The Crockett Chronicles- The Complete Collection

by Jennifer Lynn Cary

  “But...”

  “No argument. Go!”

  He blew out a big breath, yet obeyed.

  Sarah looked back to Aphra. The child had turned to her side, pulled her knees up to her chin, and her arms clasped her legs. She buried her face in her skirt and trembled like a leaf in a hurricane.

  Sarah must wait to hear what she planned to say.

  Chapter Nine

  Bits and pieces of the bravado floated back to Maybe as the ship pulled into Boston Harbor. Oh, the men did their jobs, probably at a faster pace, but the talk still ran high. She wondered how long before things returned to normal. She also wondered if they faced another encounter with pirates, would there be anyone alive to talk so brave?

  What had been her father’s thoughts as the pirates seized his ship, the ship he had last sailed? Had he been frightened, like her? Did he suffer? She shuddered and turned her attention back to the shrouds.

  The cargo bound for Boston soon would be unloaded and shore leave granted to the crew within an hour. She wanted off the ship, but she didn’t want to celebrate with the crew. Willie wanted to be with them, though. Was there a compromise?

  She mulled that thought and decided to slip him a note. He might meet her at the commons, like in New York. Perhaps spend time together after he’d had fun with the men. If he met her late afternoon, she could find the location and indulge in some time to herself. The boatswain often left extra pieces of scrap paper with her and a pencil nub or two. She found them and crafted a quick note. Now to find Willie.

  He was laughing with Mr. Cox and Mr. Swain when she approached.

  “About ready to go, Maybe?”

  “Not yet, but ye can go. I can meet ye later. Here.” She handed him the note. He opened it, a queer expression passing over his face.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “No, no problem.” He refolded the paper and tucked it in his pocket. “I will see you later?”

  “Aye. Later.”

  He smiled and nodded as she turned to go. But she could hear him talking with the men before she’d taken five steps.

  * * *

  A note? Why did she give him a note? If he questioned it, it would raise suspicions. If he didn’t… well, he’d have to do his best. He was going with the men. Be one of them. Where would they go?

  Willie imagined this moment, but reality would be different. He couldn’t wait.

  “C’mon, lad, it’s time to raise a ruckus. Yer mates are gonna show ye how.” Mr. Swain put his arm across Willie’s shoulder. “I know of a brewery where we can have our tankards filled. A wee bit nicer than the places along the docks. Let’s go.”

  Willie’s gut tingled. He’d never known his father to take hard spirits, but he wouldn’t turn down an offer of a tankard of ale would he? This was Willie’s first time. If he were a man, he should be about manly things. And men drank ale occasionally with friends.

  Between the rationalizing and anticipation, he hoped he wouldn’t throw up all over himself.

  The Adams Brewery was an average sized, based on the bit of knowledge Willie possessed about such places. He sat at the table with Mr. Swain while Mr. Cox ordered for them. It took a moment to realize that the other patrons were deep into political and religious conversations. Was this what went on back home in taverns? His father would have thoughts on these subjects, but he’d never known his father to go to such places. Perhaps he didn’t realize this was what happened?

  The men two tables away got louder. The bartender called a boy. “Sammy, go fetch your father.”

  The boy raced out, returning behind a large man. Authority seeped into his every step. “I could hear you out to the street. Debate all you want, but no yelling and no fighting. You know the rules.”

  Both men appeared chagrined. “Aye, Master Adams.”

  Adams. Willie leaned in and whispered to the men at his table. “Is he the owner?”

  They both nodded. “He keeps this place respectable. He’s a deacon in his church, and his wife is a practicing Puritan. There won’t be any trouble here. That’s why I chose this place.”

  Willie nodded and took a sip of the ale. It wasn’t what he expected. Maybe he needed to build a liking for it. That must be it, otherwise it made no sense why men drank the stuff.

  Mr. Cox laughed. “Yer first taste, aye, boy. Well, here’s to many more.” He raised his tankard as did Mr. Swain.

