The Crockett Chronicles- The Complete Collection

by Jennifer Lynn Cary

  And now she was married.

  And carrying a baby.

  Who was she anyway? Maybe had no answer.

  As far as the crew were concerned, she was still the boy who shimmied up the Jacob’s ladder faster than anyone else and who, in a pinch, filled their bellies with a passable meal. At least that is what she hoped.

  Besides the surgeon daily checking on her, Boatswain Johnson stopped by his cabin, which she’d taken over, several times a day to learn how she fared—she discovered he slept with the crew in her bunk.

  And then there was Willie, who looked so befuddled at times, he must wonder why he bothered to help that mad girl in the tree. Speak of the devil—no, no devil came to visit her. He was her husband who made her heart flutter as he peeked in around the door.

  “You are awake. That’s good. How do you fare?”

  Had these men no other question? “I’m as fine as can be expected. Confined here in this bed. Secretly married. Secretly a woman about to have a baby.”

  Willie looked like a kicked puppy. “I’m sorry, Maybe. I’m concerned, but I imagine we have asked you that a lot more than you care to answer.”

  Her heart softened. She wasn’t angry at him. “I’m sorry, too, Willie. I’m glad to see ye, and as puzzled as anyone how my moods can change like the winds. Right now I’m frustrated and sick of this bed. It’s been two days. Why canna I not try me legs?”

  He sat on the edge of the bed. “The surgeon is concerned about you falling again. He doesn’t want to risk the baby. And we’re getting very close to Ireland now, might dock at Bare Haven in Bantry Bay in less than a day. You’ll need to be up by then to disembark.” His cheeks pinked, his thoughts splashed across his face.

  In truth, hers drifted that direction as well. Her stomach churned. It wasn’t from the baby. Waiting was hard. Anticipation needled her, filling her with excitement and fear. What if he realized he didn’t want her? What if he only married her because of the baby? Would they spend their time growing cold, living a routine of emptiness? Oh, she wanted to believe he loved her and would have married her under other conditions. She wanted to, so badly.

  “Willie, will we make it?”

  He cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing a bit. “We’re less than a day from port. We’ll make it. Don’t worry about that. You’re safe.”

  She shook her head, sad that he didn’t understand her question and not sure she could explain. Biting her lip, she considered her words. “I mean the two of us, Willie, as husband and wife, as parents to this baby. We didn’t start the right way. Can we do this?”

  Willie took her hands in his. His work-worn hands felt secure and warm. “Maybe girl, I do not know what tomorrow brings. I can only promise to be here with you, and will do everything I know to do. I love you, my wife. I didn’t marry you to escape anything. I married you because I love you. You believe that, don’t you?”

  She wanted to. She wanted to hold on to his words until they became part of her being, lifting them to say to her doubts, “See, he loves me and you are wrong.”

  But her name was Maybe. Maybe was the best she could answer. She smiled and accepted his kiss.

  Time would tell.

  * * *

  Willie kissed his wife goodbye and headed for the wheelhouse. It was his turn.

  Wife. His wife.

  The words floated through his mind as if a foreign language. And how did he get used to the sound when he mustn’t use the words aloud?

  Up in the wheelhouse, it remained quiet, granting him plenty of time to ponder such things. He needed to keep his eye on the horizon, but he could think and watch at the same time—he might have trouble reading a simple note, but this he could do.

  The old guilt started eating at his gut. He enjoyed sailing, what he’d wanted to do his whole existence. But he had no right to pursue his dream anymore. He had a family to consider. Adult responsibilities. His mother might not be proud of him for how he got here, but she’d jump for joy that he finally behaved as an adult.

  So this was adulthood. Putting aside one’s own dreams and pursuits to become responsible for meeting the needs of another. Not too horrible, though getting to married life should make it better. He felt a smile spread. He longed to take his wife into his arms and convince her of his love. She needed convincing. He’d seen it in her eyes.

