The Land Uncharted (The Uncharted Series Book 1)

by Keely Brooke Keith

  “First we greet the hosts,” Lydia whispered to Connor between greeting other people. “I will introduce you to Samuel and Roseanna Foster. Then we can go into the barn, or we can stay out here until dinner is announced, but we cannot sit down until all of the elderly have chosen their seats.”

  “Fair enough.”

  As they walked closer to the tables, the smell of roasted meat filled the air. It made Connor’s stomach growl. Several people waited in a line to greet the hosts. Levi met him and Lydia at the back of the line and positioned himself between them. He pretended not to care and watched the activity inside the massive barn.

  The barn’s two immense doors were rolled open, and the light from dozens of hanging lanterns streamed out with the music. A drummer, a guitar player, and a violinist played a folk song. Some people were already dancing. Boots stomped the hay-strewn floor, and skirts twirled vibrantly.

  When introductions were made, Connor smiled at the women and shook the men’s hands. He tried to use only the words they used if the conversation required more than a hello. It was pleasant to be among a crowd, even if it wasn’t his crowd.

  The last wagon drove up as the light of the sun faded. Connor watched Levi in disbelief. Levi was social, even jovial, with people, moving from one conversation to the next, and people approached him as if he was well liked. It was a stark contrast to the surly, aggressive man Connor had experienced. John wove through the crowd and around the tables, being greeted by everyone, proving the father-son resemblance.

  Folk music streamed from the barn. When the song ended, the smiling people emerged from the barn. They gathered around the tables and filled the empty seats.

  Connor watched Lydia for his next cue. She was standing with a young couple and admired their baby while the mother appeared to be describing a rash on the child. John walked past him and gave him a hearty pat on the back like they were old pals. “Find a seat, son. We are about to say the blessing.”

  “Come on,” Levi mumbled as he passed. His selective social smile was gone. “Sit over here.”

  Connor followed Levi to a table on the outskirts of the crowd. A young man seated at the table jumped up when he saw Connor. “You’re Connor, the traveler. I’m Everett Foster. Bethany told us about you.”

  Connor glanced at Levi, wondering what Bethany had told them. Levi looked away, evidencing his desire was to protect the people from Connor and not the other way around.

  “Ignore my little brother,” a smooth, feminine voice cooed.

  A beautiful woman tossed a fistful of red curls over her shoulder. She offered her delicate hand to Connor with her fingertips pointing down. “I’m Mandy Foster. Welcome to our farm.”

  He hadn’t yet witnessed any women shaking men’s hands, so he wasn’t sure if he would be breaking some primitive rule if he touched her. He didn’t have to worry long. Everett bounced between them wanting Connor’s attention. “It’s my home, too!” he said to his older sister. “Welcome to my home! I’ll sit by you while we eat. I have to eat quickly because I have to play guitar again soon. Did you hear me playing? If not, don’t worry. You’ll be able hear me better on the next song. We always save the new wood instruments for after dinner. Some travelers haven’t heard a guitar or violin made of new wood. Have you?”

  “No.” Connor uttered one syllable and was relieved when Lydia joined their table.

  Mandy and Everett flanked Connor on the long bench seat. Levi sat across from them between Lydia and Bethany. While they ate Connor tried to occupy himself with his food, but he had become a novelty to the Foster siblings. He would take a bite and look to Lydia if asked something he should not answer, and she would change the subject politely and swiftly.

  Everett and Bethany made a comedic pair and kept the conversation youthful. Levi glared at Connor often, but then his gaze would drift to Mandy. Mandy sent Lydia encrypted facial expressions. Connor would have found it all amusing, but Lydia looked uncomfortable.

  Mrs. Foster dashed by. “Amanda! Everett!” she summoned as she passed. “It’s time to get back in there. Start by playing something lively, would you? Your father and I will start the dancing, and I feel like a jig!” She picked up her layered skirt to show her polished ankle boots and then scurried into the barn.

