The Uncharted Series Omnibus

by Keely Brooke Keith

  “Don’t tell him that you aren’t a Colburn.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’ll be mad at me.”

  She sensed a chance to angle between the men and decided to test their fortitude. “Why would he be angry with you?”

  Harvey snorted, putting an end to his nasal whistle. “Father says since we are Colburns we should have Colburn women. Don’t tell him you aren’t a Colburn.”

  She thought of the well-instilled custom of recording genealogy to avoid inbreeding in the Land and wondered how ignorant these men were to strive for such eschewed forbidden coupling. With her intimate knowledge of the Colburn family of Good Springs and their heritage, she doubted these men were close relatives of John Colburn.

  She tried to think of a way to use Harvey’s request to secure her freedom and considered using charm, but that would only encourage him. The last thing she wanted to do was to elicit desire. Instead, she tempered her voice. “Why should I help you?”

  “Because you’re my wife.”

  “I am not your wife!”

  “I will make you my wife.” His voice grew closer. “As soon as Father says I can.”

  Mandy locked her arms around her curled legs. “You cannot.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I… I have women’s troubles… and if you touch me it will cause your manhood to shrivel.” She did not care if she breached custom by speaking of something indecorous to a man. Nor did she care that she had uttered a complete lie. She only cared that he believed her lie and was as repulsed as she intended for him to be.

  Harvey was silent. He returned to his place by the back of the wagon. She heard nothing else from him the remainder of the night aside from snoring. Eventually she loosened the grip of her arms and tried to shift her legs, but she never slept.

  The pain in her chest kept her mind alert. Though she was injured in body and trapped in a wagon that smelled like rancid meat, she tried to think of something else. She focused her thoughts on her family and imagined her mother in the kitchen—not scrubbing frantically like she did when she was nervous, but baking happily on a Saturday afternoon. She thought of their shared humor. She remembered what it felt like to lay her head in her mother’s lap as a child. Her mother would play with her curls while they listened to her father tell stories by the fireplace. It pained her to think of her father because he would have wept when he learned of her abduction. Mother cried easily because that is what mothers do. But when Father cried it meant something truly terrible had happened. She did not want to be the subject of something truly terrible, but she was. Even if she somehow made it home, the stench of tragedy would linger on her and her family long after the details of the event had been forgotten. Even Everett would be affected. She thought of Everett then and prayed he had been able to save Bethany. She knew her brother loved Bethany and assumed he was only waiting for her to mature to declare his love. She hoped he would still do that and go on to live a happy life and have a family and take care of their parents—even if she never returned home.

  She thought of Levi—though the reason her mind regarded him as family evaded her. She loved all of the Colburns, having grown up in their home as much as her own. Her closeness to Lydia should have evoked thoughts of their friendship, but she thought first of Levi. Of all the men who had been intrigued with her—and some of them had even asked her to marry—he never seemed to recover from her refusal to court. He seemed stuck in that moment ever since. It probably did not help that her friendship with Lydia kept her in close proximity to him through the years. She did her best to ignore his surly reminders of her refusal, which often made it difficult to enjoy his company. Still, she loved him. Perhaps it was only a familial attachment, but she loved him nonetheless. If she lived through this ordeal and escaped her captors, she would show kindness to him—maybe even apologize for the hurt her refusal had caused him—not to encourage his romantic affections—she could never marry anyone—but to make things right somehow.

  * * *

  Levi helped Connor remove the corpse from Lydia’s medical office. They covered the body in burlap and carried it to a shed at the edge of the Colburn property. John said they had enough work to do, and he and Samuel would bury the body in the village cemetery in the morning.

  Levi and Connor readied their provisions for the search and walked their horses into the Fosters’ barn where they met Everett. With only a few hours left until daylight, the three men slept in the loft of the barn, keeping their bodies in minimal comfort to ensure an early rise.

  Levi remained awake during those hours. From where he lay in the open loft, he could see the doorway to Mandy’s workshop. He thought of the instruments she built there and her skill in crafting them. He had never thought much about her work—only how erratic her work ethic seemed to be. She would go months without making any new instruments—no matter how many requests she received—then she would be in her workshop late into the night, day after day for weeks. He had judged her as capricious, but now with her gone—possibly forever—he regretted that judgment.

  With each passing hour, his remorse increased. He had been in love with Mandy when he was seventeen—every unmarried male in the village was. The tomboyish redhead had grown into a stunning vixen and, due to the closeness of their families, he had felt confident she would be his. He remembered the great shock and mortification her rejection brought him, especially in consideration of the way her effusive flirtation had suggested a different outcome. Since then she acted as if his declaration of undying love had never happened, which only magnified the ache within him. She had grown more beautiful over the years, and he both longed for her attention and detested her batting eyes.

  Levi reclined into the dusty haystack behind him and realized he should have spent the past six years appreciating Mandy’s friendship. He thought of her music and the pleasure it brought everyone who heard her perform. She taught music lessons to many of the schoolchildren, and he often heard villagers praise her joyful, patient instruction. There would be much to regret if she were lost. He felt a surge of grief inside his heart. He remembered Samuel’s admonition and resolved to use his regret to make sure he found her.

