The Crockett Chronicles- The Complete Collection

by Jennifer Lynn Cary

  Willie rubbed one bare foot against the other and inspected the men. They were both in their forties, perhaps, and about the same size and weight—short and wiry. But that was where the similarities ended. The one doing most of the talking, and emphasizing that Declan (whoever that was) didn’t like him, had dark hair and a touch of scruff. The other, the one more concerned about tending his wounds, had dirty blond hair and a full beard. “Do you have names?”

  “Aye. I’m called Long John.” That was the dark one.

  “Long John?”

  “Well, me Christian name is Georgy Galloway, but who goes by their Christian name out here?”

  “And I’m Bucktooth. Or Benjamin Spade.”

  “Bucktooth?”

  The blond one smiled. Bucktooth.

  “So who are you?”

  Willie started to give his name, then thought better. If there was a way for Declan or anyone to use it against him, he would not make it easy. His brain whirled with ideas they might accept. “Rusty. Rusty Samson.” He better understood how the Old Testament hero felt.

  “Rusty Samson. Good to meet ya. What should we do about your back?”

  Back when he helped the surgeon on the Francis Pearl, they used ocean water instead of drinking water. The surgeon thought the salt properties helped prevent infection. But it would hurt, he knew. Better to hurt than die of infection. “I need some ocean water. Either something to pour over me, or on strips of cloth. Better to pour over me. I need to rinse my breeches.”

  The men gaped and nodded. Bucktooth jumped up to go fetch.

  Long John just shook his head. “I wonder who will win between you and Declan. Much more, and I might be putting my money on you.”

  “What is the problem with Declan? Why does he feel such animosity toward me?”

  “Oh, Bucko, you haven’t seen animosity. Declan is just trying to fill the britches of our former captain. Now, ol’ Silas Keel, he was one hard one, that’s for sure. He’d have had you keelhauled. That’s how he got his name, Silas Keel. Never knew his Christian name, don’t supposed he had one. But now that Declan is in charge, he wants to show he’s just as mean. He could be, but he’s still got a streak of fear. That was something ol’ Silas never had. Caution, aye, but fear, never.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sarah knew, better than her name, that if she didn’t care for Maybe and the baby, she would fall apart this very instant. But taking care of her new daughter meant caring for her spiritual needs as well as any others, and in doing so, she opened her own heart to let the Holy Spirit care for her.

  Maybe refused to eat or drink unless reminded of the baby. Then she only took nourishment and rolled over in bed. She would lose her physical strength if this continued. Sarah was at a loss, but remained by her side, reading from her Bible while Maybe slept. Daily, verses spoke to her, strengthening her, giving her hope. Still she hesitated to read aloud to Maybe. If she forced the issue before the girl was ready, she could not only turn her away from the one hope they had, she could crush any tiny hope to which Maybe still clung.

  Sarah closed her eyes and began praying the verses she’d read that day. You are my strong tower. You are my hope. You never leave nor forsake me. She prayed for Willie, over and over, that he would recall what they had poured into him since birth. That God’s Word that was hidden in his heart would come forth as a sword to bring him victory and bring him home. She prayed for Joseph who blamed himself and struggled to lead now. Sarah prayed as she had never prayed before.

  “Yer praying. Again. Do ye think He hears?”

  Sarah opened her eyes to see Maybe watching her.

  “Aye, I do.”

  Maybe closed her eyes. “I prayed, too, but I dunna ken why He’d listen to me.”

  Sarah knelt by the bed and took Maybe’s hand in hers. “Oh dear heart, you are His precious child. Why would He not listen?”

  “Because I’m not worth it. Even when I was… even when I tried to do what was right, He still dinna hear my prayers. And now, Mother, ye dunna ken just how bad I am.”

  “Do ye want to tell me?” She stroked the hair back from Maybe’s forehead.

  “Ye will not like me if I do, ye will not want me to call ye Mother.”

  Sarah smiled. “I doubt that, but ye can try.”

  “Our baby is a punishment from God.”

