Dream Car

"Half brother and sister," he muttered.

"OK. But still brother and sister, right?"

"I reckon."

"So you're sleeping in your father's house tonight, every night, in our house, your house. I won't have my brother sleeping in the bunkhouse. Is that all right with you, Sam?"

"Er, I guess that would be all right, Ma'am."

"Good, that's settled then, now come here give your big sister, Caroline, not 'Ma'am', a big hug," said Caroline, "and at first light, we're going to go find your mother."

***

Puttering around the kitchen, at her father's old semi-detached house, washing up the sherry and wine glasses and popping them back in the boxes they were supplied in, Caroline reflected on what was definitely the strangest day of her entire life. It was dark outside and she could see her reflection in the blackness of the kitchen window. She shook her head in disbelief. What dreams! But unlike any sleeping dream she'd ever experienced before, she could remember every vivid detail of it. She wasn't an only child bearing the loss of her father alone any more, she had a nearly full grown brother! All right, a half-brother, but a brother nonetheless.

As she folded over and tucked in the lids of the cardboard glass boxes, she remembered her older brother David, or as much of David as she could recall. A sickly boy, five years Caroline's senior, he died when he was about ten, in a road accident, playing outside in the street, in a council estate of Wakefield, so her actual memories of him were fleeting. In the sitting room she pulled out the old photo albums, where there were several pages devoted to the poor boy. He had contracted polio as an infant, wore a calliper on one of his legs and was deaf in one ear, he never saw or heard that fatal car coming. She realised with a start that it was only these photos she really remembered, any real life memories of David had disappeared long ago and she hadn't given him a single thought since her boys' christening, when she had momentarily regretted not having him around as their possible godfather.

Yet the memories of those few moments of being with the half-breed Samuel Pinner Junior were vivid. She compared those recent images to a faded black and white snap of her father, as a young man in naval rating's uniform from his National Service days, along with his wedding photos a few years later. Yes, Sam Junior, the half-injun cowboy, was his father's son all right.

She woke with a start, still sitting the armchair by the fire, the photo album fallen to the floor, open at a posed portrait of her mother, a raven-haired beauty at the time it was taken, sometime before her marriage. Caroline had borne the brunt of her mother's passing, the boys inconsolable at the loss of their Gran, and her father Sam so shocked by his loss that he suffered a stroke. The luxury Jaguar car was purchased by Caroline's mum, virtually from her deathbed, using money she had scrimped and saved from her housekeeping and evening cleaning jobs.

That car was the key to Caroline's two vivid dreams today. Pulling a blanket around her against the cold, she ventured out, unlocked the car, which opened silently on oiled hinges, and sat in the driving seat, pulling the door shut behind her with a soft click.

"You fool!" she muttered, more in exasperation than anything else, "it was all an illusion while you were so full of grief, so what do you think you are doing now?" before she put on the Stetson and closed her eyes.

Chapter 2

When she opened them, she was sitting up in bed in a sunny bedroom, a dawn chorus of a proud cock cheerfully crowing through the open window, through which she could clearly see from her high bed, the rolling hills of the prairie ranch set against a dramatic backdrop of snow-capped grey mountains on the horizon.

"Ah, ye're awake, ma'am, tat's guud," said the housekeeper, Mrs Duggan from the doorway, "I brung ye yer coffee. Shall I send Alice up to attend ta ye?"

She put the steaming enamel mug on the washstand. Caroline noted it was black coffee.

"Good morning, Mrs Duggan. Do you have any cream, by any chance?"

"Aye, we've not all beef cows here, ye knows, we do have a few milch cows, I'll send Alice up wi' a jug."

Caroline was up and part dressed by the time Alice bounced in with the jug of cream.

"What are you so chipper about?" Caroline asked, amused by the girl's excitement. She took the cream and poured some in her coffee, it was delicious.

"Well, Ma,am, Ah's never been to the Injun Reservation afore!" she exclaimed, "Ah'm both a feared an' excited, all at the same time!"

Alice was breathless, bouncing around the room collecting together the clothes her mistress would need, which included a pair of comfortable suede riding britches. Looking in the mirror, even without the hat Caroline felt she looked rather like Annie Oakley. Caroline wondered if she could still remember how to shoot, either a handgun or a rifle, she hadn't tried either since she last went to the Wild West Enthusiasts' summer camp when she was about 18 or 19. Mind you, looking in the mirror she looked to be in her mid-twenties, rather than her true fifties, and she felt young, energetic and eager for today's adventure.

