The Crockett Chronicles- The Complete Collection

by Jennifer Lynn Cary

  Jason dropped to the ground, ownership of his words sinking in. What had he done?

  * * *

  Elizabeth waited for the first rays of light. It was the dawning of the twentieth day of May. If she stayed here, she would be the property of one Eleazar Ferguson. If she ran away, providing she got away where no one found her, she’d be leaving her stepfather in a cruel fix. No less cruel than he left her, but would she sink to his level?

  Could she become the property of a man like Eleazar Ferguson?

  No, she could not.

  She made a bundle—change of clothing plus all the money she had in the world. As she started to leave her room, she spotted her father’s fiddle. If she left it, her stepfather would sell it. She added it to her bundle with a couple biscuits and slipped out the back door. Without a time listed on the bill of sale, she couldn’t know when she was expected.

  When her stepfather woke and she was nowhere to be found, Master Ferguson would most likely come calling, expecting his goods. She prayed she’d be long gone before that happened.

  Prayed. She hadn’t prayed since her mother was taken. Her mother wouldn’t approve of her lack of prayer life, but what kind of loving God would do what He’d done to her family? Yet, old habits die hard. Perhaps this once He’d help her.

  Elizabeth had paced all night, praying a plan would drop from heaven, but none came. She needed a place to hide until she had one. That old sweet gum tree up on the bluff. If she climbed it, no one would find her. Master Crockett wouldn’t have known she was there if she hadn’t knocked that piece of bark free. No one else went near the place.

  At least she had a small step of a plan.

  On approach of the rise, she noticed something beneath the tree. She slowed her steps, continuing with caution. It was a person. A man. He lay curled at the base of the sweet gum.

  Her heart began to pound. What if he were dead? Worse, what if somehow someone had learned of her special place and set a trap for her? She scanned about for a weapon, lighting on a long stick. She weighed the feel in her hand before stealthily moving closer.

  The man moved, and she got a good view of his hair, or rather wild red mane. It was that Crockett fellow. Probably had one too many. At least he didn’t appear to be a mean drunk. She breathed again.

  Drawing near, she dropped her stick, set her bundle on the ground, and nudged his knee with her toe.

  He mumbled something, waved a hand in the air, and rolled away from her.

  She nudged again. “Master Crockett, are you all right?”

  He rolled to his back and cracked open one eye. She knew the instant she came into his focus. His jaw dropped, his other eye popped open, and he jumped to his feet running his hands through his mop. “Oh, Miss... Boulay. Ah, so sorry. I didn’t see you there.” He brushed at the grass and dirt still clinging to his clothes.

  It started as a small tickle. Elizabeth put her finger under her nose to head it off, but there was no stopping it. The laugh burst from her toes. She dropped to her knees, trying to catch her breath when the thought of how crazy she was to be laughing at such a time crossed her mind. The tears of laughter running down her cheeks became tears of panic. Perhaps she was mad.

  A hand came under her chin, drawing her to gaze into the face of Master William Crockett the Concerned. His expression convincing her she was mad.

  “Miss Boulay, I am so sorry. How can I help you?”

  She forced herself to suck in a breath. If she got her breathing under control, perhaps she might find her voice. Raggedy breath in. Raggedy breath out. In. Out. In. Out. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and nodded her head. She would not be a weak, needy female. She would not.

  “’Tis me what should apologize.” Breath. “I am sorry. It has been a trying night.” She glanced around, making certain no one else was in the vicinity.

  “I can well understand. You have my sympathies, for what they are worth.” He sat next to her, stretching out his long legs.

  “Thank ye. Yer kindness is a salve. And ye have me sympathies, as well.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “For what they are worth.”

  He chuckled. “Shall we commiserate together? I am the family failure. You can add that to the oaf part. Oaf and failure. That’s me.”

  “My, aren’t we the tragic hero?” She didn’t have time for his gloom and doom story. She needed to get hidden before she was found.

  “Well what is your story? Has it more tragedy?”

