Dream a Little Dream

by Juliet Benson

He had once read somewhere, probably in some newspaper, that a man without a dream is nothing. When he had read it, a kind of cold fear had seized him. He didn’t want to be nothing, he’d been nothing for too long. So, he got himself a dream.

In retrospect, it was rather stupid and childish. Hanging everything on one sentence from a place he couldn’t even remember. Besides, what was a dream after all? Elusive, something vague in the night that scurries away before dawn. Something never meant to be obtained.

Santa Fe. Was it really any wonder he choose there over every other place in the US? It was the complete opposite of New York; deserted, fresh air, open space. Far away from memories and any unpleasantness. Then the strike came and everything changed in his eyes. After talking to Teddy Roosevelt, he’d been almost positive he was ready to throw away his dream and start living in the present. Apparently he was wrong. The dream never left, no matter how much he tried to forget it. It was constantly there, in the back of his mind, even though he couldn’t identify it at first. He couldn’t escape it; it seemed like his dream was turning into a nightmare. Finally, he approached Dave with what he had decided to do.

"I’m leaving," no response. Finally, an affirmative nod.

"I know," and he was gone. On his way to Santa Fe.

PART ONE

Meg winced as the carriage hit a particularly large bump and jolted her. ‘This hair style’s shot,’ she thought wryly as a piece of her nut brown hair fell in her face. The young man across from her grinned at her obvious discomfort, not unkindly. She futilely patted at the strands that had come lose and mentally gave up. The carriage jerked again and she banged her head on the wall behind her. This time the young man didn’t grin, but looked like he wanted to. The ride so far had been conducted in awkward silence between the two of them, the only passengers. Meg had never been an outstanding conversationalist, and she wasn’t sure what she could say to this young man. ‘He’s got great hair and skin,’ she thought, a little envious. The man in question noticed her staring at him and raised his eyebrows. She pretended, a bit belatedly, to be fascinated with the design above his head.

"It’s Roman, isn’t it?" at his blank look, she tried to elaborate. "That design. Above you. It looks positively Roman. Maybe Greek. I’m not…" she trailed off, her face heating up unattractively. Worse, the boy made no move to look at the carved picture, but stared at her with a confused "you’re insipid" look on his handsome face. She turned her gaze to the window. ‘Well, that just made the ride easier,’ she thought sarcastically. Forget conversation. She burned for a while, then got over it and decided to try again. ‘After all,’ she reasoned with herself. ‘I’m never going to see him again, and he’s not that good-looking, so if I make an idiot out of myself again it won’t feel as bad.’

"Where are you headed to?" she asked pleasantly. Drat, she sounded a little patronizing to her ears, so she tried to soften it up. "I’m going to California to visit my aunt. I hear it’s dreadfully hot there." For a second, the boy just looked at her again, then apparently decided to let her off the hook and replied:

"Santa Fe,"

"Oh, how lovely!" she smiled brightly. Too brightly. Drat. The boy nodded.

"I’m Meg Cooper," she said, daintily holding out her hand. The young man reached out and grasped it.

"Jack Kelley,"

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Kelley. I’ve never been to Santa Fe. In fact, I know very little about it. Do you have family there?" She mentally patted herself on the back. ‘Nice!’ she thought, impressed with herself.

"Yeah,"

"Ah," What else could she really say? She smiled and nodded, feeling like a simpleton. Just then the carriage lurched, twice as hard as before. Meg’s body was yanked back, and she instinctively threw her weight forward, to avoid hitting her head again. As a result she ended up on the floor. ‘I knew I weighed a lot, but that much?’ she thought, dazed. A strong hand helped her to her feet and she then realized that the carriage had stopped completely.

"What’s going on?" she whispered, not knowing why she was doing so.

"We’re being held up," Jack said softly back. He was so tall he had to stoop to keep his head from hitting the top. Meg’s first thought, foolishly, was to her new dress. Shallow as it might be, it was a sixteenth birthday present, and darn it! if she didn’t look good in it.

"What are we going to do?" she whispered.

"Come on," he glided to the door and silently opened it.

"I don’t suppose there’s a chance to save our luggage?" she hissed. He looked back at her incredulously. She flushed.

"I didn’t really think so,"

PART TWO

Jack peered out through the slit he had made when opening the door the slightest fraction. Then he turned back to Meg.

"All right, when I say ‘go’, run for it." Meg nodded and felt uneasy in her stomach. She wasn’t much of a runner, preferring to let the horses do all the work. She gathered up her skirts in one hand and tensed.

"Go!" Jack hissed and was off like a shot. She followed him out, nowhere near as fast as him. There was confusion behind her with the bandits and driver as they saw the two passengers make a break for it. Jack turned back to her for a brief second.

