Dare to Dream (6 page)

“Naw, I got everything settled out yonder. We do need to move the other bunk in, can’t have you sleepin’ on the floor. I can sit with her at night until she’s able to get about, and you can tend her while I get the chores done. Besides, I need to work Spirit some. Since he’s had a taste of the ladies, he’s been a mite piqued. He acts like it’s my fault he did his job too well.” He spoke the truth, especially the part about the stud. Now with all the mares bred, he didn’t have anyone to pleasure himself with. Will was beginning to feel real sorry for the horse.

A sizzle and snap told him Charlie had the bacon on. The biscuits would be done soon.

“I’ll go see to the milkin’ and bring the eggs back with me.” He rose and refilled his cup with steaming coffee. He took a sip before setting it down and then pulled his shirt from the peg by the door and ran one long arm into one sleeve, then the other. Will hitched up his britches before tugging his boots on. He buttoned his shirt, tossed on a coat, picked up his coffee, and headed out the door.

Spirit whinnied as soon as he caught sight of him. Will stopped to pull a carrot from the bin. The root seemed a small consolation for the stud, but the only one he had to offer.

The aromas of breakfast filled the air. Bacon, coffee, and—Meghan inhaled deeply—biscuits. Her stomach rumbled, but she kept her eyes shut hoping he wouldn’t notice. Not the hunk from before, she heard him leave. This one started talking the moment the door closed. Was he nuts, or her? Must be her, this was the strangest damn dream she’d ever had, and she’d had some doozies. She lay still and listened, willing her stomach to silence.

“Damn, boy, don’t understand what he’s gettin’ into. He don’t know nothin’ ’bout the girl. What if she has a man? Then what? Get all tangled up in God knows what.” Slam, pop, crunch!

The man cussed a blue streak. Meghan opened one eye to peek, saw the man’s ass peeking from behind the flap in his underwear, and smelled blackberries. A giggle bubbled inside her at the incongruity of her perception. While highly doubtful the man’s butt smelled like blackberries, this was her dream, which made anything possible. With a hand on the small of his back, he straightened and turned. Meg slammed her eye shut.

“No use playin’ possum on me, missy, I heard you laugh.”

Shit! Now what? She had experienced interactive dreams before, mostly the erotic kind, but she couldn’t recall ever having a dream accuse her of being awake. What happened to proper protocol? She opened one eye, then the other, and wiggled her fingers at the man in semblance of a wave.

Now that she saw him clearly, he didn’t look like a bad sort. Another giggle erupted. Gray shot through his brown hair and the bushy beard brushing his chest. His brown eyes crinkled at the corners like he’d spent his life in the sun or laughed a lot, perhaps both. Neither his face nor his stern expression set her to giggling the second time, but rather, his attire. He wore a blue flannel shirt over a union suit which had seen better days. The frayed sleeves of the underwear were visible under the turned back cuffs of his shirt. So was the rest of him, since he hadn’t bothered with britches. His man-bits lolled in the loose fabric under the bulge of his belly. Meghan’s face began to heat. This was the oddest dream. Donna should really wake her up about now.

“Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat!” The man’s face turned red as a beet. He turned his back to her and clapped a hand over his rear. “Beg pardon!”

He scuttled through a door in the opposite wall, leaving the bacon to burn. Her hunger seemed very real in this dream, so she couldn’t let that happen. Meghan eased herself into a sitting position, and waited. Her head still hurt, especially around the gash, but the pain was bearable. Oh, she’d dreamed herself a shirt. Smart girl. The ponies on her socks seemed to prance when she swung her legs over the side of the bed, so she sat still until they stopped cavorting. With a hand on the bedpost, she pushed herself into a standing position and held on while the room swam back into focus. At this rate the bacon and biscuits would burn anyway. Why not just yell?

“Hey! The food’s gonna burn…” She thought clearly, opened her mouth, but she heard nothing. She’d heard the old man, so her ears worked in this dream. She tried again but could only manage a guttural sound. In frustration, she slammed her lips together and pushed away from the bedpost.

