The uncharted series box.., p.21
The Uncharted Series Box Set 2, page 21
part #5 of Uncharted Series
Chapter Seven
Eva stepped away from Solo’s closed door feeling like she had swallowed a brick. So maybe he hadn’t taken advantage of her father’s failing memory when he made this deal, but he was still taking advantage of the inn. This house was supposed to be a place of rest for weary travelers, not a long-term destination for boorish horse breeders. Didn’t he have a job at a ranch in Riverside to get back to?
She delivered the last set of guest towels then walked to the other half of the house where her family’s rooms were. She passed Sybil’s door and almost knocked. It would be so nice to stay up late talking like they did when they were younger—long before Revel left and their mother left and their other brother James left, long before the sad truth set in that half of their family was gone and their world would never be the same. But it was half past ten now. Sybil would be sound asleep. She would be awake at five in the morning and be happy to talk while she started her work in the kitchen, but there was no way Eva was getting up that early. Six came too soon as it was.
Eva walked to the end of the hall. Her parent’s room was on the right. It was really just her father’s room now, but they all pretended along with her mother that she would return to the inn when her elderly parents passed away and her duty with them was fulfilled. She wouldn’t. She’d always struggled with being out here in the middle of the Land, away from village life.
Turning the knob as quietly as possible, Eva opened her door and peeked in at Zeke, who was curled up under his red blanket on the double bed they shared. He was big enough to need his own bed and would soon need his own room. The thought of him being in a separate room at night added dismay to the ever-growing pit in her stomach. What if he died in his sleep like Ezekiel did? The doctor had said the heart condition that killed him was probably something he’d been born with. What if Zeke had inherited that defect?
Before she went back downstairs to turn out the lights for the night, she had to make sure Zeke was breathing. She tiptoed in—bypassing the one squeaky floorboard—and glimpsed his sweet face, relaxed and cherub-like. Of course, he was breathing. He was fine, just like he was fine when she checked on him an hour ago.
The white and brown puppy Solo had given Zeke was curled up on an old blanket on the floor by Zeke’s side of the bed. The dog raised its head at Eva, and she backed out of the room before it fully roused.
Downstairs, the lamps had been extinguished in the kitchen and dining hall. One wall sconce was still burning in the reception room, so she turned its knob to kill the flame. The only lights still burning were a sconce in the hallway and the lamp in her office. Expecting the room to be empty, she jolted at the sight of her father sitting at her desk. He looked up at her with bloodshot eyes. “Hello, Peach.”
“Father. What are you doing up… and in here?”
His gruff voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s still my inn, isn’t it?”
“Of course.” She leaned against the edge of her desk. Maybe posturing herself above him physically would empower her, even if she had no real authority here. “I came down to close up for the night.”
“Heard you up there knocking on guest room doors.”
“Claudia forgot to put towels in the rooms again.”
He yawned but managed to point a crooked finger at her. “Don’t talk bad about your elders.”
“I’m not. She has too much to do. We all do.”
He scratched his chin through the thick white whiskers of his beard. “Tomorrow at breakfast I’ll find out if any of the traders are heading to Good Springs and send them with a message for Revel. It’s time he came home.”
She looked away, wishing she didn’t have to tell him about the letter she’d received. “Revel isn’t coming home. He should, but he isn’t. He is happily living his own life. So is James.” When her father’s expression drooped, she decided there was no sense in mincing words now. “We need more workers. If you don’t hire men or let me hire them, we will have to start turning away guests. Especially if you’re going to give away forty-night stays to horse breeders. We can’t handle extra burdens.”
“Solomon Cotter isn’t a burden. He is paying for his board, fair and square. You’ll treat him like any other paying guest.”
This was pointless. Why did she try to reason with her father? He only ever listened to her if she was doing exactly what he said or expected. Who knew what he expected of her now. Maybe to run the inn and pick up all the slack since the aging farmer, aging stable manager, and aging housekeeper could no longer keep up with their chores. She used to tell herself her father would soon see the error of not taking her recommendations, but the more his mind slipped, the less he could see reason. “It’s time for bed,” she said as she turned out the chamber lantern. The only light in the room came from the hallway sconce and the moonlight coming through the windowpanes.
