“Unless what?”
She stood and stepped to the window. Frank could be crouching outside even now. The last thing she wanted to do was expose her humiliating problem to a stranger, but if Frank had robbed Connor, he deserved to know. “There is a man in our village… he isn’t like most people here.” She lifted the edge of the curtain and looked around the yard. “He doesn’t behave respectably. I don’t like to speculate, but he might have been there when I found you. I didn’t see him that evening, but he often… follows me.”
“Follows you?”
“From a distance mostly.” She felt foolish for actions that were not her own, but no logic could make the guilt go away. “My father has spoken to him about his behavior, but he still does it. His name is Frank Roberts.” She turned to look at Connor but he was already standing behind her.
“Where does he live?” His voice was low and serious.
She moved back to her desk. “In a cabin past the bluffs. I am not accusing him of stealing from you. Please understand it’s only a possibility that he was there that night and—”
Her words were interrupted by the slam of the door. He was gone.
* * *
Connor rushed out of Lydia’s cottage fully charged for a fight. He stopped between the cottage and the back door of the Colburn house and took a deep breath to settle his pulse. The hum of waves floated on the ocean breeze from the east. A man and woman walked along the road to the west. He turned his face away before they looked at him.
He had to find the man Lydia mentioned, Frank Roberts. He put his hands on his hips and looked up at the wood-shingled roof on the Colburn house. His eyes squinted in response to the bright morning sun. It wasn’t simply the mention of a creep following Lydia around that got his blood boiling, or even the thought of being robbed while he was unconscious. He blew out a breath and thought about what really upset him: his arrival was haunting Lydia.
It wasn’t until he heard her voice crack that he realized how disturbing all this was for her. He had gone from a life of full-intensity, non-stop, life-or-death action to finding himself in a completely peaceful, antiquated society on an uncharted landmass. He was grateful to be here rather than dead or, worse yet, in enemy hands. He was even interested in the way of life here, but he refused to downshift mentally, knowing what he had to go back to. Yet Lydia lived in this place and it was all she knew. He thought of the devastation he had witnessed in his world and the level of mystery and danger his arrival brought into her world. She had not asked for any of this.
Guilt overwhelmed him.
She had saved a man’s life; she shouldn’t have her life ruined because of it. He would find a way to get back to where he belonged—in the cockpit of a fighter jet—and leave these people in peace.
He shooed a fly away from his face as he stepped into the kitchen. Everyone was gone except John, who stood in front of a cabinet by the pantry. He was gathering tools from a wide drawer and placing them into a leather shoulder bag.
“Connor.” John glanced up. “I want you to come with me today. There are several areas of the chapel in need of repair, and I could use an extra pair of hands.”
Connor rubbed his whisker-covered chin. He needed a shave, but first he had to find the personal locator beacon that should have been attached to his emergency equipment. “Actually, I was just making my own plans for the day.” If he could get the beacon and activate it, the search party would pick up his signal. The man Lydia mentioned might have the gear, and he might have already activated the beacon. If so, Connor wanted to be there when the search party arrived.
John continued packing tools into the bag. “What were your plans?”
“I have some equipment to recover. Tell me how to find Frank Roberts. Lydia said he lives in a cabin past the bluffs. Where are the bluffs?”
“I see.” John placed a hammer into the bag and then pulled a cord to close it. “I too have considered the possibility that Frank Roberts might have followed Lydia and witnessed your arrival to the Land. I have also wondered if Frank was the person who took your boots and your equipment. There are not many people in our village who would behave so despicably or that could keep silent about something as extraordinary as your arrival. However, I do not think it is wise to confront Frank at this time. If he did not see you fall from the sky or steal your equipment, you would only be involving someone who cannot be trusted.”
The desperate Unified States military was strapped for equipment, so the aircraft had been outfitted with ancient surplus. Still, if the locator beacon worked, Connor could activate it before the search was discontinued. “Is there someone else I should consider? I really need to get that gear back as quickly as possible.”
“Not among my people. You said there was another person with you in the aircraft. He might have survived also, or perhaps other warriors followed you here. Have you considered your people? Or even one of your nation’s enemies?”
“Yes, sir. It’s possible my weapons system officer survived and landed nearby. But I assure you, neither he nor any other American serviceman would have removed my boots and left me there.” He considered the possibility of enemy troops. “I can’t tell you if other nations are aware of your land. You and your people would know if your land had been invaded. You said no one has mentioned anything out of the ordinary in your village. Are there other villages here?”
John nodded. “There are eight villages in the Land.”
“Eight? How big is this place? What is the population? What kind of communication do you have with the other villages?” Connor allowed the questions to roll out of his mouth as quickly as they came to him.
