Dark Journey Home

by Cherie Shaw

  Olivia sighed, “Oh my, I’ll bet Mr. Wakefield has been fascinated with that story, and the way she tells a story over and over, he could probably now recite the whole thing by heart.” Then she laughed, “Well, I’ll just take the pot of coffee in with me, and a mug, and see if he would like that too, along with a book. Of course I probably won’t be nearly as entertaining as Maria’s many stories have been, but I’ll give it a try.”

  Claude chuckled, “Ricardo has been staying in there with him most of the nights, and I’m sure he has heard many different versions of Maria’s stories from Ricardo too, as that man will talk non-stop for hours, though interesting. He’s told me many things of when he lived in Madrid when a child, then moved to Mexico City with his parents in later years, and that is where he met Maria. From what he told me, she hated him from the very beginning, though that was probably put on, so she just let him chase her until she caught him. Anyway, that is Ricardo’s version.”

  “Well, they probably talked about horses and cattle, as that seems to be what Mr. Wakefield was mumbling about when he was delirious and awakening from his coma.”

  Claude mused, “Yes, right you are, Ollie. This Logan chap does know a lot about cattle and running a western ranch. He just might be a good one to take with us to see that ranch property of mine in Texas, assist me in inspecting it, and give me his opinion.”

  “Oh, Uncle Claude,” Olivia protested, “I’m sure the chap will be in a hurry to return to his Wyoming territory, after being away for so many years. Have you discussed this with him also?”

  “Not yet, but I certainly will before we land, as we have several weeks yet, there shouldn’t be any hurry in making those decisions. We still have to stay in New York for a while and await word from your brother too. Hopefully, if he is near, he will travel with us if he can spare the time.”

  “I don’t want to get my hopes up, Uncle, but you know that is my fondest wish. To see Garth again. I’ve been so looking forward to catching up on all his adventures on the high seas, and if I know my brother, there will be many of them.”

  Claude agreed with her, then walked her to the door, tapped lightly and opened the door to the patient’s room, and escorted Olivia inside, while carrying the coffee pot for her, and Olivia carried the tray with mug, sugar and cream, then set it down on the nightstand, interrupting the laughter of Maria and Logan, as they had been so engrossed in the funny story she had just told, that they hadn’t heard them enter the room. Olivia thought, “Oh my, I’m sure he’ll probably be bored with the book of poetry I chose to read to him. Well, let the rogue just suffer through it anyway.” And she tilted her little chin and looked away.

  Maria had been entertaining Logan with tales of her husband Ricardo, from back when he began courting her, and his many exploits at that time, while trying to get her attention from several other young vaqueros, who had formed a group of mariachis, and had been singing and playing their guitars and violins under her window each night, after she had retired to her room in her father’s large hacienda on the outskirts of Mexico City.

  The group had played and sang romantic and tearful melodies, while she pretended to be enamored, tossing roses from her open window, while in her heart she only wanted the handsome Ricardo to sing to her, and for her ears only. The entertainment came to an abrupt halt one late evening, when the strong and virile Ricardo, tired of standing outside of the patio wall night after night listening to the lovelorn wailing of the vaqueros, suddenly appeared in the courtyard and proceeded to smash each and every guitar and violin over the lovesick Romeos’ heads.

  Then in a loud and angry voice had demanded that Maria marry him at once. Well, that had been what she had been waiting for.

  Logan laughed so hard at the story, thus making every bone and muscle in his body ache even more, but then he looked up and finally saw the face of an angel standing near his bedside once again.

  Lord Beckford saw the sudden look that Logan was giving Olivia, and then the slight flush that came to Olivia’s cheeks, as she then busied her hands with attempting to pour a mug full of hot coffee.

  “Do you take sugar, sir?” She casually asked him.

  “What?” He stuttered. “Sugar?” He looked at her with a dazed expression, not understanding the question.

  Agitated, she said, “In the coffee, sir, and perhaps cream?”