"How far is the ride to the Reservation?" she asked Alice.

"Oh, it would be half a day if'n we used the gig, 'cause the road goes around the hills, but on horseback over the mountain trails I reckon it'll be 'bout half the morning."

Her new brother Samuel was quite cheerful during the huge breakfast that Mrs Duggan had set out for the pair of them, insisting her new mistress eat more than she put on her plate, as she said Caroline looked as though she normally ate like a bird.

"Them 'ills can be cold this early in the spring Ma'am, so ye need to fill up on vittles an' I packed ye some beef pie to eat on te way there, an' plen'y for te way back, so you don't 'ave to eat none o' tere Injun stuff. Lord knows what tey eats!"

When Caroline got to the stables, the little piebald mare that Sam had picked out for her was already saddled with a much lighter saddle compared with the big Western ones with all the ropes hanging off that the others used.

"Pa had this English saddle made for you years ago, ma- Caroline, hoping you'd come by at some stage. He said when you was little you rode a man's horse like a rodeo princess an' could outshoot any deputy lawman!"

"I think your Pa was inclined to exaggerate my talents, it's been years since I've been on a horse or done any shooting. If I don't fall off three times in the first half hour I'll be surprised!" She saw Samuel smile at that, "And if I stay on all morning, I probably won't be able to walk for a week!"

Sam laughed, "You'll be alright, I guess, we're gonna ride real slow an' easy like, anyways. On'y a fool rides off half-cocked into Injun Territory. You needs to let 'em see you comin' peaceful an' quiet from a long ways off." He wore a mischievous grin as he added, "An' if you do fall off, they'd be laughin' so much that if they starts shootin' they wouldn't be able to hit the bunkhouse wall!"

Caroline was pleased that Samuel seemed to be more relaxed around her this morning, and felt that they'd get along fine now the ice was broken. She introduced herself to her horse, that Sam had called Bonny, with a cube of hard sugar furnished by Mrs Duggan, before she stood on an upturned bucket left for the purpose and climbed up into the saddle. She soon felt comfortable and was able to check out Alice, who had insisted on getting Sam to help her up into the enormous sidesaddle that her pony had been fitted with.

They set out then, with three outriders, Billy, Tex and Pat, who cheerfully introduced themselves to their new second Boss. They were all older men, with ruddy suntanned faces, the colour of oak. From their conversation, they appeared glad of this little excursion, to have an easy day of it, compared to roping and branding cows, or whatever they normally did on the ranch.

"We ain't afraid o' no injuns, Ma'am," they'd assured her.

Caroline felt comfortable on horseback, even as she climbed the rocky hills en route, as the sure-footed pony ploughed steadily upward. With her growing confidence on the ride, Caroline began taking more interest in her surroundings, looking down on the spread behind her and seeing the huge number of cattle feeding on the lush grass by the broad river. Despite the continuous sunshine, it did get cold in the hills so she was glad of the warm coats, gloves and broad-brimmed hats that Mrs Duggan had insisted she and Alice wore.

On the other side of the mountain, there was a wood ahead of them, the trees so thick that there was little undergrowth except in the patches where odd trees had fallen. Sam called the group to a halt before the wood and they got off the horses and stretched their legs while one of the men started a fire and put the coffee pot on to boil. Sam explained why they had stopped.

"Them Injun patrols already know we's comin', they'd have seen us come down the path from the hills. Stoppin' here gives 'em time to check with an elder to decide on whether to leave us alone or attack us."

Caroline felt compelled to ask, "What is the likelihood of attack?"

"None, Caroline," Samuel grinned, "it'd be different if we just rode straight into camp, as they might jus' shoot before they ask questions. Our Pa was always fair with the Injuns. Hell, he even married one of 'em, and we give 'em a few cows each winter, and even more cows in the bad winters, so they know us, an' know that we ain't enemies. We'll be alright."

Once refreshed by the coffee and the stretching of their limbs, they remounted and road on down through the trees in single file and out onto the flat prairie again. Samuel and Caroline rode next to each other for a while.

"So, Sam, did you grow up on the Reservation or the ranch?"

He grinned, "The ranch, where I was born and raised. I only goes back to the Reservation every few weeks to visit Gramps, he's the medicine man there."

"So tell me about your mother."