John’s hands halted their work. “Traders frequently travel from Northcrest to Southpoint by boat on the river. Most deliveries come to Good Springs from the river by wagon. Often the traders deliver messages, and people frequently travel with them between the villages. If anything is out of the ordinary, we will hear about it. That is why it is important to keep your situation private. We do not want to cause panic.” John lifted the bag and pulled its strap over his shoulder. Then he pointed to a bucket of nails on the floor. “Grab that and come with me.” John walked past him and out the door.
There might be more to the situation than Connor first thought. He needed to recover his gear and plan his departure, but he had to do it without causing trouble for John Colburn and his family. He clutched the bucket and decided to follow John to the chapel.
He glanced at Lydia’s medical cottage as if making a mental note of the one safe place in this strange land. As he and John approached the road and turned right, his eyes followed it to the left. The gravel path inclined a few degrees, cut a trail between the trees, and disappeared over a small hill.
The ocean breeze smelled salty-sweet and bent the tall grass in rippling waves along either side of the road. The trees looked similar to those in other lands he had visited in the Southern Hemisphere, except for one tree that appeared to be the most abundant here. He studied the leaves as they passed under a low-hanging branch with a silvery undertone.
Connor pointed to the unfamiliar tree. “Is that a gray leaf tree?”
John nodded. “The Land is full of them. Gray leaf lumber is easily hewn yet stronger than iron, and it does not rot as quickly other woods. One quartered log from the gray leaf tree heats a house for the entire winter. Its paper lasts for generations. And I believe you have experienced the medicinal value of tea made from its leaves.”
Connor grinned as he recalled the sensation. He reached up and snagged a leaf from a branch as they passed and inspected it while walking toward the village. In shape and texture, the leaf reminded him of eucalyptus, but its silver color and distinct scent left little similarity to any tree he knew.
The road changed from gravel to brown cobblestones as they approached the center of the village. Connor dropped the leaf and stepped around a clump of horse manure as he surveyed the town. The village reminded him of something from a ch
ildhood storybook. Pretty cottages with high-sloped roofs lined both sides of the street. Flower gardens and trimmed shrubs surrounded each of the modest houses. A white chapel in the center of the village boasted a high steeple that rose into the blue sky. Across the street from the chapel stood a stone building with a tapered, wooden door. The building’s windows were shuttered, piquing Connor’s interest.
John climbed the steps to the entrance of the chapel and Connor followed. The front of the church seemed narrow, but as they entered the building its depth impressed him.
The high, arched ceiling echoed John’s full voice as he told Connor the building’s history. “My father was the overseer here before me, and his father before him. It was my grandfather’s generation who extended the building as the population of Good Springs flourished and the church needed more space.” He lowered the tool bag to a pew. “There are over two hundred fifty people in Good Springs now. Most of the villagers attend service each Sunday, and the chapel still accommodates them all. However, the pews get a bit wobbly over time.” He put his hand at the back of a long bench seat and shook it, demonstrating as he spoke. Kneeling, he pointed beneath the wooden pew. “There are two screws here and also here on each side. Also under the support at mid-length.”
John stood, opened the tool bag and drew out a few tools, some iron but many of them made from silver.
Connor picked up a silver tool and inspected it. “I’ve noticed a lot of your common tools are silver.”
“There is a mine in Southpoint and silversmiths there. Their work is traded throughout the Land. Silver is the most plentiful metal found in the Land.”
If the people here used silver for screwdrivers, what did they considered valuable? “What is the currency in the Land?”
“We barter.”
“For everything?”
John nodded. “It is a system that has been equitable for our people for seven generations. We have never known dearth in the Land.” He pointed to a closed door at the other end of the long chapel. “I will be in my office if you need me.”
Chapter Five
Dark clouds puffed in ominous billows from the south, promising cold autumn rain. Lydia tightened her light-blue shawl around her neck and hid her hands in leather gloves. A burst of wind plucked leaves from the deciduous shrubs along the road and whirled them in the air. Red and gold specks of foliage contrasted against the dull overcast of the late-afternoon sky.
She still had a mile to walk before she was home. She usually enjoyed walking and saved her hurrying for emergencies, but the more the wind howled, the more she rushed. She wanted to be home in the shelter and the warmth near her family. Being the middle of five children gave her a lively upbringing, but once Adeline and Maggie had their own homes in another village, the Colburn house was quieter. Still, someone was always there. Bethany was full of life and often had a friend around, and Lydia found their conversations entertaining. She enjoyed her brother’s company too, but the discord between Levi and her father was proof he needed his own house—and family.
Connor would be there, but she probably would not get to speak with him much. He had gone with her father to the chapel to work every day for two and a half weeks. Her father said Connor was helping him with some of the repairs that were needed around the building. When Connor came home each evening, he sat silently at the dinner table and then retired to the guest room for the night with the door closed. John had said Connor needed time to himself and they should leave him alone. Lydia assumed Connor was trying to avoid Levi’s glares, Bethany’s incessant chatter, and Isabella’s bizarre comments.