  Her heart stopped at the thought of everything that happened this last year and what she faced. “Ye do not have time to be hearin’ me sad tale.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I do. I am not wanted anywhere today.” He studied her face; she feared he read it all.

  Perhaps she should tell him he wasn’t so bad off. “Me stepfather...” No, she wouldn’t tell him all. But she could tell him the immediate. He might help her come up with a plan. “I learned last night that me stepfather sold me to Eleazar Ferguson. He is to deliver me today.”

  If she had planned to shock him, she succeeded. His eyes grew so big, she feared they might roll out of his head. “Sold you? To Eleazar Ferguson? That man is...”

  She nodded. “I know. Me stepfather owed him thirty pounds. This cancels the debt. But I just canna.”

  “They will take it out on your stepfather if you run.”

  “Aye. Someone already has. I had to set his arm last night.” She glanced away, torn how to admit the next part. “I have no love for the man. He... I will not miss him. I dunna want to cause his downfall, but truth be told, he was slidin’ down without me help. This will make things worse.”

  His hand covered hers. “What do you plan to do? Where will you go?”

  “I dunna ken. I thought to climb the tree and think a wee bit.” She almost pulled away, but she liked the feel of his hand. His touch was gentle, light.

  “No one would see you there.” He chuckled. “You know, you climbed that tree like a boy.”

  She laughed at that. Her mother had said the same thing. Another time. About another tree. “If I were a boy, I’d have a lot more options.”

  He withdrew his hand and sat straighter. “Why can’t you be a boy?”

  Was he that daft? A grown man and he dinna ken the difference between a boy and a girl?

  “Now, wait a minute. Think about it. Who will they be searching for? A girl. But if you were dressed as a boy, your hair cut, in breeches and all that, you might fool them.” He captured her gaze while the idea took hold.

  She saw it play out in his eyes. “And I would hide right under their noses. Aye. No.” She had another thought. “I would need work. Too much interaction might give me away.”

  A big smile played over Master Crockett’s face. “Not if you go to sea. I’ve longed to go to sea from my first moment. You and I can go as friends. We’ll sign on at the docks, be gone before evening.” He stuck out his hand. “Shall we?”

  She stared at his hand. She wouldn’t be a weak female. But, with his plan, she wouldn’t be a female at all. She’d have to stay strong enough to fool the rest of the crew. The trip onboard ship last year when they had come to America from Ireland had been exhilarating. She’d wanted to explore, but as a sixteen-year-old unmarried girl, she had kept her place. The idea bloomed. As a boy, she would be safe in ways a girl would not. And she would not be alone. They would be together. Could she trust him?

  She gazed at his hand again and grasped it. “We shall.” She smiled. “So where shall we begin, Master Crockett?”

  “First, with names. You must call me Willie. I will call you...” He grinned. “I shall call you Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “No one would ever connect that name to Miss Elizabeth Boulay. We’ll say you’re called that because—”

  “Because I was a foundling, and no one knows my name. Maybe it’s this, maybe it’s that. So... Maybe.”

  “Yes! And you need different clothes.” He set his elbow to his knee and tapped hi
s lips with his fingertips. “I have a brother about your size. I could borrow something of his.” He rubbed his hand across his mouth, looking like he wasn’t sure of the idea. Then his hand fell back in his lap, and he turned to her. “That’s what I’ll do. I can get his old clothes and other necessities. You go up the tree and wait. When it is safe, I will come for you.”

  “Mast__ah, Willie, there’s another need.”

  He gave her a quizzical stare.

  “I might dress as a boy, but the Good Lord gave me a woman’s figure. I will need something to... bind myself.” She felt the heat in her cheeks speaking it aloud.

  Willie laughed. “You are right. He blessed you, that He did. I will bring something for binding. Now, up the tree with you, Maybe. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  He turned his back while she gathered her skirts from behind, bringing them between her legs and tucking them at her waist. Then he waited until she had shinnied up a couple branches before lifting her bundle to her.

  She watched him walk away before climbing higher into the leafy canopy. This was likely to be a long wait. She might as well get comfortable.