"Oh, not much to say, she's pretty quiet most of the time. She, well she sees things, so the Injuns reckon she is a Holy Woman, I guess she gets that from Gramps."

"Well, you don't really look half Indian at all, what's your mother look like?"

"Oh, Ma don't look much Injun either, so I guess there'd bin some white blood there in the past on my Grandma's side. I never knew my Grandma, she'd passed when Ma was young. You'll find that Gramps ain't easy to git along with, mind, he's one cantankerous old Injun!"

"I'll bear that in mind. Anything I need to know about how to act when we get there? I don't want to cause any offence."

"Jus' follow my lead, they'll let us be as guests. When they wants to be, them Injuns can be right hospitable. I guess Ma's expectin' us an' I've bin catching sights of young Braves around us for the last half-hour."

"I never saw anything."

"No, you're not supposed to see nuthin', sneaky lot, these Injuns."

"So, what do you consider yourself to be Sam, Paleface or Indian?"

"I guess it depends on where I am, Caroline. At the ranch I guess I'm half-Injun, in town I'm whole Injun, but in the village I'm a Paleface playin' at bein' an Injun. I guess I don't fit in nowheres."

Caroline reached across and squeezed his arm, "You're my only brother, Sam, you're the son of your loving mother and you are a rancher, the half-owner of the best ranch in the county. I think that makes you a pretty good fit anywhere you want to go."

"Thanks Caroline, it's bin swell havin' you come to the ranch. You know Pa talked about you all the time, so proud he was of you."

"Yet he never told me much about this life, or about you and your mother."

"Yeah, Ma's said as much. I don't think Pa was ashamed of us, at least with Sweetwater folk, but maybe he wasn't sure how you'd take it."

"I'm fine with it, it's great having a brother again. Did your Pa tell you about David?"

"Yeah, once or twice. Ma must've been told too, as she knew a lot more 'bout him than I do. She has this second sight and saw you comin', so she skedaddled back to the village, 'cause she didn't think you'd wanna see her at our Pa's place."

"You were both a big part of Dad's life and I want you to be part of my life as well, we are family. If your mother doesn't want to know me or live with us, then fair enough, but she's family too."

"Oh, I'm sure she wants to meet you, Caroline, she's always said that it would happen one day."

"So why would she run?"

"Probably wants to meet you on her own ground. That's why she took all your letters that you sent to Pa with her."

"My letters?"

"Yeah. Pa kept 'em all, I think, he'd read out bits to me sometimes, because I can't read."

"You never learned?"

"Nah, Pa tried to teach me when I was little but he never had no patience with it, and I guess I was too fidgety bein' taken away from the horses and cows."

"But there's a schoolhouse in the town, at the end of the Main Street, isn't there? I'm sure Alice pointed it out as we passed it when we left the hotel."

"Yeah, we got a schoolhouse but we ain't never had no schoolmarm," Sam replied, then pulled his horse up short, holding his hand up so they all stopped, "here comes the war party, just stand still everyone, they may still be a mite wild and excited."

Sure enough, half a dozen war-painted Braves rode up on their painted ponies, whooping and screeching, brandishing be-feathered spears and strung bows, corralling the paleface intruders into a tight bunch. Then an older Indian rode up carrying a long spear, covered from end to end in outstretched feathers. He tapped this spear on the ground, rattling bells attached to it, which brought the Braves up short and silent in respect. The older Indian nodded to Sam, who nodded back, without exchanging a word. The older Indian wheeled his horse around and trotted off the way he came and Sam urged his horse forward. The rest followed, with the quietened Braves bringing up the rear.

They rode along in silence. Caroline noticed that Alice still looked frightened, so she dropped back to ride next to her, patting her hand and smiling.

Caroline shook her head. 'There was nothing to be afraid of, was there?' she thought to herself. 'This is just a dream and I'll wake up shivering with the cold in Dad's old car any minute.'

From atop a bluff, the village of teepee tents came into view, on a bend in a meandering river. Soon they were splashing across the shallow water, the hooves muddying the sparkling clear water, still refreshingly cold after flowing down from the distant mountains. Then they were up the bank on the other side and into the village, surrounded by noisy squaws and children, all dressed in a riot of natural colours, decorated in shiny beads and flowing tassels. Mostly they were smiling, with hands waving to Samuel, who they clearly knew well.