  Sarah stifled the gasp fighting to escape. She was under no illusion the baby came before marriage, but why point it out? They were married and loved each other. No one else would guess when they married. But to view this sweet gift as punishment? “Maybe love, a baby is a gift, not a punishment. And only more proof that God loves ye. He offered ye this gift to love and care for. It shows His trust in ye.”

  “But, but we… we had relations before we married.”

  “I’ve had a few babies of my own. I can count.”

  “And ye dinna say anything?”

  “What was there to say? Ye love Willie; Willie loves ye. Ye are married and planning a family. Ye might have gotten started off on the wrong foot, but ye found yer way.”

  “And ye dunna condemn me?”

  “Why would I do that now? Yer my daughter. I love ye like one of me own.”

  Maybe started to sob.

  Sarah took her in her arms and rocked her. This child needed mothering before she became a mother.

  In fifteen minutes, Maybe had drifted to sleep so Sarah tiptoed downstairs to get her something to eat for when she woke. The kitchen was in perfect order. She had taught her daughters, and with the help of her extra girls, they were doing a wonderful job. It relieved Sarah of that worry.

  Beth had made more oatcakes, so she put them on a plate. She picked up a crumb and popped it in her mouth. The child was becoming skilled at this. She added a few more to the plate for herself.

  Sarah was just ready to put the hot water in the teapot when she glanced up. Maybe stood in the doorway. “What are ye doing out of bed? I can bring this up to ye.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve had enough of wallowing. I need another view.”

  Perhaps this was good, the beginning of an answered prayer. “Fine, let’s repair to the sitting room.” Sarah added two cups to the tray and led the way.

  The children were in there, quietly working on schoolwork. Each of the older ones had a younger one to assist—Jason helped Mary, Beth helped Martha, Eliza helped Lettie, and Alpha helped Janie. Sarah blinked back tears. Beth raised her head, so she mouthed, “Thank you.”

  “We might be in the way.” She smiled. “Let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll take down some chairs.” Sarah retraced her steps with Maybe following her.

  Once they were comfortable at the table, Sarah poured. “I’m glad to see you come down here.”

  Maybe stared into her cup. “I had to. My staying in bed won’t bring him back. I’ve been terrified of what ye’d say if ye knew. I…”

  Sarah watched the girl and waited. Things were coming out, things that blocked her faith. Well, let them come, be dealt with, and gone.

  “The day Willie and I had that argument, I wanted to tell Eliza everything. She doesn’t know the truth. I went looking for her. Someone said they thought she was with Aphra upstairs. So I opened the door.” She shook her head and her voice dropped. “I walked in on Aphra as she bathed.”

  Sarah was aware of what she’d seen. It was shocking, disturbing. That was why the girl bathed when she thought no one might see her. She still physically hid herself from the other girls. No one but Sarah had seen the scars until now.

  “It made me ill. And then all I could think was that could be me. That’s the real reason I became so furious with Willie. I was terror struck I would end up like that.”

  How did Sarah respond to that? Was it selfish to fear something so vile? No, and it didn’t mean she had no pity for what Aphra endured. “Aphra has come a long way since she arrived at our home. There are times I want to take all those bad memories from her and bury them far away. But I can�
�t say I’d be brave enough to endure what she has gone through in her place. I’m not that brave. I am that flawed.” Sarah took a breath and weighed her words. “Ye were a target of that mad man. It is natural that ye would fear. And I can see how Willie’s note would make it even worse. Ye know that Jesus understood what the punishment for sin was. He knew what He would face on the way to the cross. His flesh, the part of Him that was human, begged the Father for a different plan. But there was no other way. He took our punishment. Every strike, every jab, every humiliation. Even the pain, the agony, all the way to the cross, all the way to death. He took it all. That is why when ye ask forgiveness in His name, the Father hears and yer sins are gone. Jesus took them.”

  “I ken, I just…”

  “So yer sins are special and need something other than Jesus?”

  Maybe’s eyes grew wide. “No, I dunna think that.”