"This way!" he called and darted into the woods. Meg stumbled after him, panting and legs aching. ‘Oh dear, I’m winded already,’ she thought in despair. When she was close where Jack had disappeared, she allowed herself the liberty of slowing down a fraction. A bullet that buried itself in the tree nearest to her changed her speed. When she was fully emerged in the wood, she noticed Jack had lessened his swiftness, waiting so she could see him before taking off again. Meg dragged some much needed air into her oxygen-deprived lungs and started off after him again. She heard crashing behind her as the highwaymen came after them. It was probably only two or so people, but it sounded like an army to Meg.

"Come on!" Jack yelled impatiently. Meg gritted her teeth and pushed herself for all she was worth. She saw Jack move behind a particularly clumped together bunch of trees and went after him. Sweat was running down her face, stinging her eyes. Her dress was clinging to her front and back from the perspiration, and her throat felt raw from breathing so hard for so long. ‘It can only have been a few minutes, but it feels like hours,’ she thought agonizingly. A hand roughly grasped her arm. Her eyes bugged out in surprise and she would have yelped if she had the air.

"Hold on," Jack whispered, letting her go.

"Gladly," she rasped, and doubled over, hands on her thighs, panting. Jack grabbed a tree and pulled it back. As soon as he saw the face of one of the thieves, he let it go, snapping them fully.

"Run!" he yelled and followed his own advice. Meg rolled her eyes in exhaustion and took a big gulp of air before limping after him. The blow knocked down the bandit, and he fell back into his partner, delaying them both for a few precious seconds.

"Mr. Kelley," Meg was probably incredibly stupid to be wasting all that lovely O2 like this, but at the moment she had something she wanted to say. "I really need to get this off my chest." He shot her an impatient look.

"Now?"

"I admit to gluttony on several occasions. I always knew it was wrong, but I never thought I’d pay for it like this. I always figured ‘It will just be this time, and I’ll go on a diet tomorrow.’ Needless to say, I never did. Why, one time- and I’ve never told this to another soul in my entire life, Mr. Kelley,- I ate eight scones at tea time. Eight! Isn’t that shameful?"

"Are you finished?" Jack was no where near panting as hard as she was.

"Not quite," Another shot rang out and spat up dirt next to Jack.

"Behind the tree!" He shoved her unto a different course with a hard right turn.

"Also, my parents were always telling me to go for a walk, or get moving somehow. I figured dancing at parties qualified as moving. I mean, doesn’t it? Don’t you think so?" Actually, she was finding it easier to run while talking, in some twisted way. While she didn’t get as much oxygen, her mind wasn’t on the pain she was currently in.

"Is this a particularly long confession?"

"Mr. Kelley, I have never moved this much in my entire life. Will you please sign a note I can give to my parents? Later, certainly. They’ll be so proud."

"Here!" Jack pushed her down behind several large boulders. A little harder than necessary, she thought.

"Now, be quiet," he hissed. She nodded, wordlessly, to her credit and hunkered down. Her breathing sounded incredible loud to her ears, so she tried to quiet it as much as possible.

PART THREE

Meg was sure the bandits could hear her heart pounding. It had been excited enough when they had been running, but now, with them standing just a few feet away with loaded guns, it was doing the waltz in a incredibly fast tempo. Meg was worried that it wasn’t safe. It would be terribly distressing to everyone if she died from a massive coronary attack. The thieves had run past at full tilt and she had prepared to sprint off again, but Jack touched her arm and motioned for her to stay put. She was more than willing to comply. Really, it was embarrassing how winded she got from this. ‘Twelve mile hikes, twice a day, rain or storm,’ she mentally vowed to herself, while knowing she’d never keep to it. Then one bandit yelled for his partner to stop and commented he didn’t hear them crashing around.

"They must have stopped," agreed the second man. Meg felt Jack working up a few good profanities for later use in his mind.