  Everett jumped up and followed, play-wrestling another teenaged boy on his way. Mandy smiled at Connor and excused herself before she left the table. She sauntered between the other tables, assured many eyes were on her. Connor scanned the crowd and confirmed she was correct.

  After a moment, music surged from the barn. The instruments sounded different. It must be the new wood that Everett mentioned. The violin was full and bright, and each note resonated clearer and more robust than any he’d ever heard. It was loud but didn’t hurt the ear. The guitars began to play next, and then a drum. The fullness of the sound amazed him, considering there was no electrical amplification.

  Connor stood and followed the crowd inside with Lydia and Levi right behind him. The audience encircled the musicians and dancers. Children clambered to the top of haystacks and sat perched above the crowd. Several teenagers were assembled in the hayloft looking down at the party. Some people in the crowd were keeping the beat by shaking little gourds that had been hollowed out and filled with seeds. Lydia smiled and clapped while she watched the dancers. Mr. and Mrs. Foster were especially lively, and dozens of couples had already joined them on the dance floor.

  Connor took it all in and didn’t attempt to conceal his amusement.

  After the jig, the man playing the drum hit it slowly with his hand to count off a beat. Some of the dancers stayed with their partners, and some walked away. A few of them picked new dance partners. Mrs. Foster walked over to John and held out her hand, inviting him to dance. John accepted her hand and danced with her. They looked like comfortable, old friends. Mr. Foster danced with another woman. The dancers embraced but kept distance between their bodies.

  Every tune was a different style, and the dancers appeared to know the steps from memory, but nothing Connor recognized. He was obligated to dance once, and he dearly hoped it wouldn’t have to be a jig.

  “Hello, Miss Colburn,” a young girl said as she passed Lydia.

  “Hello, Miss McIntosh,” Lydia replied and smiled at the girl.

  It got Connor’s attention. After the girl passed, he turned to Lydia. “With only eight last names in the whole place, doesn’t the miss and missus business get a little confusing?”

  “We are simply being polite.” Then she chuckled. “I suppose it could get confusing for an outsider.”

  “Right, because you are Miss Colburn and your elderly aunt is also Miss Colburn.”

  “And the woman over there in the purple dress—” Lydia pointed covertly to a young lady in the crowd, “—is also Miss Colburn.”

  “A cousin?” Connor asked.

  “Fourth or fifth, I think.”

  “Oh good, then Levi can marry her,” he joked, remembering the rule of lineage John told him about when he was still in Lydia’s cottage. Lydia laughed and it pleased him. Finally, a woman liked his humor—and such a pretty and smart woman at that. She tried to appear to be all business, but she relaxed when he joked.

  “She would probably be thrilled with the notion. However, Levi is unlikely to—” Lydia froze.

  Connor followed her line of sight to the door. A man with a thick mustache and beady black eyes walked into the barn. He was a head shorter than most of the other men. He glowered at Connor.

  Lydia leaned in. “Have you two met?”

  Frank Roberts snapped his eyes away. He climbed the stairs to the loft where a group of teenagers lounged and sat in the shadows.

  Connor only took his eyes off him long enough to glance over at Levi, who was also watching Frank. Levi’s expression was a raw mixture of disgust and anger. For once they had something in common.

  “Connor?”

  “Huh?” After a moment he broke his stare and returned his foc
us to Lydia. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  She moved closer. “I asked if you and Frank have met.”

  “Not officially. But you were right about the boots.” As soon as he said the words he regretted it.

  She pressed a palm to her stomach and drew a short breath.

  He wished there was something he could do to divert her attention, and he glanced at the stage. The song ended and all of the musicians—except Mandy—put down their instruments. The dancers fanned their sweaty faces as they dispersed. Many of them went outside to the cooler air; some sat on benches around the outskirts of the barn. Mandy stood with her bow held high above the beautiful new wood violin. The crowd hushed and waited.

  When the room was silent, she began to play. Slowly and sweetly the notes filled the air. She played a few measures before anyone went forward to dance, and then only a few dancers began the slow and ancient movements.

