Chapter Ten

“Some men are here, new arrived in town, and asking after you.” Ed Becker said the words baldly, but Douglas, looking up from his work, saw concern in the man’s eyes.

Douglas liked Ed Becker—the Beckers were good friends to Rab and Lisbeth. Ed’s wife Frannie managed their big family with warmth and humor, and Ed worked as hard as anyone at Sawyer’s mill. In fact it wasn’t like him to leave off and come by so early.

Rab glanced up from the workbench with sudden attention. “What men are these?”

Ed shrugged. “Didn’t rightly say. Three of ’em came in on the packet boat this morning from Bar Harbor, and I didn’t much like the look of them. They ain’t been here yet?”

Rab shook his head. “No.”

“Seem to be making the rounds of businesses. Thing is,” Ed looked at Douglas again, apologetically, “when I say they’re asking after you, I mean more exactly they’re asking after your wife.”

Douglas’s heart clenched and fell to his feet. It felt just like getting punched in the stomach; for a minute he couldn’t catch his breath.

No, God, not that.

Rab went quickly to shut the shop door before coming to the anvil where Douglas had been working. “Where is she, Dougie?”

“At work—your place up the shore.”

“Good. Out of the way.” Rab squeezed Ed’s shoulder. “You didn’t tell them anything?”

“No, course not. But somebody might. They’re going all ’round, as I say. And they’re offering a reward for word of her—said some relation’s looking for her, but I didn’t believe it. Who are they, Douglas?”

“Slave hunters.”

“What? There’s no such thing as slaves in this country anymore.”

“Bounty hunters, then, sent to find folk and drag them back where they came from.”

“But,” Ed sputtered, “little Josie’s your wife now, right and legal.”

“Doesn’t matter. They don’t follow the law, see, don’t consider it legitimate.” Douglas set his hammer down on the bick very carefully so it wouldn’t snap in his hands.

He raised his eyes to Ed. “Reckon there are people in Lobster Cove might just take their part. Some never wanted Josie here.” Never much wanted him here, either—a thing he’d learned early and felt ever since he’d been old enough to understand. “They’ve made their opinion clear, too.”

Ed looked shocked. “But that’s a far different thing from letting her be dragged away by these fellows. Nobody in Lobster Cove would—”

In the face of Douglas’s stare, his words died away. He swallowed. “Son, you really believe that?”

Douglas shrugged stiffly. “I’m not about to take any chances. I promised Josie I’d protect her, and that’s what I’ll do no matter what it takes.” Did this man—Buford Collingwood, so Josie called him—really think he could send his agents to snatch Douglas’s wife? And his tiny unborn child with her, a child he might never see if these arrogant bastards had their way.

Rab gave a hard nod. “Go to her now, Dougie. Leave out the back. You have to warn her. Best if she stays put for the time being, till we can determine what’s what.” He removed his leather apron and snatched up his shirt. “Ed and I will go find these fellows, see if we can apply a little friendly dissuasion.”

“That should be my job.”

“Will be, son, if they prove too stubborn,” Ed said. “Let us talk to them first.”

Dougie nodded, stripped off his own apron, and snatched his shirt from the peg on the wall. He’d go, right enough—with Josie was where he wanted to be.

But how could he give her such news? By God, how could he speak those words?

****

“So, Mrs. Applegate wants to submit my story to the contest administrators in Augusta. She thinks I have a very good chance of winning.”

Lisbeth exchanged looks with Josie and smiled. Josie smiled back, even though she hadn’t been listening as closely as she should. She shifted in her seat, trying to lose the uneasy feeling that had plagued her ever since she’d arrived at the Sinclairs’ house this morning. Felt almost like a storm coming even though the day stayed bright and sunny. This storm hovered only in the back of her mind.

She pushed the nebulous worry away once again and tried to focus on what Dorothea had to say. Usually she loved listening to Dora’s chatter, and this must be important since she’d been talking about the story contest from the time she got home from school, all while both women sat sewing.

“Well,” Lisbeth said decisively, “you do tell a fine story. I don’t doubt you have a good chance.”

