man wanted, or any other miracle.
“Play, Odie,” Emmy whispered to me. “Play ‘Beautiful Dreamer.’ ”
It made no sense, but then nothing made sense as I waited for the blast of that shotgun to obliterate Sister Eve’s face. Like everyone else in the tent, I was certain we were about to witness carnage. And once begun, there was no guarantee the killing would stop with Sister Eve. My lips were dry, my throat made of sandpaper. I could barely breathe. I had no idea if I could blow a tune at all. But I drew the mouth organ from my shirt pocket and put my lips to it. Emmy placed her small hand on my leg. She looked up at me and smiled, as if she believed in me absolutely.
I began to play. Although the music I blew was soft, in the silence of that tent and to my own ears, it seemed deafening. Faces turned toward me, the face of Willis right along with them. I was sure his shotgun barrel would swing my way. I played a full measure, my heart kicking wildly in my chest. I was about to stop, thinking it was time to end this craziness, when a voice from heaven joined me in the song. Sister Eve.
Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me.
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee.
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
Lulled by the moonlight have all passed away.
The look of rage that had twisted the huge man’s face began to soften. The shotgun barrel drooped in his hands. I played on and Sister Eve lifted her ethereal voice and sang like a comforting angel.
Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,
List while I woo thee with soft melody.
Gone are the cares of life’s busy throng.
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me.
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me.
With tears in his eyes, the great beast fell to his knees, laid his head in his dead wife’s lap, and wept his heart out. The shotgun lay fallen on the ground, and the young man whose beast had been tamed the night before jumped from the bench where he sat and snatched it up.
Sweat dripped from my face and I felt a little faint. I lowered my harmonica and glanced down at Emmy.
“You never played better, Odie,” she said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“HIS WIFE’S FAVORITE song,” Sister Eve said. “ ‘Beautiful Dreamer.’ It may have been the only thing that could reach all the way down to his heart. How did you know that, Buck?”
We sat in the private dining room of the best hotel in New Bremen, a place called the Morrow House, a whole roasted chicken on the table, along with mashed potatoes and gravy and asparagus. Despite the swank surroundings, I’d insisted that Emmy keep her seed cap on. She and I were stuffing the food down like there was no tomorrow. Sister Eve and the trumpet player sat with us. They ate more slowly and sipped “grape juice,” which I knew was really red wine, with their meal. Sister Eve had changed out of her white robe and wore a blue dress. The trumpet player wore a gray suit with wide lapels and a diamond stickpin through his red tie.
“I didn’t,” I told Sister Eve. “Emmy said I should play it.”
“Did he now?” She studied Emmy curiously. “Where do you two orphans stay?”
“We’ve got a little camp down on the river.”
“Do you live in the camp? I mean permanently?”
“Not exactly. We’re on our way to Saint Louis.”
“What’s in Saint Louis?”
“I have family there. We have family there,” I corrected.
“It’s a long way to Saint Louis.”
“I guess so,” I said. “But Emmy and me, we’ll make it.”
Sister Eve lifted her glass and considered her wine. “We’re going to Saint Louis. Not directly. We hit Des Moines and Lawrence, Kansas, first.” She took a sip of her wine and said casually, “You could come with us.”
The trumpet player looked like he was going to choke on his chicken. “Would cause us a boatload of trouble, Evie.”
“How’s that?” Sister Eve asked.
“Might be construed as kidnapping.” He dabbed his napkin delicately at his thin mustache.
“Kidnapping? The whole country is full of children who’ve been abandoned, Sid. Believe me, I know a thing or two about that.” She turned back to me. “We could deliver you to your family’s doorstep.”
“Now, wait a minute,” the trumpet player said.
“Sid.” She gave him a look that shut him up good.
I glanced at Emmy, whose face beneath her seed cap gave me no clue about her own inclination, one way