Apache Dream Bride. Joan Elliott Pickart

       One

      The June day was so perfect, Kathy Maxwell decided, it was as though Mother Nature had reached an agreement with the Prescott Chamber of Commerce to present the small northern Arizona town at its very best.

      Kathy took a deep breath of the clean, cool air, and marveled yet again at how clear the bright blue sky was at an altitude of five thousand feet. The lack of smog and exhaust fumes was just one of a multitude of reasons that made her extremely glad she’d moved to Prescott from Chicago a year ago.

      “Hi, Kathy,” a woman called from across the street. “Are you playing hooky this afternoon?”

      Kathy laughed. “You caught me, Beth. Sally is covering the store. I’m going to the craft show on the plaza with Lily.”

      “Enjoy yourselves,” Beth said, waving as she went into a shop.

      The people here were always so friendly and warm, Kathy thought as she smiled.

      She had spent several summers in Prescott with her cousin, Lily, and had loved every minute of the visits. During her last trip west, she’d found herself consumed with an ever-growing sense of dread when envisioning a return to her life in Chicago.

      The violence at the inner-city school where she taught increased each year, making it necessary to spend more time attempting to maintain order in the classroom than teaching the belligerent students.

      During the previous school year, she’d lost weight, developed what were diagnosed as stress headaches and had difficulty sleeping. Admitting that she was burnedout had been difficult and had given her a feeling of failure. So, she’d hightailed it to Prescott, certain that a relaxing summer with Lily in the peaceful little town would render her as good as new. But by the end of August she realized it was not to be.

      Not a risk-taker, and preferring order in her life, it had taken every ounce of courage Kathy possessed to quit her teaching job just weeks before the fall term began. Gathering that courage, as well as her savings, she had made a permanent move to Prescott and opened her store, The Herb Hogan. Her longtime hobby of growing herbs and studying their various uses had provided her the means to start her own business, which was thriving.

      “Kathy, I’m coming, I’m coming,” a voice said, bringing Kathy from her thoughts.

      She turned to see Lily waddling toward her, moving as fast as anyone who was eight months pregnant could. Her cousin was short, and very round at the moment. She had carrot red hair and a generous supply of freckles.

      “Whew,” Lily said, stopping next to Kathy. “I’ll be so glad when this baby isn’t getting free rides anymore. I swear he weighs more than the other three did, despite what the doctor says.”

      “You didn’t have to rush. We have all afternoon to ourselves.”

      “What a heavenly thought,” Lily said as they started down the sidewalk. “Brad was making lunch for the girls when I left the house. Oh, mercy, I don’t even want to think about what my kitchen will look like when I get home. Brad is wonderful with the kids, but he’s a disaster on cleanup detail.” She paused. “So, tell all. How did your date with Roy go?”

      Kathy wrinkled her nose. “Ask me anything you ever wanted to know about rodeos. I had a four-hour dissertation on the subject.”

      “Oh, dear, another dud. That’s not good, not good at all.”

      “Lily, I’m going to say this…again. I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve discussed the subject. Are you listening?”

      “No.”

      “Yes, you are. I’m happy in Prescott, very contented. Granted, there are adjustments to make when moving here from a large city like Chicago, but I’ve settled in quite nicely over the past year. This town is as close to perfection as a place can be.

      “However, because it’s so small, there isn’t an abundance of eligible men. I’ve accepted that fact, and I’m aware that there’s a very good chance that I’ll never marry and have children. I’ll spoil your kids rotten and be their eccentric spinster aunt. I’d rather live here alone than in Chicago where there were beaucoup men. And that, Lily Benson, is that.”

      “It certainly is not,” Lily said with an indignant sniff. “There’s a man for you in this town…somewhere. It’s simply a matter of staying alert. Prescott is growing, you know. There are people moving here all the time.

      “I made Brad promise to tell me if any bachelors retain him as their attorney. You’ve got to work on your attitude, Kathy, or you’re liable to miss seeing a real hunk of stuff when he’s right in front of your nose.”

      “Lily…”

      “And,” she went on, “let us not forget your many attributes, my dear. You’re tall, disgustingly slender, have naturally curly blond hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and not one freckle, because I have your share. You’re twenty-seven, intelligent, have your own business, adore children…The list goes on and on. You’re a super catch, Kathy Maxwell, and a fantastic man is going to come out of the ether and realize that.”

      Kathy rolled her eyes heavenward but kept silent, knowing it was useless to argue the subject further with her lovable and stubborn cousin.

      The plaza, also called the square, was located on the main street and was a block long on each of its four sides. A majestic courthouse sat in the center, surrounded by trees and lush green grass. A charming gazebo had been built on one section of the lawn. Ongoing activities took place on the plaza, Kathy’s favorites being the craft shows.

      Handmade items were on display in the seemingly endless number of booths edging the grass of the square. Some of the people manning the booths were local citizens, others had come from across the country.

      Kathy was slowly collecting items with Southwestern, as well as native American, themes to decorate her tiny cottage, which she adored. The one-bedroom house had a white picket fence, a tall juniper tree on one side, and a large backyard, where she grew herbs. Her home 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