Bailey held the radio close to her ear. Nothing but static. She pressed the talk button, and the static stopped. “Professor Tim? Timothy Van Buskirk? Can you hear me?”
She released the button and waited for a response. Silence. After clearing her dry throat, she tried again. “Tim, if you can hear me, please respond.”
Still nothing.
She turned off the radio then flipped out its hand crank mechanism and spun it for a minute to charge the battery. She would try to contact Professor Tim again once she was on the beach.
Water ran upstairs once more, making her thirsty. A pewter jug and cup sat on the bedside table. She strapped on her backpack over her Eastern Shore University sweatshirt, then poured a cup of water. The cool, clear liquid was the first drink of pure water she’d swallowed since the water poisoning that started the war. She emptied the cup with deep quaffs then refilled it. No foul stench, no salty remnants of filtered seawater, just pure freshwater.
After filling the bottle in her backpack, she walked to the door. The running water stopped upstairs and so did the footsteps. She glanced up the staircase but only saw a closed door at the top. Whoever it was, they weren’t worried about her escaping.
She peeled back the sheer curtain that covered the window by the door. No one was outside. A door to the big brick house was only a few yards away. An impressive array of azalea and hydrangea shrubs lined the back of the house. If she wasn’t trying to flee, she would have walked straight over to examine the beautiful specimens.
The wagon that had been parked between the house and cottage was gone now. The men must have taken the bodies somewhere during the night. Micah’s body. She had to find Professor Tim and be the person to tell him his nephew was dead. He shouldn’t hear the news from strangers.
Turning the knob as quietly as possible, she opened the door and peeked outside. All clear. A cow mooed in the distance. She stepped into the misty morning air and carefully closed the door behind her. Before the latch clicked, a voice came from the big house. “Miss Bailey, I presume.”
A middle-aged man stood in the back doorway. Shadows darkened the tall figure, but as he stepped outside, the morning light hit him, illuminating his gray hair and blue eyes. The smell of freshly baked muffins wafted out of the big house, making her stomach rumble.
The man tilted his head. “She said you were sleeping.”
“Who?”
“My daughter, Dr. Bradshaw.” He glanced back into the house then walked toward Bailey, leaving the door open. “We thought you were still recuperating from your injury.”
Bailey let go of the cottage’s doorknob. Should she run? Where? To the beach? Then what?
The older guy stopped walking midway between the house and the cottage. He didn’t seem threatened by her, and he certainly wasn’t a threat to her. Her leg wound was healed, she’d regained the range of motion in her shoulder, and the long drink of pure water had refreshed her system. She could dodge him and take off if she had to. “I was injured, yes, but the gray leaf medicine helped.” She hooked her thumbs in her backpack straps. “I have to go now.”
“Where?” he asked, advancing another step.
Bailey glanced in both directions. To the west, the dirt tracks of the driveway led to a road about a hundred yards in front of the house. The path she’d walked from the beach last night disappeared to the east. She couldn’t see what was on the other side of the cottage, but from the animal sounds, she guessed a farm. “To wherever they took my crew. I need to see them.”
The man pressed his lips together. “You cannot see them.”
“Why not?”
He lowered his volume. “Last night, we buried your men in our cemetery behind the village chapel.”
“So quickly? Maybe they weren’t dead. Did you even check?”
“My daughter is a thorough physician.”
Bailey touched her scarred leg. He was right.
And he wasn’t treating her like a prisoner. She stepped forward. “You’re Dr. Bradshaw’s father, right?”
He nodded once and offered a hand to shake. “Reverend John Colburn. I am the overseer of Good Springs.”
She considered his waiting hand. They shared ancestral roots, and she’d come here to meet this family. More than to meet them, she wanted to connect with them. She shook his hand. “I’m Bailey.” She paused a beat, wondering if she should say her last name and acknowledge they shared an ancestry. Her stomach growled, ending the silence awkwardly.
He lowered his chin and compassion filled his crystalline eyes. “Would you like some breakfast, Miss Bailey?”
