Wild Dream

by Duncan, Alice

  When she opened the door, stepped out onto the porch, and spied Fermin Small, sheriff of the village of Rothwell, plodding into the yard on his rawboned gray gelding, Addie frowned. A second gentleman, unfamiliar to her, accompanied him. The other man was quite large, but his horse, unlike Fermin Small’s, was not. Such an arrangement didn’t seem equitable to the fair-minded Addie, and she found herself already annoyed at the two men and mistrusting the purpose of their visit.

  Neither Addie nor her Aunt Ivy were particularly fond of Sheriff Small, and it wasn’t only because he’d proved himself to be utterly incompetent at his job. Addie thought Ivy had once expressed it best when she said, “There’s just somethin’ about the man.”

  And there was. Abilities aside—and he apparently had none—Fermin Small was a long man. His hair was long, his mustache was long, his face was long, his nose, chin and neck were long; his torso was long, his arms were long, his fingers were long, his legs were long, his feet were long, and Addie was certain that if the sheriff ever took off his shoes and stockings they’d discover his toes were long. Invariably, too, his expression was long.

  Aunt Ivy claimed Fermin Small’s eyes reminded her exactly of the black-and-tan hunting hounds her granddaddy used to breed back home in Georgia. Addie didn’t doubt it. His reddish hair and freckles even gave him the appropriate houndish spots.

  Nevertheless, she always tried to start out any encounter friendly, so she waved and called out a greeting. “Mornin’, Fermin. You here about that terrible robbery last night?”

  One of the sheriff’s droopy eyebrows lifted and he looked almost happy for a split-second. “Sure am, Miss Addie. You know anything about it?”

  “Well, I surely do, Sheriff. Two of the men who were set upon by those beastly criminals rode in here last night. One of them had been shot, poor thing, and I doctored him. They’re out back now, washin’ up.”

  Fermin and his companion exchanged a significant glance. Their private look irritated Addie, who liked to be kept apprised of what was going on, especially when it was doing so in her front yard.

  The sheriff pulled his gray up to the porch and slowly, with many grunts, dismounted. After he wrapped his horse’s reins at the rail, he turned to peer up at Addie. “Don’t recollect hearin’ about no shootin’ this side of Arleta, Miss Addie.”

  Addie cried, “No? But, Sheriff, surely one of those poor men must have reported it! Oh, mercy, I wonder if they never made it into town.”

  “Ain’t heard a word about nothin’ ‘cept a ‘tempted robbery somewheres else, ma’am.”

  Frowning, Addie said, “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” The sheriff’s lack of knowledge didn’t come as a great surprise to her. Fermin Small was slow at everything, including getting news. Even when he got it he gnarly didn’t know what to do with it.

  Another glance at his unknown cohort propelled Addie into a sniff of frustration. “Who’s that with you, Sheriff?”

  The other man, an overweight fellow whose belly flopped over his tightly belted trousers in a manner of which Addie did not approve, doffed his hat and said, “Willis Meeker, ma’am, sheriff over to Arleta.”

  Never having been one to hold onto her pique for long, Addie brightened perceptibly and said, “Arleta? Well, isn’t that nice. You know, my Aunt Pansy lives in Arleta. I’m sure you must know her, Sheriff Meeker. Pansy Blewitt? Well, she’s my aunt Ivy’s sister, you know. She makes the best bread-and-butter pickles this side of Georgia, although my aunt Ivy won’t own to it. They’re always tiffing about things like that. You know how sisters can be, Sheriff Meeker.” She gave both men a buoyant smile.

  As Addie spoke, Willis Meeker and Fermin Small exchanged another glance, then Meeker gave Addie a befuddled look. When she finally stopped chattering, it took him a moment for the fact to register. When it did, he said, “Er—er—yes, ma’am. I do know Miss Pansy, ma’am, which is one of the reasons I come here today, in fact. Ain’t much of a talker, though, your aunt.”

  Giving a thought to Pansy, who generally disliked everybody she met, Addie said, “No. No, I don’t reckon she is.”

  Charley and Lester, who had heard the men approach, plastered themselves against the boards of the house at the first mention of the word sheriff.

  “Lordy, Lester, what do we do now?”

  Lester didn’t answer.

