by Lynn Hubbard
There stood Robert instead; for a second she thought she might still be asleep and in some kind of surreal dream, or nightmare perhaps. But Tristan stood behind him, his usual carefree face clouded with worry.
“Robert? What are you doing here?” Her hand went to her chest in shock. Not speaking, Robert leaned down, pulled her up to her feet and into a warm embrace.
Sarah hugged him back half-heartedly. When he bent his mouth for a kiss she turned her head allowing his lips to fall to her cheek. She stepped away, looking from Tristan to Robert and back again. “I don’t understand how you can be here,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone.
Tristan stepped forward and grabbed her arm as her knees gave way. Robert grabbed her other one and they all sat on the ground in an awkward circle.
“The Sea Maiden was damaged; they made it to New Jersey and happened upon Robert.” Tristan explained.
“I stayed on after the battle,” Robert explained further.
“The battle? Did we lose many men?” Sarah couldn’t help asking.
“Not as many as the British,” Robert replied, not wanting to worry her with numbers.
“How many?” she asked again with more determination.
“I’m not sure of the exact count, there was much confusion. Men were dropping from the heat. We lost over seventy, and twice that many were wounded.”
Sarah was quiet as she let it sink in, giving thought to each one. With the news of death, she was quite pleased to be carrying life. “What about Margaret?”
He smiled and patted her arm. “Margaret is fine, she moved on with the army.”
Sarah nodded her thanks for the good news. Hopefully they would meet up again someday.
“Sarah, I can’t believe you risked your life on this silly adventure. Do you know what could have happened to you?” Robert continued.
“Silly? It worked did it not? I’m not ignorant. I had to do something. I wasn’t about to sit around and sip tea while they rot.”
“Sarah, I could have lost you.”
Sarah closed her eyes. She felt Tristan shift next to her; she knew he was anxious, he loved them both. Opening them she looked at her old friend. “Robert, I was never yours to lose,” Sarah said sadly.
He glanced from one to the other as they both avoided his eyes. “So what, you and Tristan?”
“Yes, I’m with Tristan.”
“You barely know him! He has never taken anything seriously in his life!” Robert spat out incredulously.
Tristan moved toward her and placed his hand on her thigh. “Sarah and I know each other very well,” he responded, meeting Robert’s eyes with a smirk.
Robert glowered back. “You have never done anything unless it was in your best interest!”
“How’s your wife?” Tristan countered.
“Boys!” Sarah yelled as the two moved toward each other. “I will not be fought over like the last tart! Robert, you know my feelings for you. There will be no fighting; Tristan and I are together in every meaning of the word, and I will soon be showing proof of that.”
Robert’s eyes widened as her meaning sunk in. He turned, catching Tristan off guard, landing a punch to his jaw. Sarah screamed, trying to move out of the way. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed up a stick. She used it to swat whoever was on top as they rolled around. The sound of twigs breaking was heard as some of the crew moved in to drag them apart.
They were both scuffed and bleeding. Tristan glared over at Robert as he stood. “Good seeing you again, brother.” He turned and headed off toward their tiny retreat and Sarah followed him.
She picked her way along the small path, thorns pulled at her skirt as she tried to catch up with his longer strides. She cried out, her hair caught in a bramble.
Overcome with emotion, the tears flowed as she tried to yank her tresses free. She cursed again, cutting her tender hand on the spikey leaves. Tristan’s shadow moved over her. With a swift slice, his knife blade cut her free. Grasping her shoulders, he turned the sobbing woman into his chest and held her tightly.
“I’m sorry, Sarah; don’t cry.”
“You have to talk to him; you have to work things out,” she rasped out when she had finally calmed down enough to speak. “I would give anything to be able to speak with Silas again.”
“And what would I say? That he is right? That I was an ass? That I changed when I met you?” Tristan asked.
“That would be a good start,” Robert’s deep timbre replied.
Tristan looked up over Sarah’s shoulder to see his brother standing behind her on the path. His wise older brother, whom he had always looked up to. He stared at him, noticing for the first time that he had changed as well. His face was weathered, the lines deeper. One that had seen too much death, yet he survived. A determined face, one that held his future.
“I’m not the same reckless idiot that you left behind. I thought you were crazy when you left. That you were on a death march. And after putting up with your wife after you abandoned her, I thought I could see why. But, I was wrong. Sarah made me see that. I thought you were running from something, but now I know you were running to something and I was too senseless to see it.”
Sarah stepped aside, her eyes fresh with new tears as the brothers hugged. No one knew what the future would hold, but right now it seemed pretty bright.
Releasing his brother and roughly wiping his own eyes, Tristan turned to Sarah. “Sarah, I don’t have much to offer at the moment, but I would be a proud man if you would truly be my wife.”
Unable to speak, she nodded before once again dissolving into tears.
Robert chuckled. “I think that’s a yes.”
“Where do we go from here?” Tristan asked.
Sarah turned her shining eyes up to look at him. “We finish what we started. We head back to America, and we fight.”
Tristan shook his head. “It is too dangerous for you, you have family in Georgia, you should be safe there.”
“Don’t count on it; last I heard they were moving troops to Savannah. The British will attack from the sea, the Rebels need every ship there is,” Gabriel spoke with Jonathan by his side.
