by Tonia Brown
“Me? Oh, I am just the hired help.”
“Mr. Boon is lucky to have such a vigilante on his side, Mr. Carpenter.”
Vigilante? Now there was a word Dodger didn’t remember folks using in the good old days of yore. The man’s speech had an odd edge to it. As if he was trying too hard to be something he wasn’t.
“I shall leave you to your mutual quest,” Sir Rodger said. “May you both find a cure for what ails his blushing bride.” Sir Rodger raised the pommel of his sword to his face, clicked his metal heels and bowed, ever so slightly. After this, the man sheathed his blade, turned about face and clanked away leaving Dodger alone.
Dodger rushed back to the embracing couple. He stood over them, coughing loudly until they looked up. “I hate to interrupt, but our friend is getting away.”
“He won’t get far,” Boon said as he released his hold on Lelanea and began wiping at his tear streaked face. “I know where he has pitched camp. We should be able to catch up with him before he has a chance to break down and get on the road again.”
Lelanea shook off the passionate embrace and rested on her haunches. She stared up at Dodger for a quiet moment. “Strange. I can understand you being solid, Boon. After all this is a dream. And I guess I can understand why I am like this. But what I don’t understand is who Dodger is supposed to be.”
“I know,” Dodger said. “That Sir Rodger has a lot of nerve. Who does he think he is, looking like me?”
“Yes, as strange as that other man is, I was talking about you.” She raised her nose into the air and sniffed. “You smell like our Dodger for certain, but you look nothing like him.”
“It is him, all right,” Boon said. “No one handles a gun like our Dodger.”
“What are you two talking about?” Dodger asked. “A change in clothes doesn’t unmake the man. Besides, I used to dress like this all of the time, back in the day.”
“What days were those?” Lelanea asked. “When you robbed stagecoaches?”
“Here,” Boon said as he lifted the broad sword and held it out to Dodger. “Have a look at yourself.”
Oddly enough, regardless of the action it had just seen in battle, the sword still gleamed with a bright and reflective surface. Another effect of the dream world, Dodger supposed. He peered into the wide strip of mirror like metal, gasping at what stared back at him.
Eyes that weren’t his eyes. A mouth that didn’t belong to him. A nose that had no right being between the two. All parts of a face that wasn’t his face. He thought for a moment he recognized the man, but who was it? For some reason Dodger couldn’t think straight. He supposed it was part of traipsing around in Sarah’s dreams; his own memories were difficult to access. Especially the things he didn’t normally want to remember. He pulled one of the guns, inspecting it for anything to jog his foggy memory.
A sleek, long and intricately engraved silver barrel greeted him. At the base rested a fat cylinder, six shots total, with a pearl grip and gold trim. Each handle bore the etched, gold inlaid monogram of TC. Dodger dropped the gun the moment he recognized it. The black clothes. The face he knew from somewhere, long ago. It all made a sick and sorry sense.
Boon appeared in the dream as he truly was; the stalwart and healthy hero, ready to rescue anyone in need.
Lelanea came as what she saw as her true self; the wild, barely tamable beast that slept just underneath the surface of the beautiful woman.
Dodger, following suit, showed up in Sarah’s dream as he had grown to see himself; the merciless mercenary in black.
More specifically, a man named Tyler Crank.
“No,” Dodger whispered at his reflection.
“Dodger?” Lelanea asked. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Dodger said, stooping to snatch up the gun again.
“You seem troubled by your appearance.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are not fine-”
“It’s nothing,” Dodger snapped. “Just let it go.”
Lelanea narrowed her eyes and glared over the length of her mussel at him. The look said she had no intention of letting anything go. Ever.
Dodger tried his best to ignore her threatening glower. “We better come up with a plan before we lose our guide. Boon, what have you told him so far?”
“Not much,” Boon said. “Though, he seems to think I am a wizard of sorts.”
“A what?” Lelanea asked.
“A wizard. When I first jumped into Sarah’s dream, he witnessed my arrival.”
