Magnolia eased her face over the surface of the water, searching past the ripples for any sign of youth in her reflection. Was it her imagination or was there a clarity to her eyes that hadn’t been there before? A plumper look to her skin? A few blond hairs among the gray. She sat back with a sigh. Mercy me, becoming beautiful on the inside was sure taking a long time! Lord, can You work a little faster? She bit her tongue, wondering if she was wise to ask for such a thing. Didn’t that mean more struggles and trials? Oh, bother, Lord. You will be gentle, won’t You? Of course He would. He was her Father, and He had proven Himself loving and trustworthy. She smiled and ran fingers through the cool water as a flock of thrushes warbled a happy tune above her. Eliza had sent her to find some fresh water for Angeline, and along the way, she’d happened upon this lovely creek surrounded by clusters of multicolored ferns. Which made for a bit of privacy off the beaten track. Privacy that had become a rare commodity since they’d moved to the beach, and Magnolia couldn’t help but stay just a moment and breathe in the peace.
If only peace would settle on the entire colony, but with everything that had happened and with pirates guarding their every move, how could it? Her thoughts sped to Angeline, and she lifted up a prayer for her friend. What could she have possibly seen that had stolen her hope and driven her into the sea? Perhaps it was a combination of the disasters that had struck the colony, the uncertainty of their future, the threat of pirates, and these hellish visions. If Magnolia hadn’t found her strength in God, her peace in His watchful eye, she’d most likely go mad as well.
“Thank You for that, Father,” she whispered. In fact, she had much to be thankful for. Her husband, for one. “And thank You, Father, for Hayden—”
“Someone call me?” The leaves rustled, parted, and her husband strolled into the clearing with the fluid assurance of a panther stalking its prey.
What a luscious sight he was. But she wouldn’t let him know her delight, lest it go to his head. She feigned a frown. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people. How did you find me?”
“You are not supposed to venture out alone, remember?”
“I know.” She pouted. “But I wasn’t going far. And Eliza needed water.”
He knelt beside her, grinned, and ran a gentle thumb over her cheek. Their eyes met, and she saw a familiar gleam within his that sent an eddy of warmth down to her toes. Suddenly conscious of her appearance, she patted her windblown bun and stuffed wayward strands behind her ear.
“Where is your brush and mirror?” Hayden twirled one of her curls around his finger. “The ones your father gave you. I haven’t seen them since the flood.”
“Because I lost them in the flood.” She stilled his finger and brought it to her lips for a kiss.
He gazed at her curiously, moving his hand to caress her jaw. “But during the mayhem, you insisted on going back into our hut for something. I thought it was to gather them. They were so important to you.”
She reached inside the pocket of her skirt and withdrew the wooden toad.
Hayden’s look of shock brought a smile to her lips. “You went back for that silly thing?” He chuckled.
“How could I not? You made it for me.” She ran fingers over the smooth wood. “It reminds me of our time in the jungle. When we first fell in love.”
Hayden swallowed up her hand with both of his and gazed at her with such adoration, she nearly melted into the sand. “I still cannot believe you are my wife.” He sat beside her and kissed her cheek then leaned his forehead against hers.
Magnolia drew in a deep breath of him as her body itched for his touch. “It hardly seems like we are wed anymore.” Not since all the colonists had moved onto the beach and she’d been forced into the ladies’ shelter. Oh, how she ached for her husband each long night. But she wouldn’t dare say such a thing. Women weren’t supposed to have such longings, were they? She pressed a hand over her flat belly. “How am I to give you sons and daughters when we are never alone?”
He cocked a brow, a twinkle in his jungle green eyes. “We are alone now, Princess.”
She gave him an inviting smile that lured him to trail kisses up her neck, across her chin, until finally his mouth claimed hers. Every cell within her tingled as he laid her back on a bed of soft leaves and consumed her with his love.
Dodd didn’t like this one bit. Not one bit. Though he’d told the pirates there was nothing but evil and death here, warned them that a man had been decapitated by some unearthly being, still they insisted on descending into the tunnels beneath the temple. Now, as Dodd felt his way along the stone walls and attempted to find footing on the uneven ground with only a single torch to light their way, a heaviness settled on him like none he’d ever felt. It squeezed the breath from his lungs and made his soul feel clogged with soot. Patrick stumbled before him with pirates fore and aft, while Moses and a few other colonists brought up the rear. All excitement faded into silence as they descended into the oppressive heat.
These tunnels were their last hope. For two weeks, they’d folded the maps together in every possible combination. Four combinations, in fact, all leading to different locations. Three of which they’d dug up until they struck water or rock. Well, in truth, it was Dodd, three colonists, and Moses who’d done the digging, while Patrick and Captain Ricu attempted to best each other with exaggerated tales of conquest and valor. Patrick Gale could charm a snake into giving up its nest of eggs. Dodd only hoped his charm continued to work on the wily pirate.