She couldn’t blame Connor for avoiding everyone, but her curiosity was growing along with a desire to engage him in conversation. They hadn’t spoken privately since the last morning he was in her cottage. Her imagination had carried her away many times since then. She wondered about his life and work and the world outside the Land. But no matter how frequently the mystery of Connor’s life played across her mind, she had her own work to keep her busy—and for that she was grateful.
As Lydia passed the Fosters’ property, a large dog with muddy brown fur scampered down the front steps of the farmhouse. It charged at Lydia and danced around her with its tail wagging and its tongue lapping at her boots.
“Hello, Shep!” She greeted the dog as she stopped to pet it. “Why, you are an absolute mess!” She wrinkled her nose at it.
“Shep! Shep!” Mandy called as she walked out to the road. “Leave Lydia alone, you dirty old mutt!” Mandy wore a long green coat with black buttons down the front and carried a violin in a wooden case. “Hello, Lydia! Have you come to visit me?” She greeted Lydia with a hug.
“Actually, I was just passing by.”
“Excellent! I’m on my way into the village. I shall be your company.” Mandy wrapped her arm around Lydia’s. They walked arm-in-arm along the road just as they did when they were children. The dog followed for a short distance then turned around and lumbered back to its place on the front steps.
Mandy flashed a smile. “Levi has been here most of the week building new cabinetry for Mother. It will be beautiful when it’s done, but for now the kitchen is an utter wreck. Mother says anything Levi builds is worth the process.”
“I’m sure she’s right.” The wind whipped a few strands of Lydia’s hair into her face. She immediately caught the hair and tucked it behind her ear.
“Who is this traveler your father has taken in? I asked Levi about him and, of course, he won’t say a word. Mrs. Ashton told Mother she sees the traveler working at the chapel all the time—painting handrails and washing eaves.”
“His name is Connor,” she answered, purposefully omitting his surname. “He was injured and I helped him. Father asked him to stay as a guest.” She tried to keep her tone nonchalant, but the desire to speak about the situation overwhelmed her.
“Connor? That’s a masculine sort of a name.” Mandy looked out across the pasture that was part of her family’s sheep farm. “What do you think of him?”
“I don’t know.” Lydia looked too, grateful for the distracting view. The pasture rolled on as far as the eye could see. The green winter grass was beginning to sprout through what remained of the summer blades. It was a brilliant contrast against the darkening sky.
“What sort of man is he?” Mandy prodded.
Lydia didn’t know how to respond. She had more questions than answers when it came to Connor. How could she tell Mandy that the man is from another land, flies machines in the air, and speaks of things she has never imagined? “He is… different.”
Mandy’s eyes sparkled as a smile spread across her face. “I see,” she said with her tongue in her cheek. “Is he likable?”
“I’m not sure. I suppose he’s cordial.”
“Cordial?” Mandy snorted. “I heard he is an inch taller than Levi and has deep brown eyes, full of mystery and passion.”
“Indeed? You heard that from Mrs. Ashton?” Lydia scoffed, unable to imagine the elderly woman relating those details.
“No, from Bethany. Is it true?” Mandy batted her eyelashes playfully.
Lydia laughed. “I can confirm his height and the color of his eyes. The mystery and passion are Bethany’s assessment, I suppose, though she said nothing of the sort to me.”
“Well, you rarely speak of romantic notions. You can’t blame the girl for saving her observations for a more willing listener.”
“I have no need for romantic intrigue. I’m perfectly content with—”
“Your work,” Mandy interjected. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to be intrigued from time to time.”
“Ha! My life is filled with bloody bandages and midnight calls for help. I wouldn’t make a normal wife.” Lydia fidgeted with her gloves. “Still, that doesn’t mean I have nothing to say on the subject. Bethany would do well to hear my opinion also.”
Mandy chuckled. “Indeed she would. In fact, I would enjoy your opinion on the matter myself, beginning w
ith the mysterious traveler.”
“Why? Are you intrigued by him?” Lydia asked.
“Not for myself.”
“Not for me either, I hope.” Her cheeks warmed like she was blushing, but she could not imagine why. She turned her face into the cold wind, hoping to relieve the color before it was noticed. “I am concerned for him,” she admitted. “Deeply concerned.”
Lydia didn’t have to look at Mandy to know she understood her seriousness and was ready to listen. “He is in great difficulty. I don’t know all of the complications, but I know they are tremendous. I want to help him, but his problem is one that I cannot solve. When I think of his situation, I’m instantly caught between wanting to know more and wishing he’d never come.”
Mandy’s smile faded. “So this isn’t a matter of romantic intrigue then?”
“Certainly not.”
“I must admit I’m rather disappointed.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I’m not disappointed in you but for you.”
“Don’t be.” Lydia returned her face to the wind.
The road sloped downward as they approached the village. The rooftops of her cottage and the family home peaked above the trees in the distance. She would beat the rainstorm home, but the wind brought a cold mist that gave her a chill.
The Land Uncharted (The Uncharted Series Book 1) Page 7