by ML Gardner
Aryl opened one eye a tiny slit. “Don’t even think about it.”
Jonathan smiled. “He woke up many a morning looking like hell.” He held his mug out in front of him. “Just like you do now.”
Again, the smile in his voice grated on Aryl’s nerves. “Where’s Caleb?” He opened one eye experimentally, and then the other, just a crack.
“He went for a walk.” Jonathan sat with his legs crossed as he watched Aryl. Taking a few deep breaths and stretching his neck slowly to each side, he opened his eyes and surveyed the campsite. It was tidied up and food and cooking gear that wasn’t there the night before was arranged on a large tree stump near the campfire. Fire licked at the bottom of a metal pot set over the center of the fire.
“What are you making?” Aryl asked.
“Oatmeal.”
“You hate oatmeal.”
Jonathan shrugged. “It’s what we have.”
“I gotta piss. Then I want some of that coffee,” Aryl said with a wave of his hand.
Jonathan nodded, and waited.
Aryl stood and in the process of brushing woodland debris from his pants and shirt, he found the thick rope tied about his waist, taut but not constricting, tethering him to the base of the tree he had passed out under.
“What the hell is this?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
“It would appear to be a rope.”
“That much I know, you ass, why am I tied up?”
“We’re gonna get you off that stuff, Aryl,” Jonathan said and stretched his legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. He leaned his head back to rest on the bark of the tree. “You’re destroying yourself and you’re taking Claire with you. We’re not gonna let it happen.”
He glared at Jonathan, not needing any further clarification. “Untie me,” he demanded.
Jonathan shook his head slowly. “Not until you’re right.”
Aryl burst into a flurry of frustration, jerking at the rope. Losing his balance, he went sprawling into the dirt.
“This isn’t funny, Jon. Untie me.”
“It isn’t meant to be funny.” Jonathan stared blankly.
“Look,” Aryl held up his hands. “If this is because of what I said last night about Gina, you took it the wrong way.”
“There was only one way to take that, Aryl. But no. This isn’t for any of the ridiculous shit you said last night.”
“What are you going to do then, keep me tied to a tree like a dog forever? You have to let me go sometime.” His face hardened. “Soon as you do, I’ll go find more. It’s everywhere.”
“We’re not letting you go until you don't want it anymore.”
Aryl stood and bolted toward Jonathan. He folded in half and hit the ground inches from Jonathan’s feet.
“I measured that distance before I cut the rope.” Jonathan smiled. Aryl growled and cursed, pulling at the rope. He reached behind his back to work at the knot.
“You’ll never get that knot undone,” Jonathan said and sipped his coffee. “You taught Caleb that knot. It has to be cut.”
“You better let me go, Jon,” he seethed.
“Or what?”
Aryl didn’t have an answer as he stumbled to his feet and glared.
“I found some canvas and poles we can make a shelter for him with,” Caleb said stepping into the clearing. “Oh, you’re awake.”
Aryl glared as he passed by. “No, there’s not going to be any shelter. This camping trip is over,” Aryl said.
“Not by a long shot,” Jonathan said and signaled Caleb to keep working. Aryl growled and yanked on the rope. He walked around the tree and tried unsuccessfully to untie it, then beat it with growling fury.
Jonathan bent to pour more coffee. “I told you, Aryl that rope is going to have to be cut. And I’m not cutting it until you’re right.”
Aryl walked slowly around the base of the tree, watching Caleb. Just as he hammered the first stake in the ground, Aryl yanked it out and threw it far into the woods. He stared at Caleb in defiance. Caleb rose, brushed off his knees and lumbered after it.
“If you do that again, you’ll sleep under the stars,” Jonathan warned. Aryl just stared at him, breathing angrily through his nose. Caleb set to work again, and again, Aryl pulled the stake and threw it. As Caleb rose with a sigh, Jonathan raised a hand. “No. I warned him.”
Caleb and Jonathan went to work on their tent. It was a sturdy canvas, with enough room for the two to make camp for the duration of what was to come.
“I still have to piss,” Aryl said.
Jonathan pointed without looking up. “Behind the tree.”
He grumbled and they heard the rustling of clothing a moment later, but not the telltale sound of relieving oneself.
“I took it, Aryl,” Jonathan said intuitively. “And I dumped it out.”
