The Crockett Chronicles- The Complete Collection

by Jennifer Lynn Cary

  She nodded and scurried higher in the branches.

  Willie shrugged and walked toward the edge of the bluff. In all that she hadn’t said one word. Was he encouraging her into something she didn’t want? Should he call this off? What if she were counting on him to call it off? Or was she counting on him to help her from this dilemma? He covered his ears against all the “what ifs”.

  He scanned the tree and noted movement in the lower branches so headed back. Maybe dropped to the ground at his feet, dressed in Jason’s clothes and appearing more like a boy, but not completely. Her female clothes were wadded under her arm, but she still wore the mob cap. He knew the next part would be the hardest.

  “Will I pass?” Both her smile and voice trembled.

  Willie nodded. “Almost. We must cut your hair.”

  Her hand went to her head, as if she tried to hold her cap in place, and one tear dropped from her cheek. She straightened her back, tilted her chin and pulled the cap from her head. “Let us get it done.”

  All that raven hair tumbled down past her waist, long enough to sit on. And it was beautiful, framing her oval face, making her violet eyes flash. He suddenly hated himself for what he was about to do.

  Drawing his knife from his boot, he had her turn her back to him. It was hard enough without gazing in her eyes. His hand smoothed her dark waves, tendrils wrapping about his fingers, before grasping a section and pulling the blade through. Now his hand held a hank of the softest hair he’d ever touched. He searched about for somewhere to put it.

  “Just drop it. We can scatter it and the birds will find it for their nests.”

  In that moment, he knew Miss Elizabeth Boulay was the strongest woman he’d ever met. It made his hands shake.

  “I am sorry, Elizabeth.”

  “I’m Maybe. And I ken. Let’s jist be done.”

  Willie grabbed another section and sliced it free. Within a couple minutes, the hair was cut.

  She tucked what was left behind her ears. “Now do I look like a boy?”

  She did. Or more than she had. “Perhaps you could use some dirt streaks across your cheeks? And you need dirty fingernails, too.”

  She stooped to the ground, scratched up sod, and rubbed it on her face. “There?”

  “There.” He nodded, and she smiled. He handed her the work cap his mother had made for him. It helped even more.

  “What should I do with my clothes?”

  Willie glanced around, then pointed up.

  Maybe separated a fiddle from the rest of her bundle before handing it to Willie. She shimmied back up into the tree and he handed the bundle back up to her. She climbed out of sight momentarily, but then came back empty-handed. “If a strong wind comes, my clothes will be all over Beaufort. Hopefully, by then, we’ll be far enough to sea that it won’t matter.”

  “So, Maybe, are you ready?” He stuck out his hand.

  “Ready, Mate!” She grinned and shook his hand.

  The deal was set. She grabbed her fiddle, and they headed toward the harbor.

  * * *

  Daniel O’Malley winced and took an inventory of his pain. His face hurt, his ribs hurt, his right arm really hurt. Even his hair pained him. He cracked open an eye or tried to. It was swollen shut. He tried the other with only a slit more success. “Lizzie!” The exercise in voice choked him, and he began coughing. Which only made everything hurt more.

  Remaining stone still, he searched for a way to breathe that would not bring about the coughing or make his head want to run from his shoulders. Once he’d gotten the pain to a level of bearable, he tried standing. His right arm wouldn’t obey his command. It was useless and in a sling, so he put his left palm on the floor and attempted to push himself up. The throbbing waves washing over him killed that idea.

  How was he to get up? Where was that girl?

  He explored with his good hand for a bottle, finding short lived success. The bottle was empty.

  Bit by bit, the last evening returned. The fickle cards that abandoned him. The look on Ferguson’s face when he learned he could not pay. The blow that broke his arm. The kick that cracked his ribs. The paper shoved in his pocket after he pleaded and begged and bargained for his life. The paper.

