“It’s a damned American turkey,” he said as he kicked dust at it. “A common, cantankerous beast who—”
“An American bird! Truly?” Her cry startled him so much that he looked up in shock at her. Meanwhile, she had set the brake and scooted close to him on the bench. “Oh, I wish my brother were here to see it. A common bird, you say? But he’s magnificent!” Her hands fluttered before her as she reached out, then awkwardly pulled them back to press against her full bosom. “Do you think…? Would it be possible for me to touch it?”
He blinked and wondered if she had lost her wits. But then he realized that this was exactly the reaction he had hoped for with Mellie. In truth, it had been his first thought when seeing the bird: what a magnificent creature. And then, as if sensing the topic of their discussion, the turkey ceased pecking in the dirt, lifted his head, and made that sound. Not the screeching horror of a cry that had them tossed off the mail coach, but the other sound. The soothing gobble that—
“Was that a purr? Oh sir, you must let me touch it!”
“Of course,” he said, though it took him a moment to gather his wits. “Pray, give me your hand.”
He helped her alight and noted for the first time how clear her skin was, how beautiful her figure. She was tall—much taller than Mellie—so he didn’t feel as if he completely overwhelmed her in size. Her hair beneath her bonnet was flaxen, or so he guessed from the fair cast to her brows. And her voice was gentle.
“Come here, little bird. Oh, come here.”
And to Ronnie’s complete shock, the bird did. With stately movements that would put a rooster to shame, the thing walked over and allowed the girl to stroke its feathers.
“He’s magnificent! How did you find him?”
She truly sounded awed, and Ronnie was so shocked that he answered without his usual embellishments. “It was a quest.”
Her mouth slipped open in shock as she turned to him. “A quest?” she asked, awe in her tone. “Are you a Knight of the Round Table?”
He blinked, his mind rapidly scrambling. “What do you know of King Arthur’s knights?”
“Oh heavens, but I have heard the stories since I was a little girl. My father is a scholar, you see. He studies all the old tales and thinks that the knights did not all fall when Camelot did. That there are some who yet survive. Some who demonstrate all the noble virtues first espoused by the great King Arthur.”
Ronnie stared at the girl, and abruptly his heart filled with a yearning such as he had never known before. A hunger to do, to be—nay, to embody all that Arthur’s Round Table had once represented simply because she seemed to want it. But even as the desire consumed him, he realized how deeply unworthy he was. And so he looked at his shite-covered boots in dismay.
“No, sweet lady, I am not such a noble man as that.” He found his words spilling from him as he might at a confessional—his sins exposed before this beautiful girl. “My quest was to find a dodo bird and nurture it with my own hand. Instead, I found this, a common American turkey from a traveling show, and pretended it was what I sought.”
She gasped. “You lied?”
“I wanted my true love.”
She waited a moment to answer, and in that time he felt the full weight of his idiocy on his shoulders. But then she spoke. He wasn’t looking at her, so it was her gentle tone that reached him. “But you cannot catch true love with a lie, sir. Surely you know that.”
He did. Or he did now. “I am a wretched soul.”
“Nay, sir,” she said. Then she touched his cheek, gently lifting his face until he gazed into her eyes. “You are only an imperfect one. Even Sir Galahad stumbled.”
He jolted, startled by the name she uttered. Could it be possible that she mentioned that knight’s name? “My lady,” he whispered, dizzy with confusion.
“Do not despair,” the woman said. “Shall I tell you a tale? My brother wished one thing with all his heart. One single thing when all others laughed and told him he was a fool.”
Ronnie felt the blackness of his mood fade away, his heart caught by the tale. “What was his wish?”
“To become a sailor.”
He frowned. “A sailor? That is not so foolish a wish.”
“It is if you live in Leeds. There is no water for miles and miles, much less sailing vessels.”
And for the second time, he jolted, the name of her town rocking him to the very foundation of his soul. “Leeds?”
“Yes, that is where we live. But he persisted. He bought books of nautical studies and memorized every word. By day he would work our farm until his hands bled, but by night he would dream of the sea and the day he would sail a ship.”
“And his wish was granted?”
“Oh yes. Just yesterday, I waved good-bye to him. That’s why we were in London. He apprenticed on a ship there and will soon sail to America.”