She Looks Just Like A Dream
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As she stood there, watching him leave, he wondered what the day would bring. It had been three months since he’d last seen her. She wore a black dress that matched his and seemed to float around the room as if it didn’t exist. Her dark hair was curled beneath an elegant hat and hung down over one shoulder.
His gaze followed those dark strands and found them again at her ear where a thin gold chain held one of the two diamonds in a single drop of water. The other diamond hung by its own chain from a ring on the third finger of her left hand.
He remembered touching those fingers when they were wet with rain, holding a knife and pulling it out of his back… and then putting his hand in hers after cutting off the rope that bound their hands. He wanted to touch it now, but couldn’t. Not while she watched him with that look on her face.
“How could you do this?” he whispered softly. “I’m not worth all this fuss.”
His voice seemed to echo in the empty house.
He looked up toward the ceiling above the doorframe. There weren’t any rafters. How strange. And there were no stairs leading down into the basement or attic; only an unfinished wooden staircase to reach the first floor.
No matter how many times he looked at this room, it still seemed so small, and his home. He knew he should be happy that he’d finally come home—but he wasn’t. He felt like such a fool for being here. But he couldn’t turn away. Couldn’t stop staring at her. What had he ever done wrong?
The light from the street lamp spilled through the curtains covering the windows and filled the entire room with a soft orange glow. It made her skin seem warm and golden. It brought out the color of the dress. He hadn’t noticed before, but she did indeed look just like a dream.
There was something about her eyes though. Something dark and mysterious that he didn’t understand. Did she know how much she frightened him? That he didn’t want her to see inside him, but instead wanted her to forget she saw him at all?
Why was he even looking at her anymore? It wasn’t right to keep coming back to see her. It wasn’t fair to either of them.
It took every ounce of his willpower to turn away and walk to the front door. He reached inside his pocket and touched the key. He closed his hand around it as if it were something else—like a stone—and let it fall to the carpeted floor. Then he stepped outside. He turned and watched her through the window until she disappeared behind the drapes.
When he heard the screen door open, he glanced back at the house before going down the sidewalk, toward the town. He was so nervous, he almost walked into the street, but then noticed it was blocked off by a sign: CLOSED DUE TO FIRE!
That explained why she hadn’t opened the door. He hadn’t thought about the fact that she might have lost her job, too. Maybe that’s why she was here. She wanted him to pay for the damages. That thought brought a smile to his face. It also made him feel better because it meant she wouldn’t press charges against him. If she’d pressed charges, he would be in jail, charged with arson.
No matter what he said later, he knew that would happen. No one would believe he hadn’t done anything wrong. No one would ever believe it. And then there was his family to think about. Even if he told them he acted under a momentary lapse of judgment, they wouldn’t care.
They always believed he deserved whatever trouble he got into. He had no doubt in his mind that his father would make him go to prison.
If he went to prison, he would lose his family and everything he’d worked so hard for. That’s exactly why he never asked himself why he kept coming back. Why he continued to put himself through these horrible ordeals. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.
What was wrong with him? What was it about her that made him act so strangely? He wanted to run to her and throw his arms around her shoulders and kiss her lips again… and this time he would do it without thinking.
He didn’t know what happened, but he wanted to tell her everything that was going on inside him. To show her that he really loved her. That he cared—not for what she could give him, but for who she was. That he needed her.
But he wouldn’t. She deserved someone better than him. Someone smarter and richer and more capable of doing great things with her life… someone like Ben Wade.
***
“I don’t know if you’ve ever thought about it, Mr. Taylor, but it seems very unfair that you get to live your life while I have to work my fingers to the bone day after day, and night after night, just to stay alive.”
He nodded solemnly. He knew exactly what she was talking about.
“I guess it must be nice to sit back and watch everyone else struggle.”
“You’re lucky to be sitting where you are, Mrs. Parker,” he replied. “It’s a good thing you have such strong legs.”
She laughed and shook her head, but he wasn’t kidding. It was a good thing she had legs like a horse. There weren’t many women around this area, especially ones of her age and strength. Her husband had died two years ago and he’d left her with an empty house, three children, and a mortgage payment.
