Escape with the Dream Maker (17 page)

But he remained adamant. He growled more than once, “She's not going to get me away from here. No, she's crazy, and that's all there is to it.”

The middle of the second week of Sarah's visit to the
Avenger,
she had an idea. It came to her rather uncertainly at first and then grew stronger. Finally, when she and Jake were again talking in her quarters, she said, “Jake, I want you to do something.”

“I'll bet you do.” Jake grinned. “You want me to go back and get eaten up by one of those horrible creatures. That's what's going to happen to everybody back in—what do you call it?—Nuworld?”

“You're trying to make fun of me, Jake, but there's one thing you won't try.” Sarah's eyes were challenging, and when he looked at her she said, “Let's go down to the Viewing Room.”

“You want to play
games
at a time like this?”

“Yes, I do. Will you take me there?”

“If you say so. I've always liked the Viewing Room.”

They went down into the level of the ship where the Viewing Room was installed. It was a large room that, through the miracles of science, could be transformed into anything the viewer wished. He could be an explorer in Africa, and the room would suddenly be a jungle, with tigers, lions, and screaming monkeys. It could be a desert with camels and miles of burning sand.

Jake said, “Well, how should we program it?”

“I want to program it for the time that we flew on the backs of eagles, far above the deserts.”

Jake stared at her. Sweat broke out on his forehead, but he tried to appear casual. “Anything you say, Sarah.” He made the necessary adjustments, and . . .

Suddenly Jake found himself in a different world. It was a world of blue sky and white clouds and golden sun, and then he realized that his legs were astride a huge, feathered neck. Leaning forward, he saw that the head at the end of that neck was the head of a magnificent eagle. He shut his eyes, refusing to look further.

“Look down, Jake. Look down. There are the other Sleepers. Do you see?”

Jake heard Sarah's voice, and, swallowing hard, he straightened up and forced himself to open his eyes. The eagle's mighty pinions, fully thirty feet across, were beating the air. Turning to his right, he saw Sarah astride an enormous bird like the one he rode. She was laughing, and her hair was flying. “Look, Jake. There they are down there.”

Jake looked downward and saw tiny figures. His eagle suddenly wheeled, and his stomach wheeled also. But as the eagles flew closer to the ground, he found that he recognized the young people below.
“That's Josh, and that's Reb Jackson,” he murmured, “and Dave Cooper, and Abbey Roberts, and there's Wash.
I know them all.”

He gasped as his eagle suddenly beat its wings harder and mounted upward toward the sun.

Sarah called out, “Do you believe now, Jake?”

Jake looked back down at the young people, stared at them hard, then turned away. Sarah was looking at him with pleading in her eyes and then reached out a hand toward him. “Do you believe now, Jake?”

And Jake Garfield suddenly knew that this experience had actually happened. He knew that Sarah had been telling the truth. “Yes,” he called out, “I believe.”

And then he found they were back in the Viewing Room.

After Jake and Sarah had sat in silence for a moment, she took his hand. “It's hard to give up your dreams, isn't it, Jake?”

“Yes, it is. Did you have to give up a dream, too, Sarah?”

“All of us had to give up dreams. All except Wash. He's the only one who didn't get fooled. And nobody really got to ‘go home.' Oliver deceived us. Are you ready to go back to Nuworld, Jake?”

“Yes, I'm ready now, Sarah.”

D
ave looked down at his clothes and saw that he was indeed in a dream. He was not yet quite sure what dream Abbey had chosen, but the costume he had on seemed vaguely familiar. He wore a pair of fawn-colored trousers, a multicolored waistcoat, a snow-white shirt with ruffled front, a black tie, and a cropped coat that came to his knees. He pulled off his hat and saw that it was light tan with a sweeping, broad brim and a low crown. Putting it back on and settling it at an angle, he muttered, “I'm all dressed up for something—but I don't know what.”

Looking about, he saw that he stood in front of one of the most magnificent homes that he had ever seen. It sat well back from the road, was surrounded by enormous oak trees, and looked very familiar. It was a large plantation house, gleaming white. The grassy grounds were manicured to an even height. “I've seen that place before somewhere,” Dave muttered. He began drifting toward it.