“You what!” Aryl shot from around the tree, grabbing Jonathan by the back of the shirt. Jonathan swung around and his fist met Aryl’s jaw. He fell back onto his backside as Caleb watched uncomfortably. Aryl scrambled to his feet and lunged, grabbing Jonathan around the waist, growling into his stomach as Jonathan spun around, sending him into the dirt.
Jonathan stepped away, picking up his end of the canvas to secure to the poles.
“When I get free, I’m gonna kill you,” Aryl seethed.
“No, you won’t,” Jonathan said as he secured his edge of the tent into the ground. “You’ll thank me.”
“Like hell.” He noticed Caleb’s furrowed brow and deep set frown. “Caleb. You know this is wrong.”
“No.” He looked to Jonathan for reassurance. “It's not wrong. We're trying to help you.”
“By tying me up like an animal?”
Jonathan smirked. “That was Caleb’s idea.”
“Some friend you are,” Aryl said, glaring at him.
Caleb stopped working. “I am your friend. I couldn’t save you before. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let that happen again.”
Aryl grabbed his bag and tore out the contents, hoping Jonathan didn’t find the bottle he kept for emergencies, deep in a side pocket. Digging in the bottom, he didn’t find his bottle. Instead he found Maura’s heirloom straw cross.
“What the hell is this?” he asked.
“That has gotten a good many people through some really hard times. It’s your turn to hold it, Aryl.”
He tossed it in the dirt and Jonathan had to resist the urge to punch him. Instead he picked it up and dusted it off. He gave Aryl a hard shove to the side, and wedged the corner of the cross in the tree bark high above Aryl’s head.
“This is for your own good,” Jonathan said, sitting down and crossing his legs at the ankle. “You might want to get comfortable. We’re going to be here awhile.”
MLG
Coming Soon
Drifter
and
1931 Book Three Caleb’s Err
Read an excerpt from the novel currently in progress
Drifter
He settled into the long tub. The warm water stung the deep wounds on his back but the cool metal was soothing as he rested against it. How long had it been since he’d bathed in a real bath? He didn’t know.
A plate with five candles burned on the wash table, a rough wooden workbench with a pitcher and basin bar, cologne and hair oil, and a fresh change of clothes Gina had set out for him. The plaster walls were dirty and crumbling. She had apologized for the accommodations, but assured him the loo flushed.
He stared at the flickering light, trying to decide what he thought of her. She was a working girl, no doubt. But unlike the masses of prostitutes he had seen hanging around the docks, she was different. She didn’t have the worn out look to her. Maybe she was new to the profession? Or, maybe, she was a favorite of Mickey’s. He remembered how Mickey’s voice had changed when she walked into his office. He’d been made to wait in the hall but had seen how the others seemed to step aside when she walked by as thugs do when they acknowledge respect and position.
She was a complex little thing and he didn’t entirely trust her. But he wanted to. He was grateful, of course, that she had taken him in. But why? He was no one. Literally. Remembering her whispered words as she pleaded with the boss to allow him in, He could be useful, she’d insisted.
Useful how? If he had any skills or talents he couldn’t remember them. Whether he was a healer, a keeper of law, or even a simple craftsman, his mind was a blank slate. He knew to breathe, to eat and sleep, and when Gina bent over and nearly popped out of her low cut dress-he felt a deep tingling urge in his groin. He had no conscious memory of sex but the animal instinct was strong. His body remembered the carnal, especially when he was around Gina. His mind wandered again, wondering how he could be useful to anyone when he seemed to have been reduced to nothing more than a human animal. Food, sleep, sex, those were the only things he seemed to understand. He washed himself absentmindedly.
After a short knock, Gina opened the door. He scrambled to cover himself and she laughed.
“Modest, are we?” She struggled with a heavy bucket. “Brought you more hot water.” She grunted as she lifted it up and over the edge of the deep tub.
He tucked his knees up, both covering himself and allowing room for her to pour the boiling water at his feet. Comforting heat swirled its way up the tub, warming his hips.
She stood longer than he was comfortable with. When he looked up, she was smiling.
“Don’t be nervous,” she said with a deep English accent. Unsure if she were referring to her staring at him naked, or meeting Mickey after he was cleaned up, he simply nodded.
“Sit up, I’ll wash your back.”
He leaned a stiff spine forward.
