Surrender A Dream

by Jill Barnett

  She ran out of the room and into her bedroom, where she dressed and raced back out. When she got to the porch, Custus waited in the wagon, but Montana and the men were gone.

  She jumped into the wagon. "Where are they?"

  "I sent them on. I'm gonna take ya there, then I'll see if I can catch that Parker fella afore he leaves fer Sacramenta." Custus slapped the reins, and the wagon and team sped toward town, Addie praying that it was all a bad dream.

  It wasn't a nightmare, but everything she'd been told in the last two hours was.

  She sat in a smelly little room in the Bleeding Heart jail—the building whose roof had looked like it was sinking toward the ground. It was dark inside and the floors were covered with dust and mud and what smelled like cattle dung. And she was in a waiting room; she could imagine what the cell that held Montana was like.

  In this horrid little room she had finally found out about Montana's past, but he hadn't done the telling. The marshal told her of some incident almost fifteen years before. It was something called the Mussel Slough Tragedy. When he'd said the name, her stomach took a deep dive. She remembered Will referring to it the night before, and the tie-in made them look all that much more guilty.

  Then she heard about the killings, and that the incident happened on Montana's family's place. She heard how his father and Will's had been shot and their land confiscated. Then she heard about all the train robberies that started late last year. With the telling of each incident, her hopes for her husband died more and more.

  But Lord, it was all so awful she didn't blame him. Addie understood hatred, and fear. She hated horses because of what they had done to her parents, and that had been an accident. But the railroad had killed Montana's father, shot him in cold blood and gotten away with it. It was no wonder he hated them. Just hearing of the injustice of the whole thing made her feel the same way.

  About halfway through the story, Custus had entered with Levi. Wade had already left for the capital. Shortly after that, two of the railroad agents came in and stood in back watching her. The mouthy leader from the night before was there. Up close he had little beady eyes and pockmarked cheeks. He was short and pudgy and his rabid, vengeful look made her skin crawl.

  Now they all listened to the marshal, who seemed to be the fairest man there. "Will Murdoch and your husband, Montana Creed, both fit the description of the robbers. Along with the fact that they had motive from their families' involvement in the Mussel Slough incident, it's enough to have them charged and tried for the crimes." He paused a moment, then began to question her. "How long have you been married, Mrs. Creed?"

  "Five months."

  He thumbed through some papers. "You were married on…''

  "May fourteenth."

  "What were the dates of the robberies?" Levi asked.

  The marshal checked a paper and read them off. Addie tried to remember back to see if any of the dates could have been wrong, but she was so shaken, she couldn't place any time or date. The latest robbery kept running through her mind. It was the night that Montana had stormed out and hadn't come home until late morning. Will had been gone too. There were earlier robberies, ones since they'd both been on the farm, but Montana had been gone a lot at first. He was always riding in and out, and she had tried to avoid him so much at first that she hadn't paid any attention to the length of his disappearances. Now she knew why he'd told her so little, why he'd been so evasive. And now she knew where his money came from and why he'd always used gold coin. Oh God, but after what she'd learned today she didn't blame him.

  The marshal finished listing the dates and turned to Addie. "Can you tell us of your husband's whereabouts on any of these dates, Mrs. Creed?"

  She paused and took a deep breath. "My husband cannot be guilty, Marshal. The night of the last robbery he was with me the entire night." Addie looked straight at the marshal, then she looked at her lawyer. Levi's mouth broke into an approving smile.

  "She's lying!" The railroad agent glared at her.

  The marshal scrutinized her for a moment, then he asked, "What about any of these other dates?"

  She looked at Levi. He gave her a slight nod, so she turned the paper so she could pretend to go over it. All the other dates were before they had married.

  "Get Mr. Creed and bring him in here," the marshal ordered one of his men.

  A moment later Montana stood across from Addie, handcuffed. He looked at her, but she couldn't read anything in his eyes, except maybe a bit of forced pride. She wondered if the pride was there because of what he had done, or to cover up the humiliation of her seeing him like this.

