Lydia shot her father a look.
He glanced at her and returned his attention to Ruth without changing his expression.
Ruth put up both hands. “Frank Roberts is a grown man, and an odd one at that. Pardon me, Mr. Colburn, if that was wrong to say. I just don’t like my son being influenced to ignore his chores and sass his parents. They are up to no good. I just know it.”
John shifted in his chair. “Did you tell your husband that you saw Luke with Frank Roberts?”
Ruth nodded. “He said it’s Luke’s way of showing us he is growing up. He said I shouldn’t worry about it, but I have been losing sleep over this. Luke is my son.”
“Your husband is right, Ruth. Luke is growing from a boy into a man, and it is normal for him to challenge authority. And you are also right. Adolescence is a time when young men easily make bad choices. From the behavior we have witnessed from Frank Roberts, I would consider it a bad choice for a young man to spend time alone with him.”
“Will you speak to my husband then?”
John leaned an elbow onto the arm of the chair. He rubbed his fingertips against his thumb for a moment as he turned his face toward the fire. Ruth and Lydia waited silently for his response; Isabella’s knitting needles clicked in time with the clock.
John looked back at Ruth. “Yes, I will. I can encourage your husband to guide Luke away from Frank, but whether Mr. Owens acts on my advice or not is up to him. Is tomorrow afternoon all right?”
Ruth put a hand to her heart. “Yes, thank you.”
While John saw Ruth to the door, Lydia excused herself and walked to the kitchen. Her mind filled with dread. The thought of boys Bethany’s age befriended by Frank Roberts made her stomach churn. Was Frank planning to do something to the boys or with them?
Feeling the need to busy herself, Lydia pulled a pot from the kitchen shelf. She filled it with water and set it on the stove to boil. Then she stepped into the pantry and picked up an armful of sweet potatoes to peel and cook.
Bethany walked into the kitchen and started working beside her, but Lydia didn’t speak a word. Her mind was fixed on Frank Roberts influencing Luke and Walter. Ruth Owens had come to John about the problem because he was the overseer of the village, and Lydia just happened to be in the house at the time of Ruth’s visit. Still, how many people in the village knew about Frank’s attraction to her? Maybe Ruth knew about it and associated her with Frank when she discovered the despicable man was influencing Luke. Any mention of Frank Roberts caused her to fluctuate between embarrassment that she would be associated with him and guilt that she was to blame for sparking his desire in the first place.
Darkness fell early as the autumn sunset quickly ended the day. She stepped close to the kitchen window to look out, feeling eerie and exposed. Maybe she should make curtains for the kitchen window.
As she glanced at her cottage, she wished Levi and Connor were home. Connor had tried to warn her about Frank weeks before, and it had irritated her. He said she couldn’t fight off a man. Her eyes found her reflection in the window; she was thin but not frail and she never considered herself weak. She often rode her horse on the forest paths at night to get to the ill and injured. Her volition gave her strength beyond her physical form.
She cursed her fearful thoughts and walked back to the stove. Frank wouldn’t hurt her. He was up to no good and might embarrass her, but he wouldn’t hurt her. She needed to make dinner and think no more about the darkness or Frank Roberts.
She would keep busy the rest of the evening and the next evening and the next until they were home… until Connor was home.
* * *
In the forest outside of Good Springs, the gray leaf trees stood tall and packed together like marching soldiers frozen in time. Connor and Levi traveled for two days along the narrow road through the forest. Then the road curved north and led them alongside the river. At times the worn dirt trail veered close to the riverbank, and other times the water could only be heard in the distance. On the fifth day of travel they reached Pleasant Valley. Though the area lived up to its name, when their business was completed, Connor was ready to move on.
The topography of the Land changed as they traveled farther north toward Clover Ridge. Connor estimated the Land was about thirty-five degrees south of the equator, yet the northern region had distinctly sub-tropic characteristics. The agriculture reflected the difference with fewer sheep farms and more citrus groves. Between abundant outcrops of volcanic rock grew banana trees, lush fern, and acres of bushy, dark green shrubs in carefully weeded rows.
After a night camped beside the road, Connor and Levi arrived in the village of Northcrest. The overseer welcomed them into his home and accepted Connor’s message, as the other overseers had. The letters from John Colburn made his work easy. Only minimal explanation of the issue was ever needed, and never did anyone demand proof—all of which increased Connor’s respect for John and his appreciation for the simplicity of life in the Land.
They remained at the overseer’s home in Northcrest for three nights and helped the elders locate the man who had once told Lydia about an electric motor. They spoke with the man, and he explained he’d only read an ancestor’s story of seeing an electric motor, but he had no plan to recreate such a machine.
Connor was relieved to know the elders in every village of the Land now understood the possible dangers of developing certain technology. He’d been able to spread the message without having to report many details of the outside world. His mission to protect the Land was almost complete. Soon he could return to Good Springs and protect Lydia.
He was beginning to think the only real danger in the Land stalked through her village and lived in a dilapidated cabin past the bluffs.