  The dark space inside the doorway of her workshop beckoned him. He glanced at the other men lying in the hayloft. They appeared to be asleep, so he rose and walked to the workshop, controlling the sound of his steps so as not to wake the others.

  The shop door stood open, and moonlight streamed through the gaping window in the opposite wall. The room’s scent was a mixture of freshly carved gray leaf wood and drying varnish—a blend he found pleasurable, though most people would not. He considered the commonality of his and Mandy’s work and realized it was not something he had previously acknowledged.

  He stepped to the cluttered workbench and sat on a wooden stool where she spent her workdays. He took a match from a shallow jar, struck it, and lit the lantern on the end of the bench. The soft light revealed the bench’s dusty surface, which had been casually cleared with a straw hand brush. Glass jars filled with a variety of screws and pegs skirted the far side of the workbench. He lifted one jar and, upon inspection, decided the workspace’s contents were organized in a manner only rational to its owner.

  He put the jar back then crossed his arms and leaned them onto the dusty workbench. It was not the same as being with her, but somehow being in her space comforted him. He noticed a short piece of dowel rod on the workbench and picked it up. As he ran it through his fingertips, he thought of Mandy. One end of the pencil-thin piece of wood was carved to a sharp point. As he wondered what she had used the piece of dowel for, Everett stepped into the workshop.

  Levi looked up. “Am I keeping you awake?”

  “No. I won’t sleep tonight.”

  “Nor will I.”

  With one hand, Everett lifted a wooden stool that was next to the wall. He carried it to the workbench and set it at the end nearest the light. He reached his hand to the lantern and tu
rned its knob, lowering the flame’s intensity.

  Levi knew when to speak and when to remain silent. His inclination—especially in the company of men—was silence, and he appreciated how Everett held a similar preference, even more so as he had matured. He also understood Everett’s need for reassurance in the wake of the crisis, partially because he felt the need as well. He set the dowel on the workbench and looked at Everett. “We will find her.”

  Everett nodded once. “I can’t come home without her. It would kill my father if I did.” He picked up the dowel and peered at its sharpened tip. “Lately, he has been easily fatigued—more than usual—and I don’t think he has the strength to lose her. If she dies, so will he.”

  “We will find her.”

  Everett nodded again. He placed the dowel on the workbench and covered it with his hand. More silence, then Everett stood and walked back to the hayloft. Levi leaned forward and blew out the lantern’s flame, but he stayed at the workbench awhile before returning to recline on the haystacks in the loft where he waited for morning light.

  * * *

  The men rose before dawn and, by first light, were halfway to the campsite Everett had found days before on the western portion of the Foster property. Everett quickly spotted fresh wagon tracks across the sandy soil. Connor and Levi encouraged him to lead the way. He was right—Felix and Harvey had headed west toward the bridge. By Samuel’s map, they estimated the river was thirty miles away. Everett steadily increased their pace, and Levi felt certain they would be able to catch up to the men in the wagon, execute justice and return Mandy to her family.

  * * *

  In the morning light, Mandy saw dark streaks of bruising across her arms. She remained imprisoned in the back of the wagon with Harvey fixed between her and the gate. Through the small opening in the cover at the front of the wagon bed, she could see the back of the older man’s head. He made raucous coughing and spitting sounds as he continued to drive westward.

  The wagon stopped once at midmorning and Harvey jolted awake. The older man stood guard while Harvey briefly left the wagon. She listened through the canvas wagon cover and heard crows cawing, the horses exhaling, and the men relieving themselves. Then she heard footsteps approaching the wagon and the men whispering. Soon the older man leaned his head into view and gazed at her over the wagon gate. A deep crevice formed between his spiny eyebrows, and he looked away the moment their eyes met. She realized Harvey had told his father why he should not copulate with her. She was satisfied that a glance at her now evoked disgust rather than desire.

  The older man climbed to the front bench and Harvey clambered into the back. He moved around her to open a sack propped in the front corner of the wagon bed. He pulled two apples from the sack and held one out to her. She took the apple and Harvey went back to his place by the gate. She noticed he was careful not to touch her, confirming he believed her fallacious caution.

  In the afternoon, she felt how the earth changed beneath the wagon’s wheels. She wondered if they had come upon a road or simply smoother grass. Either way, they had traveled a great distance in some twenty hours. If she could escape, her survival would depend upon strength and skill she did not think she possessed.

  At nightfall, the wagon jarred to a sudden stop, and the older man released an angry stream of unrecognizable words. He met Harvey at the back of the wagon, and they quietly conferred. She listened and tried to see out the front opening. She scanned the unfamiliar terrain as the men discussed their situation. The older man said something was broken beneath the wagon. Harvey expressed his concern for his brother and said they should wait there for him. His father replied they would only stay for the night, then they would abandon the wagon in the morning and continue to the bridge. He assured Harvey that Christopher would meet them there, but Harvey repeatedly interjected his belief that some misfortune had befallen his brother.