She was working double shifts at the mill to meet those obligations. It wasn’t enough to keep the roof over their heads, but it seemed to do the trick since there weren’t any other men around.
They sat on the bench next to the water tower across from the fire station. The air was warm and smelled faintly of smoke. When he reached inside his shirt, she caught the smell of smoke, too. Was she afraid of getting a burn on her pretty face?
Did she fear that the fire was going to spread and destroy her home? Or maybe she was thinking of something else entirely. Maybe she feared she would die and he wouldn’t come back.
The first thing he should have been thinking about was how he would save her, not worry about whether she would leave him someday. But that’s not what bothered him most about this whole situation.
Instead of asking her why she wasn’t afraid of the fire or telling her about his burning desire to see her again, he stared out at the darkening sky, trying to figure out how to solve her problems.
Wasn’t that supposed to be what people did when they wanted to help others? They didn’t ask questions like why a fire started or wonder if it would spread to someone else’s house. No one questioned anyone else; they only tried to help each other. That was what he would do: help her. How? Just as soon as he found a way to do so legally.
“Mrs. Parker, can I ask you a favor?”
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, but before she could say anything, he stood up and held out his hand. “Give me yours.”
As she stared at him in disbelief, he pulled out a folded paper and handed it to her. After reading the letter for several seconds, she looked back at him. She frowned for a minute longer, apparently debating what to do next.
Finally, she handed him a slip of paper she was holding. On it was written four names and addresses. Two of them were familiar: Ben Wade and Jack Roper. His eyes narrowed with suspicion when he saw the last name on the list.
He read the note a second time before folding it back up and tucking it inside his shirt pocket. “This isn’t legal, Mrs. Parker.”
“Of course not, Mr. Taylor,” she agreed, “but I hope it helps.”
“That it does.”
After taking a final look around to make sure no one was watching, he took her hands in his and whispered into her ear. “Come with me now.”
***
Susan’s heart thudded against her ribs, threatening to burst forth in a torrent of emotions. He was asking her to come with him!
She didn’t know what to do. Should she run? She hadn’t told anyone where she was going, which meant that if she ran now, he might catch her and throw her in jail. But if he caught her in his arms, would she regret leaving everything behind—even her children and the fire department?
And if she did leave and went straight to the bank to get a loan… well, then he would know where she was living. He would show up at her door someday. Then what would she do?
“Susan, are you going to come with me or not?”
A wave of dizziness swept through her. This is insane. What am I doing? How could I even think of letting him take me away from all of this? If she went, she’d miss the fire. Not only was it the biggest fire of the year, but it was also being fought by a famous fireman named Jimmie O’Hara.
Susan had worked with him a few months earlier and had learned that he was considered the best volunteer firefighter in town.
His reputation alone would impress people. The fact that he was the only paid man working at the moment would give him even more status. She wanted to know more about his methods of fighting fires.
She didn’t want to wait until she heard about the fire in a newspaper; she wanted to see it for herself. It just seemed wrong to go anywhere without letting everyone know she was going. If he knew who she was, she was certain he would find some excuse not to take her to the fire.
But how would he ever find out who she was if he never let her out of his sight?
Then again, he probably already knew who she was. Why else would she have given him this information? And why did she feel compelled to give it? There must have been a reason. Something important enough to put her life at risk, if necessary.
It wouldn’t be easy leaving the firehouse and taking off with him. Even if she convinced someone to watch over the fire, it would still be hard to sneak away unnoticed.
The thought brought back memories of the night she sneaked out of town after her father died. He had left her money; if he’d known that would be his last gift to his daughter, he might have done something differently.
Instead, he spent most of his savings helping other people. He’d made the decision to donate the money before his death, so she’d felt compelled to obey him even though it hurt her every day since.
If she gave up everything here and ran off with him, she might be able to change his mind. It would certainly give her an opportunity to tell him how much he meant to her. Maybe she could convince him he should leave the firefighting business and start a family… maybe even have more children.
With all the years they had shared together, surely he knew she would love any child he wanted to raise with her.
What would happen afterward? What if she couldn’t get him to stay away from the firefighting business? Then she’d be right back where she started… with nothing except a lot of memories.
“Mrs. Parker? Are you ready to go?”
His voice sounded too loud; it startled her. “Yes.”