  “I reckon we can’t run for it.” Charley cast a frantic glance at the landscape. The surrounding countryside was flat as last month’s beer, and there was nowhere to hide. “There’s no way we could get our horses saddled and ride out of here before somebody sees us anyway.”

  Lester was already shaking his head no when his mouth let go of “Run fer it?”

  Since Lester had already answered his own suggestion correctly, Charley didn’t bother. His brain turned over ideas and tossed them aside quicker than a two-dollar whore turned tricks.

  At last he said, “Well, I guess there’s no help for it, Lester. We’re going to have to brazen it out. At least Miss Adelaide and Miss Ivy believe our story. With the two of them backing us up, I don’t think the sheriffs can arrest us right now, anyway.”

  Without waiting for Lester to nod, Charley yanked him by the arm. Lester stumbled along behind him when Charley strode out into the yard, as bold and open as if he were really the innocent he pretended to be.

  He gave Addie a jaunty, “‘Morning again, Miss Adelaide.” With a nod for the two other men, he said, “‘Morning, gentlemen.”

  He noticed Addie’s adoring gaze was firmly in place when she peered at him and said, “Oh, good morning, Charley. ‘Morning, Lester. Sheriff Small from Rothwell and Sheriff Meeker from Arleta have stopped by to say hello. I thought,” she added pointedly, “that maybe they’d come by to ask you about the dreadful tragedy that befell your brass band last night, but I guess they didn’t.”

  Then she sniffed as though the two sheriffs’ lack of interest in a hideous crime was exactly what she expected of them. Charley felt a tiny lick of optimism. The Blewitt ladies seemed to be respected members of the community if the lawmen’s manners were anything by which to judge. If Miss Adelaide was on Charley’s side—and she obviously was—then maybe all wasn’t lost. Yet.

  “Sheriff Small,” Charley said with a nod. “Sheriff Meeker.”

  Lester, of course, said nothing.

  Looking disgruntled, Fermin Small turned toward Charley and Lester. “Mind if I ask you a few questions, gentlemen?”

  It did not escape Charley’s attention that the query had been asked in a suspicious manner. He schooled his expression into one of extra innocence to make up for it. “Why, not at all, Sheriff.”

  Ivy had come out onto the porch by this time. She frowned when she saw Fermin Small and another man cluttering up her yard. “What’s he doing here?” she asked Addie in the piercing voice she used so she could hear herself.

  “He’s investigating a crime,” Addie bellowed back.

  “The shooting of that nice bugle player?”

  “It’s a cornet, not a bugle, Aunt Ivy. And no, apparently Sheriff Small doesn’t care about that crime. He’s here about something else.”

  Addie gave Fermin another look, and Charley’s spirits lifted higher.

  Ivy glared at the legal duet standing in her front yard. The two sheriffs seemed a little huffy.

  “Well, why in tarnation doesn’t he care about it, is what I’d like to know. That nice young man got all shot up.”

  Addie shrugged and looked superior, an expression Charley was surprised to see she carried off quite well. “I don’t know, Aunt Ivy. I should think somebody getting shot right outside of Rothwell might be of interest to the law in the town, but I reckon Sheriff Small has other things—things pertaining to Arleta—on his mind.”

  “Now that ain’t true, Miss Addie,” Fermin sputtered. “You know that ain’t true.”

  “Well, what are you here for, then, Fermin?” It sounded as though Addie believed him to be holding out on them for some obscu
re reason.

  “Well, I’ll just tell you if you’ll let me get a word in,” Fermin said, sounding petulant.

  Addie crossed her arms over her chest, tapped her foot impatiently, and peered down at Fermin and Sheriff Meeker. Charley had to hide his smile of appreciation behind his hand. He made a show of scratching his nose to cover it up.

  “We’re waiting, Fermin,” Addie told him haughtily.

  “Tarnation,” Fermin muttered. “We’re here ‘cause your own aunt Pansy’s mercantile in Arleta got robbed last night. Leastways, somebody tried to rob it. It was a band o’ men done it, and they rode this way.”

  Addie clapped a hand to her cheek. “Aunt Pansy? My goodness!”

  Ivy cupped her hand behind her ear. “What did he say?” she screeched.

