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“So,” he said to me, “you are a traitor to your king, as well as to your friend.”
“Not my king,” I said, knowing I sealed my doom.
“I should never have begged you to come back for me,” my love cried.
“If you bear witness against him as a spy and say he forced himself upon you, I will protect you,” said her husband. “If not …”
“Yes,” I cried. “It was I. She tried to fight me off, but I was too strong.”
There was not a second of debate in her eyes. She raised her chin and defied her husband, her face a mask of despair. “I gave myself willingly,” she declared. “I love him and will never betray him.” She condemned herself because of me. Oh, my love. My heart broke. I could not save her.
The servants forced me to my knees. I saw the biggest man raise a sharp sickle. My love screamed and screamed. My perception shriveled to a burning hole of fear and pain and flashing lights and falling, falling, falling….
A voice whispered in my ear, “Don’t let anyone take me from you again.”
I woke in a sweat, my blanket a knot around my knees, and reached in panic for my darling.
“Abel, watch your elbow.” Apollo kicked and scuffled his way out from under the wagon.
I crawled after him, suffused with sorrow, and sat in the early sunlight, confused and muzzy. I truly felt as if those events had really happened, and those last words—it was almost as if someone was sending me a message. Oh yes, I thought. I removed a pebble from beneath my rear and laughed at myself. Lady Adventure is a real person luring me to her with exciting stories of romance. What kind of a woman was able to do that? Yet I thought of the buxom curves and inviting lips of the dream dancer, and I thrilled at the notion of finding her.
The day was already hot, and I couldn’t eat. Miss Lightfoot pressed an apple on me and insisted I should save it for later. The sight of tears in her eyes distracted me from thoughts of my dream.
“Are you crying, ma’am?” I asked.
“Bless you, sweetie toes,” she said. “I am not. I am unable to perspire because of my skin. This is what happens instead. I am afraid it does not keep me cool, however.” She sighed. “It will be a difficult day.”
When I climbed into my driver’s seat, the lingering melancholy of the dream evaporated with the rising sun, until at last I could see the woman’s face no longer, nor feel the pain of being parted from her.
Perhaps my passengers had their own dreams to consider, for the ladies were quiet, and I was left with my thoughts until we paused for our luncheon. Nobody appeared to have much appetite, and it was not long before Dr. Mink spurred us on again. I made a quick trip to the bushes, and when I returned, I saw the others gathered around my wagon.
“We don’t have time for your vapors,” Mink snapped at Miss Lightfoot, who sat crumpled over on the tailgate.
“Oh, let the girl have her bath,” growled Bess. Her beard bristled.
“Miss Lightfoot needs a bath ’cause it’s hot and she might die,” said Apollo to me, all the while glancing from Miss Lightfoot to Dr. Mink and back. The fine hair on his face floated like gossamer in his nervous breath. He moved as if to tug Dr. Mink’s sleeve but jumped back as the skeleton man flung up his arm for attention.
“Move out,” Mink ordered. “Anyone not aboard gets left behind.”
Billy Sweet ran for his wagon. The giant shambled after him, shaking his head. Apollo ran off too.
“Well, I’m not shifting,” said Bess, brawny arms akimbo.
“Please, sugar,” said Miss Lightfoot to her faintly. “I’ll be all right.”
“You’ll shift,” said Dr. Mink, and he nodded at Bonfiglio.
The big man flexed his arm muscles, enjoying his moment, and then he scooped Bess from the ground as if she were a doll.
“Hey,” I cried. He had her arm bent up her back.
Bonfiglio tossed Bess past Miss Lightfoot into the wagon and turned on me, fist raised. “I guarantee Dr. Mink will not mind if I knock you down,” he said, eyes narrowed.
“Don’t, Abel,” said Bess as she struggled to her knees and rubbed her arm. “Don’t give him the pleasure.”
I hesitated, not sure what to do, but then Apollo returned with a bucket of water and a sponge. He strained to lift it up to Miss Lightfoot, but it was too unwieldy, and he slopped water everywhere. I was proud of him. “Good lad,” I said.
Mink wheezed with laughter. “Look at that. A doggie with a heart of gold.”
