Diamonds and Dreams (8 page)

“Big, stop that,” Goldie said. She twisted
and took hold of one of his fists. “I’m all right, Big. Nobody ever
died from gettin’ their hair pulled.”

Saber watched the little man return to his
guard post behind the girl. “I apologize if I hurt you,” he said
softly, and felt genuine remorse. He stared at the riotous mass of
flaxen curls shimmering around her face and had to suppress his odd
urge to touch them. He’d never seen such wild hair allowed such
freedom. Most women he knew would have taken drastic measures to
tame it. They’d anchor it down with a hundred pins if
necessary.

He found himself glad
this
girl
didn’t do that, and then noticed she wore only one earring. “I fear
you’ve lost your left earring. Perhaps it slipped off in the
pond?”

She touched the bit of tin and colored glass
hanging from her right ear. “This is the only one I’ve got. I don’t
wear it all the time, though. If I do, it turns my earlobe green.
Y’see, one time I read that Indians pierce their ears. I’m not an
Indian, but I kinda liked the idea of piercin’ my ear. Heaven must
have read my thoughts because I soon found this earring. I pierced
this ear all by myself. Used a needle and a potato. See, you gotta
put somethin’ behind your earlobe when you stick the needle through
or else the needle might shoot into your brain, and then you
wouldn’t be able to think anymore. Bertie Snide told me that. I was
real brave when I pierced my ear.”

Saber nodded in all seriousness. “Bertie
Snide sounds like quite the intellect. And please allow me to
commend you on your courage in the face of such a delicate
operation.”

“You’re allowed. Go ahead.”

“But I just did.”

“You did?”

“I—Yes. I said—Well, no matter,” Saber
stammered, amusement continuing to rise. “And what of your other
ear? It’s not pierced?”

“Why would I have pierced both ears when I
only had one earring?”

“I—” He broke off. He’d been going to argue,
but her question made perfect sense. “What are you doing here?” he
asked instead. “Leighwood is private property, and by the looks of
that dead rabbit over there, you’ve been hunting here. Did you know
that’s against the law?”

“Leighwood?”

“That’s what this estate is called.”

Goldie glanced at the rabbit and realized
Big had been successful in finding their supper. “And that’s a
Leighwood rabbit?”

“I’m quite sure it is.”

She paused to think about that. “So you’re
sayin’ that if Big had chased it off Leighwood, it wouldn’t have
been a Leighwood rabbit? Or does this law of yours say that once a
Leighwood rabbit, always a Leighwood rabbit?”

Saber automatically opened his mouth to
answer her, but no explanation came forth. Her question made him
smile instead. It was a moment before he realized he was grinning,
and he wondered what he thought was so funny. “You’re hungry,
aren’t you?” he asked, noticing how she kept looking over at the
fat rabbit.

Goldie nodded. “A little tired too. Big and
I have been travelin’ for days lookin’ for my duke. Two days ago, I
gave all our food to Itchie Bon, my new dog. Big’s been miffed at
me ever since. You still mad at me, Big?”

Big grunted a swear word. “Goldie, I think
it’s time we were on our way. Get your sword, call Dammit, and
let’s go.”

“Dammit?” Saber asked.

“He’s my horse, and he’s about a thousand
years old,” Goldie informed him. “I reckon he’s piddlin’ around
somewhere with Big’s mule, Smiley Jones. Big calls his mule that
because the dumb thing likes to eat briars. When he eats ’em it
looks like he’s smilin’. I don’t know where Big got the ‘Jones’
part from, though, Where’d you get the ‘Jones’ part from, Big?”

“I just liked it,” Big answered, and gave
the giant another well-aimed glare.

“And I call my horse Dammit because I say
‘dammit’ a lot when I’m ridin’ him,” Goldie continued. “See, since
he’s so old it takes him a long time to get goin’. I don’t mean to
cuss at him though. It just sorta slips out. So I named him Dammit.
That way, he thinks I’m sayin’ his name instead of cussin’ at him.
I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelin’s. I’ve only had him for a few
weeks. Found him wanderin’ near my village. Smiley Jones was with
him, and Big and I took ’em in. Dammit and Smiley Jones are best
friends. Do you know what
pusillanimous
means?”

“Pusillanimous?” Saber’s mind spun as he
tried to keep up with her. “Uh...lacking courage. Without
resolution. Why do you ask?”