  His left hand groped for the pocket. No paper there. He pawed the floor beside him, nothing but the blanket... Lizzie must have put that blanket on him. Did she find the paper? Oh no, no, no.

  Panic rose, as well as bile. He thought he would vomit. Fighting the pain with every ounce of strength he had, Daniel forced his body to stand. Then he leaned against the wall until his head stopped spinning. He slowed his breathing, waiting out the waves of pain. With the wall for support, he made it to the stairs, mounting them one measured tread at a time.

  By the time he reached the top, his chest heaved and his cracked ribs screamed. He waited to catch his breath before pushing open her bedroom door. Tidy but for a wad of paper on the floor. She knew.

  He was a dead man.

  * * *

  Sarah took Joseph’s mended waistcoat back to their room. Normally, she would have put it away and returned downstairs. There was too much work for dawdling. But for some reason she couldn’t name, she straightened the pillows on the bed. Never mind that she’d made it when she and Joseph rose for the day. Never mind that all was in place. Her hands did what they did, causing her to find what she found.

  A note.

  Sarah opened the folded paper, and her knees grew weak. She’d know that childish handwriting anywhere. Dropping to the bed, she read her son’s words a second and a third time.

  Mama, Da,

  Plez do not wury for me. I am sory, but I canot ignor the sirun’s call. I hav go to see. I mus get this out of my sistem or I wil nevr be fre. I love you both so verry much and I no this mus hert. I cont on yur pryrz for my retern. I wil com bak on day, I prmis. I wil evn sen werd to you wenevr I can. Untl I see you agin, I remane yur lovng, but detrmind son, Willie.

  “Jason!” She jumped up and ran to the head of the stairs. “Jason!”

  “Yes, Mama?” He met her halfway.

  “Go get your father! Tell him it is urgent!” She turned him and practically pushed him down the stairs.

  He twisted around as she pushed. “What is it, Mama? What is the matter?”

  “No time to explain. Just get your father!” She pushed him out the door and leaned against the frame, reading the note one more time.

  How could she not have known. That niggle told her something was wrong this morning. He had that look about him. But going to sea? Without talking to her about it? She crushed the note in her fist. Why, Willie?

  She sank onto her rocker, the one Joseph made for her to rock Willie as a babe, and began to weep.

  Joseph burst through the door, and she ran to his arms.

  “Sh-sh.” He held her and rocked her in his arms. “What is it, love? What is the matter?”

  Sarah pulled back and handed him the note. She felt his stagger as the words on the page bludgeoned him.

  He pulled away but kissed her cheek. “Do not worry. I’m going after him.” Joseph was out the door and running for the harbor before she could kiss him to send him on his way.

  * * *

  Eleazar Ferguson prided himself on his community standing, or what he perceived as his standing. A part of him knew he was disliked, perhaps disdained, but no one said that to his face.

  It was important he look the part of the successful businessman, so his frock coat, breeches and waistcoat always matched. The neck handkerchief, always neatly tied, sported the finest lace. Even his silk stockings, elegantly complimenting his suit, remained dirt free despite the natural dustiness or mud the streets of Beaufort produced. A few might call him dapper, but again, never to his face.

  He smiled at the thought. Which brought him to his next thought. That lovely daughter of Daniel O’Malley. She would be a wonderful addition to his... habits. He remembered seeing her once when she paid for one of O’Malley’s bills
, though he couldn’t recall ever seeing her in O’Malley’s company. A tiny thing, she was. A new plaything. Again, he smiled and checked the time.

  Now he frowned. O’Malley should have brought her by now. If he must retrieve the girl, it would not be pleasant. He paced to the window and peered into the street. No one of interest headed his way.

  Then unpleasant it would be.

  With a call to his assistants, Eleazar put on his hat, tugged on his sleeves, and headed toward the O’Malley cottage. His assistants followed. It was not a long walk. He’d watched while his assistants escorted O’Malley to his home last evening. However, it was irksome to go himself.