Frederick pushed himself out of the chair with a grunt then stood wobbling for a moment as he got his knees to hold his weight. “You’re right, Peach.”
At least he agreed with her that it was time for bed. She turned and walked to the office threshold, waiting to close the door behind him. When she turned back to look at him, he was still standing by the desk.
He leaned his knuckles onto the desk’s paper-covered surface. “You are right.” His voice held a sadness that made her regret being annoyed with him.
She crossed the rug and touched his back. “Come on, Father. I’ll take you upstairs.”
He patted her hand but didn’t look at her. “They aren’t coming back. None of them. It’s just you and me and Sybil. My knees pain me so and the gray leaf medicine does nothing for them. I need another man to take over the stables soon. I can’t wait the years it will take for Zeke to grow up. And… my cousin…” He snapped his fingers impatiently. “What’s his name?”
“Leonard.”
“Thank you. Leonard needs less work, not more. His back hurts him so badly he can hardly stand upright. We have to hire some help.”
Though he said the words Eva had been desperate to hear, a lump rose in her throat. She didn’t want her father to be too old to work, too old to remember what he was doing. The silence between them called for her to respond, but her jaw clenched on emotion, so she waited. If she cried in front of him, it would make things harder.
He stroked his beard. “I guess this is what I get for marrying a woman twenty years my junior. When I was ready to settle into my golden years, she was still young and wanted to go back to her village.” He turned his face toward her then but still didn’t look her in the eyes. “As for Revel, well I don’t know what got into that boy. He knows the tradition. He knows he should come back here and take over his inheritance.” His voice quaked. “It’s fine for James to take a job shepherding the Fosters’ flock in Good Springs; he’s my second son. But not Revel. No firstborn son should ignore his family obligations like this.”
The shock of hearing her father speak ill of Revel squeezed her already heavy heart. “I’m so sorry, Father.”
He patted her hand again. “It’s not yours to be sorry for, Peach. You’ve done more than most daughters would for their family.” He cleared his throat then looked at her. “If you find a man or two I would approve of, hire them.”
Chapter Eight
Steam mixed with the sharp gray leaf scent and rose from the teacup as Bailey lifted it to her lips. She sipped slowly at first, testing the tea’s temperature. Its taste matched its aroma, which was rich and slightly bitter, reminding her of mint and earth and eucalyptus. It was unlike anything she’d ever tasted. With each sip she wanted more. Her sips turned to gulps, and the teacup was soon empty.
Dr. Bradshaw held out a hand to take the teacup. Bailey passed it to her and started to speak, but before she could say anything, her diaphragm jolted, forcing her to inhale audibly through her mouth. Fire rose in her belly as the gray leaf tea swirled with the bile and the fear and the regret inside her. The heat radiated from her core down to her legs, dissolving the pain in her wounded flesh, and then up to her heart, her arms and neck, and finally to her head. Specks of light darted through her vision, blurring everything—the doctor’s caring expression, the quaint medical office, the silhouette of the man who stood guard outside, the reasons why she’d come to the Land, the shock over the death of the crew, the barrage of all that she’d lost…
Her mind froze on that thought.
She’d lost Tim to the waves, lost her mother to prison, and lost earning her degree to the world war. Gone was her chance to get a job as a plant biologist and make enough money to buy a house far from the city like the one she’d briefly lived in with a foster family when she was ten.
Sentiment swirled inside her along with the gray leaf tea. She had to get ahold of herself. Professor Tim was out there somewhere, and he needed her as much as she needed him. Without him she was a lone survivor, a wounded prisoner, a desperate defector of a world in chaos.