  Willie raised his, then tried another sip. Still horrid, but he would not let his face betray him.

  An hour later, he excused himself to go find the necessary. When he stood, things wobbled. He paused to see if the wobbling stopped. It merely slowed, so he used the chair backs and walls to find his way out. After taking care of his business, he remembered Maybe’s note and pulled it from his pocket. He opened it, the words jumbled and tumbled. It was no use. He couldn’t read it. He’d have to apologize to her later. He was good at that. Apologizing. He had a lot of practice.

  William the Apologizing Oaf.

  William the Idiot Oaf.

  William the Never-Will-Get-It-Right Oaf.

  He sighed and returned to his friends.

  * * *

  Maybe found the commons with ease and chose her tree. Her arms had gained strength from all the climbing she did aboard ship. The elm was tall and majestic, with many limbs strong enough to offer level after level of height. Maybe took full advantage of the offer and climbed higher than she ever had. There, alone with her thoughts, she allowed her mind to go where she hadn’t allowed since leaving Beaufort. What happened to her stepfather when she wasn’t found? She felt some guilt, knowing that it was not a good thing. She didn’t have compassion so much as guilt that her actions caused the problem. Still, she wouldn’t change her decision to leave rather than submit.

  She thought of her sister, Eliza. Would she find her still alive? She wanted to pray that she would, but she’d forgotten how to pray. How did one approach the God of the universe when one had turned her back on Him? She wasn’t as angry at Him now since she was relatively safe. That made her realize that as uncomfortable as her charade was, and at times it felt heart-poundingly dangerous, it afforded her safety. And isn’t that what she’d prayed for when she ran away? A plan of safety?

  So, maybe God had listened. He had a strange way of helping.

  Maybe glanced about, hoping to glimpse Willie coming onto the green. Still no sign. She knew he knew she expected him. He’d read the note in her presence. Had he gotten so carried away with the men that he forgot about her?

  She watched from her perch in the sky as the sun meandered toward the western horizon. With summer so close, the days were longer. But even longer days could not keep back the night. If she were to make it to the ship before dark, she’d have to leave now.

  She shimmied back to the ground, dropping the last foot onto an old root that turned her ankle. Ouch! She rubbed it and tested her weight. Well, she had no other choice. There was no one to help her. She’d must make her way back. It would be a slower going, though.

  Maybe limped along, through the streets, heading back for the dock when a familiar voice filled the night air. Willie!

  Only it was slurred and sing-songy like her stepfather’s used to get when he was on a drunk. Now she understood why he hadn’t come. It made no sense he that he’d drunk so much.

  And then he spotted her. “Maybe! Iz Maybe!”

  Mr. Cox and Mr. Swain walked on either side of him. They didn’t appear any worse for wear.

  “So ye let him do all the drinkin’ did ye?”

  “Ah, no, Maybe. ’Tisn’t like that ’tall. No, he had one tankard of ale. One.” Mr. Cox held up one finger and giggled. “He just can’t handle his liquor.”

  She wanted to doubt them. Something told her they spoke a part of the truth. There must be more. And why didn’t he search for her? Perhaps he plain couldn’t. Perhaps he didn’t realize one tankard would do this. All the power seeped from her anger. Willie looked at her, and the la
st of her peeve vanished.

  “So, what do we do now? He can’t go back on board like this, and he’s nowhere to go for tonight.”

  “We was just talkin’ about that. What if we keep the night guard busy? We can get his attention to the other side and you can sneak him on board. Might put him under one of the jolly boats off the davit. Just keep ’m quiet ’til he falls asleep. Then come mornin’ we’ll get ’m out when no one’s about.”

  “Why not take him to his bunk? He can sleep it off there?”

  “Not a good ideare, boy. Should the boatswain make a walk through and see him before he goes to sleep, or catch him casting up his accounts, it would be just as bad.”

  Willie clearly didn’t comprehend what was being said around him. He just smiled and lolled his head.

  “Can ye do it, lad?” Mr. Cox didn’t have to remind her of what might happen. None of them wanted that for Willie.

