Anna combed through her hair gently, but her injuries were still too painful to pin it onto her head, so she left it loose. She dressed and made her way to breakfast, hoping for an opportunity to apologize to Lord Philip and thank him again for the previous day’s outing.
A wave of disappointment washed over her when she arrived in the dining room and Ezekiel told her Lord Philp had ridden to the pastures for the day. She felt her shoulders slump but found it impossible to remain discouraged in the boy’s presence.
She thanked him when he filled her glass. “It appeared yesterday that Lord Philip was very pleased with his valet,” she said, winking.
“I did it all, everyt’in’, just de way you tol’ me, Miss Anna. Even de special knot.”
“His lordship’s cravat looked very fine, indeed.” Anna loved saying anything that produced the boy’s white-toothed grin. His entire face shone when he smiled. She could not imagine even the wickedest person to be immune to Ezekiel’s charm.
“Lord Philip say you may wish to ride de horse today?”
Anna experienced a brief skip of her pulse at the idea that he had left instructions concerning her, but she shook her head to clear away the thought. It was typical for a host to see to the welfare of his guests when he was absent. She needed to rein in her emotions. “I would like that,” she said.
Once Anna had finished her meal, she followed Ezekiel toward the stables. She was tempted to ask about his limp but did not want to hurt his feelings if he was sensitive about the topic.
As they rounded the side of the house, a large lizard with a long tail scurried toward them from the trees. The reptile was at least five feet long with a row of spines down its back. Anna’s muscles clenched, and her heart hit the inside of her ribs. She clung to Ezekiel’s arm and screamed.
The lizard darted toward a tree and ran up the trunk, disappearing into the canopy. Anna thought she might collapse. “An iguana lizard?” she asked between gasping breaths. Realizing she was still holding the boy’s arm in an iron grip, she released her fingers.
“Dey will no’ hurt you, Miss Anna.” Ezekiel laughed. “You scare him worse dan he scare you.”
Anna managed a weak smile. “I’m glad you are with me, Ezekiel, or I might have fainted dead away.” She clenched her hands against the trembling. She needed to develop a stronger countenance if she was going to prevent herself from appearing ridiculous.
The boy continued to laugh as they entered the stables. He slipped a bridle over the mare’s head, led Smokey out of the pen, and then quickly strapped the lady’s saddle on the horse.
Anna looked around the well-maintained building. Two carriage horses stood in pens on the far side, and she assumed the empty stall belonged to Lord Philip’s mount. She wondered how long it took the boy to feed and clean up after the horses in addition to his duties inside the house. “Do you care for the stables all on your own?” Anna said as she rubbed Smokey’s nose.
“No, he come—” Ezekiel clamped his mouth shut. His eyes slid to the side, and he turned away, leading the horse through the stable door into the sunlight.
Anna wondered at his strange behavior. Did he think he would be punished for having assistance in the stables? Was the boy truly expected to manage the stables and serve as the footman and valet? She knew she had made him ill at ease and did not ask any other questions, thanking him once she’d mounted Smokey.
She paused, contemplating which direction to take. She didn’t want to ride toward the pastureland and bother Lord Philip—not after she’d left him yesterday in tears. She pulled on the reins and turned the horse in the opposite direction, down the lane past the hospital and offices and blacksmith’s forge. A plantation was truly a small city unto itself. She was curious about each place and hoped Lord Philip would give her a tour of the other plantation buildings.
Ahead she saw the cluster of cabins that Lord Philip had told her made up the slave quarters. She rode closer, studying the small structures. Each cabin was built with masonry walls on the lower half and finished with woven wattle covered in mud and hardened in the sun. The roofs were thatched palms held up by wooden poles at the corners.
The structures were surrounded by colorful gardens. She recognized the plants from the time she’d spent helping Betty in the kitchen. Yam vines climbed up sticks. The purple leaves of the sweet potato plant flowed over hillocks. It all appeared neat and well maintained, which Anna admitted she had not expected.