"Spread out and search the area, keep your ears open for anything," barked the first. The two split up, one heading in the opposite direction of Meg and Jack, and the other scanning the area for a possible escape route. He frowned and stalked to the right of them. Meg winced and glanced at Jack out of the corner of her eye. He looked like he was thinking frantically. Meg searched the zone around them for some sort of weapon. She pointed to the large rocks about a foot away and raised her eyebrows at Jack, saying wordlessly: "How about those?" Jack made a: "If we have to, but look for something better." expression. Meg replied with: "I like cheese." just because she thought it might lighten the mood, and because she wanted to see if she could pull off the expression. From the confusion on Jack’s face, she couldn’t. She flicked her wrist, implying: "Never mind." They continued to hunt around, while the thief shuffled through the bushes, systematically drawing nearer to them. Finally, they shared a look and decided to resort to the rocks. ‘Not very original, but you take what you can get.’ Meg thought, reaching over and grasping one in each hand. Oh dear, they were pretty heavy. Jack leaned over and started to pick two up as well, but as his weight shifted on his knees, he cracked a few small twigs. Both Meg and Jack froze, looking at each other with huge eyes. The sound in the bushes stopped instantly, then the bandit exploded out, running at them. There was a gleam in his hand, but whether it was a knife or gun, Meg couldn’t tell. Jack leapt to his feet and flung one of his rocks at the bandit hard. Meg staggered up next to him and tossed one in his direction. The fact that she had one heavy rock in each hand combined with her being poor shot to begin with resulted in her stone landing somewhere near his foot. Jack’s rock was more guided, however, and it caught the man in the shoulder. Which only seemed to make him angrier. Jack flung another at him, then Meg pressed her into his hand before scurrying off to get two more. As soon as he hurled the one she had given him, she handed him another. They continued to work like this, gradually pushing the man back. Meg worriedly noted that Jack was finally getting tired, and he was coated in sweat. If worse came to worse, their roles might be reversed and she’d have to try her hand at throwing. Finally, one good fling caught the man in the jaw and he fell, the rock landing on his shoulder with an audible sound. Meg flinched in some sympathy and looked at Jack. He absently wiped the back of his hand across his brow and listened intently. For the other thief, Meg realized. Surely he must have heard the racket they had caused? After a few seconds, Jack gestured with his head and they silently ran off.

PART FOUR

Meg was sure that dirt was permanently imprinted on her rear. She winced and swatted tiredly at the horde of mosquitoes . It was now night, only two hours had passed since they had been hijacked. Two hours of silence, while Jack led the way through the woods. She didn’t know how he could manage to find his way around someplace so obviously out of his territory, judging from his New York accent, but didn’t voice this concern. Prudence compelled her to keep quiet, not wanting to draw the attention of the bandits to them. It was rather insipid, she supposed, seeing how much noise they were making just by crashing through the woods. However, Jack didn’t offer any conversation, either, and she was too exhausted to say much anyway. The rush of adrenaline she had gotten during their flight had quickly died, leaving her trembling and hungry. Oh, so hungry. Finally, Jack had stopped.

"We’ll stay here for tonight," he said, gesturing at their surroundings. Meg nodded, and dropped down to her knees gratefully. Hunger had made her shaky, and she clutched at her stomach.

"What will we do for food?" she asked, looking around, wishing that a silver platter of roasted chicken would *pop* out of the air next to her. Jack gracefully slid down next to her.

"We won’t," he replied, gathering sticks into a pile. Meg’s heart dropped into her stomach with an audible clang and echo.

"Oh," she said in a small voice. She watched him form the sticks into a rough tee-pee and get up to get two stones. "Do you want me to do something?" She fervently hoped he would say no, leave her to wallow in misery.

"Yeah, gather a bunch of leaves." She nodded, and warily rose to her feet. She half-heartedly collected a group of leaves. Her arms felt like lead, slowing her down. She returned after a bit with her arms full.

"What do you want me to do with these?" she asked, falling down with a plop. Jack was still trying to get the fire to go.

"We’re going to cover ourselves with them," he replied, shortly. "Get some more." Biting back a groan, Meg unsteadily rose again. After four trips, when Jack finally got the fire going, he let her stop. Meg gratefully collapsed, and knocked her jaw into the woods floor. Mumbling something under her breath, she piled half the leaves she had worked so hard to get on top of her cold, numb form. The leaves were scratchy and had an unpleasant rough, papery feel to them. Shivering, she hoped that her empty, neglected stomach would let her sleep. It did, and she was out within minutes.

Meg awoke to a hand was roughly shaking her shoulder. Groaning, she rolled over and tried to catch a few more precious moments of sleep. Vaguely, from far away, she heard a muttered: "Now I know how Kloppman feels." She had very nearly re-sunk into the abyss of sleep when two strong hands gripped her shoulders and dragged her up. She let out a weak: "Eaak!" which sounded something like a cross between a frog and an egg hitting the floor. Blinking, she glared into Jack’s fuzzy face, trying to get him to come into focus so she could really turn on the daggers.

"Let’s get moving," he simply said, moving away. Meg bit back a groan and hauled it up. Her muscles ached dearly from yesterday’s extensive use of them, and her throat was badly sore from breathing in the cold night air. She swallowed several times, hoping to relieve the dryness in her throat.

"Do you suppose we’ll run across water soon?" she asked hopefully. Jack shrugged and started off through the woods. Meg sighed, regretted it, and followed.