  Mandy sat back against the rough wall inside the wagon. With her finger, she traced a tiny white flower in the print of her yellow summer dress as she thought about what the men were saying. Maybe Everett had been able to fight off Bethany’s attacker. Maybe Bethany was safe at home. She prayed that was the case and realized she had no reason to remain with her captors. She decided to find a way to escape. But if an opportunity to sneak off did not soon arise, she may have to fight for her freedom. Her body ached from her injuries, and a physical altercation would only exacerbate her wounds. She accepted the fact her freedom may cost her life and decided she would rather be dead than forced to be Harvey’s mate.

  * * *

  During the long night camped in the broken-down wagon, Harvey and his father snored as they slept with Mandy wedged between them. She remained awake through the night—her second night without sleep. She tried several times to move out of the wagon, but the men always stirred. By morning, her mind was worn with fatigue and she realized if she did not escape soon, her day would be spent riding horseback with Harvey to whatever atrocity the men had devised. She could not endure another day in captivity, let alone the rest of her life, which she accepted would be short.

  As the men prepared to leave the wagon, she recognized her last chance to escape. She used the fear her feminine excuse inflicted on the uneducated men and it provided her the few minutes of privacy she needed to slip away into the woods alone.

  Thick clouds filled the eastern sky. She leaned her palm against a tree trunk for balance and glanced up to check sun’s position before the advancing rain clouds obscured it. The pine tree’s bark felt rough under her skin.

  Agony stabbed through her chest with each inhalation. If she passed a gray leaf tree as she trekked through the unfamiliar forest, she would fill her dress pocket with its leaves and then chew them for their pain-relieving properties. Only hot tea brewed from ground gray leaves would bring her complete healing. But there was no time to think of that now. She moved away from the tree and hoped she would be able to continue east even when the sun was no longer available to confirm her bearings.

  As she escaped through the brush, she forced her body to take each step. The terrain was a jumble of boulders, steep grades of embankment, and thick tree roots that jutted from the earth’s surface. As she wondered how far back Harvey and his father were, she slipped on some decaying pine needles and tumbled through the ferns into a ravine below. Then she heard Harvey and his father approaching. Though writhing in pain, she tucked her body beneath the cover of a snarled clump that arched from a massive uprooted tree. She listened to their muffled voices coming from the top of the embankment. Harvey wanted to continue searching for her, but his father said she was too much trouble and they would find him a wife elsewhere. She knew which voice belonged to which man and despised the fact she had been with them long enough to discern between the men. If they found her, she would die—if not from the injury that shot pain through her chest then by her own volition. She held still and waited for them to go back to their horses and leave the forest.

  She remained hidden long after Harvey and his father went away. When she finally inched out of the dirt, the sky was overcast and the wind blew cooler air across the Land. It took every ounce of strength she had to stand up straight. She pressed her fingers to her breastbone and felt the heat from her swollen flesh. As she trudged through the forest, her stomach growled with incessant hunger pangs.

  The thought of her father and mother agonizing over her abduction urged her forward through the woods. It would take days to walk the distance back to Good Springs—if starvation did not impede her. She stopped when mist from above drew her attention to the clouds. Thick, black puffs billowed furiously overhead, and the fine spray turned into steady rain. As she scanned the woods around her for a place to rest, her foot caught on a tree root. She slipped and landed near the bulbous trunk of an ancient oak. Its ample foliage seemed to block most of the rain, and its old limbs drooped close to the ground, providing an ideal hiding place. She crawled to the tree’s base and rested her back against it. She stre
tched her feet out along the earth. Rain dripped from a leaf and trickled over her ankles. The cool water felt good as it eroded little trenches in the dirt that caked her skin.

  Her every breath was met with pain, but it was offset with the joy that she was free. She leaned her head against the rough tree bark and let her eyelids fall shut. She tried to focus on the thought of reuniting with her family, yet each pleasant image she conjured was shattered by the traumatic residue of being held against her will.

  Harvey’s words echoed in her mind—he had said he took her because she smiled at him. It was true. She had been bored on a hot afternoon and male attention—any male attention—appealed to her. She had tried to arouse interest in him just as she habitually treated every man. The outcome of that indiscretion plunged regret deep into her soul. That impropriety was not her first, but she resolved it would be her last. If she lived and made it home to the village, she would keep to herself and her family, denying any desire for attention ever to arise within her again.

  Lost in the forest far from home and sheltered beneath the sturdy old tree, she let the weight of fatigue draw her into a deep sleep.

  Chapter Six

  Levi, Connor and Everett followed the wagon’s tracks until the darkness of night forced them to stop and camp. They resumed their pursuit at daybreak. By afternoon, they spotted the wagon in a clearing. As they drew near, the absence of horses and men filled Levi with anxious concern. Everett pulled back and looked at Levi who, in turn, glanced at Connor, who motioned with his hand to approach the wagon.

  Ready to fight, Levi’s adrenaline surged; however, the wagon’s abandonment meant they had to search the fern-covered forest floor for more tracks. Everett found hoof prints in the dirt that aimed in one direction, but the tracks seemed to circle back and their final direction was elusive. Levi discovered boot prints that led in the opposite direction. With more rain clouds swirling overhead, the three men agreed to spread out and search before any remaining tracks were washed away.