  “Well, that’s what I’m hearing. When He said all, He means all. Why not yers?” Sarah’s heart pounded. She hadn’t expected to say all that. Was it too much?

  Maybe continued to stare into her cup, having yet to take a sip. “What should I do?”

  Praise God! “Ye might start by praying and telling God ye are sorry for yer sins. Ask Him to come into yer heart and help ye to be the person He created ye to be.”

  “Will ye pray with me?”

  “Aye, sweet girl, aye.” And she did.

  When they raised their heads, Sarah saw something new in Maybe’s eyes. Hope.

  * * *

  “Rusty, ho, Rusty, we gotta go up on deck. Declan calling.” Long John sounded eager.

  No matter, the chance to stand in the sun was a gift. Willie got stuck below deck with every menial and demeaning job Declan could find. Obviously, the boss wanted to break him, but Willie was as determined not to be broken.

  The sun gleamed up on deck, the refection off the water blinding him at first. But the warmth of its rays caressed his skin, and the air above smelled much cleaner. A week of being enclosed below was worse than going through the quarantine for chicken pox.

  The crew formed a circle, and one stood in the center. Declan stood at his makeshift podium, waiting for everyone to arrive topside. He searched the crowd, and when he spotted Willie, a slow grin cracked his face.

  Willie counted the crew as they came, joining the circle. Twelve men, including the one in the middle. Where was Andrew? He glanced about but didn’t spot him.

  Declan raised his fist. “Crew, it is that special day we wait for all week. Fight day!”

  The crew cheered as if it were a birthday celebration.

  “Today we have a new contestant to take on our champion Rook Teague.”

  Great. Willie knew he was about to hear his name, or rather his pseudonym.

  “Puddle Jim, come to the center.”

  What? And then Willie understood. This man thrived on growing fear in others. He thought watching the champion fight would plant a seed in him. Well, it might. But Willie had another plan.

  * * *

  Maybe worked the dough. Willie’s captors were on the table in front of her, and she kneaded them into submission with her bare hands. At least in her mind. As far as the dough was concerned, it was well worked. She plopped it into a greased bowl and covered it before washing her fingers. “Mother, tell me a story about Willie when he was a child.”

  “Let’s see. I have many. He wasn’t one to go unnoticed.” She chuckled at that. “But he always wanted to help. And he has this knack for quickly learning something, especially if it is physical.”

  “I saw that on the ship. Every time the boatswain gave him a job, he picked it up as if born to it. I attributed it to his love of sailing.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that had something to do with it, but he understands how his body moves. He sees things, how they are done, and then he does it like he’s been doing it his whole life. I remember this day. I took the children to the river for a picnic. Joseph worked, and Janie, me wee babe, was perhaps a month old. The day sweltered. Too hot to keep their wee minds on their studies. So we planned a grand picnic. After we ate, I fed Janie, and the boys played pirates, jumping off rocks and pretending to sword fight. Beth wandered over and tried to do what they were doing. She climbed up on a rock and jumped. But she lost her balance. She landed and rolled into the river.”

  Maybe gasped and her hand went to her belly. “What did ye do?”

  “Nothing I could do. By the time I laid Janie down somewhere safe, Willie had already jumped into the river and had grabbed her. I don’t know how he managed to get her to shore, but when he got pulled out by his brothers, I grabbed him and shook him. ‘What were ye thinkin’ lad? Do ye think I need to lose two children?’”

  Maybe leaned forward, captivated. This was her Willie! He’d done this! “What did he say?”

  Sarah chuckled again. “He said, ‘I dinna think ye’d want to lose any.’”

  Maybe covered her mouth with her hand and laughed. “That sounds like Willie.”

  “But hear this. Willie hadn’t learned to swim.”

  “What?”

  “I know. We’d not taught him yet. So I asked him where he learned to do that. He told me he’d seen some boys doing it the day before. He watched what they did and practiced in his mind. Then, when he needed to do it, he didn’t have time to be afraid, he just did it and it worked.”

