When he decided the room was clean enough, he bundled up the clothes to be washed and headed over to greet his wife. He needed to talk to her about several things. He laid his laundry down near the washtub. Hollan would insist on doing his laundry, but he’d insist just as hard on doing it himself. Until they lived in the same house as husband and wife, he wouldn’t expect her to do his clothes. And that very topic was one he intended to bring up. He’d been lonely last night and wanted things to change.
His feelings for Hollan hadn’t ever wavered. Though their marriage hadn’t come about quite the way they’d planned, they were still married. It was silly to live apart as they were. He just hoped she returned his feelings.
If she didn’t, he’d be patient and wait. In time she’d surely grow to love him the same way he loved her.
Samson barked from inside the cottage, and Jacob grinned. The dog had heard his arrival. Surprisingly, he didn’t hear Hollan hush him as usual with her melodic lilting voice. He’d come to rely on the familiar sound at the start of his day.
The early morning sun beat down on his head. Though the autumn nights were cooling down, the days were staying warm. Judging by the way the sun heated his back, today would be a hot one. The cool interior of the cottage beckoned him.
Jacob knocked and pushed open the door. “Good morning.”
Samson almost knocked him down in his hurry to get past and out into the yard, but Hollan didn’t answer Jacob’s greeting or bother to call Samson back.
With a whine, Samson wound himself around Jacob’s legs.
“Hollan?” Jacob had a warning sensation that something wasn’t right. He reached down and rubbed Samson on the head. “Where is she, boy?”
Samson glanced up at him with worried eyes.
Jacob moved into the empty room and let his eyes adjust to the dim interior. The table was set for one. The bed lay empty and neat. She’d taken time to pull the quilt up. She hadn’t left in a hurry. The fire burned low, but she’d finished breakfast preparations before departing.
Maybe Fletcher had arrived early with the supply boat. Knowing Hollan, she’d have walked along with him to bring back supplies. Jacob glanced around. The few times he’d seen Fletcher, he hadn’t wasted time. If he’d arrived at Hollan’s door, he’d have carried something along. No sign of packages or supplies sat anywhere nearby.
He sighed. More than likely Hollan had left early in order to be alone. He tended to be a tad overbearing when it came to her. He knew she didn’t like to be coddled, but he couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t protected her three years earlier when he’d needed to, and he didn’t ever want to mess up again.
“Ah, I see.” Jacob put his hands on his hips and looked at Samson. “She snuck out and left us both behind, is that it?” He walked to the table and surveyed the arrangement. “Well, we might as well show our appreciation as long as she went to the trouble of setting it all out.”
The aroma of fresh-baked muffins permeated the room.
Samson wagged his tail. Jacob slipped into a chair and held a muffin high over his head. Samson stood on his hind legs, begged for a moment, then tired of the game and jumped to snatch the delicacy from Jacob’s hand. He hurried away to eat his prize at his favorite place near the fire.
Jacob frowned and spread some butter on his own muffin. It was lonely here without Hollan. Without her presence, he’d have preferred to eat outside. But the flowers on the table showed the care she’d put into making the table pretty for him, and he wouldn’t chance moving out front only to have her return and jump to the wrong conclusion.
As he ate, he mulled over his thoughts. He was sure Hollan was hiding something from him, and he was pretty sure he knew what her secret was. Ever since she’d recovered from her storm injuries, she’d been skittish. Something in her eyes had changed. She’d looked right into his eyes a few times before catching herself and turning away. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, either, but he was pretty sure she’d regained her vision, at least partially.
Why she wouldn’t tell him, he didn’t know. He’d tried to figure it out, but he’d stopped trying to understand her years ago. Whatever her reason, he’d find out soon enough.