Maybe she should eat before she went to search for Tim. No. She’d work better if an empty stomach drove her. She didn’t need food as much as she needed information. If John Colburn was as easygoing as he appeared, maybe she could confirm some details from the doctor’s father. “No, thanks. Tell me, is your daughter married to Connor Bradshaw?”
He released her hand. “Yes. Are you acquainted with Connor?”
“No. Not personally. It’s a long story.”
John stepped around her and opened the door to the cottage. “I have plenty of time.”
When he motioned for her to step inside the medical office, she glanced back at the path that led to the shore. “I don’t.”
“Are there more coming? More men with guns?”
A baby’s happy squeal sang from the big house. Dr. Bradshaw appeared in the doorway, holding a toddler on her hip. “Oh, you’re up. Sophia said you were still sleeping. She went upstairs to take a shower.”
Dr. Bradshaw smoothed the toddler’s black hair. The little boy had the same dark eyes as the security team’s leader. Bailey didn’t want to see those eyes again until she’d located Professor Tim. She held up a palm to John. “I can’t stay.”
Dr. Bradshaw walked closer. “But your leg. I’ll need to check the wound before I release you from my care.”
“It’s fine, really. Thank you for your help. I should go.”
John opened the cottage door wider. “It’s not that simple, Miss Bailey. The last person who came here from the outside world was very sick and spread the illness to my youngest daughter. If you care about the welfare of my people, allow Lydia to complete her examination. Then you may leave my property.”
His calm authority commanded Bailey’s respect. She didn’t have an infectious disease, but they were entitled to their procedures. And yes, she cared about his people. After all, some of them were her people too.
She gave the path to the shore one last scan then stepped back inside the medical cottage. The door at the top of the staircase opened, and Sophia bounded down the steps. The fringe of her puffy bun was curled with dampness. “I’m sorry. I thought you were still asleep.”
John put a hand to Sophia’s shoulder. “If you would kindly tend to Andrew for the morning.”
“Yes, of course,” the young woman smiled as she walked to Dr. Bradshaw and took the baby.
The doctor kissed the little boy’s cheek and passed him off to Sophia, then followed John into the office. She pointed at the unmade cot, just as she had the night before. “Take a seat, please.”
Bailey kept her backpack on and sat on the rumpled wool blanket which was still warm with her body heat. John folded his arms and watched solemnly as Dr. Bradshaw asked questions about Bailey’s health and symptoms. While the doctor listened to Bailey’s heart and lungs, the seriousness of coming to the Land sank in. These people were isolated from the rest of humanity, and she’d just walked into their world as if it were a national park, as if she had as much right to be here as anyone.
Only she didn’t.
She came here on a tip from an untrustworthy man who’d once brought disease to these innocent people. She wasn’t like Justin Mercer, nor was she like the crewmen who’d stood on the shore blindly firing bullets at the locals. She’d come here to partake in the simple and safe life these people had spent generations building. But now everything was ruined.
Dr. Bradshaw and John and Sophia had treated her with kindness even though they were probably terrified of her and of the threat she posed to the Land. Their land. They deserved the truth.
Bailey caught the doctor’s eye. “I’m not sick. I never had the plague—the disease Justin Mercer was sick with when he came here.” At the mention of Justin’s name, Dr. Bradshaw and John exchanged a look, but Bailey continued. “I lost all of my friends to it though. All except one: my former professor, Timothy Van Buskirk. He didn’t make it to the shore with us last night, and I need to find him. He’s sick, but his disease isn’t contagious. He’s diabetic. If he doesn’t have his medicine with him, he will probably need your gray leaf tea soon.”
Dr. Bradshaw walked to her desk and began writing with a silver pen on a thick piece of grayish paper.
John stepped closer to Bailey. “How many others are coming?”
“It’s only Tim, and he isn’t armed. It was just the five of us on the yacht that sank last night. And the two guys who had guns were crewmen I barely knew.” She felt like she was defending herself to the school principal. “It was Micah’s yacht. Tim’s nephew. He was unarmed. He didn’t deserve to be shot. He was doing Tim a favor by bringing us here.”