White streaks fuzzed her eyesight, ruining her ability to focus. Maybe this was all a bad dream. Maybe she was sleeping in her private cabin on the yacht, floating on the sea where a peaceful land was rumored to exist. Maybe she’d never left the Unified States and was still in her plant-filled apartment in the pigsty of post-World War Three Norfolk, Virginia.
Despite the surreal light affecting her vision, she scanned the rustic furniture in the medical office, the old-fashioned attire of the doctor, the perfectly clear water in the pitcher on the counter. This was real. She was in the Land. She’d risked her neck to find the one place left on earth with enough space and water and food to support the life she dreamed of. Somehow, she’d made it here.
The beams in the ceiling moved above her. She must have rested her head on the cot at some point, but she didn’t remember lying back. Gentle hands touched her leg and the calm voices of the doctor and her assistant filled her mind.
Dr. Bradshaw applied a layer of salve on the wound. It didn’t hurt. Not only could Bailey not feel pain, she couldn’t remember what pain felt like.
She wished Tim were here so he too could witness the miracle of the gray leaf. He was probably wandering up and down the beach with his lucky hat on, trying to figure out where Bailey and the crew had gone. Maybe he would follow their footprints through the trees. The path led directly to the doctor’s office. Maybe he’d knock on the door at any moment.
Logic fought the serene apathy created by the gray leaf medicine. If Tim approached the cottage while Revel and the other goons waited outside, they’d probably tie him up. Or lock him up. But why? Tim had done nothing wrong. Nor had she. Maybe the locals would treat him fairly. Come to think of it, they weren’t mistreating her. She watched the doctor and her assistant as they dressed her wound.
Maybe Tim would make it here okay and Revel would let him inside the doctor’s office. The two-way radio was in her backpack, which had gotten pushed under the chair by the desk. If the women left the room at some point, she could call Tim over the radio and report everything.
Dr. Bradshaw was busy at the supply cabinet, so Bailey curled her finger at the doctor’s assistant, drawing her closer. “Sophia, was it?”
“Yes?”
“Is it normal for the gray leaf medicine to cause confusion?”
The young woman crinkled her flawless brow and glanced at the doctor, whose back was to them as she cleaned medical instruments on the counter beneath the supply cabinet. Sophia looked back at Bailey and shrugged. “I’ve never had to drink it, but I’m told it promotes a deep sense of calm in most patients.”
“I’ll say.” A hum buzzed Bailey’s throat, and for a moment she thought someone else had made the noise. She almost laughed. “I should be freaking out, but everything seems fine even though I know it’s not. I’m calm but confused… but I’m also okay with it. But not.”
Sophia and Dr. Bradshaw exchanged an amused glance, and then the doctor lifted the basin of blood-tainted water and said to Sophia. “I’ll dump this in the pit. Stay here with her.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Revel peeked in at Bailey while the door was open. She tried to meet his gaze, but her vision doubled. The door closed behind the doctor, and Bailey’s head felt lighter by the second. Her breathing slowed along with her heart rate. If she was going to pass out, she had to secure the radio unit. She reached for Sophia’s hand. “My backpack…”
Sophia pointed at something across the room as if deciphering Bailey’s slurred speech. “Do you want your bag?”
“Yes, but not now. I need you to do something for me.”
Sophia pulled her hand away and arched one honey-toned eyebrow. “What?”
“Not anything bad. Just watch my stuff for me if I fall asleep, okay?”
Sophia stared blankly.
Bailey’s tongue felt like it was growing inside her mouth. She struggled to speak clearly. “Look, I’m a private person. You get it, right?”
“Get what?”
“There isn’t anything valuable in my bag, but it’s all I have left in the world. Don’t let anyone take it, please.”
“No one here would take your things, ma’am.”
“Ma’am? I can’t be that much older than you.”
“Pardon?”
“Never mind.” The blithe feeling produced by the gray leaf made her want to laugh, but her voice wouldn’t create the sound. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. You have manners. It’s nice. I’m glad I’m in the Land even if you people aren’t the peace-loving Quakers that Justin Mercer made you out to be. Not that it matters to me right now. They shot me with an arrow, but this is still better than living out there.”