He wanted to go after her but decided to give her a little more time. She’d been through some hard times. He wanted her to feel free and comfortable enough to confide in him whenever she decided the time was right. He wanted to move forward and have a life and a future with her. But a part of him worried that she might be having second thoughts. Maybe the return of her sight had her thinking she didn’t need Jacob at all. If so, they needed to talk things out. She needed him, and he’d be the first to explain that fact to her.
Jacob wasn’t one to tiptoe around a delicate circumstance—he preferred to plunge headfirst into every situation that crossed his path. He wouldn’t do anything different with this one.
While he waited for her to return, he decided to tend the garden. A little hard work would clear his mind and help him think. The growing season was almost over, and only a few vegetables remained on the vines. He picked the tomatoes that were ready and put them in a nearby bucket. He pulled the last few weeds. Next year he’d like to expand the garden’s size. If there would be a next year.
The thought led him back to wondering about Hollan.
He put down the hoe and walked over to the dunes. Hollan’s small footprints led down toward the beach. The impressions of her bare feet showed that, once again, she’d left her boots behind.
Enough was enough. It was time for Jacob to go after his wife. He wanted to feel her in his arms.
He walked over to the cottage’s open door. Samson lay sprawled just inside the cool interior.
“C’mon, boy. Want to go with me to find Hollan?”
Samson almost bowled him over in his hurry to get outside. Obviously he didn’t intend to be left behind again. They headed up the path. Jacob stopped at the lighthouse door.
“I need to check on something first, boy. Stay.”
Samson whined again but stayed where Jacob pointed. Jacob hurried up to the top of the lighthouse, no easy feat with the multiple stairs he had to climb. He stepped onto the platform that circled the top and looked out over the island. Samson lay where he left him down below.
He didn’t see any sign of Hollan, but he did see a large ship offshore. An uneasy feeling settled over him. He walked a bit farther around the platform to a better vantage point. His breath caught as he located Hollan. A small boat had been pulled ashore.
His wife was so enraptured by whatever lay at her feet that she didn’t appear to notice the men coming up from behind her. From the stealthy way they walked, he sensed they were up to no good.
“Hollan!” His voice blew away on the breeze. He spun on his heel and rushed back to the stairs. He forced himself not to take them two at a time, a recipe for disaster. He couldn’t afford to take a tumble. Hollan would be gone forever if that happened. She might be even as it was.
Samson stood at the ready, the hair on the nape of his neck standing on end.
“Go, boy, go to Hollan.”
The dog tore away over the dunes and disappeared from sight. Jacob followed along as quickly as he could. The sand pulled at his heavy boots, slowing him even as he pushed to go faster. He didn’t have a weapon, and he had no idea what he’d do once he reached her. But he’d do whatever was necessary to keep his wife safe.
God, please protect Hollan. Help me to reach her in time.
His feet slipped in the sand as he rounded the bend and approached the last place he’d seen his wife. He put his hand down to stop his tumble and landed on his knees. There was no sign of Hollan there now. The rowboat was halfway to the ship, too far away for him to have any hope of reaching it. From this distance, he couldn’t tell if she was on board.
“Hollan!” No one aboard the small craft looked his way. The wind blew against him. They wouldn’t hear him any more than Hollan had heard him from the lighthouse.
Samson stood chest deep at the water’s edge and growled, confirming to Jacob what he already knew. Hollan was on the small boat.
Nine
Hollan sat rigidly at the front of the small rowboat, glaring at her four captors. Two of them perched on the middle seat with their backs toward her while they rowed the small vessel closer to the large ship. The others sprawled on the remaining seat at the back of the boat, steadfastly glaring back at her. On closer observation she realized that one glared while the other tried his best to do the same through an obviously damaged eye. His left eye was swollen shut, and dark blue bruises spread outward from the edges.
She studied him, the smaller of the two, and winced. She vaguely remembered making the connection with her fist. “I’m truly sorry about your face.”
An apology probably wouldn’t make much difference at this time, but she figured she might as well try. She had no idea what awaited her aboard the ship, but surely arriving there after having assaulted one of the crew wouldn’t work well in her favor.