  * * *

  Halfway home, the import of what he agreed to hit Willie. Did he want to leave his family like this? He’d always felt the pull of the sea, but leaving without a word, let alone a blessing, would deeply hurt his parents. But if he stayed to talk with them, they would not let go until he’d told everything about Maybe. He mustn’t put her in danger. No one deserved to be purchased by Eleazar Ferguson.

  Funny how he considered her Maybe and not Elizabeth. He shook his head and slipped into the house.

  Mama was up tending to breakfast. An excellent cook, his mama cooked better than anyone he’d ever met. That he wouldn’t taste her food again for a long time, possibly ever, crossed his mind, causing something inside to twist. He tiptoed over and kissed her cheek.

  “So, yer wanting to make amends, is it?” She never stopped flipping the flapjacks to face him.

  “Yes, Mama. I figured I best cool off.” Which was somewhat true.

  “And yer cooled off? No more hot head?”

  He chuckled. “For now.”

  She finally peered up at him. “So, what happened? You were going to tell Jason that Janie wasn’t hurt.”

  “I did, but me and my temper. I got angry and then later felt bad about it.” Jason must stay here. He would not put this on the boy and leave him alone to defend himself. That much he would do.

  She nodded. “Ye understand, I can tell when you are hiding something. And I ken Jason is making it rough for you.”

  “He’s just a boy yet. He’ll find his way.”

  She smiled, and he knew she was thinking the same thing of him. Would she ever view him a man? “Call yer brothers and sisters. Yer father is in his room. Ye can call him too.”

  He nodded and sidled off to do her bidding. For the last time.

  After breakfast, they cleared away the dishes, but everyone remained at the table. His father opened his Bible and began reading to the family. Today it was from the book of Luke—the Prodigal Son. If his father wanted to stab him in the heart, he couldn’t have done a better job. But he had no intention of asking for any inheritance or money. He wasn’t leaving to live a life of debauchery. Yet, no matter how he tried to deflect the pinpricks of guilt, they still found their mark.

  He glanced about at his brothers and sisters. How many would miss him? Maybe Janie and possibly Martha and Beth. Lettie and Mary were obedient little girls, doing what was expected. Oh, they were sweet and kind, but Martha and Janie had spunk, and Beth, well, Beth had a heart that was much too tender. As for his brothers, John and Joseph Louis might think of him. They watched out for him for as far back as he remembered. He doubted James, back at school, had pulled his nose from his book long enough to notice his brother was gone.

  And then there was Jason. Somehow, he and Jason had never gotten on, though he didn’t understand why. Perhaps it was how Jason took everything so literally, without a sense of humor. Willie had no memory of a time when the boy laughed for pure joy. Just always an undercurrent of discontent. Now it had grown from an undercurrent to full-fledged hatred on his brother’s part. Willie would never hate him back, though. Something wasn’t right, and he kept thinking if he figured out the problem he might fix it and they’d get along. Now he’d run out of time. He glanced at Jason. The boy appeared tortured. What did he think to cause him such pain?

  The Scripture reading over, his father prayed for the family before they all went about their day. Everyone did their part to put the room in order and the older girls started washing the dishes while Mama took Janie and Mary to work on spelling.

  Father stopped at the door. “Willie, you planning to come work with us today?” It wasn’t as much a question as an expectation.

  Something squeezed Willie’s heart as he lied. “I’ll be along. I must first take care of something.”

  His father nodded and pulled the door closed behind him.

  The clock in his brain picked up speed. He hadn’t crossed that threshold of no return, but he was dangerously close.

  He crept upstairs to the room he shared with his brothers. There he borrowed a too-small pair of Jason’s old breeches. Willie figured he wouldn’t miss them, and they should (he hoped) fit Maybe. He grabbed a worn shirt and other things, including a hat his mother had knitted. Then he needed something to use for her binding. He was at a loss. Nothing upstairs fit the bill. As a last resort he checked in his parents’ room. He rummaged about and found several things his mother had saved from when her children were babies. He’d no idea she’d kept all those things—like the stays he and his brothers had worn as toddlers to help improve their posture. Sentimental tokens. It pulled at his heart that he would leave Mama and the family.

