall one, the carnivore. She looked at his shirt button, gave a quick nod and turned back around. It was the best she could do.

  The room was absolutely silent. She gnawed at her lower lip. Then it dawned on her that she must be barging in on some kind of meeting. "Mr. Hamilton…'' Addie started to rise. "I don't want to intrude on your meeting. If you'll—''

  "No wait!" Hamilton shot out of his chair. "You can't leave!"

  Startled, Addie plopped back down.

  "These men are here for you."

  "Me?" she said, unable to keep the squeak out of her voice.

  "N-No. I mean, because of your aunt and uncle." Levi Hamilton ran a hand over his balding head. The smudges smeared. He shook his head in exasperation. "I'm making a muddle of this. Miss Pinkney, Mr. Creed, would you excuse us, please? I'd like to meet with Mr. Parker outside for a moment."

  The two men left, and Addie realized she'd be left alone with the man called Creed. "But—'' As the word slipped past her lips, the office door closed. She sagged back in the chair and kept her eyes straight ahead.

  The room was so quiet. She waited, playing with the little pearl buttons on her gloves. He said nothing.