John angled his head. “That is the problem when strangers arrive on foreign soil shooting at the men who are training to protect their people. I am grateful to the Lord that none of our men were killed by your armed crewmen.”
She started to say she was sorry, but John continued with an authoritative tone. “Our security team spent last night patrolling the beach, expecting more men to come ashore.”
“Did they find Tim?”
He shook his head. “Three of my men went home to their families at daybreak, but Connor and Revel stayed at the shore.”
She stood up. “I need to go too.”
“If your friend came ashore, Connor and Revel will find him.”
“I need to be there when they do.”
He cast a quick gaze at Dr. Bradshaw. “I will not keep you here if the doctor says you are healthy.”
Dr. Bradshaw set her pen down. “She is healthy, but I don’t think it’s wise for her to go to the shore while Connor is… in his current state of mind.”
Bailey waited for an explanation, but none came. “I can defend myself.”
John raised a hand, stopping her. “Miss Bailey, we do not want you to have to defend yourself. We prefer peace.”
“So do I. That’s why I came to the Land. Justin said this is the only peaceful place left on earth.”
“Yes, but the way you and your men arrived last night gave Connor a different impression. If you insist upon going to the shore, I will go with you.”
Chapter Eleven
Eva sat in the cushioned chair at her desk in her quiet office but couldn’t relax. The morning sun reflected off a shiny porcelain vase by the window. It sent splinters of blinding light into her eyes. The pearlescent vase with gold trim had been a gift from her mother when Eva turned sixteen. She looked out the window to where the iron bench waited beneath the tall gray leaf tree. Instead of closing the curtain on her view of Ezekiel’s final resting place, she moved the glossy vase out of the direct sunlight.
Her gaze was drawn to the shaded area in front of the bench where her late husband’s headstone hid in the grass. She quickly snapped her focus back to the desk. There was too much work to be wasting time staring out the window.
She rummaged through a stack of papers until she found the recommendation letter for Isaac Owens, the man from Southpoint. As she reread it in preparation for Mr. Owens’ interview, Claudia stopped in the hallway outside the open office door.
The older woman shifted a bundle of kitchen towels in her arms and blew a wisp of silver hair off her sensibly thin face. “Which rooms need sheets today, dear?”
Eva scanned the reservation book. “Only Rooms Two and Three. Mr. Owens from Southpoint is staying again tonight. He is helping Leonard cut hay today.”
“Oh, yes. Isaac Owens. Nice young man.” She lowered her volume and grinned a little. “Fine to look at too.”
“Actually,” Eva held up the recommendation letter and waved Claudia into the office. “I might hire him permanently.”
Claudia’s eyes widened, flattening the creases at their edges. “Does your father know?”
Eva nodded. “He gave me permission last night. He finally acknowledged it’s time.” She drew in a breath of the triumphant air that still floated in her office. “At last, I can secure the help we need around here. Things are about to change.”
Claudia’s grin receded, and she tightened her hold on the dirty laundry as if clinging to a branch over a flooded stream. “What are you saying, dear? You aren’t sending Leonard and I away, are you?”
“No, never. You and Leonard are a part of this inn and always will be. More than that: you are a part of this family.” She smiled, trying to ameliorate the fear in Claudia’s eyes. “It’s just that… since Revel isn’t planning to come back, I must hire men for the stable manager and farm manager jobs.”
Claudia was still suffocating the laundry bundle. “But one of those jobs is my husband’s livelihood.”
Eva held up a hand. “Leonard will still be in charge of the farm as long as he wants to be, and you both can live in the cottage for the rest of your lives, even when you’re no longer able to work at all. This property is your home as much as it is mine. I simply need to find our new farm and stable managers… for Father’s sake and for Leonard’s. I spoke with Leonard this morning, and he agrees it’s for the best.”
