by Raven, Sandy
"Greedy bastards, them Slocum boys," said the deeper, younger voice. The one Lucky assumed was the former constable. "Always demandin' more coin. With them out of the way, it's more for you an' me. Right?"
"What did you do with them?"
"Shot 'em out in the bay and dumped 'em. They're likely halfway to the Atlantic now, and eaten to the bone."
"Good, good," said the older voice.
Lucky was pretty certain he was listening to Potts and his relative, Barlowe. Whatever they were doing couldn't bode well for him, Ian, or Marcus. He needed to get his nephew out of here, unharmed. He and Ian were better than fair fighters, two on two, wasn't anything they'd not done before—and on more than one occasion.
Lucky motioned for Marcus to lay flat and roll closer to the keel as quietly as possible. As he and Ian crouched low, ready to spring forth if needed. The murderers drew closer but stopped near the blacksmith's hut and the three of them had a perfect view of the scene playing out in the shed.
Backlit by the glow of the smith's forge, the two spoke in low tones. Lucky could barely make out what they were saying.
"So what is this job you needed me to do?" asked Potts.
"We need to make it look like a struggle took place here," replied Barlowe.
"Why?"
"To set up another crime that we need to prepare for."
Lucky couldn't hear what Potts said next, only Barlowe's reply. "Oh, just do it. Then file a report in the morning after you arrive."
"Ah... and blame it on the limey captain," Potts said.
For several minutes, Lucky, Ian and Marcus all witnessed the destruction of the shed. Tools were tossed out of the shed, and shelving ripped from the wall of the lean-to. The forge was untouched, of course, because of the heat. If a fire were to start it might spread to the ship, and the shipyard owner would have to replace the boat.
The two men paused to praise the destruction they caused, and the shorter man visibly smiled. He pulled a gun from his pocket and took aim at the other man, the larger of the two.
Marcus inhaled and Ian was quick to put his own hand over Marcus' mouth to prevent him from speaking.
Potts turned and faced Barlowe, his eyes widening when he saw the gleam of metal in the light of the coals.
"What's that for?" Potts asked. "Put it away or someone'll get hurt."
"That's the point."
The man he presumed was Potts was near to the forge, he grabbed the handle of one of the blacksmith's tools and swung it at the man Lucky thought to be Barlowe. The pistol fired, and the sound of a man grunting and falling to the ground filled the space between the two parties.
"Why?" the dying Potts asked through a breathy voice.
"Because you were the last weak link in my plan. As long as you lived there was always the chance I might be discovered. With you and that meddlesome lawyer gone, the widow dies and I can buy the shipyard from the bank at greatly reduced value."
"The money... goes with... the brat." Potts' voice was pain-filled as he moaned loudly between speaking. "Her father will... take her to... England."
"But you forget, I manage the trust through the bank. I have wanted to expand my yard for the past two years and that old bastard would never sell his property. Said his wife was going to run it without him."
"Grr... Help... Nick... you bas...tard."
"I can't," Barlow said. "You have to die, and it has to look like you came upon some thieves and tried to stop them. I'll make you a hero. You died protecting company property." Barlowe gave a chuckle. "Your mother will be proud of you after your death. Something she couldn't be while your miserable hide still lived." The man continued to laugh as Lucky heard the crunching of shells move around the shed. "You should die soon, don't worry. And the morning crew coming on will find you, so you won't be out here too long."
Potts quit speaking. Barlowe lit a cheroot and watched his relative a few minutes before walking away, confident there were no witnesses. Once Lucky was certain the murderer was no longer near, he rose from his crouched position and ran to Potts, but it was too late. The former constable's eyes had a vacant look and the quantity of blood around his body told Lucky there was no way the man was still alive.
Ian and Marcus came up behind him and Ian checked the man's pulse.
"He's gone," Ian said as the metallic scent of blood began to combine with the usual smells of a shipyard.
Marcus walked away and Lucky could hear the lad retching. He met Ian's gaze. "He's never seen a man die before. I was about his age when I witnessed a man shot outside a pub near the docks in town."
"I was much younger," Ian said. "At the time it was frightening, and I wished I'd never seen it. Had nightmares for weeks afterward."