  Connor recognized the waltz and was thankful that when he was a kid his grandmother taught him to lead the rotating box steps in her living room. He held out his hand to Lydia. She didn’t move.

  “You said I have to dance once to show a good spirit.” He kept his voice quiet. “I know this one.” He took her hand and led her onto the dance floor without giving her a chance to protest. Her blank expression revealed neither disdain nor delight.

  He took it as a challenge and confidently placed one hand in the middle of her back. She lightly touched his shoulder and kept her elbow up. As he held her hand in his and began the steps, she turned her face away. He was less focused on form and glanced from the awestruck villagers to her father, her brother, the beautiful violinist, the creep in the hayloft. They were all watching him and Lydia.

  Lydia moved stiffly and didn’t want to be led. She probably wanted to stay focused for both of them in case he didn’t know what to do. He was in her world and she’d rescued him, but he no longer needed her help. He was capable of things she couldn’t imagine, and he wanted her to know it.

  As they continued turning in rhythmic procession across the floor, Lydia’s eyes closed. Maybe she would let the full, melodic sound of the music sooth her anxiety. Her hand loosened its grip and he was leading. She was letting him. He was confident she wouldn’t regret it.

  As Mandy let the last notes ring out, Lydia opened her eyes and gazed at him. He stopped moving but kept their hands in place for a moment longer than the other dancers. He couldn’t read her expression. Before he formed a thought, a man burst through the crowd at the door.

  “Lydia! Lydia Colburn! Come quick!” the man shouted.

  She turned and dashed through the parting crowd to the man at the door. He was panting as he explained some horrific incident. She followed him to his wagon and climbed aboard. Connor rushed to follow. As he passed John and Levi he said, “I’m going with her.”

  “No!” Levi declared as he stuck his hand into Connor’s chest. “You are not!”

  Levi was asking for a fight. No matter how good it would feel to release some of his tension, Connor preferred taking a punch from Levi to upsetting Lydia by fighting with her petulant brother.

  John stepped between them. Levi removed his hand from Connor’s chest and stomped away.

  The musicians began to play another song, and John inclined his head toward Connor. “I left something on the bed in the guest room. I thought it might help in your efforts. Isabella will need me to take her home soon. Perhaps this would be a good time for you to leave.”

  Connor nodded to John and left the barn. He passed the tables outside without making eye contact with anyone and walked through the Fosters’ yard to the road. The sandy gravel crunched under his feet as he stepped onto the road and began the mile walk back to the Colburn property.

  The cool night air felt good after being in the stuffy barn with all the villagers. He slid his hands into his pockets and breathed in the scent of the gray leaf trees. It mixed with the ocean breeze and had an intoxicating effect he hoped he would never get used to.

  As he left the road and walked onto the Colburn property, a wagon in front of Lydia’s cottage caught his eye. Light sifted through her gauzy curtains. She was in her office with the patient. He wanted to check on her, but she probably wouldn’t appreciate the interruption. She was a professional no matter how rudimentary their society seemed to him.

  He opened the back door of the main house and walked into the kitchen. The house was dark and empty; it felt weird to be there alone. He lit the oil lantern on the kitchen table and left it there for John and Isabella. He walked through the living room, around the staircase and down the darkened hallway to the guest room.

  The moonlight that came through the sash window was faint but sufficient for him to see a bundle on the bed. Whatever John had left him was wrapped in felt and tied with a leather cord.

  He untied the cord and unfurled the felt cover to find an ancient mariner’s telescope. Its three brass sections were nestled on a collapsed wooden tripod. It must have come from the ship that brought the founders to the Land. Overwhelmed by John’s gracious gesture, Connor knelt by the bed and assembled the telescope.

  * * *

  After midnight, Lydia allowed her patient to go home. Though it only took a few stitches to close up the two wounded fingers the patient had accidentally sliced to the bone with a butcher’s knife, Lydia was not sure how much blood had been lost. The way the patient’s husband told it, their entire kitchen was splattered red by time he got her to settle down. The patient insisted half of that blood belonged to the chicken she slaughtered for their dinner.