Claudia dabbed the sweat from her cheek with her shoulder. “Yes, his back makes it difficult for him to work.”
“As Father’s knees do him.” Eva stood. “I’ve been praying for a solution, and Father finally came to his senses. Once I hire the right man, Leonard will have permanent, reliable help. And hopefully soon I’ll find someone to take over the stables for Father.”
Claudia nodded. “I’m sure you will. By the way, this Isaac Owens isn’t married. I already checked.” She wiggled her silver eyebrows. “On the other hand, if your new stable man has a wife who would like to take over the laundry, I won’t be offended.” Her expression lightened. “Course, if you hire men who are unattached, maybe one of them would make a good companion.”
Eva almost groaned. “For whom?”
Zeke squeezed around Claudia in the doorway, holding his puppy. She lifted her chin at Zeke. “For little Zeke… but mostly for you.”
Eva shook her head rapidly hoping that would end the conversation before Zeke’s curiosity was roused.
Claudia flashed a quick smile then walked away to take the bundle of dirty rags to the laundry house.
Zeke didn’t look like he was paying attention to what Claudia had hinted at. He looked up at Eva. “Are you getting someone new to move here?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Who?”
“Just a couple of men to help out Grandpa and Leonard.”
“What about Solo? I really like him. Can he live here always?”
“No, sweetie. He’s only staying forty days.” Though she still didn’t know why exactly. He was impossible to get answers out of, and she had more important things to tend to. She glanced at her reservation book and mumbled. “Thirty-nine days now.”
Zeke held up the little white and brown spotted dog. “Grandpa said Joshua can go with me while I go clean out a horse stall.”
It was one thing to allow a six-year-old boy to follow the men and help out with easy tasks, but giving him the chore of cleaning a horse stall by himself might be too much. She’d go out to the stables after her interview with Isaac and make sure Zeke was all right. “Very well.” She petted the puppy’s soft head. “Keep Joshua away from the horses.”
Zeke dashed to the side door before Eva had finished her sentence. “I will,” he yelled as the screen door slammed.
Eva sat again at her desk and fou
nd the supply list under her reservation book. She would mention the inn’s need of lantern fuel, rope, and chicken wire to the traders who were leaving today. Most of them were good about bringing whatever supplies the inn needed the next time they came through.
Footsteps creaked the upstairs floorboards as guests prepared to leave or go work outside for the day. Isaac Owens should be coming down soon. Eva was eager to speak with him, eager to secure her first hire.
Water swished and dishes clanked in the kitchen as Sybil cleaned up from breakfast. As soon as the interview with Isaac was over, Eva would check on Zeke then do a quick pantry inventory with Sybil before she spoke with the traders.
And there was something else she was supposed to do this morning. What was it? She blew out a long breath as she realized she’d sent Zeke out to the stables for the day without making him do his school lesson first. She would keep him inside after lunch and read to him.
The busyness of the inn was both her nectar and her noose. She needed this place as much as it needed her. Though her father had given her the authority she craved, everything inside her screamed for quiet. But whenever it was quiet, the clattering beat of her lonely heart was more unsettling than the chaos of a busy day.
Claudia had hinted that Eva needed a companion, and Sybil had said the same thing at dinner last night. By companion they weren’t speaking of a friend but of a husband. That was out of the question. Her companions were her family and the guests—even if half of her family had left the inn and the guests were usually gruff traders and weary travelers who provided her little true companionship.
She’d had her one constant companion in Ezekiel, her first and only love, though it was only for a few months. Still, when she said forever, she meant it.
Isaac Owens knocked on the doorframe as he stepped into the office. He had a fuzzy light brown beard trimmed short like his hair, one ear slightly smaller than the other, and a smile that could melt stone. “Miss Roberts?”
Eva stood and opened a hand to the armless side chair by her desk. “Please, have a seat. It’s Mrs. Vestal, actually. Mr. Vestal is no longer with us. You may call me Eva.”
Uncharted Journey (The Uncharted Series Book 6) Page 7