Elderly men and women as well as small children peered at her from doorways and yards. Some held infants; others tended gardens or ground cassava roots into flour. Anna realized the village was nearly deserted because the majority of workers were in the fields. The older slaves must be responsible to care for those still too young to labor. The children waved and grinned as she passed.
She wondered which house belonged to Betty. Did Ezekiel live with her?
She continued down the lane, considering the lives of the people at Oakely Park. They all had a place. The gang leaders supervised workers, the elderly cared for the children, the bookkeepers managed ledgers. Everyone had a purpose. Everyone belonged. But where did Anna belong? What role did she play in life? Right now, she felt as though she were floating, not able to find the niche where she fit. Would she ever remember?
She reached a wide-open plain and prodded Smokey into a gallop. They rode through fields separated by low prickly hedges, nearing a forested area. Sprinting on horseback was familiar to her, and she wondered where she had done it before. In England? Elsewhere on Jamaica? Her heart was light as she flew over the ground.
Without warning, a torrential rain began to fall, and in an instant, Anna was drenched. She looked around for shelter but saw none through the downpour. She did not want to go close to the trees for fear of an iguana lizard falling on her. Recalling how quickly the large animal had moved, she decided to avoid the trees altogether.
A bolt of lightning lit the sky, and the wind lashed her hair against her face. Something hovered just outside her consciousness, and for an instant, a memory of a similar storm flashed into her mind. But Anna didn’t stop to dwell on it. It hadn’t ever worked when she’d tried to force a memory. She turned the horse toward the edge of the property, hoping the high wall marking the inland boundaries of Oakely Park would provide a bit of protection. Once she reached the property line, she rode Smokey as close to the stone wall as she could.
The rain stopped as quickly as it had started, leaving the land sparkling and clean. Steam rose from Anna’s clothes as the clouds moved away and the sun heated the air. She shook her wet curls over her shoulder, and they slapped against her back.
By the time she had followed the wall all the way to the main entrance, she was nearly dry—a benefit of wearing silk—although her gown was wrinkled and clung to her. Near the wrought-iron gates that led to the road, she saw a dark form on the ground and squinted to identify it. Had something fallen from a cart? As she drew closer, the shape moved, and a jolt of terror shot through her as her first thought was of a reptile. She clutched the reins and started to turn Smokey back toward the Great House, but the figure shifted again, and she saw that it was a man.
“Hello?” she called but didn’t receive an answer.
Anna’s heart thumped as she debated whether to approach the person. She edged the horse closer, wondering whether he was injured or drunk. Was it a highwayman merely pretending to need assistance? Would he jump up and carry her off as soon as she approached?
She prodded the horse around until she could see the person’s face. Malachi! Why was he here? She’d thought his gang was driving the barrels to Port Antonio for sale. What had happened? Had he met with misfortune? Did he drink too much rum?
Anna reined in the horse. Malachi lay slumped with his shoulders resting against the gate. His head leaned to one side. The whites of his eyes contrasted starkly against his nearly black skin. He did not move though he was watching her.
Her gaze moved over him, an
d she saw his coarse tan shirt was streaked with blood. She could see the raw pink skin of a wound on his shoulder and another on his arm. If he didn’t get help, she feared he would bleed to death.
She looked down the road that led to the Great House. She could ride for help, but would they make it back in time?
He continued to watch her. His marks looked like an evil mask around his eyes, and Anna’s insides felt as though they were being squeezed. She could not imagine a more terrifying person, and she was alone with him. How could she . . . The image of Betty’s face rose in her mind, and Anna remembered the embrace she had witnessed. Her throat thickened. She set her jaw and felt her temperature rise as she pushed aside her fear.
Anna climbed down from Smokey’s back, dropping to the ground. She wrapped the reins around a bar of the gate and took a step toward Malachi. And then another. Her heart pummeled in her chest. “Sir? Malachi?”
His only response was a slow blink.