One step, two, on the third she reached her destination, picked up the fork and turned the thick slices of bacon. Good and brown but not yet burned. Meghan bent to open the oven door and almost fell. Her stomach rolled as dizziness took hold. She waited until it passed and then opened the oven door a crack to check the biscuits. They were barely brown, just the way she liked them. Most preferred them a bit more done. Meghan straightened hesitantly and the dizziness eased. She didn’t see an oven mitt or a potholder, just a piece of toweling. She closed her eyes and thought of the objects needed to rescue the baked goods, but when she opened them again, nothing had appeared.

This dream didn’t work right. Where did everybody go?

Meghan wrapped the towel around her hands, and squatted to keep her head level. Opening the door proved tricky in that position, but she managed. She grasped the baking sheet. When the heat reached her palms through the towel, she whirled too quickly, barely managing to bang the baking pan on the wooden table. The room spun in circles around her. Both doors flew open at the same time. The icy blast from the outer door hit her as her legs gave way.

* * * *

Milk sloshed on his pants’ leg as Will dropped the bucket and a couple of the eggs. What the hell was she doin’ out of bed? Charlie opened the parlor door at about the same time, still buttoning his britches. Will scowled in his direction but kept his mouth closed on the words he’d later regret. The girl raised her fingers at him, her eyes all but crossed, but stayed where she sat. Pushing the pail aside, he shoved the egg basket into Charlie’s hands.

Will took a step in her direction and something crunched under his boot. A quick glance showed a broken jar of blackberry jam. He looked at Charlie, who shrugged and set the eggs aside before removing the bacon from the skillet. Skirting the mess, Will squatted at her side. Her eyes stayed closed.

“I’m gonna lift you up and set you on the bed.” Without waiting for an answer, he put an arm under her knees and another behind her back, smiling when her arms came round his neck. She weighed no more than a spring calf. He rose and stepped around the bed to place her gingerly atop of the wrinkled covers, but kept him arms around her. “How’s the head?”

* * * *

Meghan opened her eyes, and her lips curled into a smile. Mr. Dream Man had his arm around her shoulders and one lodged under her thighs. Although his face and hands were flushed from the cold, his gaze set her blood to boil. No wonder she couldn’t find a guy. Who could compare with the one she made up? He was absolutely perfect. She sighed, remembering the touch of his mouth on hers.
Oops, pay attention, Meg, he’s talking to you.

“Can you hear me?” His face filled with worry.

She opened her mouth to speak, but only odd noises came from her throat. She tried again with a similar result. She frowned and settled for nodding her head.

“You can hear me?”

She nodded again. He looked so relieved before his brows drew together and the worry returned.

“Can you speak?”

She shook her head slowly side to side so the dizziness wouldn’t return.

“She can’t talk.”

Why tell her what she already knew?

“Charlie, can a head wound cause a body to lose their speech, or do you think she’s always been mute?”

Oh, he spoke to the other guy, Charlie. Well? What’s the answer? Since they had apparently hijacked her dream, she was anxious to know where it was heading.

“Depends on where the swelling is,” the old man said as he cleaned up the blackberry preserves and broken glass. When he had disposed of it, he washed his hands in the basin by the door and came to the bedside. He stared until the other man moved. His damp hands felt her throat and behind her ears. “Open your mouth.”

Meghan complied, opening her mouth wide. Maybe he’d check her teeth while he was in there. He touched her chin, and her jaws closed with an audible snap.
So, what’s the verdict, Pop?

“Her throat’s a bit red, probably from the dunkin’ yesterday. I don’t think that’s enough to account for her not talkin’, though. There’s probably some swelling in her head causin’ it, unless she’s always been that way. But I ain’t no doctor, Will. ”

Will? Dream Man was Will.

Just like two men to pretend she wasn’t there. If they wanted to know if she was mute, why not ask her? Because she was mute? She tugged on Charlie’s shirttail. When he looked down, so did the other one. Good, she had their attention. Now what? Meg opened her mouth and slowly formed the words, “I am not mute.”