  Maybe nodded, following them to the dock. Down from the Frances Pearl, they stopped and leaned Willie against her. She might as well hold up the mast.

  “All right, Maybe, stay here ’til ye see me signal. Then make for the stern and the jolly boat. Ye should be able to slip him inside as it’s tipped on edge.”

  She nodded and took a deep breath. “Oh, Willie. Ye put life aside to help me. I reckon it is me turn to do the same for ye.”

  Waiting while holding up the lanky, sleepy form of her friend was more difficult than she would have thought. A thank you for all the hard work she’d put in building her muscles on the top was in order. A month ago she’d never been able to do it.

  Mr. Swain gave the signal. The guard went in another direction.

  “C’mon, Willie, ye got to give me some help here. Just keep walkin’.” She steered him up the gangplank to the back of the ship. There a jolly boat rested against the stern. Now to get him behind it.

  She got him to his hands and knees with a lot of coaxing. “Wha’ kinda game we playin’, Maybe?”

  “Shush! Willie, just go. No talking, please!”

  Maybe pushed from behind, getting his big, fat boots into hiding when she heard the guard coming back. No place to hide. And if he saw her, he might want an explanation. An investigation would ruin everything. There was no choice. She followed Willie behind the jolly boat.

  “Wa zis?”

  “Shut up, Willie.” She tried putting her hand over his mouth.

  “Wha’ ya doin’?”

  “Ye must hush, now!” Footfalls sounded, heading toward the stern.

  “Bu—”

  She didn’t ponder it. She did the only thing that came to her brain. She kissed him, hard on the mouth.

  That shut him up. And aroused him. He returned the kiss, stirring up more passion within her than she’d ever known.

  This was a mistake. But it was what she’d longed to do. She closed her eyes and her mind to the warning.

  Somewhere she heard a call, the steps receded. She could stop now.

  Except she didn’t.

  Willie’s hands began to caress her, drawing a craving from her, one she knew she’d regret.

  Now she could not stop.

  And neither did he.

  * * *

  Willie tried to roll to his side but was stuck. He opened one eye, then both. It didn’t help. It was dark. He started to sit and banged his head. Ow! Was he buried alive? Terror flooded. He tried to raise his arms, but his right was pinned beneath something.

  Maneuvering his left hand across his body, he explored for what held him prisoner. Something warm, something alive! He gasped. The something moved.

  “Willie, be still. Let me check if the coast is clear.” Maybe’s voice.

  His heart rate slowed.

  She didn’t move right away but did something he didn’t understand. Finally, he felt her moving down his body, past his feet. “All right, roll to yer stomach and scoot backwards. Be quiet about it.”

  He did as she said, though his head seemed too large to slip out of the opening his feet just used. He must have hit his head harder than he imagined.

  Once out, he started to stand, but Maybe pulled him down again. “Wait until I see where the guard is.” She crouched and moved out before coming back. “We’re clear. Now, quietly go below to yer cot. I’ll meet ye there in a few minutes.”

  He nodded and wished he hadn’t. His bearings gathered, he headed below as Maybe instructed. Somehow, he was missing something, though for the life of him he couldn’t think what.

  That was it. He couldn’t think. What had happened to him? He went over the past day. He remembered going to the brewery with Mr. Cox and Mr. Swain. He even remembered his first taste of ale. It wasn’t a pleasant memory.

  Somewhere along the line, Maybe had appeared. He remembered a game she wanted to play, but she kept shushing him… something else. It was there, just beneath the surface. He lay back on his cot and closed his eyes.

  And he knew. It wasn’t anything he saw in his mind, it was impressions. The touch of her lips on his, the warmth of her skin, how she… oh, what had he done?

  * * *

  When Maybe got below to her cot, Willie’s back was to her. She hoped he was asleep and that this would be the end.

  But it wouldn’t be the end. How would she face him? How can they stay friends? Why did she let this happen?

  Just when she started to believe things would get better, she threw away the one thing she treasured, the one thing she’d refused to let her stepfather sell.