After leaving Northcrest, Connor and Levi retraced the road south. They stopped to camp for the night beside the road halfway back to Clover Ridge. The campsite was a clearing between the road and the bank of the river. A wooden bridge barely wider than a wagon spanned the river beyond the clearing. A well-used fire pit marked the center of the campsite. The fire pit, surrounded by gravel and sand, overflowed with fresh ashes and bits of animal bones from the last campers.
Connor and Levi were the first to stop at the campsite for the night and built a fresh fire. Later a trader, traveling on horseback, pitched his tent in the grassy field beside Levi’s wagon.
The elders in Northcrest had supplied Connor and Levi with baskets of produce, packages of salted meat, and wrapped loaves of bread. They shared dinner with the trader and, after eating, as Levi unhitched and fed the horses, the trader warned of leeches and advised them to sleep in the back of the wagon since they had no tent.
Connor emptied the supplies from the back of the wagon to fit the bedrolls inside. He stacked the goods beneath the wagon and expected it all to be there in the morning.
He awoke at the first light of dawn, opened the cover at the back of the wagon, and climbed to the ground, which was wet with dew. The trader stood by his horse, strapping his rolled-up tent to the back of the saddle. Sacks bulged on either side of the horse. The air was filled with the thick scent of coffee.
The trader nodded at Connor. “I’m off to the north. Will you be staying here another night?”
“No.” Connor stretched his neck and it popped. “I’m ready to get back to Good Springs.”
“I know a few folks in Good Springs,” the trader mumbled as he pulled straps across his horse and fastened a few buckles. The horse’s back sagged under the weight of multiple bulging sacks.
Connor pointed at the overstuffed sacks. “What do you trade?”
“I have eighty pounds of fresh coffee leaves in each of these bags. I’m taking it to Northcrest for cotton cloth.”
“Coffee leaves?” Connor grinned. “You mean coffee beans.”
The trader poked his stubby fingers into the top of one of the sacks. He withdrew a pinch of dark, green leaves from the bag and held it out to Connor.
Connor took a p
iece of leaf and sniffed it. It smelled like coffee. “How do you make coffee from these leaves?”
The trader drew his head back. “You dry the leaves and brew it, of course. Don’t tell me you’ve never had coffee to drink.” He contorted his face and resumed checking his saddle.
“I’ve had coffee. I’ve just never prepared it—not like that anyway.” Connor rubbed his hand over his hair and realized it was longer than it had been in years. He turned to walk into the woods. “Have a safe journey.”
When Connor returned to the campsite the trader was gone, and Levi was climbing out of the back of the wagon. They ate breakfast, after which Levi took the horses off the lines staked to the ground and hitched them to the wagon. Connor pulled the bedrolls out of the back of the wagon and tossed them to the ground. Then he dropped the satchels on the ground beside the bedrolls. He jumped down, gathered the goods from beneath the wagon, and lifted them into the back. Then he climbed inside to make more room.
As Connor arranged the cargo inside the wagon, horse hooves stamped across the bridge.
Levi knocked on the side of the wagon. “Get out here. We have trouble.”
“What is it?” As Connor jumped down from the wagon, three men rode horseback from the bridge to the campsite.
Levi glowered at them with his nostrils flared and his fists clenched.
Connor slipped his hand inside the wagon and picked up one of the metal stakes Levi had just pulled from the ground. He tightened his grip around it and slowly positioned his hand behind his back.
One man pulled ahead of the other two as they approached. A blend of black and silver hair hung behind his shoulders. His eyes shifted rapidly between Connor and Levi. His horse stamped a hoof as he pulled it to a halt by the wagon and waited for the other two men.
They seemed to be younger versions of their leader—same shifty eyes and desperate need of a comb. One had his dirty, black hair tied back in a ponytail. He jumped down from his horse and handed the reins to the other man, waiting for his cue.
They were empty handed, so Connor loosened his grip on the tent stake he held behind his back and stood shoulder to shoulder with Levi.
“What do you want, Felix?” Levi’s question flowed out like a growl.
Felix parted his lips, revealing crowded brown teeth. “Step away from the wagon.” His mustache curled into his mouth when he spoke. He looked back at his sons and nodded once. “Take it, boys,” Felix commanded as he moved his horse between the wagon and Levi.
The hulking horse pushed its head at Levi aggressively.
The ponytailed man rushed to the front of the wagon. In a heartbeat Connor dropped the tent stake, slipped past Felix’s snarling horse, and charged to intercept. The ponytailed man had one leg up to the wagon bench when Connor reached him. Connor grabbed him with both hands and pulled him down, throwing the first punch before the man hit the ground.
The other young man leapt down from his horse. Connor fought them both and evaded every punch until Felix rode by with Levi hanging onto the back of the angry horse. It tore through the campsite toward the bridge. Levi held onto the horse’s saddle with one hand and was trying to pull Felix down with the other. Halfway across the bridge the horse bucked and Levi was thrown off.
As Levi rolled over the edge of the bridge, a fist planted firmly into the side of Connor’s mouth. His head snapped back and to the side. He let the momentum propel him away from the men and toward the bridge.
Felix kept riding and was already to the other side of the river when Connor got to the place where Levi had disappeared. He looked down over the side of the bridge. Levi’s fingers were digging into the edge of the wooden planks. His feet were swinging as he dangled from the bridge high above the rushing river.