"Somehow, we need to find Michael and Ren in Baltimore," Lucky said, frustrated and angry at the events of this night. "And as hard as it will be, I must tell Mary what we heard about her attorney quite possibly being dead as well."
"It would explain why he hasn't returned," Ian replied.
Marcus fell in step with him and Ian as they headed for their boat. "Do we know where to find my father?" Marcus asked.
"No," Ian said, stopping short before reaching the bulkhead where the skiff was tied below. "But they will go to the appellate court in Baltimore for certain in the morning. I will take the ferry across in the morning."
Lucky just nodded. "If Baxter is truly dead, Mary will need representation again. Someone outside the influence of Barlowe, someone not from Indian Point." Lucky could kill Barlowe for this, but it would create an enormous political thunderstorm. Not just for him, but for Mary as well. "God, what a mess. To think that the bastard would have let Mary die. And for what? A few acres of land near the water. Think about it," he said. "What made Watkins Shipbuilding was Spenser Watkins. What makes it now is Mary. Mary and all the men who work for her."
Mary-Michael rocked her crying infant, unable to settle her with a nipple to her lips. In fact, it seemed the more she tried to encourage the babe to nurse, the more she cried. Sitting in the tiny cell in the pre-dawn hours with Lia as her companion, Mary-Michael wanted to cry just as much as her daughter. She had a dark, ominous sensation growing in her gut. Like an unstoppable force inside her, it multiplied itself and consumed her normally optimistic spirit and tore apart her faith in humanity, and causing her to lose all hope.
"Think about something other than what the ambassador or your priest said when they came to visit," Lia said. "Your upset is preventing your babe from getting her milk. I know, it's happened to me many times."
Mary-Michael closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing her racing heart to settle. Lia was right, her nerves were stretched taut and she thought perhaps it was time for Lucky and his family to leave with Lucy.
No one had heard from Mr. Baxter since he left a week ago, and the man's wife was now worried for him. Mary-Michael prayed that he'd had a better idea and was somehow en route somewhere, Annapolis, Washington, anywhere. Anywhere as long as he was alive and working either on her case or another one. She supposed there was an outside chance that he was helping someone else with a legal matter. But if that was so, he would have told his wife, or someone in his office where he'd gone off to and he hadn't. The fact was that Frank Baxter left the morning after she was found guilty and sentenced to hang, saying he would be back that Thursday afternoon—after filing her appeal. He caught the ferry across the bay from Indian Point to Baltimore, and hadn't been seen since.
Lifting the fussy babe from her breast, she laid Lucy over her shoulder and rubbed her back slowly as she rocked her. She tried hard to calm her breathing and slow her racing heart. Eventually she was successful, the babe settled, and she put her to the breast again. Lucy finally nursed successfully and was soon asleep.
"See? If you relax, she'll get a tummy full," the duchess said, setting the pen aside and standing. "I have been writing to Elise. I've told her how beautiful Lucy is. She looks like my daughter Isabel did when she was b
orn."
Lia took the silent bundle from Mary-Michael's arms, changed her diaper and placed her back in the cradle. Voices outside her door told her there was company. She was facing the door when Rachel entered.
"Mary-Michael, the captain is here and says he needs to speak with you. Urgently."
This is what her gut was trying to tell her earlier. Something had gone wrong. Something had happened.
In the reception room minutes later, she and Lia entered to find Lucky alone. Mary-Michael's guard stood in the doorway awaiting his replacement as his shift was almost over. This man was less rigid with the rules than her other guards and during his watch Mary-Michael and Lucky had been able to touch hands.
This early morning visit though was not of a social nature. Something had happened. Lucky's normally handsome face was lined with concern, and the dark circles under his eyes told Mary-Michael that he'd likely not had any sleep at all.
He leaned in close to both of them. "Ian, Marcus, and I were witness to a murder," he whispered for Mary-Michael and Lia only. Lia's sharp intake of breath and muttered Latin prayer told Mary-Michael the duchess was now understanding the gravity of the situation surrounding her. "The murderer got away," Lucky continued, "but we are certain we know who he is. The new constable will likely come looking for me, as the murderer thinks to blame me. He does not know that we were there and witnessed what the two men said and what the murderer did."