  "I understand you arrived from Chicago last April?" the marshal questioned her.

  "That's right."

  "There was a robbery on April eighteenth." The man awaited her response.

  "He was with me." She didn't even blink.

  "Uh, Mrs. Creed. I've been told about the circumstances at your farm. I understand that both of you were occupying the property, but how could you be sure he was there?"

  She looked at Montana. Now he was glaring at her, but she didn't care. She loved him, and by God she would lie to save him. "He was in my bed, Marshal. I think I'd have been able to tell if he had left it."

  There was a cough of embarrassment, but she didn't give a fig. She glanced at Montana's hands, cuffed together. His knuckles, even the bruised ones, were white.

  She turned to the marshal and smiled, as innocently as she possibly could.

  "Unlock the handcuffs, Ned."

  "You can't let him go! She's lying to protect him!" The agent argued with the marshal.

  "My client knows she has to speak the truth here. Can you prove he's the robber, or that she's lying?" Levi said.

  The agent didn't say a word. He turned fuming red.

  They released Montana, and Addie asked, "What about Will?"

  "Was he in your bed too?" the railroad agent sneered.

  Montana jumped at him, but the deputy held him back. Levi helped Addie up and put her arm through his. "I'll take care of Will. Just get Montana out of here." He patted her arm as he led her outside. "You did fine, don't worry," he told her.

  She turned around and saw exactly why she should worry. Montana was livid.

  "I don't understand why you're so angry." Addie looked at her husband. He stared straight ahead, his face taut, but there was an angry twitch in his cheek.

  "You're not going to say a word, are you?" she asked, still watching his cheek twitch. Then his hands tightened on the reins so hard that one fist began to shake. She didn't think he had a right to act all angry with her, especially since she'd gotten him out of jail. "I'd think you could at least say thank you."

  Very slowly he turned his head. He seethed at her for a few more moments, which did no good because she just stared back, then he said, "Shut… up. ''

  "Fine," she said in a witchy tone, throwing her shoulders back and staring straight ahead. She could be angry too. Not a minute passed before she spoke again. The words were just itching to get past her mouth. "I saved your life and you tell me to shut up. Nice, real nice."

  He swore. That word did shut her up.

  Ten minutes of brooding silence passed before he turned the wagon onto the gravel drive. He didn't stop in front of the farmhouse like Addie thought he would. He pulled the wagon over in the shade of the barn.

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  He jumped down from the wagon and turned. "Get down."

  She scooted over to his side of the wagon. Her side was blocked by the wall of the barn. His hands grabbed her waist and he pulled her off the wagon and set her on the ground so hard her teeth rang. "Get inside."

  She looked up at him. He'd never ordered her around like that. "Excuse me?" she said, letting him know she didn't like it one bit.

  "Get inside," he repeated through a jaw so tight the words almost vibrated.

  Her nose shot up. "No."

  The next thing she knew, she was flung over
his shoulder, staring at his broad back while he stormed toward the farmhouse. "Put me down!"

  He walked up the stairs, and she was sure he purposely jarred her, then he went through the house and into the bedroom. He dumped her on the bed and turned to walk out of the room.

  "You bully!" she screamed, wanting a fight.

  He stopped at the doorway. "I might be a bully, Addie, but I'm not a train robber." And with that he walked out.

  She'd had an hour to mull her mistake over in her mind. At first, when Montana had left the room, she'd lain on the bed, stunned. He'd told her he was innocent. Guilt flooded through her. She hadn't believed in him, her own husband and the man she loved.

  But the more she thought about the situation, chewing herself out, the more she realized that she really couldn't take all the blame on her small shoulders. If he hadn't been so close-mouthed and secretive about his past and all, she wouldn't have had reason to suspect him. So for the last fifteen minutes she had thought of all the reasons why her actions were perfectly justified, considering.