“Which means he saw you appear out of thin air,” Dodger said.
“I thought I would have a panic stricken local on my hands and a lot of explaining to do, but he accepted it as an every day occurrence.”
“Because it probably is.”
“I must admit,” Lelanea said. “I am entirely lost.”
Dodger grinned. “I’ll bet Sarah is dreaming about knights and dragons and a land of magic ‘cause those are the kinds of fairy tales Al used to read her. I know, because those are the ones he read to me.”
“That would explain a few things,” Boon said. “Such as Sir Rodger’s behavior. When he isn’t decked out in full armor, he dresses pretty much like a ranch hand. And when he talks he sounds like a 49’er trying to sound like a knight.”
“That’s because her mind is mixing up the stories and reality. She’s never heard a real knight speak, so he speaks a little like the stories say he should, and a little like Al always did.”
“I think I understand,” Lelanea said. “She is blending aspects of her upbringing and desires to fill out the gaps of her fantasy.”
“Hence the gun slinging and sorcery,” Dodger said.
“And I think we will find,” Lelanea said, “that Dodger is the main character—the knight in shining armor—because you’re the man who rescued her mother.”
Dodger didn’t remember it that way. He remembered himself as the man who snatched a little girl from her normal life and sent her off to live with a crazy old coot who also happened to be a highly trained government assassin. He was the one who put her in Rex’s path, and thus the reason she was in this endless sleep to begin with. He was also the one who almost killed Sarah’s mother.
“Certainly,” Boon said. “That makes perfect sense. That is why she knows your face well enough to cast you as the lead.”
“She only saw me once,” Dodger said. “And that was a long time ago.”
“She must’ve had a drawing of you then. Because he looks exactly like you. Well, a much younger you.”
“Where would she have gotten a drawing of Dodger?” Lelanea asked.
“I don’t know,” Boon said, scratching his chin in thought. “Maybe Al had one as part of that organization they both belonged-”
“Patricia may have had one,” Dodger said over Boon.
“Who?”
“Sarah’s mother. Patricia had some talent for charcoal sketches. She probably kept the one she drew when we …” Dodger’s words trailed off when he realized the other two were listening far too intently. He waved off the idea. “None of this is important. We need to come up with a feasible excuse for traveling with this fellow before he leaves. He’s our key to finding Sarah.”
“Princess Sarah,” Boon corrected.
“Princess?” Lelanea said. “I see this Sarah is a young lady with ambition. I like her already. So, what do we tell this Sir Rodger?”
“He already thinks we are on some kind of quest for a cure,” Dodger said. “That might be the best lie to keep up.”
“A cure for what …” Lelanea started, but her words faded when she saw Dodger quietly staring at her. “Ah, I see. That is a good a reason as any, I suppose.”
Boon cleared his throat, as if nervous, then said, “I have an idea. I’ll go on ahead and catch up with Sir Rodger. You two hang back a bit and take your time following us. That gives me a chance to explain that I think the princess has the secret to the cure. And perhaps I can get him to take us alo
ng.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Dodger said.
Boon smiled as his face lit with naked joy. “Really? You think so?”
“Sure. You take lead on this one. You’re already familiar with the man and he seems to trust you. I think all this black puts him off of me.”
“Well, all right then, I’ll just go, shall I?”
Dodger nodded in the direction Sir Rodger followed. “Go on. We’ll be there directly.”
Flashing a wide smile of both surprise and delight, Boon turned and ran up the hill, after Sir Rodger. Dodger watched as the line of trees swallowed the big man whole.
“Thank you for that,” Lelanea said.
“For what?” Dodger said.
“For allowing Boon to lead this mission. He needed the reassurance. He has been a nervous wreck ever since he learned he wasn’t quite dead.”
“He shouldn’t worry. We will get his body back for him. I promise.”
“It isn’t that.” Lelanea stood and walked a few steps ahead of Dodger, looking toward the trees into which Boon disappeared. “He worries what will happen once he returns. After all, you’re the head of security now. What place will he have when he is whole again?”