As if in defiance of the thought, Dodd tripped and nearly barreled into the pompous shyster. A sharp crag on the wall sliced his hand. He cursed as they rounded a corner and began traipsing down a set of stairs hewn from the hard dirt. Why, oh why, did the final location for the gold have to be at this gruesome temple? Once Dodd had spotted the crumbling walls surrounding the shrine, his blood had turned to needles. He’d only been here twice before, but it had been enough to convince him he never wanted to return. At least not below ground. Something evil lurked down there. If there was such a thing. Good and evil. He’d never considered himself a religious man, but the sense of depravity that permeated these ancient walls was enough to make him reconsider his standing with God.
Perhaps Moses was doing enough praying for them both. Dodd could still hear the man mumbling petition after petition to the Almighty as he hobbled behind him. Forced below at sword point, the poor freedman’s face had nearly turned white—if that were even possible for a Negro.
Sweat pasted Dodd’s shirt to his skin. Colorful curses spewed from the pirates’ lips, most in Portuguese. The ones in English made even ole tavern-inhabiting Dodd’s ears curl. At least he wasn’t the only one suffering.
Up ahead, Ricu’s torch sputtered and grew dim. A darkness as thick as tar seeped into Dodd’s lungs. He wheezed in air. Something skittered over his hand. Stifling a scream, he drew his arm close. A stench that seemed to emanate from an open grave rose with the heat and stung his eyes.
They trekked down another flight of stairs and in through a hole that led to the first chamber. Ricu snapped his fingers, sending men to light torches and search behind every rock, every stalactite and stalagmite of the cave. While the pirates examined the alcoves and chains and weird writing on the wall, Dodd, Moses, and the other colonists hovered near the opening, saying nothing. Patrick, however, strolled through the cavern seemingly oblivious to the fiery heat, putrid odor, and the foreboding heaviness in the air. Odd. Everyone who had ever gone this deep beneath the temple had complained of all those discomforts and more. Everyone except Graves, and look where he was now. Six feet under.
The eerie tap, tap, tap of dripping water grated over Dodd’s nerves as Patrick returned to stand beside him.
“There’s another chamber below,” Dodd whispered as he gestured to a barely discernible cleft in the shadows of the rock wall. “If they don’t find the gold here, it could be there.”
Grinning, Patrick fingered his goatee. “Then we can come back later ourselves.”
Precisely what Dodd was thinking. Though the idea of returning to this horrid place sent a hornet’s nest buzzing in his chest. Yet, what was a little fear and heat when it came to finding enough treasure to make him a king? He was almost ready to believe that the torture of this place might be worth it after all when one of the pirates shouted something in Portuguese and pointed toward the other opening.
Confound it all! Dodd ground his teeth together as they descended into the lower chamber. Though similar in shape and size to the one above, it seemed smaller. But perhaps that was due to the wall of rocks—some small, others as large as a man—stretching nearly to the ceiling and cutting the room in half. Instead of two alcoves, only one was hewn from the cavern wall. The same broken chains lay at the bottom of a tall metal pole that poked through the top of the circular recess. James claimed invisible beasts had once been chained in these alcoves—the same beasts that now taunted the colonists with visions. Dodd thought the idea as ludicrous as the preacher himself. A preacher who hardly preached and a doctor afraid of blood. And they were supposed to listen to him?
Shoving the torch into one of the pirate’s hands, Captain Ricu spread the maps atop a flat rock and beckoned to Patrick. After folding the scraps of parchment into place, he pointed at them, his long black fingernail forming a divot on the paper. “This is right place.” His voice, normally commanding and belittling, held a hint of vulnerable excitement. “It must be!” He swirled around, studying the cave as a child would a toy store before he gestured back toward the maps. “Here, see drawing of—how do you say—sepulture, caixão.” His sweaty forehead wrinkled as he flung a clump of long curls over his shoulder and snapped his fingers.
A pirate appeared with a white handkerchief in hand. Without looking up, the captain took it, wiped his face and neck, and tossed it back to the man.
“Coffin,” Patrick offered, eyeing the strange empty alcove. “I believe you mean coffin, Captain. Yes, it does appear to be a coffin of some sort, or perhaps a prison.”
Curious, Dodd inched forward to peek at the map and saw a drawing of what definitely looked like a coffin standing on its edge. Why had he not seen that before?
Ricu folded up the maps, stuffed them in his pocket, then grabbed the torch from his crewman. “The gold be here! The gold be here!” he announced, the bells on his boots and trinkets on his vest jingling with excitement. Shouts and cheers rang from his men while a sharp snap of his jeweled fingers sent them searching every inch of the cave. Dodd made a pretense of joining them, trying to hide his own excitement at being so close to his dream. Indeed the gold must be here. But now to get rid of these pesky pirates! That’s when he saw the blood—a large rust-colored circle staining the dirt. Graves’s blood. Where Dodd had heard the man’s head had been sliced clean off.
