was “cozy and cute,” she often told Lily, and it suited her needs perfectly.
“My stars,” Lily said, “would you look at all the people on the square? What a crowd. See? I told you that Prescott is growing, and there’s the evidence of it. Well, let’s plough in and ogle the goodies.”
“Did it ever occur to you that a majority of those folks are tourists?”
“Hush. Don’t be negative. Mark my words, they live here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kathy said, laughing. “Anything you say, ma’am.”
Late that night Kathy stood next to her double bed, a hammer in one hand. She cocked her head to one side, then the other, finally nodding in approval. She was delighted with the purchase she’d made at the craft show, and now it was properly placed on the wall just above her pillow.
“A Dream Catcher,” she said, smiling. “I love it.”
The native American creation was comprised of a three-inch circle covered in soft pink felt. Minute, taut webbing crisscrossed the interior of the circle, leaving a small hole in the center. Several felt streamers, six and eight inches long and decorated with beads and feathers, hung from the circle.
The legend of the Dream Catcher was enchanting, Kathy mused. Hung above where a person slept, the ornament would catch dreams that floated through the night air. Only good dreams would be allowed to pass through the hole in the center, while bad dreams were snared in the webbing and would perish at dawn’s light.
“Pleasant dreams guaranteed,” she said with a decisive nod.
She put the hammer away, locked the doors, then went to bed. She looked at the Dream Catcher once more before turning off the small lamp on the nightstand. With a sigh of contentment, she snuggled into a comfortable position.
What a lovely day it had been, she thought. As more and more time passed, she was emotionally reassured that she’d made the right decision when moving to Prescott. Her life was once again in order and her health restored. Everything was fine.
Except…
Kathy sighed. If she was totally honest with herself, she’d have to admit that she often yearned to have a special man to share with, to laugh and talk with; someone she loved and who loved her in return.
She wished to marry, have children, and still continue to nurture her growing business. She wanted it all, fairytale perfect, greedy person that she was. But the man, his love and the subsequent babies were missing.
She was learning to accept that fact. She refused to allow that empty place in her life to diminish her happiness and the sense of rightness about the choice she’d made to leave Chicago.
Who knows, she thought sleepily, maybe her Prince Charming was out there somewhere. He’d suddenly appear in her life and fall madly in love with her as he captured her heart.
Maybe…maybe…
Kathy drifted off to sleep.
* * *
She was standing in a field of glorious wildflowers, the vibrantly colored, fragrant blossoms dancing in the breeze as far as the eye could see. Her simple dress of pale yellow cotton fell to the tops of her bare feet. A sunbonnet covered her hair, tied loosely beneath her chin.
She was comfortable in the clothes, knew they were hers and were the proper attire for the West in 1877.
Raising one hand to shield her eyes against the brilliant sun, she stared into the distance with a sense of wondrous anticipation and excitement.
He was coming. Yes, she could see him now, racing toward her on his gleaming horse. Closer and closer he came, becoming clearer with every rapid beat of her heart.
Bronzed and beautiful, he rode bareback, clad only in buckskin pants and moccasins. His broad, tawny, muscled chest was glistening, his shoulder-length hair shining like ebony. His eyes were as dark as a raven’s wing, and his features were bold, rough-hewn, with high cheekbones that were further evidence of his Indian heritage.
This was her love, her magnificent brave; proud, strong, riding like the wind, and coming to her, only her. He pulled the horse to a stop and dropped to the ground, striding toward her with sensual grace.
She opened her arms to receive him into her embrace.
“Hurry,” she whispered. “Oh, please hurry, my love.”
He was one step away, reaching for her, desire radiating from the depths of his obsidian eyes.
Then…
* * *
Kathy jolted upward in bed, her heart pounding. She heard the insistent shrill of the alarm clock and smacked it off.
“Blast,” she said aloud. “I missed the best part of my wonderful dream.”
She looked over her shoulder, intent on glaring at the Dream Catcher for not poking the dream through the hole earlier so it wouldn’t have been cut short by the rude ringing of the alarm.
But the Dream Catcher wasn’t there.
“Darn it,” Kathy said, tossing back the blankets and leaving the bed.
She was certain she’d secured it firmly with a nail tucked through the loop at the top. Apparently, though, both nail and Dream Catcher had fallen to the floor during the night.
“That’s strange,” she said, seeing the nail still in the wall.
Kathy dropped to her knees and peered under the bed, discovering only a few dust bunnies. Rising, she slid her hand between the mattress and the wall. Nothing.
Where on earth had the Dream Catcher disappeared to?
“Coffee,” she mumbled, starting toward the door. “Coffee, then a more thorough search.”
She yawned just as she reached the foot of the bed, then stopped, statue-still. Her mouth remained opened from the now-forgotten yawn and her eyes widened. A strange squeak escaped from her throat, and she snapped her mouth closed. The sound of her frantically beating heart echoed in her ears.
The missing Dream Catcher was on the floor between the bed and the wall.
But it was no longer three inches around. It was six feet across!
And there, caught half in and half out of the center hole, lying on the carpet with his eyes closed, was the Indian brave from her dream!
Her trembling legs refused to hold her for another instant, and Kathy sank onto the edge of the bed, her horrified gaze riveted on the enormous Dream Catcher and the man caught in the webbing. He hadn’t moved. The steady rise and fall of his chest were the only indication that he was even alive.
No, Kathy thought frantically, he wasn’t alive. Well, he wasn’t dead, either. But he was most definitely