  Logan then realized what she had meant, and that the angel that he had seen in there before, must be the niece that Lord Claude had spoken of. He wondered if he had been outspoken the day before, but couldn’t remember much, only that he’d thought he’d died and gone to heaven when he’d looked into those silver-blue eyes.

  Lord Beckford was amused by the sudden sparks between his niece and the ‘patient’, and decided to smooth things a bit, saying, “Logan,” he began, trying to hide the grin that kept forming, “I would like for you to meet my niece, Olivia Worthington, and, Olivia, and this is Logan Wakefield.”

  “How do, ma’am. I’m much pleased.” Logan said, his voice now deep and somewhat stronger, smooth as silk, now that he was healing.

  “So nice to meet you, Mr. Wakefield. Now about the coffee?”

  “Oh, yes…” he finally managed, then reached for the mug of steaming brew. “Actually,” he explained, “just black will do, ma’am. I just hope it’s strong enough to sink just about every pirate ship on the sea. Also, thanks again for helping me back there in London. It was very kind of you and your uncle to take me in like that, and I can never begin to repay what you folks have done for me.”

  Logan was sitting up now, leaning on several bed pillows which had been propped against the headboard, and he now sipped the strong black coffee, the first he’d had in eight years.

  “U’mmm,” he sighed. “I honestly can’t thank you enough for this. And I think even my mother thanks you, although I haven’t seen her in years.”

  Olivia stuttered, “Well, Mr. Wakefield…..I’m glad I have pleased your mother.”

  Logan grinned, as he took another deep swallow of coffee, and Maria decided to take her leave at that time. She informed them that she would send Ricardo in soon, but she wasn’t sure anyone was listening.

  Lord Beckford also left then, after assuring Logan that his niece would read some of her favorite poetry to him, also informing him that Olivia was indeed very proficient in the art of poetry reading, and he was sure that Logan would enjoy the ‘experience’, embarrassing Olivia to no end.

  CHAPTER 4

  Her voice was soft and melodious, her diction perfect. As Olivia read aloud poetry of joy, sorrow, tragedy, and of course, love, Logan listened as if in a trance. Never before had he been so enchanted. He’d read poetry years ago, as his mother had kept several large volumes on a shelf in the cozy den at the family ranch, where his pa kept a string of horses. His pa made a good living at supplying horses to the army, as well as other ranches in the area. Logan had always enjoyed reading and listening to poetry being read, traveling through the fantasy land of make-believe through those fascinating rhymes.

  Two of the poems that Olivia had read aloud, he’d been very familiar with, Longfellow’s ‘Song of Hiawatha’. He whispered some of the verses quietly, as Olivia read, as he knew parts of the long poem by heart. However, if Olivia heard him, she made neither comment, nor hesitation in her reading. The other ‘The Wreck of the Hesperus’, was poetry of a sea adventure, deep and fascinating.

  Much later Olivia noticed that Logan’s eyes had closed, his breathing even. Her soft voice had relaxed him, and he was now dozing. She hadn’t realized the effect she’d had, and wondered if the poetry reading had bored him, however it was quite the opposite.

  Just as she closed the volume, and stood to leave, Logan opened his eyes, and spoke softly, his sultry green eyes heavy-lidded with sleep, and he said, “You needn’t have stopped reading, Miss Worthington; I can hear you even in my sleep. Your voice is very soothing, you know.”

  “Oh.” She started, “I was afraid you ma
y have become bored. Some gentlemen do not care for poetry reading, so I wasn’t sure of your reaction to it.” She flushed, suddenly uncomfortable with his green-eyed gaze so intent on her.

  Though he said, “Quite the opposite ma’am. I haven’t heard a lady read like that in many a year. Brings back memories of home, as my ma’s a great fan of poetry, in fact some of the ones you just read are very familiar to me. She read to me a lot when I was very small, and then I picked it up as I grew older, even when they sent me back to the east coast to further my schooling when I was in my early teens, I did a lot of reading in school too.” Logan gave a grin as he finished.