“Where
is
this place? It looks so familiar . . .”

He came closer and saw black servants, men and women, moving about and serving a large crowd that had gathered on the lawn. “It's back in the old South—I recognize that much. Abbey always liked stories like that. Well, I look the part. I'll just go join the party.”

Large tables draped with white cloths were set up on the green grass in front of the house. Cut crystal caught the reflection of the sun and glittered like diamonds.
Men were sipping frosty-looking drinks out of tall, thin glasses with green sprigs on top. “Those must be mint juleps. I've read about them,” Dave said, “but I've never actually seen one.”

He moved among the crowd, listening to the soft murmur of Southern voices, and then suddenly he accidentally bumped into someone.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, turning around.

“That's all right. My fault.” The speaker was a tall, strongly built man with black hair and a black mustache neatly clipped. He had a ruggedly handsome face and was dressed much as Dave himself was. “I don't believe I know you, sir.”

“I'm Dave Cooper, sir.” Dave added the “sir,” feeling that the man had the right touch of language.

“Captain Breck Stewart.”

Breck Stewart!
Dave gasped. The hero in Abbey's favorite TV program.
Now she must be right in the middle of it!

“Captain Stewart,” he said and shook the strong hand of the handsome man in front of him. “Are you back from having run the blockade?” In the television series, Stewart was a ship owner who ran a blockade during the Civil War, bringing war supplies past the federal gunships.

“Yes, we had a very successful cruise this last time.”

“I'm glad to hear it. I'm sure your cargo was welcomed here in the Confederacy.”

“They need everything.” Stewart seemed to smile without moving his lips. “I suppose you've come to call on one of the beautiful ladies of the house.”

“Well,” Dave said, “I won't be calling on Miss Elizabeth Brady. I understand you're courting her, Captain Stewart.”

Stewart looked at him with surprise. “Why, no. Go right ahead and court Miss Elizabeth. She's a beautiful young lady.”

Dave was confused, “You haven't come calling on Elizabeth Brady? But I thought—”

“No, I'm very interested in her cousin.”

“Her cousin? I don't believe I've met her.”

“Then you must. She's the toast of the Confederacy. Why, there she is now. Come along. I'll introduce you, but—” Stewart grinned and added jovially “—no competition. I don't want to have to fight another duel.”

Somehow Dave knew, before he looked up at the young lady, what he would see, and he did.

Breck Stewart said, “Miss Abbey Roberts, may I present to you Mr. Dave Cooper. He's come courting, but I've given him stern warning he's to leave you to my tender mercy.”

“Why, Captain Stewart, how dare you say such a thing.” Abbey was wearing a beautiful orchid-color dress over a full set of hoops. She wore a straw hat over her blonde hair, and she looked beautiful.

“I'm happy to make your acquaintance, Miss Roberts,” Dave said formally.

“Perhaps I can introduce you to some of the other young ladies.”

“Well, despite Captain Stewart's warnings, I'd much rather talk with you.”

A dangerous glint came into Breck Stewart's eyes. He stared hard at Dave, then turned and walked away without another word.

“Really, Mr. Cooper, you must be careful! Captain Stewart's already shot more than one man in a duel.”

“I know he has. I'm surprised he's not interested in your cousin Elizabeth.”

“Oh, he
was
interested in her,” Abbey said lightly,
and her eyes gleamed. “But then he seemed to prefer my company.”

“How does Elizabeth like that?” He knew that Elizabeth, in the TV series, was a possessive woman.

“Oh, she doesn't care anything about Breck Stewart, but I do.” Abbey put her hand over her mouth, and her eyes flew wide. “Well, I'll declare. Here I am telling you, a total stranger, all these things.”

“I won't breathe a word of it to a soul, Miss Abbey,” he said. “Could I get you some refreshment?”

“Why, that would be very nice.” Abbey's eyes fluttered toward Stewart, who had stationed himself across the lawn and was watching her with a slight smile. “But you must be careful. Captain Stewart's very jealous.”