  He rapped on the door with his walking stick. There was no answer, so he stepped to the side and nodded to his assistants. They opened the door in two shakes.

  Eleazar stepped around the splintered wood and began a cursory search of the downstairs. An empty whiskey bottle rolled about the floor when his toe encountered it. An old worn blanket lay in a heap next to the wall. But there was no sign of O’Malley. Or the girl.

  Eleazar nodded to his assistants.

  They trudged the rickety staircase and returned moments later. Alone.

  The back door stood ajar. Another nod sent the two to check. Less than a minute later, Eleazar heard the scream. Someone was in desperate pain.

  He meandered out the back door toward the sound, which stopped as soon as it started. His assistants were dragging O’Malley between them toward the house. They dropped him at Eleazar’s feet.

  Folding his long legs into a stoop, Eleazar dusted off his shoes then used his walking stick to lift O’Malley’s head. The man was unconscious.

  Eleazar slipped off his leather gloves. He gripped them in his right hand, and tapped them against his left palm, contemplating his next move. O’Malley moaned.

  “Where’s the girl?” The gloves backhanded O’Malley’s bruised cheek, causing the man’s head to jerk. “Listen and answer, Master O’Malley. Where is my property? What have you done with the girl?”

  O’Malley’s head bobbled. He spit out a tooth, letting a bloody string of spittle dangle off his chin. “I dunno. I woke ‘n’ she gone. Was jist goin’ fer her.”

  Gone? She had no right to be gone. She was his property. “Where might she go? Who are her friends?”

  “Dunno. She ha’ no frien. Ony me.” Assistant number one grabbed O’Malley by the hair to keep his head from bobbling.

  “You? You sold her to me. What kind of friend are you?” Eleazar stood and nodded to his assistants before turning and walking back into the house. He had crossed the threshold before the first outcry. He closed the door.

  * * *

  Willie scanned the ships docked in the harbor, searching for one that appeared about ready to leave. He didn’t want to sign on and wait several hours or the morrow. They needed to be gone now.

  This was a time where his height served him. He could see over the crewmen working, the cargo being loaded and unloaded, even the farewells from loved ones. That helped direct him. He pulled Maybe along, holding her arm so as not to lose her in the chaos while listening to conversations and hoping for a piece of helpful information.

  “Master, found Meekle and Grue. You won’t like it. They are in stocks in the center of town.”

  “We sail in the hour, and now I’m out two crewmen? I knew we should have kept them locked on board.”

  Willie turned to where he’d heard the speaker. “Excuse me, sir. Do you need two hands? We’re looking to sail. We’ll work hard for you.” Willie tried his most charming smile.

  The master, an average-sized man with average brown hair and beard gave him more than an average passing glance. “We? Where’s the other one?”

  “Right here, sir. Master, sir.” He spun Maybe around in front of him.

  “Why he’s just a lad. Too young and small.” The master shook his head.

  “But I’m healthy and strong. I will work hard.” Maybe didn’t hold back.

  The master shook his head again. “No, you don’t understand. Meekle’s job was to man the top. It takes a brave man to climb to that height.”

  Maybe shoved the fiddle into Willie’s hands and shouted over her shoulder as she ran up the gangplank. “I can do it!” Before anyone thought to stop her, she climbed the Jacob’s ladder. Within a minute, she manned the platform on the mast.

  The master who’d run after her, followed by Willie and the boatswain, called up. “So, you are up there. Can you climb down?”

  Without a word, she started her return journey, dropping that last foot at his feet. “I can climb anything. Will you take us on?”

  Willie wasn’t sure at first. He watched the master’s eyes. His expression said he was angry, but his eyes held esteem. “Never try a trick like that again!” He paused. “But, aye! Never seen the sight before! You’re a natural monkey, you are!” He turned to the man who’d located the missing crew members in the stocks, Boatswain Johnson, and told him to get them situated. “We cast off in one hour.”