Anna knew she was wasting precious time and forced herself to move closer. She knelt in the mud next to him and looked at his shoulder. The wound was round. A musket ball? “You need help. Can you get onto my horse?”
Malachi blinked again. His muscles strained as he pressed his hands against the ground, but the movement caused the blood to flow faster.
“Stop.” Anna pressed her hand against his chest. “We must bind your wounds first.” She slipped off her glove and then removed her cloak, wincing as she tore the beautiful silk. “I do not think I have ever done this before,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. She wound the strips around his arm, tying it off, and then turned to his shoulder, unsure of precisely how to proceed. “The main thing is to stop the bleeding,” she said, unsure why she felt the need to keep up a dialogue.
When she placed a folded piece of cloth against his wound, Malachi drew in a heavy breath through his nose, but he didn’t move.
“It is hurting you. I am sorry.” Anna tried to be gentle as she wrapped the strips beneath his arm and around his chest to hold the cloth in place. The light silk was quickly saturated with blood, but she hoped it at least reduced the flow.
She moved Smokey as close as she could without trampling Malachi. “If you use the bars to pull yourself up, and perhaps lean on me . . .” She helped him bend forward and grab with one hand onto the metal gate. He did not move his injured shoulder. She crouched beneath his arm and pushed against his chest as he rose shakily to his feet. Once he was standing, he released the bar and rested his weight against Anna for an instant before grabbing the saddle.
Anna’s knees buckled, and she pressed her side against Smokey to keep herself upright.
Malachi did not make a sound, though his face was twisted in pain as he pulled himself with one hand up onto Smokey’s back. He sagged crosswise over the horse, his legs hanging on one side and his arms on the other.
Anna moved around to pull him astride, but Malachi’s eyes were closed. He didn’t answer when she spoke to him, and she realized he had fallen unconscious. After ensuring that he was still breathing and his shoulder was bound tightly, she led the horse slowly down the lane. She checked every few minutes to make sure he did not slide off one side or the other. She was grateful he was unaware. The movement of the horse would have been agony on his shoulder. Instead of proceeding to the Great House, she veered from the path through the trees toward the hospital.
Anna spotted a young girl and called to her, telling her to fetch Dr. Bevan and then Betty.
Anna hadn’t realized how tense her shoulders were until she saw the doctor running toward her. She nearly wilted with relief.
“Miss Anna! Are you injured?”
Anna glanced down at her blood- and mud-spattered clothing. She shook her head. “No.”
“What on earth happened?” Dr. Bevan crouched down to look at Malachi’s face and pinched his dangling wrist between his fingers.
“I do not know. I found him at the main gate.”
“And you brought him here yourself?” Dr. Bevan stared at her for a moment and then instructed two men to bring Malachi into the hospital.
Anna nodded and followed the doctor inside, too exhausted to say anything more.
Chapter 10
Philip leaped off his horse and ran into the hospital. Tom was right behind him. The messenger who had found them in the pastureland hadn’t told them any details, only that Malachi had been found, nearly dead from blood loss. Where were the other members of his gang? What had happened to the shipment? His mind had churned over various scenarios in the past half hour, none of them good.
He hurried through the door but stopped short when his gaze landed on Anna slumped in a chair, her eyes closed. Her hair was matted and her gown filthy and covered in blood. A sudden cold spread from his core, and his heart plummeted. “Anna!” He knelt and clutched her shoulders as a jolt of fear shot through him. “Anna, are you hurt?”
Anna blinked slowly and looked up at him with bleary eyes. “No, my lord. Malachi is hurt,” she said in a drowsy voice. “I was just tired.”
Relief washed over him, and he stood quickly, resisting the impulse to pull her into his arms. He let out a breath.
She rubbed her eyes and stood.
Philip couldn’t help noticing that despite her disarray, she looked extremely charming as she awoke, blinking and yawning. He glanced at Tom, who, judging by his expression, had noticed the same thing.