"Where is my son? Is he..." the duchess asked.
"He is fine, darling," Lucky said to his sister, kissing her cheek. "Marcus is at the rectory. Ian is taking the ferry across to Baltimore to fetch Michael, Ren and Fox and bring them back quickly."
"But they went searching for Mr. Baxter... Why bring them back quickly?" Mary-Michael had to ask, afraid for Lucky now that he was in harm's way. "What is it you know?"
"We believe you had a jury that was influenced by Barlowe's money into returning the verdict they did, and handing down the sentence they did. We overheard Barlowe and Potts talking. Potts killed two of the men who testified falsely against you. Slocum, I think he said."
Mary-Michael's head began to spin and she wanted to sit, but there was no chair in the corner where they spoke. The two lads who worked for her—aye, stole from her—were now dead. They were misguided, yes. But they didn't deserve to die.
"You haven't mentioned my attorney," Mary-Michael said.
The look on his face told her something terrible had happened to Frank Baxter. Before she made a sound she placed her hand over her mouth to keep herself from screaming.
"We'll know more when Michael returns," Lucky said softly, trying not to get the guard's attention at the door, "but my guess is he never made it to file the appeal. If no appeal is filed, the judge can schedule your execution. Barlowe is going to accuse me of murdering Potts to get me out of the way as well."
Her heart raced, beating so hard and fast that surely it would burst from her chest. Mr. Baxter. Oh, God. And his wife! Oh, how her heart broke for dear, sweet Mrs. Baxter.
"Mary, Mr. Barlowe is trying to get the shipyard from the trust Spenser set for you. With you dead, he can do it because he's rich and influential. He is also a board member at the bank Spenser used to oversee your trust, which would be Lucy's if something were to happen to you."
Mary-Michael nodded, the shock of it causing her knees to weaken. Lucky brought her a chair from the opposite corner of the room, and placed it beside her. The guard turned to look into the room when he heard footsteps, but Lia smiled at him as though nothing were amiss, and he went back into the hallway to wait for his replacement—which, now that Mary-Michael knew of Potts' death—might not arrive on time.
Once she settled enough to speak, she told Lucky what they'd suspected since before the trial. "I told Mr. Baxter I thought Mr. Barlowe should be replaced as the overseer because there was a conflict of interest, and Mr. Baxter was investigating that process. I also wanted Barlowe excused from the board at the bank because he would also be the person to set the value to my property for the bank. If Barlowe under-valued the property, then purchased it at a much-reduced rate from the trust, he would then have the largest shipyard in all of Maryland, probably the entire eastern seaboard."
Lia, who'd been silent and listening intently to her brother, finally spoke. "What will we do?"
"Well..." her captain replied, suppressing a smile. "We have a plan."
"Marry me, Mary," he said, his heart heavy because of the circumstance, yet filled with joy over this moment. "I love you and want you as my wife. But," he added, "more importantly, if you marry me and instruct the bank that I will now oversee the trust as your legal husband, it will allow me to protect all your assets.
Lucky could see Mary thinking. It frustrated him sometimes that it took her so long to make a decision. He was so different than his Mary. He followed his heart and his gut. Mary mentally calculated risk. Always. Her mind calculated pros, cons, logistics, mathematical equations, theories, principles, right, wrong, needs, and desires. She always had to think things through. He believed that sometimes she over-thought things to the point of talking herself out of doing something for fear the result wouldn't be what she'd planned or expected. Mary always wanted to know she could manage and control the world around her. Except right now she was about to lose the most important thing in the world to her if she didn't decide soon. Because it wouldn't take long for Barlowe to convince the new constable that Lucky was responsible for Potts' death.
"This way, Mary, the shipyard will never be for sale," he assured her. "Marrying me would protect Spenser's legacy and Lucy's future. So marry me, please. Now. Today. Marcus is fetching Gideon to perform the ceremony and bring the correct paperwork for our marriage to be considered legal and binding." She looked somewhat convinced, but still she held back for some unknown reason to him.