They walked down the street side by side as if there weren’t twenty feet between them. They passed two women on their way to visit the hospital, one pushing a baby carriage, another carrying a sick friend on her shoulder. A young boy stood at the corner selling newspapers. As they neared, he looked up at them and called out. “Newspaper!” His mother scolded him, and he hurried along.
As they reached the edge of the block, she turned toward him. “I need to use your horse, Mr. Taylor.”
“Why?”
“Just go ahead and get on. Wait here while I check out the house.”
He waited for her beside the horse, looking like a statue carved from white marble. She checked the window and then climbed onto the saddle, careful not to touch him or his clothes. The horse seemed nervous when she got on. Perhaps it remembered when the men rode him last time. Or perhaps it was because she wasn’t wearing the red cloak.
Taking the reins, she led the horse past him and rode away from town. When they were halfway to the river, he said, “Where are we going?”
“To look at the fire. Will you please follow me?”
“Are you crazy? You can’t ride a horse into that fire.”
She nodded. “Do you have a better idea?”
“You can walk.”
“Not with you around.”
He smiled. “Well, what’s the answer?”
“There isn’t one.”
After a short pause, he said, “All right, then, I’ll come with you.”
The road became muddy after they crossed the bridge. She tried to avoid the worst puddles but still ended up with dirty shoes. She tied one boot behind the stirrup so the water wouldn’t leak through. They came upon a group of cowboys on their horses; they stopped and watched her pass. They must have recognized her from the news story about the fire.
At the next crossroad, she turned to the north. Soon she heard the sound of roaring flames and smelled smoke. The wind shifted and brought an acrid odor. As they rode closer, they saw a wall of flame stretching high into the sky. The air grew hot in an instant. If they weren’t careful, this fire could become very dangerous.
They followed the trail of burning leaves until they reached a wide open space filled with debris—broken tree limbs, old wooden furniture and boxes, charred logs and cinders, and pieces of clothing. Some items still smoldered. At the center of it all was a huge pile of ashes and bones, which had once been people.
Ahead, they rode straight through the middle of a thick cloud of black smoke. In no time, she had to hold her hand over her mouth to prevent choking on the fumes. The heat of the fire was intense; she could feel it on her back and face.
“This is awful,” she gasped.
He pulled her close to keep her from being scorched. “We have to get out of here now.”
Racing across the field, she finally arrived at the river and dismounted. The horse took several steps and then bolted toward the water. After leading the animal a few yards, she jumped onto its back and rode downstream.
When the current slowed down, she led the horse upstream again. This time she held on to the reins and let the horse take care of herself as they waded along the river bed. She glanced up; a huge black bird was flying low over the water, following them.
Was it watching for a chance to swoop down and snatch the horse? But there was no sign of any predators in these parts. Maybe it was just some sort of seagull, trying to scare her away.
With a sigh of relief, she guided the horse to dry ground near the bank. When she turned around, she saw something else: a large gray boulder rising from the bottom of the stream. There were marks on it.
It appeared someone had painted a red cross in the top left corner of the rock. On her second attempt, she managed to climb onto it without slipping. With her back pressed against the stone, she stared at the flames. Her heart pounded in her ears. She couldn’t hear anything except the pounding of the blood in her temples… and the rushing of the water beneath her feet.
How many people died in that inferno? Did it happen quickly or slowly? Were their screams loud or painful? Had their final moments been frightening or peaceful? And did they know how much this town loved them before they left the earth forever?
A sudden breeze blew the smoke away and revealed a row of white crosses stretched in rows across the field. A single word was painted on each grave marker: “SOLDIER.”
Some of them were old enough to be veterans; others were young soldiers. One man was only twenty-five years old. She counted five graves for each year since the Civil War began, but none of the names mentioned in the newspaper story matched these graves.
Most likely, these were the names of those who hadn’t yet been identified. How terrible! Five coffins for each year of fighting. And that was only during the first decade of the war; the numbers rose dramatically as more and more men died.
The fire continued to burn. Smoke wafted over the fields and drifted over her head until she felt like she was inside a chimney. It was getting dark; she could barely see the other side of the river. She wanted to go back but knew she couldn’t leave these graves unburied.