“Once my writing course arrives from the institute in Augusta, I’ll be able to polish my work and make it that much better.” Perched on the sofa, Dorothea swung one foot. “Ma, I’ve told Jo I want to write her story. I mean, it’s a tale that needs to be told. I’ll send it to one of those big publishers in Boston, just like Louisa May Alcott.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, sweetheart.” Lisbeth bit off a thread. “Maybe Josie doesn’t want folks peering into her life.”

“But she’s a true heroine. And her story’s so romantic.” Dorothea sighed.

Josie smiled again. “I think I’d just as soon stay in the background, Dora. The fewer people know I’m here the better. And I do believe Dougie would prefer that, as well.”

“Speak of the Devil.” Lisbeth glanced out the door, which stood open to the sunshine. “Isn’t that him now?”

“What’s he doing here this time of day?”

Dorothea clasped her hands melodramatically. “Probably missed you.”

But as soon as Josie got a look at Dougie’s expression, she knew that wasn’t it. Tense and strained, the sweat stood out upon him as if he’d run all the way up the shore.

Josie’s heart plummeted and she surged to her feet, her sewing dropping from her hands. The foreboding inside her came together with a rush, and just like that she knew the truth; she spoke even before he could.

“They’re here, aren’t they? The slave hunters. They’ve come.”

****

“I think it’s best if you stay here.” Lisbeth had turned pale as milk, and her eyes looked too big for her face. “We can hide you upstairs or in the barn out back.” She glanced at Douglas. “Tell her.”

Douglas, all the careful words he’d rehearsed stolen from him, reached out and seized his wife’s hands. She looked frantic, as if she’d fly to pieces. He supposed that was how a woman looked when a terrifying past—or her worst nightmare—caught up with her.

“Listen, Josie, listen to me.”

She stilled, but barely. Her eyes were wild and her fingers icy.

“I won’t stay here and have those men down upon Lisbeth and Dora. Someone’s bound to say I work here. They’ll tear this pretty house apart.”

“You think I mind about the house?” Lisbeth snapped. “It’s wood and mortar.”

“You love this house,” Josie wailed. “Mr. Sinclair put his heart in it, and…”

Lisbeth made a swift decision. “Douglas, take her up the shore to the old O’Shea place. You know where it is?”

Douglas nodded. “I do. But, ma’am, I can’t do that. I mean to face these men down.” To stand between them and the woman he loved.

Lisbeth gave him a long look and nodded. “Dorothea, you take Josie to the cottage. Take Chieftain and the lads with you—those boys couldn’t keep quiet about anything if their lives depended on it. Chieftain will protect you if it comes to it. Douglas, you go back to town. If those men do learn Josie works here, maybe you and Rab can persuade them away.”

That meant he had to leave Josie—only to defend her, yes, but it hurt impossibly all the same.

He looked her in the eyes and, quivering, she threw herself into his arms.

With part of his attention he heard Lisbeth call Dorothea away, affording them a moment alone.

One moment.

“Oh God, God, God—” Josie wailed. “I prayed this day would never come. How I prayed! What if they find me and take me away? What if I never see you again?”

“Won’t happen. Can’t happen. I promised you, didn’t I? Josie—Josie, look at me.”

She raised her face to him, her eyes swimming with tears.

“Josie, you remember those chains and shackles I broke off you that night? How heavy they were, how tight?”

She nodded. Two tears trickled down.

Intently, he told her, “Those were nothing—nothing—to the ties that bind us together now. Those were made out of hate. But the ones between you and me—well, they were forged by love. And there’s nothing stronger—not in this world or the next. You understand?”

Her lips trembled before she formed the word, “Yes.”

“Doesn’t matter if I’m back in town and you’re up the shore—those ties aren’t going to break. And those men won’t take you, Josie, not while I’m still breathing.”

He kissed her then, a kiss into which he poured all his devotion. It seemed to afford her strength, for she pulled herself together and steadied beneath his hands.

“Now go. Dorothea’s waiting.” He gestured to the kitchen doorway where Dorothea hovered, having no doubt heard all.

Josie nodded again before she wrenched herself from his arms and ducked out through the kitchen, looking over her shoulder at him only once.

It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, to stand and watch her go.