"We need to do this before they take me to jail, Mary. Because I do believe that is what Barlowe will push for."
"Luchino, there were witnesses to the murder," the duchess whispered.
He met his sister's concerned gaze. "Please trust us. We have a plan, Lia." Turning back to Mary, he begged, "Say yes, Mary, if just for our daughter." Lucky knew it was just a matter of time before the constable arrived, and this frustrating woman was squandering time! "As God is my witness, if you wish to have it annulled later I will not contest it, but I will protect my daughter and Spenser's legacy." That seemed to have the desired effect on Mary.
"Yes." Her amber-eyed gaze met his, and with eyes swimming in tears, she repeated. "Yes, Lucky. I will."
Male voices filtered through the maze of hallway from the front of the home to the room where they were. Minutes later, Gideon, George, and Marcus came through the door, with Sister Agnes and Mary's long-time friend-turned-nun, Sister Elizabeth following the three men. Mary's guard entered also, questioning their actions. This time he did not return to his post in the hallway, standing sentry to the goings-on in the receiving room full of people.
His sister came to his side and leaned up to whisper to Lucky in Italian. "You know if this man went through all this trouble to get his hands on Mary's property, he will be angry to discover he's been denied this shipyard yet again. What plan do you have to protect yourselves from his retaliation?"
He gave his sister a kiss on her cheek, and whispered back, in Italian, "We're leaving. Tonight. All of us."
"My husband does not know this, does he?"
"Not yet," Lucky replied, hopeful that Ian found the other men before they returned here from Baltimore.
Thirty minutes later, he and Mary-Michael Albright Watkins were married and had signed the certificate and license required by the county and state for the marriage to be recognized. Mary quickly penned a note saying she wanted to transfer the management of all properties and accounts, including her trust for her daughter Luchina Antonia Francesca Watkins, over to her new husband, the Conte di Loretto. This was signed by Mary, and witnessed by her family and his.
He was never more proud of Mary than he was at that moment. He knew what it took for her to trust him enough to do what they both hoped was the right thing—not just for her, but for their family.
As soon as he'd given the signed document to Gideon to take to the bank after they were gone, he told Mary about their plan.
"Be prepared to leave tonight," he saw her begin to protest, but he silenced her with a finger to his lips. "Do whatever is asked of you. We will return Mary. When all of this is straightened out, we will return. I swear to it. You shall run your shipyard."
When pounding began on the front door of the children's home, Lucky went to Marcus' side and said, "Remember what we talked about. Don't speak at all. Do not say you were with us. Only Ian was with me." Lucky could see the lad's fear and confusion, and wanted to reassure him this was the right decision.
"But they will take you to jail," Marcus said.
"Only for a short while," Lucky reminded him. "Remember, we will be leaving tonight, and we will need your help getting your mother and my wife to the ship."
The family and their hosts all turned to see the village's new constable, a tall thin man, with weathered skin and dark hair. Behind him were several of his brawny deputies. The man stared hard at Mary, who already began to tremble with fear.
"Gentlemen," Lucky said. "How may we help you?"
Chapter Twenty-Two
Later that evening, Lucky's brother-in-laws returned from Baltimore and came to the home to share a meal with Mary-Michael and the duchess, except Mary-Michael was no longer allowed to leave her cell. Staying in the tiny room was no great ordeal for her, but she felt it might be starting to wear on Lucky's sister. So when the duke and Lia's brother-in-laws arrived for dinner she sent her new sister-in-law off to share some time with her husband.
While Mary-Michael rocked her daughter to sleep, she said a prayer for Lucky. She worried for him, her new husband, and wondered how he was coping in their village's tiny jail house. Because they rarely had to lock anyone up for more than one or two nights, half the building also served as the constable's office. The jail cell itself was only four feet long by six feet wide. She'd spent several nights in that one small cell, and knew the exact measurements immediately after the constable locked the door behind her. When she'd mentioned to her brother that she feared giving birth in the dirty room with the flea-ridden straw bedding, Father Douglas and Mr. Baxter had immediately secured her imprisonment at the children's home for her health and that of her child.