The man didn’t answer, but his good eye narrowed further.
“In my defense, you shouldn’t sneak up behind a person like that. Surely you know the natural instinct is to swing around with a fist at the ready.”
“I ne’er expected a lady to swing in such a way at all,” the man muttered. He gingerly touched the area in question. “Or that a lady would connect with such accuracy.”
“Because I’m a lady I’m supposed to just turn myself over to a bunch of scoundrels without a fight? Is that what you’re saying?”
She folded her arms across her chest. Her bare foot tapped against the wooden floor with annoyance.
“It ain’t polite to call people names, missy.”
“It isn’t polite to kidnap people, either.” She raised one eyebrow and stared until he looked away.
The men in the middle rowed on without missing a beat. Each stroke brought them closer to their ship and farther away from Jacob. The methodical sound of their oars slapping against the water made Hollan want to scream. Every once in a while the wind would reverse and blow a whiff of their odor her way. She quickly figured out it was best to hold her breath under a direct assault and to breathe through her mouth the rest of the time.
Cloudless blue skies stretched high overhead. The sun shone down on the water, dappling on the tiny waves, just as it had when she was onshore. The gulls continued to scavenge for food. Nothing had changed, yet for her, nothing was the same.
While the injured man continued to look out over the water, the man beside him cleared his throat in an attempt to catch her attention. “Speakin’ of faces, you’re not sorry for mine?”
Hollan studied him for a moment and forced back the snide comment that first came to mind. She wasn’t doing a very good job at keeping her thoughts kind. His perpetually bewildered expression wasn’t likely any fault of his own. She noticed the bridge of his nose tilted at an odd angle, but she assumed it had been broken before. Then she noticed the trail of blood that led from his nose to his beard.
“Oh my.” Her brows pulled close. “Did I do that to your nose, too?”
“You did.”
“But when—?”
“You fought like a wildcat when we first grabbed you.”
“Of course I did. Wouldn’t you?”
“Then you snapped your head back into my nose.”
“And I’m supposed to apologize to you for that? You grabbed me around the waist. Perhaps if you didn’t snatch innocent women off beaches, you’d not end up injured.”
“I told ya we should have left her there. She’s gonna be nothin’ but trouble.” The man with the swollen eye returned his scowl to her.
“Couldn’t leave her, Paxton. Cap’n gave us orders.”
Hollan shook her head, trying to clear it. “He gave you orders to bring back a woman?”
“He gave us orders to bring back you.” Swollen Eye—or Paxton—sneered.
“But how would he know about me?”
“Dunno. But he does, and you walked right into our arms.”
“Hardly.”
“Regardless, we didn’t have any choice but to follow orders.”
“You always have a choice,” Hollan stated. “Are you nothing but slaves? This man—the captain—why would you allow him to order you around like that? Why would you want to do wrong on someone else’s behalf?”
One of the men in the middle laughed. “It’s his job to order us around.” He glanced at the man beside him. “How dumb is this woman anyway?”
“I’m not dumb at all.” Hollan tried to keep the hurt from her voice. “I’m only trying to understand why you’d choose to live this way.”
Broken Nose gave her a sympathetic look. “There’s no call to say mean things like that, Nate.”
Hollan nodded. “Thank you. That was very kind.”
He beamed at her. Nate sent her a glare.
“Look, if I had my way, you wouldn’t be here at all. It’s bad luck for a woman to go aboard ship. Just look at what’s happened to Paxton and Jonathon.” Nate nodded toward the men.
So the man with the broken nose is apparently named Jonathon. “If you believe that, then return me to shore.”
Nate didn’t answer. He just kept rowing toward the vessel. They were almost to the ship. If she wanted out of this situation, she needed to act fast.
“Paxton. Jonathon. Please. You seem like nice enough men.”
They both looked away.