  Making a circle of her hands, Addie shouted through them, “There was a robbery in Arleta, Aunt Ivy.”

  “A what?”

  “A robbery.”

  “Where?”

  “In Arleta.”

  “Well, who cares about a robbery in Arleta, Addie?”

  “It was Aunt Pansy’s store that somebody tried to rob.”

  Ivy’s eyes lit up. “You never said so! Why, nobody in his right mind would dare try to rob my sister! Bet they didn’t get away with it.”

  Flustered and turning red in the face, Sheriff Meeker said, “Well, no, ma’am, they didn’t, but still—”

  “Ha! Told you so.” Ivy nodded, apparently pleased to have her opinion of her sister confirmed. Then her eyebrows dipped again and she turned to Addie. “But why do they care about an attempted robbery in Arleta when there was a shooting just down the road from here?”

  Before answering her aunt, Addie gave Fermin another look. Fermin obviously didn’t appreciate it.

  Then she hollered, “I don’t know, Aunt Ivy.”

  Ivy humphed.

  Fermin, his face red now, too, continued. “The men run this way, Miss Addie, that’s why we come here. Figgered they might’ve run by your farmhouse. Miss Pansy thinks she might’ve winged one of ‘em.”

  “Well, for goodness sake, Fermin Small, don’t you think I’d have told you right off if a gang of shockin’ criminals rode in here last night? Especially if they’d just tried to rob my own aunt?”

  “Well—”

  “And,” Addie said, not pausing to hear what Fermin Small wanted to say, “I’ll just bet you anything they’re the same gang of low characters who attacked your wonderful brass band, Charley.” The smile she bestowed upon Charley was one of pure triumph.

  It looked to Charley as though Fermin Small was used to being overpowered by the Blewitt females. He looked like the loser in a cock fight when he turned to glare at Charley and Fermin.

  “Criminy,” Fermin grumbled. “All right. Mebbe you better tell me what you say happened last night. Mebbe I’ll believe you.”

  Charley knew better than that. Fermin Small already had him tried and convicted; Charley could tell. Although his stomach had taking to churning painfully as soon as he heard that it was Addie’s own aunt who’d shot him, he knew he had to lie or go to jail. He took a breath and was about to give Fermin the same tale he’d spun the night before for Addie, but he was interrupted.

  “Oh, Fermin, it was just awful.”

  Charley, Lester, Fermin, and Willis Meeker all turned to stare up at Addie. Her expressive eyes had gone round and she clutched her hands together at her breast as if she were about to relate a grand tale of derring-do on an opera stage. Charley had an odd sensation of disappointment when she began to tell the tale in spoken prose. He’d been prepared for a coloratura soprano, at least.

  “Why, this poor band of wanderin’ minstrels was headin’ up to Albuquerque from El Paso. They’d just been entertainin’ the citizens there at their big summer festival. You know the one they have? The one starts the summer off? Well, they were just there, playin’ up a storm. Charley here’s the E-flat cornet player. He’s just the best, Fermin. You’ve got to hear him.”

  Addie paused to give Charley another winning smile and to take a breath. Then she was at it again.

  “The poor fellows were a few miles off from here, when this horrid gang of robbers started shootin’ at them. Well, of course they started to run away. But, for heaven’s sake, these poor men aren’t used to these perilous parts out here in the territory, where it’s crawlin’ with bandits and there’s no law to speak of.”

  She honored Fermin with another one of her looks. Fermin shuffled and seemed really grouchy.

  “Well, that awful gang of outlaws was shootin’ and chasin’ after them and they were scared to death, poor fellows, and they ran and ran. All they want to do in life is play their instruments and make beautiful music together.” Addie paused to wipe away a tear. “They got separated in the dark, and the whole gang chased after Charley and Lester here. It was just awful!”

  Charley heard Fermin mutter, “Criminy,” but noticed he didn’t interrupt.

  “Why, there were dozens of them, Fermin, all thunderin’ at ‘em out of the black night, and all doin’ their best to shoot these two men. It was a miracle of God Charley and Lester got away from that band of ruffians, Fermin. A miracle of God!”

  Ivy yelled, “What’d you say, Addie?”

  Addie hollered, “It was a miracle of God, Aunt Ivy.”