“How does the crew feel?” Tristan asked, leery after the last mutiny.
Gabriel laughed, “They are itching for a fight. Especially if they can take on the cowards on the Vixen.”
Sarah grasped Tristan’s arm. “Don’t leave me behind. I once asked Margaret why she followed the Army. She said the worry would have killed her. I know how she feels; I want to be with you, always.”
Tristan sighed. “Do you really think we stand a chance?”
Sarah lifted her chin with pride. “I have seen men marching half dead, the only thing keeping their feet moving was the passion in their heart with the knowledge that they are not fighting for themselves, but for freedom. You may have doubts, but I know that we can win this war. You can never defeat courage.”
“I believe in you, Sarah, and together we can conquer anything.” Tristan pulled her into his arms and held her close. If he needed to defeat an empire to protect her and his child, then so be it.
Run into the Wind, By Lynn Hubbard
Prologue
Mississippi, 1882
She stared intently at the still water, not daring to whisper. A soft breeze blew, spilling several stray strands of her long brown hair into her face. Impatiently she whisked them away as they tickled her nose. She could see shadows through the murky water as she sat on the bank. A flow of bubbles erupted from the depths and she smiled slightly as she saw more, then felt a slight tug on her line. Realizing its mistake the fish flailed around, haplessly trying to get free. Its erratic movements caused the surface of the water to quiver. Patiently she waited just a breath longer, letting the fish tire out a little, as she had been so carefully taught.
“Ha!” she exclaimed into the still morning, as she jubilantly pulled her line out of the water. The large bass dangling from her hook was the biggest one yet.
“Oh Samuel, you’re just jealous. Besides we already caught enough fish this morning to practically feed the whole town.”
“Yeah, and you caught most of them,” Samuel grumbled good-naturedly.
“Guess you taught me too well.”
“Guess you’re right. We better be headin’ back be-fore your father starts looking for us. ‘Sides you gotta get ready for the festival,” Samuel said, not bothering to hide his grin.
Sabrina groaned; she hated town functions, mostly because she was forced to dress up, and Samuel, her best friend, was not allowed to go. She looked down at her mud-soaked britches and sighed. The town was having a dance and a fish fry at the town hall. Since her pa was a Marshall, she had to go.
Reluctantly, they clambered to their feet and pulled up their strings of fish from the water. Sabrina was struggling with her heavy load but Samuel knew better than to offer his help. He tossed his pole over his shoulder and the two headed toward Montgomery, their home. Montgomery was her mother’s maiden name, her father built the beautiful manor and named it after her mother out of devotion.
When Samuel was not working on the ranch he spent much of his free time with Sabrina, and loved her like a sister. His own sister had died from yellow fever years ago, and the only true family he had left was his mother. Samuel’s mother worked for Sabrina’s family also. She and Samuel had a small house set back behind Montgomery. Since Sabrina’s whole family was going into town, the help was given the day off to enjoy the festivities.
Sabrina sighed as she slowly picked her way along the well-worn path through the woods. It was no fair; Samuel wanted to go to the festival but his mother would not allow it, and she didn’t want to go but was forced to go anyway.
So bitter was Sabrina’s mood, she paid no attention to her surroundings even though it was a lovely morn-ing. It had been an especially brutal summer, but the light breeze hinted that fall may come sooner than ex-pected. The two traipsing through the woods were an unusual pair to behold but they both had the same passion for life and adventure, and this, especially, made them compatible.
As they neared the edge of the woods, they started to smell an odd scent. It lingered on the air for an instant and then it was gone. However, its effects were not. The brief whiff of smoke stopped them cold. Alma, Samuel’s mother, would have already had the wood stove up and running by this time, but it was not the sweet scent of the chicory wood that they smelled but something more frightening. Dropping the fish and equipment, they did not dare glance at each other as they quickly made their way up to the top of the knoll. At the peak, Sabrina stopped dead at the horrifying sight. Her home was on fire. She started to run but Samuel caught her and pulled her back down behind the tree line.
She started to fight him at first until she saw what he did: two strange men pulling Lydia, her older sister, from around the back of the house. She was kicking and screaming. Lydia kicked one of the men hard enough to gain her freedom. As she headed in Sabrina's direction, a single shot rang out, dropping her to the ground as the men chasing her caught up.
Sabrina gasped and covered her mouth with her hands to keep from screaming as she watched in horror. Her struggle with Samuel ceased as she sat in silent shock in the bushes. The scene was so surreal. The men seemed to be arguing among themselves. There were five in all, she would later recollect, but right then she did not notice. Her blood had turned to ice as she spotted the other body lying lifeless in the yard. She could make out her mother’s favorite yellow dress, now ruined from the red stain creeping across it; and her heart nearly stopped when she saw her father’s body softly swaying from the grand oak in the front yard. Then her world went black.
About the Author:
Lynn Hubbard is a Historical Fiction author. She has been writing for over ten years and has six titles. Three of which are westerns. Lynn is fascinated by the Old West and her books portray when life was simpler. When, people worked hard, and sweated to make an honest living.
And when justice wasn't always blind.
www.lynnhubbard.com
Other Books By Lynn Hubbard:
Run into the Wind
Chase the Moon
Desperado
Forajido (Spanish)
Return to Love