Alice cheered up too, in the face of the smiling crowd, realising her worse fears that they would eat her alive were unfounded.

They all dismounted in front of a large tent. The flap opened and a lean and tall, elderly Indian with long white hair down to his shoulders emerged. He embraced Samuel, scowled at the rest of the arrivals and stomped off.

"That's Gramps," grinned Sam to Caroline, "his bite is worse than his bark!" He laughed at his own joke. "Go in, Caroline, Ma is expecting you."

Tentatively, Caroline pulled open the flap of the teepee and glanced inside. Compared to the bright sunny plain she had ridden through, the inside was dark, gloomy, smokey. She could see nothing except points of brightness where the light came in through gaps in the teepee's construction and the smokey embers of a fire in the centre. She stepped inside, took a couple of steps, and stopped, allowing her eyes to adjust to the interior. A woman with her back to her, squatting by the open fire, poked at the embers, stirring the fire into life, slightly brightening the gloom. She stood up, her long black hair, with hints of silver, braided all the way down her back, and turned.

"Mum!" Caroline gasped in recognition.

"Carrie, dear, I have been waiting for you for so long, I'm glad you could join us at last."

She stepped forward and hugged her only daughter, who she hadn't seen in many years.

"But -" Caroline stuttered, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Welcome to my world, Carrie lass, we're going to have so much fun here. Tell me about the world outside, and news of my ungrateful grandchildren, but first, I hope you brought some tea bags, I'm absolutely parched, sweetheart!"

***

Robert Bagshaw's mobile rang early the next morning while he was driving to work at Dad's store. He saw from the caller ID that it was his mother.

"Hi, Mum," he said, "You feel better this morning? You were really down yesterday."

"Oh, I've never felt better, Robbie. It's about that guy you know who has the low-loader, have you got his number?"

"Yeah, I'll text it to you. Finally getting rid of that old car, huh?"

"Of course not, Rob, I'm taking it home. It was your grandfather's dream car and now ... it's mine."

Chapter 3

Caroline Bagshaw was doing her Christmas shopping in the Ye Olde Christmas Fayre in Market Square at the end of the High Street on the first of December. The place was crowded, heaving with locals and outsiders, all searching for seasonal bargains. Then a double decker bus passing by splashed her coat, and a dozen others, in a spray of muddy water.

It was wet and cold, the skies overcast and raining, with heavier rain forecast to come. The cloud cover kept the temperatures just above freezing, but the windchill factor made it feel far colder.

'Brr!' she thought to herself as she dabbed at her dripping nose, 'Right now I wish I was back in Sweetwater Valley!'

No, first she had to get the Christmas shopping out of the way, including presents for her two boys, Adam and Robert Junior, not that they were boys any longer. And no grandchildren on the horizon, yet from either of them. Both boys had failed marriages, but being still in their early 30s they each had time on their side. She had no other family, no work colleagues and no friends either, to a woman her old friends had all let her down while her family fell apart last year, ending in divorce.

But she did have some strange new friends and family to buy presents for, but some of those were already packed in her late father's old car, safely parked in her garage at home.

As soon as she got home to her tiny drab little semi-detached house in the suburbs, all she could afford in the divorce settlement, she parked her car on her driveway, close up to the securely locked garage.

Indoors, on the kitchen table, she wrapped the boys' presents in bright paper, labelled them and left them in the kitchen until she returned. She packed up her last minute purchases in a couple of bags and had a final look around. No decorations up, no Christmas tree, no Christmas food in the refrigerator. Where she was going, she would have a different kind of Christmas. She locked up the house and carried her bags through to the garage.

There the old car stood, the thirty-odd year old Jaguar XJ12, its maroon paint dulled by age and neglect, spotted with rust, the windows smeared with grime, moss and mildew tussling it out for supremacy in one corner of the glass, and all four tyres flat to the ground. She opened the passenger door, which creaked in protest, to place her new bags next to the others already in the foot well.

'I must get some WD40 on that,' Caroline reminded herself again, before slamming that rarely used door.

The driver's door opened silently, smoothly on well oiled hinges, which reminded her of her late father, Samuel Jeremiah 'Jed' Pinner, who loved this car, but never actually drove it, suffering a stroke which paralysed him a week before the car, ordered by his late wife, was delivered. She eased herself into the lovingly polished leather seat, pulled the door shut behind her with a smooth click and closed her eyes for a moment's reflection.