“Idiotic is more like it,” Nate snarled. “Now sit tight and be quiet. You’re going to see the captain, like it or not.”
Panic threatened to overwhelm Hollan, but she forced it away. She had to keep her thoughts straight. She sat quietly, not moving until they bumped against the side of the larger vessel.
“Ladies first.” Nate laughed. He stood and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her to her feet.
Hollan looked back at him, blank. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
He motioned at the rope ladder that dangled over the side of the ship. “See that ladder in front of you? Climb it.”
“I will not.” She sat back down and folded her arms.
“Oh, but you will.” He grabbed her arm again.
“You’re hurting me.”
“I’ll hurt you a lot worse if you don’t do as I say and get up that ladder.”
Tears of anger and frustration poured down Hollan’s cheeks. She snatched at the ropes and began her ascent. The skirt of her dress, still drenched from her trek when they dragged her through the water, snagged at her feet. She’d made it halfway up when she lost her grip. With a scream of terror, she plunged to the boat below. The boat rocked wildly back and forth but didn’t capsize.
“Miss, are you all right?” Jonathon helped her to her feet.
“I—I think so. Nate broke my fall.” She turned to thank him, but he lay still on the bottom of the boat. “Nate?”
The other man, the only one she hadn’t injured at this point, stared at her, speechless.
“Nate was right. You are bad luck.”
She rolled her eyes. “There’s no such thing as bad luck.”
The man leaned away from her, fear filling his face. “I don’t know about you two”—he glanced over at Paxton and Jonathon—“but I’m not sticking around to see what she does next.”
“Matt, what about Nate?”
“Leave ’im.”
Matt turned and scaled the ladder and disappeared from sight in a way that left Hollan envious.
“I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
She took a step toward Jonathon. He looked from her to Paxton.
Paxton took advantage of her inattention and followed Matt up the ladder. “Don’t let her get away, Jonathon.”
“But—I—” Hollan had no idea where they thought she would go.
Paxton made it up the ladder with surprising grace and disappeared from sight.
“I guess it’s just you and me, Jonathon.”
Hollan put on her most charming smile.
“You, me, and the dead man.” Jonathon eased around Nate and headed for the ladder.
Hollan huffed out a breath. “He’s not dead; I just knocked him unconscious—or something.”
“No offense, ma’am. Deep down you seem like a nice lady and all. But I don’t intend to stick around and see how you hurt the next man.”
“I don’t intend to hurt anyone!”
“All the same, you seem to have a knack.”
Hollan knew if she let him go, she’d be free and she could escape. But the currents were rolling offshore as the tide went out, and she knew she’d never have the strength on her own to get back safely. She’d be washed out to sea, which at the moment actually sounded appealing compared to the thought of whatever unknown situation awaited her aboard ship.
Before she could think things through, she was suggesting an idea to Jonathon. “If you help me get back to shore, I’ll help you start a new life. You don’t have to do this.”
He stopped. “I’d never make it off your island alive.”
“Yes, you would. My husband and I would protect you.”
Jonathon hesitated.
“Please.”
His bewildered face glanced from her to the ship’s rail and back.
“What’s going on down there?” a voice called from above. The muzzle of a rifle edged into sight from over the rail.
Hollan glanced at Jonathon. “The captain?”
Jonathon nodded.
“Get the prisoner up here at once!” the voice bellowed.
“We have to go. I’m sorry.” Jonathon took her arm, his touch gentle.
Hollan felt the panic welling. “We still have time. We can push off and go ashore. My husband will be waiting.”
“He’s a very good shot, ma’am. I’m truly sorry. We hafta do as he says.”
Hollan let silent tears fall in resignation as she put decorum aside and climbed the ladder to the top.
❧
A strong set of arms reached over the edge and pulled Hollan the last few feet up and over the top of the rail.
Hollan swung around and landed awkwardly on her hands and knees. “Thanks. I think.”
Truly Yours Historical Collection December 2014 Page 23