  It was his own fault. Why didn’t he declare himself before he learned about the baby? But if he had, she would have been in more danger. A relationship where they might slip up, making her secret known. The touch of a hand, a stolen kiss, any of that caught would be dire for her. He thought he protected her by keeping his feelings to himself. His gut twisted. Even in his attempts to do the right thing, he was an idiot.

  He turned his thoughts to Bantry Bay. His parents lived there before he was born, in Bare Haven. Might he find people who remembered his family? It could be fun to look them up, tell his folks about them when he returned.

  When he returned. What made that idea pop in his brain? Would Maybe want to return? What if she found her sister and wanted to stay? In the back of his mind he’d always planned to go home again, at least to visit. His heart stopped beating a moment. Never go home ever? Never again see his family?

  Adulthood was so much harder than his mother had let on.

  * * *

  “Sir, might I have a word?”

  Sam stopped mid-sentence in his directions to Mr. Cox when the surgeon called out to him. “Aye.” He turned back to the seaman. “We’ll discuss it more in a few minutes. I need to take care of this.” Dismissing the man, he turned his attention to the surgeon as he approached.

  “We need to fashion a crutch for that young lady before she leaves the ship tomorrow. Who might accomplish this quick and well?”

  Sam’s stomach clenched. The surgeon had not waited to close the gap between them before he started talking. He glanced about. Mr. Cox still lingered, but perhaps he did not hear. Taking a few strides in the surgeon’s direction, Sam waited until they were next to each other before saying more. “Aye, Mr. Hawkins would be the man. I should ask him, though, as we still do not want the crew to know her secret.”

  “Oh, aye. You take care of that, then. She’ll be needing a bit of practice with it before we dock.”

  Sam clapped the man on the back, assuring him it would be done. As the surgeon left in another direction, Sam glanced over his shoulder. Mr. Cox was just leaving the deck. But when the crewman met his glance, something in Sam’s clenched gut told him the secret was out.

  * * *

  The sun was making its way high in the sky when Maybe heard the words called out. “Land ho!” Ireland was in sight. She’d be out of this bed and onto her home soil before the day was out. The thrill made her sit higher. She longed to swing her legs over the side and step out onto the floor, but she had promised she would obey the surgeon’s orders. But it shouldn’t hurt to dangle her legs a bit, should it? She took the chance.

  Until now, the only real movement had been making use of the chamber pot. An adventure in frustration and humiliation. Not the way she’d wanted her new husband to get to know her. But he’d never complained, at least around her. She needed to show him there was more to a married life than this type of duty.

  The door opened and Willie entered, a big grin spread across his face. “I suppose you heard.”

  “Aye. We’re close. My heart can feel the pull of home.” She patted the bed for him to sit with her.

  “I brought you something.” She hadn’t noticed until now how he kept his hand behind his back. When he brought it out, he held a crutch in his hand.

  “Oh! Do ye mean I can get up now?”

  He nodded, his grin growing wider. He handed her the crutch. “The surgeon wants you to get a little practice before you walk down the gangplank.”

  She put the crutch under her arm and stood on her good leg. Finally! With the weight on the good side, she moved the crutch a step. She leaned on that while movi
ng her good leg out. Step by step, she crossed the room. The ship gave a little lurch just before her hand hit the wall and she lost her balance. Instantly she was in Willie’s arms. He was there for her, like he promised. His closeness made her heart race, her breath raw.

  “I’ve got you, Maybe. I’ve got you.”

  “Aye, ye do, Willie. That ye do.” She looked up into those gentle eyes. Were they green or blue? It was like they couldn’t decide, and it pulled her in. At once, she was in his arms being kissed like she’d never been kissed but had always wanted to be. Slow and gentle, building as he pulled her closer, almost as if he asked permission with his actions and she granted it. Her arms held him secure around his neck while her fingers entwined themselves in his hair.