  He settled on an old scarf his mother had made when a thought struck. Perhaps if he left a note. He still mustn’t tell them everything, but he could tell them to not worry. And he could promise to send word. Locating a pencil and a piece of foolscap, he left what he hoped would ease their pain and tucked the finished note beneath his mother’s pillow.

  As he left the room, he met Beth. “Oh, I didn’t know you were up here.”

  “Mama wants to fix the tear in Da’s blue waistcoat.” The question shone in her eyes, but he knew she was too shy to ask.

  “I see. Well, I will see you downstairs, Bethy.” He lied yet again.

  She nodded. As he walked past her, she touched his arm.

  He turned and noticed she stared at the floor. “What is it, Beth?”

  Her whisper stopped his breath. “I will miss you, Willie.”

  She was in their parents’ room before he began breathing again. What did she know? Was she going to prevent him? Would she tell? Could she tell?

  He ran down the steps and out the back door before anyone else could stop him.

  Chapter Three

  Why did Da pick that reading for today? Jason kicked an oyster shell from the path. Did his father see Willie as a prodigal? If so, what did that make him? The miserable son left behind?

  Oh, he was miserable. Nothing would rid him of his misery. Nightmares plagued him when Willie didn’t come home all night. But there he sat this morning. And before he’d considered being grateful for his brother’s safety, he was grumbly again because Willie was still home. How bitter must he become? Not a good question. If he hadn’t reached the pinnacle of bitterness yet, he didn’t want to think how much worse it might get.

  He was supposed to be reading Richard III. Mama would expect a report before the afternoon was out. However, misery made reading too much the chore. One more year and he could spend his time helping Father instead of helping with his sisters. It wasn’t so bad before James left for school. Then he wasn’t the only boy, they had done their studies together. But Willie couldn’t go off to school by himself. Oh, no! He had to take James with him. And leave him at school to boot! Irritation burned his gut.
>
  He picked up another shell, planning to send it flying when he saw his nemesis slipping out the back door of the house. Perhaps he should pelt him. That would serve him right. Ha! But Jason’s curiosity outweighed his irritation, and he dropped the shell to follow.

  He hadn’t taken but a few steps when Janie called from the front. “Jason! Mama wants you!”

  Of course, she did. If he were Willie, he’d just pretend he hadn’t heard. But he was Jason. Jason obeyed. Kicking a clod of dirt to smithereens, he sighed and stomped for the house.

  * * *

  Elizabeth observed Willie from her perch long before he crested the hill. He was alone but for the bundle he carried. She had plenty of time to think about their plan. Had she been rash? Yet each time the face of Eleazar Ferguson floated through her brain she knew. She would do whatever she must to keep from that man’s grasp.

  Willie’s pace was steady, deliberate. He didn’t hide his destination. Should that worry her? Did he tell anyone? Had she been foolish to trust a man she’d barely met?

  She scanned the path behind him in case he’d been followed. No one else was in sight. Perhaps this might work. Just the notion made her heart thunder. Another minute and Willie would be there. She’d better decide now before it was too late for second thoughts, before either of them did anything that could not be undone.

  * * *

  “Maybe, psst! Maybe, you still up there?” A part of Willie hoped she’d gone, giving him a way out of the plan. He yearned to go to sea, but this was wrong. He would break his parents’ hearts. And what if they got caught? There’s no telling what Eleazar Ferguson would try to do to his father’s business. Yet if he got his clutches on Maybe... The idea made his skin crawl.

  He heard a rustle from above and glanced up to see her peering down on him. Her face appeared paler than usual. “Stay up there. Come close enough to grab this bundle. I had trouble finding something for your binding and ended up grabbing an old scarf. My mother made it for me. If nothing else, it will keep you warm.” Her hand reached down to accept his gift. “I will take a walk, you get changed. When I come back, you can hop down and I’ll see what kind of barber I make.” He nervously laughed at his own joke, hoping she wasn’t sentimental over hair.