  And now she was dadgum mad!

  She stomped down the steps and headed for the barn. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the barn's darkness. She could hear him milking one of the cows, so she stepped around one of Custus's loose barn chickens and walked toward the cattle stanchions.

  A pail of milk sat to one side, and Montana sat on a stool milking the other cow, either Mabel or Maud, she couldn't tell which was which unless she was milking them. Then she could see that Mabel had a star-shaped group of freckles on her udder.

  Addie stood at the end of the stall. The only sounds in the big barn were the occasional cackle and scratch of a chicken, the ring of milk against the tin pail and the creak of a wooden stanchion as the cow strained to get more hay.

  "It's your fault I lied," she informed him.

  He didn't say a word.

  "See," she said, pointing an accusing finger at him. "This is exactly why I thought you were guilty. You won't talk to me!"

  He finished milking and stood with the full pail. As he walked past her he said, "Because I don't talk I'm a train robber, right?"

  She scurried after him. "Yes," she said when he stopped and set the milk down next to the other pail. "If you weren't so secretive about everything, I wouldn't have thought you had something to hide!"

  He grabbed both pails and headed for the barn doors, with Addie marching right behind him.

  "Don't you walk away from me when I'm talking to you!" She grabbed the back of his waistband and belt with both hands and tried to stop him.

  He stopped for a second, then kept walking. She dug her heels into the dirt but it didn't stop him, he just kept right on walking and dragging her behind him across the barn. Her hands slipped and she fell backward, her fanny slamming on the hard dirt. She'd swear she heard a snort of laughter, and that really made her mad. He thought their marriage was a joke!

  A nest for one of the barn chickens sat a few feet away. There were two eggs in it. She crawled over and grabbed one; then, taking aim, she yelled, "Damn you, stop!" And she let loose with the egg.

  It hit him right in the back of the head.

  He stopped. Very slowly he turned, yellow egg yolk and broken shell dripping from his hair.

  Addie still knelt by the nest. "Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you," she said, much less forcefully than before. Then she added quietly, "I don't like it."

  She took her eyes off him for a second so she could get up, and never saw him move until it was too late.

  He dumped a full pail of warm milk right on her head.

  She screamed, then swiped the milk-soaked hair out of her eyes. By then Montana stood by the barn door, one pail still in his hand. "I'll talk to you when I damn well feel like it, and not until then. A man doesn't feel like talking when he realizes the woman he loves doesn't trust him." He left the barn.

  The woman he loves?

  He was in the kitchen before she caught him. He had set the milk down by the door and turned just as Addie raced through the kitchen door, dripping milk everywhere. "You love me?" she squeaked.

  "Of course I love you," he told her in a tone that said she should have known it.

  "You never told me."

  "Jesus Christ, Addie, I married you, didn't I?" He still looked angry.

  "All you ever said was 'I care,' not 'I love you'!" She planted her hands on her hips again. "See, that just proves I'm right. You never tell me anything."

  "God, why do I feel like that hawk, with some pesky little thing pecking at me?" He rolled his eyes heavenward.

  "Well, you don't tell me things." She marched toward him, her shoes making a loud squishing noise. She stopped directly in front of him, dripping. "Put yourself in my place. I don't know where you came from, how you got your money. You always paid for everything with gold or silver coin. You hate the railroad, but I don't know why, and you were gone with no explanation the night the train was robbed. Now what would you think?"

  He stood there, quietly thoughtful. Then he gave a quick snort of laughter, as if now he understood. "I guess I would have thought the same thing," he admitted. Then he opened his arms and she was there, holding him as tight as her small, damp arms could.

  She felt his chin rest atop her wet head. "I was so drunk when I left here that night, I fell off Jericho and slept by the side of the road. I woke up and was headed back here when I ran into Will."

  "You could have told me," she said.

  "We weren't speaking much, remember?"

  She nodded, wiping little beads of milk on his shirt.