  Her voice was so loud, Charley heard the chickens squawk in the coop out in back of the house.

  Chapter 3

  By the time Fermin Small and Willis Meeker left the Blewitt farmhouse, Charley wasn’t sure whether Addie Blewitt was a genius or the most idiotic female he’d ever encountered. He acknowledged, however, that whichever description prevailed, he’d be forever in her debt.

  She’d taken the flimsy fib he’d told her last night, soaked it in whimsy, and spun it on her own fanciful loom with threads of pure gold. She’d added frills, furbelows and flounces until it bore no resemblance whatever to his own initial prevarication but rose before them, brilliant in its originality, a glittering mountain of mystification. If he’d been given a year or more, Charley couldn’t have spun such a magnificent story. Hell, he almost believed it himself.

  He was sure, however, that neither Sheriff Small nor Sheriff Meeker accepted a word of Addie’s tale. He could see their mouths working as they rode off and knew they were grumbling to themselves. It wouldn’t take long, Charley knew, before they began grousing to each other. Then they’d try to trick him into revealing himself.

  Well, to the devil with them both.

  “Lester, you’ve got to get into Rothwell and find the rest of the boys. Can you do that? Find ‘em and tell ‘em to get their instruments and come out here. Since these ladies think we’re musicians, we’ll do a little practicing. I want to run the idea of taking the rubies by ‘em and see if they’re willing to stay in Rothwell for a while. I can’t do any hard riding until my arm heals, anyway.”

  Lester muttered, “Miracle.”

  “It was a miracle, all right, especially since that lady who shot me was their own relative. Now you go on, Lester. Ask Miss Adelaide if she needs anything from town. We want her to think we’re nice men.”

  At Lester’s look of abject horror, Charley cursed himself for a fool and patted Lester on the back. “I didn’t mean it, Lester. I’ll ask her. You just get Prunella saddled up.”

  Lester had named Prunella himself, claiming the mare looked exactly like his beloved aunt of the same name. Charley didn’t care. While Lester shuffled off to do his bidding, he headed to the house. He found Addie in the kitchen kneading bread. As soon as she saw him she gave him a sunny smile. He was beginning to like her smile a whole lot.

  “Thanks for sticking up for us out there, Miss Adelaide. It’s hard to know what to say when people obviously want you to be guilty of something.”

  “Not for me, it isn’t.” Addie’s conviction was so strong, she nearly kneaded her bread onto the floor.

  His chuckle surprised him. “No, ma’am. I reckon t
hat’s the truth.”

  He tried on a charming smile and guessed he was successful when she blushed. She really was a sweet little thing, even if she could talk a body blamed near to death.

  “Well, ma’am, Lester’s going to ride into town to see if the other band members made it there last night.”

  “Tell him to ask at the mercantile, Charley. I sent one of our hired hand’s little boys over to town to see if he could find rooms for your men to stay in.”

  “You did?” Charley stared at her in astonishment for a moment.

  “Well, they couldn’t very well sleep in the street now, could they?” She gave him an arch look.

  Charley blinked at her, amazed at how quickly she worked. “Well—well, thank you kindly, ma’am.”

  “Pshaw, Charley. It’s nothing.”

  It wasn’t nothing to Charley, but he decided he’d probably lose if he tried to argue with her. He said “Thank you,” again. Then, after he shook his head once, hard, he said, “Anyway, if he can find them, would it be all right with you if they came here so we can have a rehearsal in your barn or something?” He made a sweeping gesture with his good arm. “You’ve got lots of room around here. Reckon the chickens and prairie dogs wouldn’t mind if we played a few quick steps and marches.”

  Addie gasped as if he’d just offered her the moon. “Why, Charley Wilde, what a wonderful idea. I think that’s about the best idea anybody’s ever had. Oh, I’d just love to do my chores to the strains of your beautiful music. I can’t think of anything nicer in the whole world.”

  Well, Charley didn’t guess he could ask for more than that. “Thank you kindly, ma’am. Do you need anything from town? Lester’s saddling his horse up now.”

  “Let me ask Aunt Ivy.”

  She peered doubtfully at her floury hands, and Charley asked quickly, “Want me to holler for you, Miss Adelaide? You’re busy there, it looks like.”

  “Oh, thank you, Charley.”