She gaped at him. “It’s my new word for the
day. I find a new one every day in my dictionary. You’re the first
person I ever met who already knew my new word for the day. Where’d
you learn it?”

Saber smiled again. “I don’t know, really. I
guess I just heard it somewhere.” God, she was an amusing bit of
female, he thought. But try as he might, he couldn’t quite put his
finger on what it was about her that he found so funny.

“Did y’know that Itchie Bon means ‘Number
One’ in Japanese?” Goldie asked. “I knew a Japanese man once. Met
him in South Carolina, but I can’t remember which town. I can’t
remember his name either. It was a funny name, as I recall. He was
tryin’ to make a livin’ by sellin’ fish. He didn’t do well though
because he didn’t cook it. Served it up raw as raw could be, and
folks thought he was crazy. He’s the one who told me what Itchie
Bon means. I thought it was a good name for my dog. Big and I
didn’t mean to break any laws, mister. You think we should find the
owner of this Leighwood estate and apologize for killin’ his
rabbit? I could offer him half of it as a peace offerin’. ‘Course
then there wouldn’t be much left for Big and me.”

Still smiling, Saber shook his head. “I
don’t think he’ll miss one little rabbit, but I caution you against
hunting anywhere else. You can get yourself into very serious
trouble.”

“These English estate owners must be a
selfish bunch. I wonder if Mildred Fickle knows that?” she mused
aloud, then looked at Big. “Go on and skin it, Big. I’d help you,
but y’know how guts make me sick. There’s a knife in my saddlebag,
but you’ll have to find Dammit to get it.”

“But this son of a bitch—”

“Big,” Goldie intervened, “I told you he’s
not a dreaded English highwayman-ravisher, and I don’t think he’s a
son of a bitch either.” She looked Saber straight in the eye.
“You’re not a son of a bitch, are you, mister?”

Saber threw back his shoulders. “I should
say not!”

Goldie frowned. “You should say not? Just
what the hell does that mean? Are you sayin’ you aren’t sure you
should admit you’re a son of a bitch? You may as well tell the
truth right now, mister, because we’ll find out whether or not
you’re lyin’. Sons of bitches can’t hide their true natures for
long, y’know.”

Saber felt irritation and amusement at the
same time. “I am not a man you need to fear.”

Goldie nodded. “I’ll be safe with him. Big.
Daddy’s honor, I will. Go on and skin supper.”

Mumbling more profanities, Big walked out of
the clearing, the rabbit swinging in his hands.

Goldie dug her bare toes into the cool sand.
“I just can’t take the skinnin’ part of huntin’. I can’t do the
killin’ either. All I can take is the eatin’ part. I can catch fish
though. I don’t know why, but catchin’ fish isn’t as bad as
shootin’ runnin’ animals or flyin’ birds. Maybe it’s because fish
don’t scream. ‘Course I don’t reckon it feels too good to have a
hook stuck up in the roof of your mouth. You ever go fishin’?”

Saber picked up a twig and began flicking
sand around with the point of it. After a moment, he tossed the
stick into the pond. As he watched it splash into the water, he
recalled that the last time he’d fished was when his father was
still alive. A forgotten memory came to him. He remembered catching
a really big fish. His father had been so proud. Delia had cooked
it that night. What a wonderful evening that had been, sharing his
catch with his mother and father. He hadn’t thought of that night
in many years. “I haven’t fished in a very long time,” he said
quietly.

Goldie saw the wistful look on his face and
thought he would have liked to go fishing. “It’s a damn shame we
don’t have any poles, huh? I’m a good fisherwoman. The secret is
the bait, y’see. Most people use worms, but not me. I use cheese.
You wouldn’t believe how much fish love cheese.”

“How fascinating,” Saber said, thinking
about all the many things she’d told him in the ten minutes she’d
been talking. “You mentioned a duke.
Your
duke, to be
specific. Who is this duke?”

Goldie sighed again. “Duke Marion. I thought
it was gonna be so easy, but we haven’t found anyone who looks like
him. They all had something that wasn’t right. My Duke Marion’s
gotta be tall and strong like you. His eyes have to be green...like
yours. His hair...black. Strong jaw, high cheekbones...long,
straight nose...” Her voice trailed off as she studied him more
intently. On her hands and knees, she crawled toward him, stopping
only when her face was a mere inch away from his. “Great day Miss
Agnes!”

Before Saber could react, she’d thrown her
arms around him and planted a kiss right on his mouth.