Connor dropped to his stomach and reached down. He tried to get a grip on Levi, but Levi was kicking frantically. The bridge trembled beneath his body and the other horses rumbled past. The robbers whooped in victory as the wagon passed mere inches from Connor’s body.
He struggled to hold onto Levi. “Hang on, Levi! I’ve got you!” He sank his feet between the wooden slats of the bridge and hoped it would hold him.
Levi looked up at Connor with eyes full of fear. Perspiration dripped from his jaw and his muscles shook as he strained to pull his body up.
Shards of the old wooden planks splintered into Connor’s skin while he reached both arms down. “Stop kicking!” He locked his hands around Levi’s arms and pulled with every ounce of strength he had. His back burned as his muscles contracted and he heaved Levi onto the bridge.
Levi crawled to the middle of the planks and curled his legs beneath his body. He let out a yell like a wordless curse and pounded his fist into the wood beneath him. He got to his knees before giving in to the exhaustion and lay on the bridge, panting.
Neither man moved as they caught their breath. Felix and his sons drove the Colburns’ wagon into the distance on the west side of the river. After a moment, they were alone with only the rush of the river. Their wagon and horses were gone.
The metallic taste of blood filled Connor’s mouth. He sat up and spit over the edge of the bridge. From high over the river he watched the water rush by. He faced Levi. “You okay?” His jaw ached when he spoke. He stood and wiped his split lip with the back of his hand.
“No.” Levi forcefully exhaled and made it to his feet. He rested his hands on his knees and breathed through his mouth. He cast his gaze to the other side of the river and frowned, broken in spirit.
The robbers were gone, along with their transportation and food. Connor understood the agony of defeat, but he remembered the war that raged around the globe and decided this battle was insignificant. “It’s just a wagon.” He turned and started to walk back to the campsite. “You can build another one when we get back to Good Springs.”
“It’s more than the wagon.” Levi’s words came in short bursts as he trudged beside Connor.
“Right—the horses. You can barter for a couple more.”
As Connor’s feet stepped off the bridge and onto the solid ground of the campsite, he pointed at the bedrolls and satchels still lying in the grass. “Good thing I’d just thrown these out of the wagon before the robbery.” He picked up his bedroll and handed the other one to Levi.
Levi didn’t take it. He stared back at the bridge. “No, you don’t understand. That was my chance. For ten years I have dreamed of the chance to kill Felix.” Levi spit in the grass. His eyebrows pulled together, carving a crease between them. He shook his head. “Felix knew not to get off that horse. He knew I wanted to kill him.”
Connor nodded to show support for Levi, even though he didn’t know the story. As he waited to hear the explanation, he dug through his bag and found a length of leather cord. He strung the cord through the center of the bedroll and pulled it over his head so that it hung across his body. He drew its strap over his head, hanging the bag across his chest on the opposite side. He cut another length of cord and strung it through Levi’s bedroll then held it out to him. “So you heard about that guy when you were young and always wanted a shot at him?”
Levi took the bedroll this time. He hung it from the cord across his body as Connor had done. “No, I didn’t hear about him. Felix and his sons came into our home. They robbed us… and killed my mother.”
Connor clenched his teeth and swallowed hard. Levi’s words hit him with more intensity than any punch. That was why Levi had clung to the horse and tried to pull Felix down.
Connor looked back across the bridge. The desire to hunt Felix down and deliver justice started to overwhelm his logic. He took a deep breath and folded his arms across his chest. “I knew your mother died. I didn’t know she was murdered.”
“My parents were in the kitchen one afternoon. Felix and his sons marched through the door and started snatching everything they wanted.” Levi lifted his satchel from the ground and held it by its shoulder strap. He picked at the lacing on the strap while he spoke. “Lydia an
d I were in the parlor and heard the commotion. We ran into the kitchen in time to see our mother try to stop Felix. He shoved her and she fell onto the hearth. Her head hit the stone and she didn’t move. Lydia rushed to her.
“I remember looking at my father. I thought he was going to do something to Felix for that, but he just stood there. He didn’t do anything. When Felix saw my mother was hurt, he and his sons took off. My father knew Felix somehow, but he refused to discuss it. My mother died two days later. Lydia didn’t leave her side until it was over. We never saw Felix or his sons again, but I always imagined if I got the chance someday, I’d make Felix pay for what he did.”
Levi pulled his satchel over his shoulder. Connor didn’t know if Levi wanted to say any more, and he certainly was not going to press him on the matter. With nothing left at the campsite, they started to walk south on the road.
* * *
“Did you say you are John Colburn’s son?” A lanky, middle-aged man with a booming voice and a stern jaw shook Levi’s hand with two forceful pumps. “There is plenty of honor in that name. When I was a young man, I once traveled with my uncle, a land trader, to Good Springs, and your father insisted we stay with him. Yes, I remember John Colburn well. He’d just taken his father’s place as overseer and was quite eager to do his best in the position. That might have been before you were born. I recall little girls in the Colburn house but not a boy. Do come aboard, gentlemen.”
The Land Uncharted (The Uncharted Series Book 1) Page 16