  Would Willie even remember? How would he see her come morning?

  She wanted to be angry with him, to hate him for what he took. But he didn’t just take it. She allowed it. She could have stopped, but she hadn’t wanted to stop. Feeling his kiss, his touch, falling asleep in his arms, that should’ve been wonderful. If he were her husband, it would’ve been. She knew this because she knew something else.

  She was in love with Willie.

  But in love or not, this was wrong. If God allowed such misery when she’d been as good as she knew to be, what grief awaited now that she had done this?

  And there was no way to undo it.

  Chapter Ten

  Sarah brought a bowl of chicken soup to Aphra who still occupied settee. The child was much too thin. If Sarah could get enough nourishment into her, she might feel more like sharing her story.

  Though reclined, the girl was more alert. She had slept two hours.

  Joseph left without disturbing her to see if he could find information from the constable. That left Sarah to care for Aphra.

  “Are ye ready to talk?” She stroked a stray tendril from the girl’s face.

  Aphra nodded and sat. “’Tisn’t a pretty story, Mistress. Me father took sick and died when I were a wee bit. Me mither became a washerwoman to keep us alive. Then she took sick. Me plan was to take over her duties, but I found a job as a maid for a gent here in town. He offered room and board, so I took the job. I dinna understand all that it would require.”

  “Was the work too difficult? Did he not feed ye, child?

  “Comin’ here was the first time he let me leave the house. He says I am his property to do with as he pleases. Now he pleases to learn about yer home. I dunno know why.”

  The child’s words wiped away every sane thought in her brain. She shook her head, then stared hard at the lass. “He said ye were his property?”

  Aphra nodded.

  “What does he do with his property?” Though afraid to ask, Sarah was more fearful of not knowing.

  “Whatever he pleases.” The words sounded dead, matter of fact.

  Her mother instinct kicked in. Sarah pulled the child into an embrace, rocking her in her arms. “Don’t ye worry none. Ye are safe here. We’ll not let anything happen to ye, I promise ye that.”

  The child pulled back, tears glistening. “Ye canna make such promises. Ye do not ken the power he wields. If I stay or if ye tell anyone else what I said, it will go hard on me and yer family.”

 
; “No, Aphra, no, ye canna go back to the beast. We will care for ye. Have no worry.” She pulled the child close again.

  Aphra melted into her arms. “I want to believe ye, Mistress. Oh, I want to.”

  * * *

  Joseph arrived at the constable’s house just as he was coming out the front door. “Ho, Thomas Miller, might I have a word?”

  “To what is it in regard, Master Crockett? Have you learnt more about the O’Malley fellow?”

  Joseph stopped at the steps to the porch. “Aye, but I’ve come for a different reason. There’s a young lass who came by my house this morning. She’s hoping to be a washerwoman—”

  “Washerwoman, you say?” At once he focused. “There was someone else here just a bit ago asking about his washerwoman. Said she’d gone missing. A young girl, answers to the name of Aphra.”

  “Aye, that is the girl.”

  Constable Miller moved faster than Joseph had ever seen, his arms flapping about. “Where is she?”

  “Aye, that is what I tell you. She is at my home. Something is wrong with the child. My wife is with her now, attempting to learn the truth. The poor thing is terrified of men.”

  The constable froze and stared. “Terrified of men? What do you mean?”

  “I mean, when I or my son walk into the room, she panics and curls into a ball. Something happened causing this child to be so timid. My Beth is shy. This is different. It is fear.” Joseph was sure he made himself clear. What kept the man from doing something?

  “What shall I do about it?”

  Do? Your job! “I want you to come to my home. You can see her reaction. You can also hear from my wife anything she has learned in my absence.”

  The man sighed. “Oh, all right. Shall we?” He motioned for Joseph to lead the way.

  Ten minutes later, they came in the door. Sarah left the parlor to greet him. “Hello, Constable. Welcome.” She curtsied and turned to her husband. “Might I have a word in the kitchen, Joseph?”