  His lips moved to her ear, whispering her name as if it came from deep inside his soul. “Maybe, my Maybe.” He groaned, his hands roaming up, his fingers threading through her hair. He pulled her back to gaze into her eyes. “You have no idea how much I want this to continue dear wife, but not here. I will find the right place and soon. I promise.”

  Maybe licked her lips, the taste of him filling her with desires she never knew she possessed. As though under water, she nodded, the sense of drowning in passion for him overwhelming her.

  He was a good man. The thought slipped into her consciousness, and she knew it to be true as she tried to catch her breath. She nodded and took the crutch as he handed it back to her. A good man. A man of honor.

  So much honor that he would do the right thing whether or not he loved her?

  Oh, she must let those thoughts go! He said he loved her, and he was ready to prove it. He had already proved it. She needed to just trust it.

  Turning, she made her way back to the bed. “Let me try again. It’s wonderful to be out of that bed.”

  Willie was at her side as she made two more practice turns. A knock sounded as she completed the third time.

  “Come in.”

  Boatswain Johnson appeared. “Looks like you are getting your pins back under you. Good on you, Maybe.”

  “She’s walked to the wall and back three times now. She will do well with the crutch.” Willie beamed as if she had learned a new trick.

  “Well, I wanted to say we have fair winds and are moving at about ten knots so we should be docked in less than two hours. Do you have anything below deck you want brought up here?”

  She shook her head. Willie had already brought her the bit of money she had and her da’s fiddle. There was nothing else but memories. And Willie. That was all she had.

  “In that case, I should pay you now for your services. You both worked hard and earned your keep.” He brought out a small leather pouch and handed it to Willie. “I put the pay for you both in here. Perhaps it will be enough to get you started on your life together.” The boatswain rubbed his face and ducked out the door.

  Willie weighed the pouch in his hand, and his eyes grew rounder. He opened it and poured several gold sovereigns into his palm. “That’s just the start! Oh, Maybe, he’s overpaid us. We can’t accept all this!”

  Maybe limped over to him and peeked in the pouch. Her mouth went dry. This money meant buying a house or building one. They would be safe. And he wanted to give it back? “The boatswain knows what he put into the pouch, what he gave us. We need not give any back.”

  Willie still stared at it, but he shook his head. “No, this isn’t right.”

  “Willie?”

  “No.” He headed out the door before she could stop him.

  Maybe started to stomp her foot but caught herself in time, a jolt of pain rising from her ankle at the thought. She loved that he was good and honorable, but couldn’t he look the other way just this once?

  She sank back onto the bed, more frustrated than she’d been before he walked in the door.

  It wasn’t as if they were stealing. The man gave them the money. He wanted them to have it. This was for their future.

  The worst part was, she could see Willie’s side of it. Oh, why was it always difficult?

  She propped the crutch next to the bed and flopped back on the pillow, running her hands through her hair and winced when she touched the spot where her head had hit the mast. If this was married life, did she really want it?

  Closing her eyes, she willed herself into a nap. Anything to make the time go faster. Another knock jolted her. “Come in.”

  It was the surgeon. “I hoped to see you before you leave to make sure everything has been done.”

  She smiled at him. He was the first to discover her secret, and he never judged her. “Thank you. Ye’ve taken very good care of me. I am grateful.”

  “I’ll tell you a wee secret. I’ve worked on these sea dogs for so many years, patching their wounds, treating their ailments, and in extreme cases, saving them from appendages that have turned on them. But treating a young mother is a joy and an honor. May this baby bring you much love and happiness.”

  Maybe bit her lip and blinked several times. Her emotions ran amok with her enough. She would not cry right now. “May I ask ye a question?”

  He laughed. “Aye, you just did, but you may ask another if you wish.”

  And clever too. “Might you tell me your name? No one has said it. We call you the surgeon. What is your Christian name?”