  “Oh, well I’m glad you enjoyed my reading then, and that you are so well educated.” She didn’t mean for the words to come out the way they did, and then she gave a slight nervous laugh, making Logan frown at her unknowing wit. So Olivia quickly added, “I do have many volumes at home, although I did bring several more with me, so if you don’t mind, I’ll read a bit every evening, that is until you’re back on your feet.”

  “I would like that a lot, Miss Worthington.”

  “Very well.” She stood up straight, trying for some sense of control, just as Ricardo tapped on the door, then walked into the room to stay the night with the patient. Olivia nodded to Ricardo, then clutching her poetry volume, she left the room.

  Ricardo approached the bunk where Logan lay, and grinned, “The señorita, she reads well, no?”

  Logan answered, “Si, Amigo, she does indeed.” Then he motioned to the large package Ricardo was holding, “What have you there?”

  “Oh this, Señor. Lord Beckford sends his regards, in the form of a new outfit of clothing, and there is more in his stateroom for you. As the clothing you were wearing were in tatters, and were well disposed of out to sea, he felt that you couldn’t very well wear the night shirt you have on, when you go to his stateroom. Folks may talk, Señor, and we wouldn’t want that to happen now would we?” Ricardo laughed at his own humor.

  “Well, I am tired of lying around, and my shoulder is much better, and the fever seems to have gone.” Logan told him, “So tomorrow I may try to get around some, get my sea legs back again. I’m not used to being so indisposed. Tell Lord Beckford that I thank him once again for his kindness.”

  “You will see him mañana, Señor, as he said that if at that time, you can walk around, he will expect you to move into his stateroom. He can then explain to whoever asks that you were expected to arrive from the last port we stopped at, and then had joined him here on the ship. We had to let off some passengers there anyway and also take on more supplies before crossing the great expanse of ocean. If no one saw you board the ship at that time, well they just weren’t being observant. Also he will tell that you have been employed by him for quite some time, and this meeting was pre-arranged, and that you will be working as his ‘valet’ in his stateroom, and then traveling on with him through the states, and other territories of the Americas.

  “Oh, and Lord Beckford also said he would have several pairs of boots for you to try on for fit, as the ones you wore had not enough left of them to even toss out to sea.”

  Logan yawned, and replied, “That sounds real fine, amigo.”

  Ricardo set the bundle of clothing down, then prepared to retire to the other bunk, when Logan suddenly exclaimed, “Wait…..No, you didn’t toss my boots overboard, did you?”

  “I think not, Señor, but no let me go look. But why should you want them? They were beyond redemption, though I will check.”

  He opened the door to a small closet, and found the battered pair of boots that Logan had worn for years, and holding them far away from himself, Ricardo walked over and showed them to Logan, saying, “Here, Señor, did you wish to tell the boots goodbye before I toss them from the porthole, far out to sea.”

  “No, no, thank God they’re still here though.” Logan breathed, and heaved a sigh of relief.

  “You want to keep them for sentimental reasons, Señor?” Ricardo was puzzled now.”

  Logan laughed, “No, not that either, mi amigo, it’s just that in the lining of the left boot, is a paper that I have kept well-hidden all these years, and it’s more then just for sentimental reasons too. If you can hand me a knife, or something to cut into the lining with, then you can toss the boots through that porthole, and good riddance. Or maybe still, I can move around enough to do the deed myself, if you’ll just open it for me.

  Ricardo understood Logan’s reasoning then, and quickly assisted him in retrieving the worn, yellowed paper from the lining of the boot. Logan looked over the weathered receipt, made out all those years ago for the bags of gold dust he had deposited in the Seattle bank, then folded it carefully, and tucked it under his pillow, although he hoped that his pa had taken at least some of the money out, and put it to use by now, as he had put pa’s name on that account too. Thankfully he’d wired him all the information, along with the account number, the amount deposited, along with the name of the bank, before he’d been shanghaied.