  Willie lost no time getting onboard. Boatswain Johnson showed them their immediate jobs and gave them the abridged version of expectations, letting them know he would give them the full listing of their responsibilities once out to sea. He then left them to their work.

  Once they started, there was a moment. Maybe glanced his way, their gaze locked. That was when it all turned real. They were doing this. His heart began to thump. She flashed him a grin that trembled to the beat of his pounding heart. No turning back.

  As the last bit of cargo was stashed below, the boatswain called out “Cast off!” Willie went to the side for one last glimpse of home, the only hometown he could remember. He would miss it, almost as much as he would miss his mother and father.

  And there on the dock he stood, his father, searching for him. Willie watched as he grabbed a man’s arm, saying words the wind carried away. But Willie knew what he said. He could see the urgency as he spoke with one person after another. Then one man didn’t ignore or push him away. This one pointed toward the ship. Da turned in his direction as Willie ducked behind a barrel. Had he been seen? A new fear attacked, causing his knees to go weak. Was that the last time he would see his father?

  Chapter Four

  Maybe loved the sensation of wind in her hair. The last time she’d been on board a ship, she had to mind her manners as a young lady, traveling with her mother and stepfather. Her hair had remained proper beneath her cap. But now, with no female restrictions, she soaked in the joy of freedom. She pulled off her work cap and let her hair blow free.

  “I see you like the sea life.”

  She startled to find Boatswain Johnson standing beside her. Had she done anything to give herself away?

  “All is well. I only wished to go over our rules and responsibilities now that we’re underway. You don’t appear the type to become seasick. In fact, you quite enjoy this.”

  Maybe smiled. “Aye, that I do.”

  “There’s a lilt of Irish in your speech, boy. Am I correct?”

  She nodded, cautious not to reveal what must not be revealed.

  “Where about in Ireland, lad?”

  Maybe’s mind whirled. The less she made up, the less she’d have to remember. “I left from Bantry Bay. Bare Haven.”

  “But what about your people?”

  She remembered her mother and sister. “No, no people.”

  He pulled out a pencil and paper. “Well, I should get your name down for the record, that is you and your friend. Where is he?” Boatswain Johnson glanced about.

  “He took something below. Said he’d be back in a thrice.”

  The boatswain seemed to accept that. Truth was it had been a bit since Willie said he’d be back. She was wondering herself.

  “Well, I can start with you and will catch him when he comes back. I need your name and a next of kin.”

  The words she’d rehearsed in her brain fled for escape, but she caught them in time. “Me name is Maybe
. No family name. Dinna know me family nor me name. Someone said they should call me Maybe because whenever I looked for me family I would say ‘Maybe that’s them.’ Seemed better than ‘hey, boy.’”

  Boatswain Johnson smiled, but it was a sad smile. She hoped that meant he believed her.

  “So now I answer to Maybe.”

  He stuck out his hand. “Well welcome aboard the Frances Pearl, Maybe.”

  She shook his hand, and he went his way, presumably searching for Willie. She hoped he found him soon. He’d be back, either way. He never finished the rules and regulations.

  * * *

  Willie found a quiet corner behind some cargo where he would be alone with his thoughts. Swiping a tear from his cheek, there was no wiping away the memory of his father at the dock. He knew, without a doubt, Da searched for him, like the shepherd who went after the lone sheep. But Willie wasn’t alone. Maybe was with him. And since he’d been the one to suggest this foolhardy idea, and she had no other recourse, he also had no other recourse. His heart had gone out to Maybe. So small and alone. Her fate with Eleazar Ferguson would have been worse than death. His father always taught him to be kind, but he also taught him to guard his heart. One meant saving Maybe at the risk of losing all he held dear, the other meant turning his back on her plight and leaving her to... He shuddered.

  He saw nothing else to do. So why did everything feel so wrong? Because he was an abject failure.