Before Philip could think of a reason to send Tom away from the hospital, Dr. Bevan entered from the back room, followed by Betty.
“What happened?” Philip lifted his chin toward the back room. “Malachi is injured?”
Dr. Bevan nodded his head. “A bullet wound to the shoulder and a deep slash, probably inflicted by a knife or a sword, to his upper arm.”
Tom let out a low curse.
“He lost an excessive amount of blood and would have died for certain if Anna had not discovered him and brought him here.”
Philip’s gaze darted to Anna. She had saved Malachi?
She met his eyes briefly, and her cheeks turned pink.
He turned back to the doctor. “Did he speak? Where are the others in his gang? What happened to the shipment?” Philip balled his hands into fists, pressing them against his legs to keep himself from shouting.
“He spoke to Betty briefly, but his pain was such that I gave him a dose of laudanum to allow him some relief,” Dr. Bevan said.
Betty wrung her hands, somehow looking pale beneath her dark skin.
Anna stepped across the room and put an arm around her shoulders.
“Did he tell you anything, Betty?” Philip could see that Betty was upset and tried to keep his voice even, but he was so agitated it was all he could do to remain standing in one spot.
“Malachi tol’ me de highwaymen took de shipment. He does not know if any of de gang survive. And . . .” Betty’s eyes widened. She leaned toward Philip, her eyes darting to each side. “De leader, he is de old busha.” Her voice trembled, and she clamped her hand over her mouth as soon as she spoke.
Philip glanced to his overseer.
Tom’s brows were drawn together. “Are you certain, Betty?” he asked.
Betty nodded.
Philip looked back at Tom. “Who is the old busha?”
Tom furrowed his fingers through his hair. “Horace Braithwaite.”
Hot fury burned in his gut as Philip processed what Tom told him. Horace. That disgusting, vindictive man had killed his workers and stolen thousands of pounds worth of sugar, treacle, and rum. His insides writhed. He clenched and unclenched his fists.
“Come, Tom. We will deal with this at once. He will not get away with it.” Philip strode through the hospital door, cramming his hat onto his head.
“Lord Philip,” Anna said.
He turned as she rushed toward him.
“Where are you going?” she asked when she reached him. “Please say you are not going to challenge the criminals.”
; “I cannot allow this to go unpunished.”
“Please. It is too dangerous.”
He clasped Anna’s hand, not caring that she could likely feel his shaking.
“I have heard you can be hotheaded and impulsive.” She attempted to smile but couldn’t quite make it. Her brows pulled together. “Do not allow anger to cloud your judgment.”
Philip gritted his teeth and glanced down the dusty path toward the main road. He would never find Horace and his posse in the thick jungles. Although his impulse was to search the island with his weapon drawn until he found the foul-mouthed wretch, he knew the matter was best left to the authorities. The idea that Horace Braithwaite and his group could get clean away with Philip’s hard-earned goods clamped his chest like a vice. “Anna, other survivors could be on the road. I must alert the authorities in Port Antonio. I cannot send another when it is my duty.”
Anna bit her lip and touched her pendant. “The highwaymen could be waiting for you.”
“Not likely,” Tom said, leading the horses to join them. “They’ve fifty hogshead barrels to transport and hide. I imagine that will keep them busy for some time. Oakely Park’s symbol is recognized in Port Antonio, and they’ll never make it through the mountains without the Brethren appropriating some, if not all, of it.” He brushed his fingers through his hair again. “Horace is smart. He’ll have a plan. I’d not be surprised if he’s got a boat ready to transport the barrels from some hidden bay.”
Anna squeezed Philip’s fingers, and he thought what a comforting sensation it was to hold her hand. “You will be careful, my lord?”
He wanted to smooth the worry lines between her brows. “I will be careful, Miss Rescues-Wounded-Men.” The simple act of holding her hand had calmed him immensely. He was reluctant to release it, especially when she still looked so concerned.
Simply Anna Page 9