Phantom pain seared across his throat. Clutching it, he backed away and bumped straight into Moses. The Negro’s eyes were as white and wide as eggs as he continued to mutter prayers.
“Frightened by mark in dirt?” Captain Ricu kicked the stained sand in some sacrilegious tribute to poor Graves before leveling a scowl at Dodd that would make a general whimper. “Get to work!”
Dodd darted away, nearly tripping over Patrick, who knelt to examine the chains at the bottom of the alcove. An hour passed—the longest hour of Dodd’s life. His lungs were scorched, and his back had nearly split in two from hauling large stones back and forth across the chamber. But not one sparkle, not one glimmer, not one speck of gold was found. One of the pirates climbed the wall of rocks and shouted something in Portuguese to his captain. A conversation ensued, and finally Captain Ricu spewed a string of curses. “We come back tomorrow,” he growled. “Bring tools to dig through rocks. Bring more men. It take many weeks to break wall down, but I know gold is here!”
And from the look of zeal in Patrick’s green eyes, Dodd knew he agreed. That zeal was still evident as Dodd marched through the jungle beside Patrick on their way back to the beach. Thankful to be out of the hellish tunnels, Dodd drew in a deep breath of air saturated with life and earth and moss, so opposite the stagnant smell of sulfur and rot beneath the temple. The sun withdrew her light from the trees as she dipped behind the mountains, turning the pirates stomping before Dodd into shifting ghouls.
Ghouls or not, pirates or not, Dodd longed to find hope in the situation. Still both glee and gloom battled for dominance within him. Glee at finally finding the location of the gold. Gloom at knowing he’d probably never possess any of it. But why, then, did Patrick now whistle a happy tune beside him?
“If you’re withholding some liquor from me,” Dodd chortled, “I’ll ask you to kindly share. I could use a drink about now.”
“No drink, my friend, could produce such joy as fills my heart at the moment. Liven up, there, lad. We have found the gold and it is ours for the taking.” A band of squirrel monkeys cackled overhead, mimicking Dodd’s sentiments at Patrick’s silly declaration.
“And how do you figure that, when you know as well as I these pirates will take it all for themselves.”
“Because we shall steal it from them, of course.”
Ducking beneath a spiderweb, Dodd shook his head, frustration bubbling in his gut. “For the genius you claim to be, you sure aren’t so smart. How are—”
“Shhhh, keep your voice down, man.”
Dodd drew closer and whispered, “How do you propose to steal gold from over forty well-armed pirates when we have less than thirty men and no weapons?”
“Simple. We swindle them.” Patrick flashed his brows up and down in that sinister yet charming way of his. Then at Dodd’s obvious look of confusion, he continued in a whisper, “We cause a mutiny, my friend. We offer some of the crew a higher share than their captain and then take over the ship.”
Dodd restrained a laugh. “That’s your brilliant plan? Become a pirate.” He batted aside a rather large beetle. “But we know nothing about sailing, and we still have to share.”
“Only with a few. The fewer the better, to my way of thinking. Besides, we have something else they want.”
“And what is that?”
“Women. Their captain forbids his men to touch them, but we will offer them freely. Why, they’ll be so immersed in their carnal pleasures, they won’t even notice when we run off with the gold.”
Women like Angeline. Dodd smiled. No, he hadn’t forgotten about their little arrangement. He’d simply been too busy and too tired to take what was his. Now that the pirates were keeping the colonists hostage, she couldn’t leave and therefore had no choice but to comply with his demands. Surely his request was not a terrible inconvenience for a woman of her immoral standing. Dodd would honor his bargain. He wouldn’t tell anyone about her past as long as she complied. After all, he was not without compassion. Yet, just the mere thought of getting his hands on her luscious body made him giddy all over—almost as giddy as the thought of getting his hands on all that gold.
Patrick’s elbow to Dodd’s ribs brought him out of his musings. “What do you say, friend? Are you with me?”
Though he detested the man and hated being called his friend, Dodd had to admit, if anyone could pull off a mutiny, it would be Patrick. With the perfect timing, a lot of charm, and the right incentives, they just might convince enough pirates to side with them. And some of the gold was certainly better than the no gold they’d get from the pirates.
As if sensing his thoughts, Captain Ricu flung his ebony locks over his shoulder and glanced at Dodd, a menacing grin on his lips. Blood churning, Dodd tripped on a root, caught his balance, and looked away. Ricu laughed and faced forward again, slashing leaves aside with his blade as if he’d been born in a jungle.
A wolf howled in the distance. Dodd shivered and peered into the shadows. They’d never found Mr. Lewis. But the idea he had turned into a man-wolf, this Lobisón, was beyond absurd! Nearly as absurd as the belief that invisible beings caused army ants and floods and visions. Visions Dodd had yet to experience. No, he would not fall prey to such lunacy. He must keep his wits about him. Especially if they were going to swindle these pirates. For Dodd knew that if Captain Ricu even suspected their duplicity, he’d slit both their throats and hang them from a tree to rot.