As her eyes closed, she realized what she’d said. Hopefully her words had been as undecipherable to Sophia as they felt in her mouth. She looked up at Sophia. “I’m sorry. It’s the gray leaf medicine, I guess.”
“I understand.”
Yes, the doctor’s assistant did seem like an understanding young woman. She willed her voice to stay strong so she could get as much information out of Sophia as she could while Dr. Bradshaw was outside. “Tell me, am I in a village called Good Springs?”
“Yes,” the young woman whispered even though they were the only people in the office. The color drained from her rosy cheeks. “A moment ago… did you say Justin Mercer?”
“Yes. Did you meet him while he was here last year?”
“No, but Dr. Bradshaw did. He was Connor’s co-pilot in the outside world.”
“Connor?” Bailey struggled to open her heavy eyelids. “You know Connor Bradshaw? Where is he? It’s urgent that I find him. Once I explain everything, he will get me out of this mess. I need to meet him, pronto!”
Sophia took a cautious step backward. “You already met him. He was in charge of the security team that was training this evening when you and your men invaded the shore.”
As Sophia’s words sank in, Bailey tried to raise herself from the cot. Her body refused to move. The heat from the gray leaf pulsed through her veins. The room disappeared, and silence filled her mind.
Chapter Nine
The first glow of daylight turned the eastern horizon the color of lilac blossoms as Solo walked out to the stables. He knocked the brim of his hat higher to take in the exquisite morning sky. The last pinpricks of starlight faded softly to the west. From the inn’s elevated land, the surrounding hills’ varied shades rolled all the way to the gray leaf forest in the east. This was perfect country if ever he’d seen such a thing.
A steady ribbon of smoke rose from the laundry house’s chimney. Claudia must be getting an early start on her work. A trader padded from the bunkhouse to the shower shed with a half-asleep expression on his face and a towel over his shoulder. No matter which direction the man would be traveling from the inn, he had a full day on the road ahead of him.
Solo rolled open the tall doors at the stable’s arched entryway, sending a nervous lizard scurrying for the rocks. He latched the doors to keep them open for the day the way Frederick always did. It was odd the stable manager wasn’t already here. He used to have the stalls mucked out before breakfast.
Solo stepped inside the stable block where the musky scent of hay and horse manure filled the morning air, just as God intended. King whinnied to him from the back stall. “I’m coming, boy.” He grabbed a lead line from a peg on the wall outside King’s stall and opened the door. “Come on. Let’s get you to the grass.”
King compliantly marched behind Solo through the palatially-sized stable block. The ranch back in Riverside was the biggest operation in the village, and it didn’t have buildings like this. There was room in here to drive a wagon through the center and still have space to spare.
Outside, the sun peeked over the eastern hills, casting the fence’s shadow in a long grid pattern across the dewy grass. Solo unlatched the gate and led King into the paddock. The feeder buckets nailed to the fence posts were empty.
He removed King’s rope and gave the stallion a pat. “You’ll have to settle for grass until I can talk to Frederick about the oat feed.” The horse was already munching on the low grass, content with what he had.
As Solo returned to the stables to check on the two mares that he’d bred with King last April, Leonard lumbered out of one of the other horse stalls, leading a dun gelding. The thin older man’s shoulders were rounded forward and his upper back was humped. He nodded stiffly. “Morning, Solo.”
“Good morning, sir.”
“Going to be a fine day.”
“Indeed.”
Leonard pointed at the stalls on the opposite side on the stables. “Both of those mares are close to foaling.”
“I was just about to check them.”
“I’d give Sadie two more days, but Star will be ready sooner. Probably today.”
Solo grabbed a brush from a rack on the wall and stepped into Sadie’s stall. The dapple gray mare took a step backward and shook her mane. Solo offered her a handful of hay. Her lips wet his skin as she ate from his hand.
