Chapter Thirteen

For an instant Douglas’s world flickered before his eyes as protest racked him. The last thing he wanted to see at that moment was Josie, here. He’d meant to fight this battle for her, had believed her safe up the shore.

He didn’t want her to see him die.

But there she came, stepping out with her head high, delicate shoulders squared and terror bright in her eyes. And she’d never looked more beautiful to him.

She took the place beside him, and her fingers slipped into his even as her love slipped around him, a living wall of restraint.

A murmur ran through the crowd. Other than that, it was quiet enough to hear one of the slave hunters cock his gun.

“Well, now, Josie,” Collingwood said. “It’s time we went home.”

“Not with you.” She shook her head violently. “My home’s not with you.”

“It’s certainly not here with him.”

“He’s my husband.”

“Yes?” Collingwood sneered. “I suppose you think you’ve done well, girl, catching yourself a ’breed. Can’t you tell that’s what he is? Nothing but a dirty, half-breed Indian. I know that just by looking at him.”

Douglas flushed as the crowd of onlookers murmured still louder. Yes, likely that was what they considered him, as well, but it didn’t matter. Because he could feel Josie’s love so strong around him the hurt just fell away.

“I’ve done well,” Josie retorted. “Probably better than I deserve. Far better than you, with your hate and your ugliness, so why don’t you just take yourself on out of here and leave me be.” She almost shouted it. “Leave me be!”

But Collingwood shook his head. “Not going to happen, girl. It’s the principle of the thing, see—nobody takes what belongs to me. Now, unless you want your ’breed shot down in the street like the dog he no doubt is, tell him to step aside, and you come along with me.” Deliberately he added, “Daughter.”

It was Douglas who moved, stepped in front of Josie and pushed her well behind.

“You’ll not take her. You’ll have to kill me first. Just remember there are laws for murder, even for killing a ‘breed. You’ll find out how it feels to be hunted to your last breath.”

Collingwood threw back his head in a blatant show of arrogance. “You think you can stop us, one man alone?”

“He’s not alone, though, is he?” Rab Sinclair, solid as a bull and twice as angry, stepped up shoulder-to-shoulder with Douglas, an iron bar in his hands. “I’m here with him.”

“As am I.” Lisbeth took the place on Douglas’s other side, pushing Josie further back as she did. Douglas could feel Lisbeth trembling.

“And me.” Ed Becker butted up against Rab, a length of two-by-four in his hands.

“And me.”

“Me!”

Folks from the town—people Douglas had never expected to so much as acknowledge him—began flooding forward from all sides, forming a human wall with him at its center and Josie behind. Most were unarmed, some carried whatever they’d been holding when the confrontation began—baskets, bundles, brooms.

Up Maple, from the same direction Collingwood had come, Douglas saw three figures approaching at full tilt. Dorothea, breathless, steamed at their head, for once outdistancing her two brothers.

Lisbeth gasped as all three ran around the men with the cocked guns and threw themselves into the line that stood with Douglas. Chieftain promptly pressed in beside them.

“You’ll not hurt her, you evil men!” Dorothea cried breathlessly. “Jo Grier is my friend. So you’ll have to go through me to get to her.”

“And me.” To Douglas’s astonishment, Mrs. Mayer, stiff with indignation, took the place at Dorothea’s side.

The old woman, eyes narrowed, shook her finger in Buford Collingwood’s face. “This is an upright, God-fearing, northern town. We don’t let bullies come in here doing the Devil’s business. Douglas Grier is part of this town and Josie’s his wife. So unless you’re prepared to shoot a lot of women and children, you’ll tell your men to put their guns away, and you’ll get on that packet boat and never come back. Because here in Lobster Cove, Maine, we stick together. And you just might find a lobster gaff in your back if you don’t go quick enough. Understand?”

Buford Collingwood stared at Bertha Mayer. Neither blinked for several long minutes. Then Collingwood made a harsh gesture for his men to lower their weapons.

“Ma’am, I’ll never stand accused of warring against women.” He focused his bitter gaze on Douglas for an instant before he snapped, “You’re welcome to her, sir—she isn’t worth any more of my time.”

Douglas sagged where he stood, nearly too relieved to stand. The strong human wall all around him kept him upright, as did the feel of Josie’s fingers pressed flat against his back.

That and the joy of Dorothea’s chortle as Collingwood called his hounds away and they moved off down the street. “Ha! I guess we told him. Nothing and no one can stand against the citizens of Lobster Cove.”

Rab reached out and placed a hand on each of his son’s heads. “Ah, but does no one in this family ever do as they’re told?”