  He wasn’t even sure of starting a cattle ranch now, although that had been his dream for so many years, years of backbreaking labor trying to save for the ranch. Maybe he’d just help pa for awhile now, with his horses, as he wasn’t sure of his parent’s health after so many years. Maybe they’d need him at home. Logan thought how surprised his folks would be in hearing from him now, and wasn’t sure if he should wire them from New York, or just show up at the horse ranch in Wyoming. Well, there was plenty of time to think of what to do, as the years behind him had been long. In just a few more weeks he would be home, thanks to Lord Beckford and his niece, Olivia. He thought of the blue-eyed beauty, with the golden-blonde hair. Well, he can dream anyway. “She’s not for you Logan.” He thought to himself.

  After the ceremony of seeing the last of the old boots flying well out to sea from the small porthole, then bouncing out across the dark expanse of water, Logan fell into a deep sleep, to dream of poetry, and the gentle voice of a beautiful woman, a sound he hadn’t heard in more than eight years, if he had ever heard a voice that sweet and soothing before.

  <><><>

  The days flew by, and Olivia busied herself with her sewing, books and embroidery, writing a few letters to be posted later on when they landed, and often on an evening she would stroll the deck with her uncle, to gaze out to the never-ending expanse of sea. They had only gone through one bad storm so far, two days back, though it hadn’t done much to damage the ship, as the liner had been expertly built to withstand even the worst of gales, and Olivia had kept to her staterooms during the worst of the storm.

  The weather was only a bit cool now, though sunny and nice, and very refreshing, as one evening she stood at the rail with her uncle, she said, “No one has seen anything of the scoundrel, Henry Adams, or Birch, whatever his name is now?”

  “Not out on deck, Ollie, as I believe the man is trying his best not to be seen. Though I have had word from several of the crew members.” Claude gave a slight laugh and lowered his voice, as he continued. “It seems that the aging gentleman, named Henry Birch, has attempted on several occasions, when a member of the crew was tending his cabin, or bringing his meals, to bribe that person with a few measly coins, to watch our movements, and try to find out just where we are headed.”

  “Oh, mercy!” Olivia said, “The worthless lout does know that we are on this ship then. I certainly hope he wasn’t successful in recruiting any member of the staff to do his dirty work for him!”

  Claude laughed lightly, “Not hardly, dear, in fact they flatly refused him, and informed the cad that they wouldn’t ‘spy’ on the owner of this ship, nor his niece, for any amount of coins he could offer. I guess he was a bit surprised to learn of my ownership of this vessel, but each one that he approached so far, came to me immediately and reported the incident. I guess one of the burly servers from the kitchen, became so agitated with him, that he grabbed the man by the shirtfront, threatening to toss him over the rail of the main deck,
into the raging waters, (that was during the storm the other day), if the lout dared approach him again. Also he offered to feed him his own coins that he had offered! The server from the kitchen used stronger wording though, but I won’t use his exact words.”

  Olivia laughed, “Well, Mr. Henry Birch got just what he deserved. The nerve of that man, after all this time, thinking that he can spy on us.”

  “Also,” Claude continued, “When an older chambermaid, who makes the beds and cleans the staterooms, went to his room to make his bed, the man begun making advances towards her. The poor woman was so shocked, that she poked him in his ‘over-extended’ belly with her broom handle, threatening to bash his head in with it, if he so much as touched her again. Anyway, the woman reported the incident, and has absolutely refused to enter that stateroom again. I guess she had also told the lout to make his own bed after that. After that incident, none of the maids will go near his room anyway. They just leave clean towels outside the door. Also the captain sent two of our big intimidating crew members to have a nice long ‘talk’ with the scoundrel, putting the fear of the lord into him, and threatening to put him off at the first port we come near, if he steps out of line again, so I don’t feel he will be causing any more trouble on this trip now.”