  Lydia kicked off her shoes and sighed, finally alone in her cottage. She made the last of her notes in her medical record for the incident and set her pen back in its silver holder. As she began to put out her lamp, Lydia remembered the pile of bloodied rags on the tray beside the patient cot. She had forgotten to take them to the fire pit. Doctor Ashton had taught her that what little they knew about blood assured them anything it touched must be destroyed or sanitized.

  She gathered the rags into a paper bag, pulled her shoes back on her feet, and grabbed a match.

  The clear night sky allowed the gibbous moon to light her path, but it was still too dark for her comfort as she walked into the shadow cast by the Colburn house. The thought of seeing Frank earlier in the evening made her shudder. Maybe she shouldn’t walk alone in the dark, but the chore had to be done. She focused her vision into the distance and hurried her pace.

  She turned the corner at the side of her cottage and headed for the fire pit behind the barn. As she stepped around a bush, she was suddenly trapped, her whole body seized by someone. She sucked in a breath to scream, but he put his hand over her mouth. Immobilized by fear, she widened her eyes and tried to think.

  “Shhh! Shh! Don’t scream! Doc, it’s me,” he whispered. “It’s Connor. Please don’t scream. You’re okay.”

  She caught her breath. He still had his hand over her mouth. Her heart raced violently.

  “Please, don’t scream. Are you going to scream?”

  She shook her head, and he slowly removed his hand from her mouth. She spun on her heel. “What has gotten into you?”

  “Shh! Keep your voice down!”

  She tried to gain her composure, but her pulse had yet to stabilize. “You scared me half to death!”

  “Hey, you scared me just as much as I scared you.”

  “I highly doubt that.” Fuming, she picked up the paper bag she’d dropped in the commotion. “What are you doing stalking about in the middle of the night?”

  “Looking at the stars. What are you doing out here?”

  “I have to burn bloody rags.” She held up the bag as she marched to the fire pit.

  He followed her across the moonlit yard. “Was your patient a bleeder?”

  She didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling. Not amused, she hiked through the wet grass across the yard. “I don’t talk about my patients,” she whispered as she turned behind
the barn.

  Connor stayed in the shadow of the barn, but she stepped through the gravel to the fire pit. She struck the match and lit the paper bag before throwing it into the stone basin. Satisfied it was burning, she turned to him. “Why are you really out here?”

  “I’m looking at the stars.”

  The simplicity of his answer was intentional. There was more to it than stargazing. She straightened her shawl and wrapped it around her arms. She was cold and tired, but couldn’t resist the opportunity to probe. “What are you hoping to find in the stars?”

  “Maybe some answers.”

  “Just as you said in the library.” She shook her head in disappointment and started to walk away. Overwhelmed with the urge to become indignant, she stopped and peered at him through the dark. “I know your situation, Connor. I might not know the details of your technology and the abilities it gives you. But it’s only because of a lack of information and not a lack of intelligence, I assure you.”

  His confident half-smile was barely visible in the moonlight, but his eyes shone with delight. “I know you’re intelligent, Doc. And you’re right: you could easily learn anything I taught you. Do you really want information?”

  “Of course.”

  “Fine. Come with me.”

  * * *

  Connor took Lydia’s arm and led her to the back of the Colburn property, where a path directed them through the edge of the forest and out to the bluffs. After walking along the path through a patch of forest, they came to the rocky edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. There high above the ocean was the old telescope he’d set up and pointed into the clear night sky.

  He pointed at it. “Your dad let me borrow it.”

  Lydia’s jaw dropped and a smile lit her eyes. “This was my great-grandfather’s telescope. I haven’t seen it in years. May I?” She touched the eyepiece.

  “Of course.” He waited as she looked through the telescope. She instantly pulled away in surprise. “I’ve tweaked it,” he explained.