Well, actually she was for now. She tried again.

“I could talk.”

They stared at her, unable to read her lips, although the young one, Will, sure stared at them. She thought the words at them, waited, but nothing happened. She had totally lost control of this dream. Maybe she hit her head and lay in a coma in a hospital somewhere. The brain swelling or the medications the doctors gave her caused hallucinations. What was the last thing she remembered?

The spider! The big, ugly wolf spider dangled in her face as she started to climb down the ladder. The rung broke. Well, that explained the cracked head and why she felt like she’d been run over by a garbage truck, twice. That must have been at least a twenty-foot drop.

Was this all a coma-induced dream, or had Donna gone for help, leaving her with these strange men? Her stomach growled loudly. Charlie handed her a dry biscuit.

“If you keep that down, we’ll try somethin’ more.”

Meghan bit into the biscuit. It was tough. He’d used too much shortening. But, as hungry as she was, she would eat what they offered. The bread quieted her stomach but didn’t fill it. She pointed to the bacon and was rewarded with a super salty piece. She made the motion of bringing a cup to her lips.

Will took an enamel cup and scooped it into the pail on the floor by the door. After wiping the drips off with the towel from the table, he held it out to her.

She took the offered cup and sipped—milk, fresh, whole milk with cream layering the top. She smiled her thanks. He leaned in to run his thumb across her upper lip and lightning shot through her. Their eyes locked, and she watched as his thumb slipped between his lips.

Oh my!

“What do you make of her?” Will asked as he swallowed the last bite of egg. He never got her name, and hadn’t thought to ask. She couldn’t have told him anyway. The girl lay curled on the bunk sound asleep. She drifted off right after she ate a biscuit, a slice or two of bacon, and a cup of milk with some honey. The honey was Charlie’s idea to soothe her throat. He’d let her sleep a bit then offer to take her to the outhouse. Guess his fun was over. He realized his lips had curled into a smile when Charlie shot him a look. “What?”

Charlie frowned. “Well, she ate good and kept it down, that’s always a good sign. She seem a bit addled to you?”

Will knew what he was getting at. While she had seemed surprised to find him half naked in her bed last night, she hadn’t really put up a fuss, except to swoon. This morning, in the company of two men she didn’t know from Adam, she’d sat cross-legged on the bed wearing nothing but Charlie’s shirt and a pair of short stockings. Granted, the shirt covered everything to her pretty little knees, but shouldn’t she have shown some modesty? It certainly didn’t speak well of her upbringing. He shoved aside the other possibilities.

“She does seem a little peculiar, but that could be due to getting her head cracked. Look at the way she keeps getting the vapors—one minute she seems fine, the next, she’s out cold.” Will finished his coffee. “I need to put some saddle time in on Spirit. He needs a run to get the orneriness out of him.”

He rose and grabbed his coat and a blanket from the foot of the bed. “For the girl,” he said in response to Charlie’s puzzled expression. “I thought she might need the privy.”

“Let me fetch her boots.” Charlie went to the corner of the room and picked up the small pair from beside the one’s he’d left at the door. “You ever hear tell of a boot maker name of Durango?”

“No, sir, can’t say that I have. Might be named for the town?” He bent and shook the girl gently. Her eyes flew open. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you. I thought you might need…” Heat blazed up his face and got hotter when Charlie chuckled.

“He thought you might need a visit to the little house out back,” Charlie supplied.

Her perplexed gaze caused Will to ask again, “You can hear what we’re saying, right?”

She nodded but still seemed confused as he shoved the boots on her feet. Will helped her stand. When she was steady, he wrapped the blanket around her slender body until she resembled a colorful worm then bent and scooped her up. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, she mouthed words. He stared at her lips, his concentration lost for wanting to press his to them. Her body stiffened in his arms, and Will’s eyes rose to hers. She’d read him right enough, and appeared worried. Ashamed of his lack of control, he said, “Say it again.”