“I’ll stay,” he said from behind. “You should probably find a place to hide your horse.”
It would be impossible to search for a hiding spot when there was too much smoke. She climbed off the boulder and returned to where she’d left her horse. It seemed very agitated after being exposed to so many different smells and noises for most of the afternoon.
She walked up to her mount. “What’s wrong?”
After sniffing her, the horse whinnied in protest. It took a few steps forward and then stopped again. “I think we might not be alone.”
“Where are we exactly?” she asked, searching around.
“Not far from where I met you.” He pointed to a cluster of trees on the south shore of the river. “And this is one of the closest points between here and the town. We can watch both sides of the river from here.”
The horse snorted and shook its head. “It doesn’t like the smell. What do you suppose happened here?”
“Someone set fire to that field and killed everyone.”
As he watched her reaction, his mouth curved into a smile. “It didn’t kill me, though.”
“Why don’t we leave now?” she asked.
“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “We’ll wait until night falls and then try again.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “If anyone saw us earlier today, they’re long gone by now.”
That made sense. The townspeople wouldn’t want to draw any unwanted attention by staying around the scene of an incident. They had already done enough harm with their accusations about the woman posing as a detective. She would make it easy for them if she were found here tonight.
She looked at him and wondered how she had come to this. It was a good thing she hadn’t seen what happened to the bodies. Otherwise, she never would have agreed to join him. And if she had known about this earlier, she would never have even considered coming out west.
Her stomach growled; it was time to hunt for dinner. They needed to eat before they ventured into town. As she turned away from him, he called out, “Hold up!”
She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. In the darkness, he didn’t appear to be wearing any clothes.
“There’s a trail nearby,” he whispered, pointing toward the tree line. “Maybe we could sneak over and see where it leads.”
She followed him through the thickets and shrubs. He stayed close to her and moved silently along the path. After walking another half mile, he stopped again and pulled the gun from his pocket. “Here.”
Without asking why, she took the weapon and examined it. It had a single bullet loaded in the chamber, just as she had expected. “Didn’t they teach you how to shoot in your army days?”
“A little bit,” he replied, “but I’m rusty.”
He held the pistol in front of his face and cocked it. She waited patiently for him to point it toward the woods instead of his own chest, but no sooner had he lowered the barrel than it went off. His body jerked backward and fell onto the ground. Blood poured from a hole in the center of his forehead. He wasn’t dead yet, but she didn’t dare approach him in case he shot her too.
She hurried past him to retrieve her gun from where it lay beside her saddle. The animal was still standing next to her mount, staring wide-eyed at the man on the ground. A second later, it reared up and ran off into the forest.
She picked up the reins and turned her horse around. The animal’s behavior made her nervous. Why hadn’t it tried to run off when she fired her own gun?
When she got closer to her target, she realized why. The rifle lying next to him was not hers, nor did she recognize the stock or butt plate. It appeared to be a Winchester carbine, which meant someone else was responsible for killing those men back in the barn.
She approached cautiously and knelt down beside him, trying to determine whether he was alive or not. With his head resting on his right arm and his left hand covering his wound, she couldn’t tell at first. Then his eyes fluttered open, and he let out a low groan.
She removed the hand from his brow and wiped it against her dress. “Who are you?”
“Just stay there,” he rasped. “Don’t move. Don’t say anything. There are others who will arrive soon.”
“Others?”
He coughed and blood sprayed out of his mouth. When he finally managed to gasp, “You have to get out of here,” she knew something awful had happened to him and why he wasn’t willing to talk about it.
But before she could question him further, footsteps thundered closer to the river. She jumped away from him and turned to find herself facing two armed men coming out of the forest on the other side of the road.
One was taller than the other by several inches, with black hair cut short across his scalp. Both wore long coats and carried pistols at their hips. But neither man appeared to carry a rifle, so she assumed they were alone. If they wanted to attack her and shoot her horse, they probably weren’t looking for trouble with the law.
She stood behind her horse and pointed the weapon at them. They stared back without moving a muscle.
They seemed to know about the deaths in the field; they must have come directly from town. “I’ll ask one more time,” she said, “what do you want with me?”
The tall man smiled and raised his gun. “We’ll see.”
The End