Dodger grunted. “Boon and I discussed this already. I told him he could have his job back. It’s rightfully his.”
“Is it?” She looked over her shoulder at him for a quiet moment, as if weighing either his words or his worth. “Either way, thanks for trusting him with this. It is sure to sooth his nerves.”
“I didn’t do it to sooth his nerves. I was serious when I said he had a genuinely good-”
“I know why you did it.” Lelanea left Dodger to ponder this as she trotted off after her beau.
Leaving Dodger to ponder why he really put Boon in charge.
****
back to toc
****
Chapter Five
Heads Up
In which Dodger is captured
Dodger and Lelanea caught up with the others just as the knight was securing his packs to his horse. Boon wasn’t kidding when he said the man dressed differently when not in his knightly getup. Sir Rodger—though it was hard to say that now without the armor—wore pretty much what Dodger usually found himself in; comfortable denim pants, a loose fitting flannel shirt, a well worn pair of boots and a hat that had seen far better days. The man also sported a pair of pistols at his waist, which made Dodger wonder why the man favored the sword when battling something as dangerous as a dragon. Why go for a skewer when you had your own firepower on your side?
“Hello there!” Sir Rodger shouted with a nod as Dodger and Lelanea approached. “Won’t be a moment, then we can head out as a group.”
“He says we may travel with him,” Boon said. “He also says we are welcome to any of his supplies or equipment if needed.”
“Tis true,” Sir Rodger said.
“That is very kind of you,” Lelanea said.
“Not at all,” Sir Rodger said. “It is most unfortunate that whatever magic brought you here was unable to transport your supplies as well.”
“You got that right,” Dodger said. He nodded to Boon, and made a mental note to congratulate the man later for coming up with such a clever cover story.
“It is auspicious for all of us that Mr. Boon found me,” Sir Rodger said. “It is imperative that I help my fellow man, and lady. That is the code of the knight. Any chance to exercise my duties I find most fortunate.”
“And don’t forget,” Boon said, “that we are willing to help you out as well.”
“Of course. I am only too pleased to accept your assistance.”
“We are only too glad to help if we can,” Dodger said.
“Mr. Carpenter,” Sir Rodger said, “if you plan on offering the kind of help you dispensed during our struggle with that dragon, then I welcome the assistance. I have never seen such a display of bravery and accuracy.”
“It was nothing.”
“Nothing? It certainly was something. It was some fine shooting.”
Dodger glanced to the knight’s pistols again, and curiosity got the better of him. “Those are Colts, aren’t they?” Dodger suspected the last bit, because that was the brand Al always carried.
“Why yes, they are.”
“Do you mind if I ask why you were waving that blade around when you have a perfectly good set of pistols?”
With a serious look, Sir Rodger touched his hands to his guns. “I favor the blade for the dangers of the forest and the wandering monsters that I cannot force from my path. I only employ the gun when absolutely necessary.”
“I can understand that. Good ammo is hard to come by this deep in the woods.”
Sir Rodger maintained his serious air, shaking his head at Dodger. “No sir, I am afraid you do not understand. While I appreciate your astounding display of talent back there, I can assure you I would’ve eventually vanquished the beast by blade alone. Firing at everything that poses a problem is not the way of the knight. The gun is reserved for those who have earned Beso de Fuego.”
It took every ounce of will Dodger possessed not to roll his eyes at the drama of it all. Beso de Fuego? Spanish for the Kiss of Fire. No wonder the guns all but blasted a stream of flames at the dragon. For Pete’s sake! What other kind of nonsense had Al been teaching the gal? Dodger felt the pressure of eyes on him, and he knew Boon and Lelanea were watching to see how he handled the knight.
“My mistake,” Dodger said. “Next time I and my guns will stand back and let a professional take care of the problem. Lesson learned.”