“Relax,” she giggled. “You’re too uptight. You need a good massage.” She saw his back and gasped. “What happened to you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. When I woke up, it was like this. It’s better than it was.” He craned his neck around as if he could see for himself. Instead, he saw her concerned face. “Isn’t it?”
“Well, I didn’t see it before, and most of it looks healed. Still some deep scars…looks like gouging in some places. This spot doesn’t look good.” She ran her fingers over a large, red swelling with a dark streak at the center. “This one is infected. It needs to be lanced.”
He sat back quickly, sending water up and over the high back of the tub.
“No, that’s alright.”
“It might get to your blood. It needs to be opened. There’s something in there.”
“I’m okay,” he insisted.
“Alright, fine,” she said softly. “Let me at least wash it then.”
He nodded and leaned forward again. She was careful, gliding gently over the angry, tender spots and massaging the healed and untouched skin. His head soon lolled and tossed as she worked.
“Must be awful to not know who you are.”
He opened his eyes, staring at the water. “It is.”
“You don’t even know if you have a woman somewhere?”
He shrugged and lifted his hands out of the water. “No ring.”
“You might have had a sweetheart.”
“No idea. But if I can find the ship I stumbled off of, they might know something about me.”
“Do you think you worked on that ship?”
Another shrug.
“I’d like to think they wouldn’t leave me if I did.”
“If you did work on that ship, it couldn’t ‘ave been for long.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because there’s not a hint of accent to your talk. You sound as American as they get.”
“I wouldn’t necessarily pick up the accent, would I?”
“Most do, a little. If you worked with it long enough.”
“Hmm.” He lowered his head. “Tell me about Mickey.”
“What’s to tell,” she snorted. “He’s the boss. He calls the shots. Runs a few dozen girls but makes most his money with opium. He’s got a wicked temper, so stay on his good side.”
“Are you one of his girls?”
“Yes and no.”
“How can it be yes and no? Either you’re one or you’re not.”
“We’ll have a nice long talk later, okay? Right now, you need to get dressed. Mickey’ll be back soon and he’s wantin’ to talk to you.”
She stood and smiled. “Don’t worry. Mickey’ll like ya. He needs good men he can trust. If he trusts you, you’re in.”
“How do I gain the trust of a complete stranger?” he asked, rinsing his back by throwing handfuls of water over his shoulder.
“It’s like everything else around here.” She shrugged as she walked out. “You have to earn it.”
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Reading the series in order:
1929 Book One-Jonathan’s Cross
Elizabeth’s Heart Book Two
1930 Book-Three Aryl’s Divide
Drifter Book Four
M.L. Gardner Works in Progress include:
Purgatory Cove Book Five
1931 Book Six-Caleb’s Err
Simon’s Watch Book Seven
A 1929 Christmas Special (Release date November 10th, 2013)
Reclaiming Katie
Other books by M.L. Gardner:
Simply, Mine
Short Stories from 1929
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Other Books
June 29th 1930
June 30th 1930
July 3rd 1930
July 7th 1930
July 11th 1930
July 15th 1930
July 16th 1930
July 19th 1930
July 26th 1930
July 27th 1930
July 30th 1930
July 31st 1930
August 1st 1930
August 7th 1930
August 16th 1930
August 20th 1930
August 26th 1930
September 1st
September 5th 1930
Sept 7th 1930
Sept 10th 1930
September 20th 1930
October 4th 1930
October 5th 1930
October 7th 1930
October 10th 1930
October 17th 1930
October 21th 1930
October 23rd 1930
October 24th 1930
October 25th 1930
October 26th 1930
October 31st 1930
November 1st 1930
November 2nd 1930
November 3rd 1930
November 4th, 1930
November 7th 1930
November 11th 1930
January 1st 1931
January 7th 1931
January 11th 1931
February 14th 1931
February 17th 1931
February 20th 1931
March 10th 1931
April 10th 1931
April 25th 1931
May 1st 1931
May 2nd 1931
May 5th 1931
May 6th 1931
May 7th 1931
May 11th 1931
May 16th 1931
May 18th 1931
May 21st 1931
May 25th 1931
May 26th 1931
May 30th 1931
June 1st 1931
June 7th 1931
June 10st 1931
June 13th 1931
June 14th 1931
June 17th 1931
June 19th 1931
excerpt from the novel drifter
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