  He smiled and sighed. “I’ve always preferred it that way. If they know my name, they’d want to learn more about my life. But for you, young mother, I will tell you. My name is Josiah Featherfield. I am trusting you with my secret.”

  “Doctor Featherfield, you have my word.” Another secret kept.

  “In that case, let me look at your ankle. Have you practiced with the crutch?” He sat on the edge of the bed and began to unwrap her leg.

  “Aye.” She told him of her trips back and forth across the room.

  He murmured “good” and began pressing places on her ankle. “How does that feel?”

  She was fine until he hit one spot. She gasped and thought her body would send her through the roof.

  “You’ve bruised the muscles here, most likely when you dangled from the ladder. You can soak it in cold water if you notice swelling. Also, keep it propped up whenever you can. You must get your rest. Once the baby comes, rest will be a thing of the past.” He rewrapped her ankle and patted her knee. “Miss Maybe, it has been a pleasure treating you and working together on the Frances Pearl. I wish you the best.”

  Maybe shook his hand and he left, giving her more time to watch the ceiling, count the minutes and second-guess every decision she’d ever made. She’d thought Willie would be back, but when the ship’s motion changed as it pulled into dock, she remembered he must do his part. She only hoped he’d not returned the money or at least the boatswain assured him he meant for them to keep it.

  An hour later, Willie knocked at the door—something in the rhythm gave him away. He helped her from the bed and stepped ahead of her to get the door.

  She longed to ask what happened with the money but couldn’t bring herself to do so.

  He held the door for her as she stepped through. Step by step, he stayed with her as she made it to the main deck and headed to the gangplank. She stopped for a breath and raised her head. All along the gangway, the crew had lined up, their heads bare, hats in their hands. She glanced at Willie, heat rising in her cheeks.

  He shook his head. His expression assured her he knew nothing about it. The slip had not come from him.

  She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and continued.

  Mr. Cox stepped forward. “Maybe, we just learnt, and we think yer the best at riding the top there is. Ye can sail with us anytime, even if ye are a girl.”

  Then Mr. Hawkins stepped forward. “Maybe, I was going to give these to me wife, but I’ll have time to make more. Won’t ye take ’em to help ye remember yer sailing friends?” He shoved an intricate bouquet of wooden flowers into her hands, each one carved with precision.

  Maybe’s throat constricted, and her eyes burn
ed. They didn’t judge her. Instead they spoke in kind words, thoughtful gestures. Her legs failed her. She froze as her soul was moved more than she could handle.

  Boatswain Johnson put his hand on Willie’s shoulder. “Take care of our Maybe.”

  Willie nodded, as choked up as she.

  “You both are always welcomed on the Frances Pearl.”

  Maybe’s knees grew rubbery. There was nowhere to sit. Just as she met Willie’s gaze, he scooped her into his arms.

  He carried her down the gangplank as if she weighed no more than a farthing. Turning back to the men, he grinned while they all cheered.

  She buried her head in his shoulder. For now she’d let her husband take care of her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Willie carried his wife, trudging up from the dock, into the village and to the first place that resembled an inn—an older home with a picture sign in the yard. She clung to him, her crutch, fiddle, and wooden bouquet over his shoulder the whole way, her head still buried in his neck. The lightness of his load surprised and delighted him. He moved much heavier things aboard ship. That he could do this with ease only made it easier. He shifted her in his arms.

  “Ye can put me down now.”

  He fumbled at the door. “What?”

  “I said, ye can put me down.”

  Indignance colored her voice, confusing him, but he did as requested. “We need a room. After, if you want, we can inquire about your sister.” She looked too tiny, almost frail, standing there with her crutch under one arm and cradling the carved flowers and fiddle with her other.

  “I would like to get clean and then find some female clothing before I see her.” She still had that shy look. How she could traverse between indignant and shy so quick, he did not understand.

  Then comprehension dawned. “Of course! Let’s get a room and, well, let’s start with a room.”