At this, Sir Rodger lost his superior air, deflating into pure modesty. “Dear sir, do not take my words as a challenge. Allow me to apologize. I meant nothing by it. Sometimes I get wrapped up in my own codes I forget not everyone around me subscribes to the same ideals. Please, forgive me.” The knight bowed, deeply, almost scraping the ground with his humility.
Again, Dodger had to hold back a huff of cynicism. Just how gracious could one man be? “Nothing to forgive, Sir Rodger. I didn’t mean to step on your ideals. I was just asking a question. Why don’t we just call it even and get on our way?”
The knight righted himself, revealing another wide grin. “Of course. Let us move along before we spend half the day apologizing to one another.” Sir Rodger grabbed the reigns of his horse and clucked, coaxing the animal into motion. “I am afraid I only have the one mare, so we will have to walk.”
“That’s just fine,” Boon said. “There’s nothing quite like stretching your legs.”
“Would you like to ride, Miss Lelanea?” Sir Rodger asked. “A lady shouldn’t be bothered to travel on foot.”
“I think you mean on paw,” Lelanea said, “and no, thank you. I don’t think your horse would appreciate it.”
“Nonsense. Your current form doesn’t trouble her in the least. Isn’t that right, Henrietta?”
The horse whinnied and whipped her head toward her saddle.
“See?” Sir Rodger said. “She offers her services as well.”
“How quant,” Boon said.
“How absurd,” Dodger said under his breath.
“She certainly is good hearted,” Lelanea said. “But I think I will pass all the same. It’s a good day for walking, and it has been some time since I felt the grass under all fours.”
“All fours?” Sir Rodger asked as they walked along.
Lelanea was taken aback by her own slip. “Oh, um, I meant …”
“Lelanea was locked away for a long time,” Boon said. “I managed to rescue her from the basement of the witch’s hut before we fled together.”
“Interesting,” Sir Rodger said. “You are quite the hero, Mr. Boon.”
“Naw. I just did what needed doin’. And please, call me Washington. Everyone does.”
“Washington it is.”
Within minutes, the party reached a well traveled road cut through the thick forest. Sir Rodger fell into this path, heading north at a s
trong pace. The man was obviously anxious to reach his destination, though where the group was headed, he didn’t say. Dodger reckoned he could corner Boon later, alone, and get as many details as possible.
Turned out, the knight was not only all sorts of friendly, he was also far too chatty for Dodger’s tastes. Sir Rodger spent most of that first day’s travel sharing tales of his great exploits—which consisted of the few stories Sarah had heard about Dodger either from her mother or Al, all dressed up with suitable fairy tale substitutions, of course.
Tales that held an embarrassing amount of truth, even with the embellishments.
“And that,” Sir Rodger said as he wound down his latest story, “is how I rescued Princess Sarah and her mother, Queen Patricia, from the horrible clutches of the Duke of Alabama.”
“That was a delightful tale,” Lelanea said. “You are quite the admirable man, Sir Rodger.”
“Coming from such an admirable young lady, I shall take that as a high compliment indeed. Tell us then, Miss Lelanea, how did you come upon this terrible curse?”
Lelanea gasped.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Boon said, an unusual hardness entering his normally gentle voice.
“I apologize if the question was out of turn,” Sir Rodger said.
“No,” she said. “It’s fine. I don’t mind sharing. I’m afraid it is a very boring and short story.”
“I doubt you could bore me if you wanted to,” Sir Rodger said.
Dodger lent one ear to the conversation, while he kept another to the woods around them. Somewhere between Lelanea’s words and the sounds of the party traveling, Dodger swore he heard a snap of a twig, followed by a rustle of undergrowth, both telltale signs of something, or someone, following them.
“My condition is simply the result of being curious,” Lelanea said. “I snooped about in a place I shouldn’t have, and ended up with a curse on my head, as well as my heart.”
The shuffling in the woods returned in a steady rhythm, or rather rhythms, as if more than one person were trying to match the party’s footsteps. Dodger struggled to listen to both the quiet pursuit and Lelanea’s story as he unsnapped the catch on his holster and rested his fingers over the grip of his weapon.