Instantly, Goldie drew back. “I—I’m sorry. I
didn’t mean to kiss you like that. I—It’s just that—” She took a
moment to regard him, and when she saw that he didn’t look angry,
her excitement returned in full force. “I’ve never kissed a strange
man before, but I reckon I kissed you because I’m so happy right
now that I just couldn’t help myself! The fact of the matter is
that you’re only the second man I’ve ever kissed. Fred Wattle was
the first. You know anything about duke stuff? I’ll swannee, I
can’t believe I’ve been talkin’ to you for so long and didn’t see
how much you look like ole Duke Marion! You just can’t believe how
desperate I was to find you, and now here you are!”

“I—Did you say
Marion
?”

“Y’know anything about dukes?” she asked
again. “Maybe you’ve been near one, one time? The more y’know about
dukes, the easier it’ll be on all of us, y’see. But if you don’t
know anything, don’t worry. I’ll teach you. I’ve got the diaries.
Even though there’s a bunch of water spilled all over ’em you can
still read parts, and I guess at what I can’t read. And I remember
everything Mildred Fickle said. And everyone knows
some
stuff about dukish men. A lot of it’s just plain common sense. For
instance, y’know those canes dukish men carry? Not
all
dukish men are crippled, so y’want to know why they
all
carry canes?”

Saber couldn’t keep up with her quicksilver
chatter. “Why?” he asked absently.

“Well, if some common person dares to insult
a dukish man, the duke man uses his cane to bash the commoner over
the head.
That’s
the kind of thing everyone knows about
dukish folks. We’ll get you a cane as soon as we can. And when Big
gets that rabbit ready, the first thing I want to see you do is
sniff each bite of it. It’s not really poisoned, but you have to
get a good whiff of it anyway. Think you can remember to smell your
food every time you eat?”

Saber frowned. “Whiff of it? Poison? Uh, did
you say
Marion
?”

She nodded, her curls bouncing every which
way. “Mister, my name’s Goldie. I don’t know what your name is, but
from now on, you’re His Royal Highness Lordship Duke Marion
Tremayne. I know it’s a ridiculously long name, but you need to
learn to respond to it. See, my Uncle Asa got drunk and told the
villagers that we know the duke personally. If I don’t cover up his
lies and bring back Duke Marion, the villagers are gonna throw
Uncle Asa out of town. They said they didn’t want any lyin’,
troublemakin’ drunks around. I haven’t had a real home since my
mama and daddy died, and I’m hell-bent on stayin’ at the one I’ve
got now, so no matter what ole Dora Mashburn says is gonna happen,
I’ve got to make this work. Big says Dora’s just jealous, but Big’s
all the time sayin’ dumb stuff like that. Dora. Sometimes I call
her Dora Squash-scorch. Get it? Mashburn—Squash-scorch.”

“Squash-scorch,” Saber mumbled. “Yes,
I...uh,
get
it.”

Goldie closed her eyes for a moment,
picturing Hallensham. “It’s so purty there in the village. So
green, so open. There’s a bed of dandelions growin’ right by my
front door. But I can’t stay there without Uncle Asa though,” she
explained and opened her eyes. “He’s...the only real family I have
left in this whole wide world, and I—He’s got a good heart inside.
Once he gave me a new dress. He’s only testy when he’s drunk, and
since he’s almost always drunk—” She broke off, swallowing painful
emotions. “I—Well, anyway, I’ve been searchin’ all over for a man
who looks like Duke Marion, and you match his description.”

Saber could hardly believe what he was
hearing, however mangled it all was. “Goldie—”

“I wish your skin was whiter though. I kinda
get the feelin’ that dukish folks are pasty-white. You’re tanned.
But you’ll do, I reckon. You’ll be the duke, and if you stay out of
the sun, maybe your tan will fade some. I’ll pay you. The only
things you have to do are learn duke stuff and come to Hallensham
for a few hours. After that, I’ll give you the money, and you can
be on your way.” She drew away from him and looked into his wide,
green eyes. “Say yes?”

Saber stared back at her. He remained silent
and incredulous as her words reverberated in his mind. Bash people
over the heads, she’d said. Sniff each bite of food. Learn duke
stuff and go to Hallensham. She had a lot of big ideas, this little
person called Goldie. And the most outrageous of them all was that
she was willing to pay him to impersonate himself!

The thought made his lips twitch. The
corners of his eyes crinkled. A great burst of something he’d
forgotten he could feel exploded inside him.