Dave said, “I will be very careful, Miss Abbey.” But he thought,
One good thing about this is that, as long as this is a dream, if Stewart shoots me I won't really be dead. It makes it easy for a fellow to be brave.

As the party progressed, it became more and more obvious that Abbey was completely submerged in the world of her TV people. Dave had not the foggiest idea of how to help her.

He moved among the crowd, staying always close to her, seeing Elizabeth and her sisters, listening as the men talked about the war, and always thinking,
How can I get Abbey out of this? She always loved romantic stories on TV shows, and now she's the star of one.

Despair came over him. He knew that it would take every ounce of ingenuity he could find to extract Abbey Roberts from her dream world.

He managed to finagle an invitation from Elizabeth Brady herself to come back. She was a beautiful girl, selfish to the core, exactly as she was in the TV show. She said, “In fact, you ought to stay for a few
days as our house guest. I noticed that you're interested in my cousin, Miss Abbey.”

“Yes, I am,” Dave said boldly. “Captain Breck Stewart, I believe, is interested also.”

“He is a wicked man,” Elizabeth said. “I would have nothing to do with him, and I've warned Abbey to do the same. Be careful—if you make Captain Stewart jealous, he might shoot you.”

“Well, I might shoot him,” Dave said jokingly.

That thought seemed to intrigue Elizabeth Brady. “Why, yes, you must stay,” she said. “We have plenty of room. I'll see that you have a horse to ride.” She leaned closer, and Dave could smell her lavender perfume. “I'll help you win Miss Abbey. Won't that make Captain Stewart mad?”

“I expect it would,” Dave said, “but I do appreciate all the help you can give me, Miss Elizabeth.”

 

Elizabeth was true to her word. Dave stayed on at the Brady plantation for several weeks. As happens in dreams, no one seemed to question his presence there. Mr. Brady liked him, and he often went hunting with the older man.

But it was Abbey who got most of his attention. He discovered that she delighted in the world of the South. Dave had read some history. He knew that period had been a time of a few very rich planters and huge numbers of very poor farmers. These planters weren't the real South, but they were the most colorful. They had the money, and the fine houses, and the fine horses. He tried to explain this to Abbey but soon gave up. The world of the rich planters, their handsome sons, their hot-blooded horses, their midnight cake bakes all pleased her immensely.

Breck Stewart frequently visited the plantation.
More than once his eyes had grown cold when he saw Dave and Abbey together. Abbey, of course, would shiver and warn Dave, “You must be careful. He's a very dangerous man.”

“And very attractive,” Dave suggested.

“Yes, of course, he is that.” Abbey touched his arm. “So are you, David. I've never known anyone finer.”

The crisis came unexpectedly. Stewart evidently had been drinking. He appeared suddenly in the middle of a party where Dave and Abbey were laughing with some other young people. Abbey saw him first, and her eyes flew open wide. “Dave,” she whispered, “he's coming to challenge you. Don't do it.”

Dave turned to face the man who suddenly stood over him. “Yes, Captain Stewart?” he asked. “Can I do something for you?”

Without warning, Stewart slapped Dave across the face. “You can get out and run like a cur, or you can meet me and we'll have this out like men.”

A cry went up from those around them, but not a very loud one. Dueling was the custom in the South. And Dave well knew that a man who refused to avenge an insult such as he had received would be scorned by everyone. He glanced quickly around and then eyed Breck Stewart. “I'll meet anywhere you say, Captain.”

“At dusk then. At the old barn where the roads cross.” Stewart walked away.

“You can't do it, Dave,” Abbey whispered. “You just can't.”

“I've got to. You saw what he did. You heard what he said.” Dave was thinking,
Maybe this will shake her up. It's a duel, and I don't believe in such things, but after all, this is just her dream.

Word spread all over the plantation, and Dave
received much advice on how to duel. As his counselors talked, their eyes glittered with excitement, and he knew they were thinking,
He may be dead by the time it's dark!

He went to his room, put on a fine suit, and left the house at four o'clock. He rode to the crossroads where he found Stewart waiting. “I'm sorry to be late,” he said, stepping off the horse.