  “He just did what he’d practiced in his mind?”

  “Aye.”

  That man was far from stupid. Anyone can have a bad idea, but that dinna make one stupid. It’s a smart man who does what Willie did. Right there, Maybe prayed Willie could use his brain to get out of this mess.

  * * *

  Long John and Bucktooth dragged Puddle Jim out of the center of the circle. Rook hadn’t even bothered to use his hands. Instead, he kicked the man until he couldn’t get up again. It had startled Willie to see Rook’s foot come flying. But as he watched, he learned a couple things. The man blinked before he kicked out his foot. And he kicked so that his body came around in a counterclockwise circle, with a small jump in the air and landing so that his back was partially to his opponent. He must be pretty certain he had time to be in that position before the next kick. That meant the man had arrogance.

  Willie filed it all in his mind, seeing the kick unwind and make contact. Was there a vulnerable moment? Could someone beat Rook at his own game? He’d had a lot of practice.

  Words his parents had spoken over him as he grew materialized from out of nowhere. It was as if he could hear them saying them in his ear. For it is He who delivers you from the snare of the trapper.

  “Rusty Samson!”

  Willie glanced toward the voice. Declan called his name.

  “Your turn with our champion.”

  I will fear no evil.

  Willie took a breath, wiped his hand over his dry mouth, and thought the shortest prayer he’d ever prayed, all while walking to the center.

  The sun was higher in the sky, but he now realized why Rook faced the way he did. Willie walked the inside of the circle until he forced Rook to peer into the sun’s light. He stopped moving and waited.

  Rook glared back. The man was solid, tall, menacing.

  Willie refused to flinch. As long as Rook thought he was part of a staring contest, it was safe.

  But then Rook blinked.

  His foot came up and his body turned, all in one fluid motion.

  Willie saw the foot coming his way. He grabbed it and twisted.

  Rook hit the deck headfirst. It took a minute for what happened to register on his face. But when it did, he roared and charged.

  Willie took the brunt of it in his gut, the force causing him to vomit all over Rook’s back. He gasped for air and pulled himself up by the rail.

  Rook shook his shaggy head and roared again. And blinked.

  Willie looked in time to spot a foot coming toward his face. Once more, he grabbed it, though not as fast, nor with the same twist. Instead he raised t
he foot higher in the air.

  Rook landed on his back, banging his head onto the deck. He didn’t get up.

  “C’mon, Rook, Get up! Don’t let him beat you!”

  Declan Stryker was a sore loser.

  * * *

  The familiar tap at the door sounded. Eleazar could set a clock to it. Every Wednesday evening, at seven, the constable came, tapping the same timid knock. Soft, for fear someone might spot him at the evil one’s door. But Eleazar knew this man’s weakness. With a touch of encouragement, he might get him to help. He only needed make it sound innocent and put the correct amount of incentive in the envelope.

  He rubbed his hands, tugged at his cuffs, and opened the door. “Thank you, constable. I appreciate you remembering me.”

  “You pay for it. It’s my job.” The man’s voice dripped with sullenness. However, if he did what was needed, he could sound anyway he wanted.

  “Well, I still thank you. I have the new list and money here, but I was wondering, if you would do me one other little favor.”

  “That depends.” He glanced about.

  “I miss knowing what happens in our little village. The newspaper doesn’t tell near enough. I understand. You prefer not to enter or be seen here. But if you took notes concerning things that occur. Just those everyday comings and goings that make life normal. I would be grateful, so grateful. Perhaps ten pounds a week grateful?”

  Eleazar studied the man’s eyes. They’d stopped darting. A view into the man’s brain would see him tallying up a profit that his present position had no chance of matching. At any moment, saliva might spill from the corner of the creature’s bulbous lips.

  “I think that will work. Ten pounds you say?”

  “Aye, ten pounds.” The deal was struck. No questions concerning the source of his money. That was fine, Eleazar would never tell. But it would cut into what he’d hidden away if he didn’t get answers soon.