  He continued, "I've lived all over California, working as a hired hand. I worked for some wheat-harvesting crews for a while and on a cattle spread near San Jose. My last job was near Tehachapi, baling hay. I always asked for my pay in gold because my pa didn't believe in bills. He got some bad paper money once when he was a kid and never forgot it.

  "I hate the railroad because of what they did to him. He was an honest man, Addie, and he worked damn hard. He lost everything. We weren't wealthy, but to Pa the land meant wealth. Those railroad men have so much, mansions all over the state, enough money to buy congressmen and judges and newspapers. They didn't need to sell our land too, just like they didn't need the profit from our wheat." His arms tightened around her.

  She moved against him. "I love you, Montana. I don't want anything to happen to you."

  "Nothing's going to happen, Addie." He picked her up by the waist and started to kiss her, but she pulled back. "Say it," she demanded.

  He smiled. "You are like that barn swallow, but I do love you."

  Then she kissed him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her fingers went instinctively to his hair.

  "Ugh…'' She pulled away and frowned at her hand. It was sticky with egg. She looked up at him. "Egg," she said.

  He looked down at his wet shirtfront. "Milk," he said.

  They laughed.

  "Do you care?" he asked her, looking at the egg on her hand.

  "No." She pointed to the milk stains. "Do you?"

  "No." And he carried her to the bedroom.

  Chapter 24

  The months passed quickly for Addie. Her marriage was all she had dreamed of, and more. Wade Parker had gotten Will Murdoch out of jail. The robberies had always been done by two men, and without Montana, they had no case against Will. Public sentiment toward the railroad had changed, even in San Francisco, where the railroad barons had always had influence. The railroad was no longer viewed as the golden link between east and west. Now it was fast becoming likened to a grasping octopus, with its greedy tentacles wrapped around the people who could least afford to fight it.

  Montana was very active in the work on the People's Railroad, as were many of the local farmers. Wade Parker had made inroads in Sacramento, and Levi had managed to get the court case on Judge Higgins's docket. It wasn't due to come to trial for months, but rumor had it that the railroad was running scared.
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  There had been an incident here and there, and Wade Parker was beaten up on one of his trips north, but the farmers and ranchers stood strong, and the lawyer now had a bodyguard—Will.

  Montana, like some others, had planted a crop of barley, which they could sell in Southern California and transport themselves, eluding the railroad's crooked practices. And they'd bought a few head of cattle, because he was "damn sick of fried chicken." She'd bought more chickens, once she'd sold the cockerels for eating, but this time she'd bought them sexed. She could even say that word now without blushing, so she knew she was really a farm woman, about some things.

  Others, well, they took some getting used to—like Thanksgiving. What a teary week that had been. They'd killed the tom turkey, the one she'd renamed Bartholomew. There had been a big turkey dinner with the Latimers, but Addie hadn't touched the meat. She'd felt like a cannibal. She'd never felt that way about the chickens, but there was something sentimental about that silly turkey.

  Of course, Montana didn't think like she did. Addie suggested they cook Jericho, but he didn't see the humor in that statement. She thought it was pretty funny considering the animal had done nothing to change her low opinion of it—it'd eaten over a dozen loaves of bread, a cake, and the potato salad for a Sunday picnic.

  On the drive home from the Latimers' Thanksgiving night, Montana told her she could never name a food animal again. But she ignored him, figuring what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Last week she'd named all the cattle.

  But now it was late on a Saturday afternoon and the rich red soil of the new irrigation ditches formed small dirt frames around the fields. A clear, Pacific-blue sky met the buckskin-colored hills, and the hawks meandered overhead, searching for their evening meal. The air was still, no late afternoon breeze, nothing in the air but the distant bawl of a cow and the rumble and scratch of the chickens.

  Another grange meeting was scheduled for that night, so Montana had come in early, bathed, and now stood in the barn as Addie rolled her bicycle from an empty stall.