Captive (5 page)

“It don’t look like much, I know,” Buddy told her apologetically. He was a freckle-faced farm boy out of Tennessee, born and bred to a military tradition, with the call of duty above even that of honor. But he was a nice young man with a good heart, and she was glad that he tried to cheer her now.

“It looks wonderful,” she said. It was only partially a lie. The beaches and sea and sky were extraordinary. Only the fort and houses were wretched.

They’d come into the harbor. Shouts were loud; half naked men leapt about the rigging as the ship was steered and then pulled into her berth. Ropes were thrown to the dock and the ship was secured. The gangway was set down. Before anyone had disembarked, soldiers came quickly aboard, meeting with the captain.

“News is always the first thing needed,” Trenton said, his voice somber.

“It’s good news just to see the city standing, and not in ashes,” Buddy agreed.

The group of soldiers who had come aboard with their messages and information disbanded, and the kindly old naval captain of the ship came hurrying toward Teela. “Fuzz-bucket!” Trenton murmured of the captain.

“He’s a navy boy,” Buddy said sorrowfully.

“Some of them have use, and some of them don’t,” Trenton observed. “Though I admit, I myself am happier at the fort when we’ve the extra bodies of the marines assigned to duty there. It’s just that this particular navy man—”

“Miss Warren!” Captain Fitzhugh bellowed. She tried not to smile. Her watchdogs were right. He was a strangely mincing little man with a big belly, small, skinny legs and little feet, and a face full of white fur. He was continually worried, a fussy little man.

“I’m in great distress! Your stepfather was to have been here to greet you, but he had been detained farther
north, battling the heathens!” He made the sign of the cross dramatically over his chest.

“Ah, dear! What a shame,” Teela lied, her tone remorseful, her eyes sparkling.

“Not to worry. Some good friends of us all, Josh and Nancy Reynolds, who run a fine shop here, will greet you ashore, see to your provisions, and escort you inland to Cimarron, where a regular army escort will soon arrive to bring you to your father.”

“Thank you,” Teela told him. Sweet, blessed
Jesu!
She was to be on her own to first taste this wondrous new place! She would have fallen to her knees with gratitude were not so many men watching her. She smiled, and on the captain’s arm she descended the plank to set foot on Florida soil.

Perhaps the houses were little more than log shanties. Perhaps the fort was rough—and half the soldiers and civilians more heathen-looking than she imagined the savages were. It didn’t matter. She felt a thrill of exhilaration as she came ashore, and as they came down the dock to the dirt city street, she was greeted with a warm cry. “Miss Warren, Miss Warren!” A second later, she saw a pretty, plump woman with brown hair beneath a wide-brimmed hat approaching her, a huge, muscular man just beyond her. The woman flashed a smile to Captain Fitzhugh and offered her hand warmly to Teela. “Welcome, we’re delighted to have you here. We’ve heard so very much about you—”

She broke off with a little gasp as her husband elbowed her in the ribs. “Josh Reynolds, Miss Warren, and we do welcome you, and don’t you worry none, we don’t go judging people by Charleston standards.”

“Josh!” Nancy in turn elbowed him.

Teela was a bit startled to realize that gossip was strong enough to precede her to this wilderness, but she couldn’t help but smile since it had served to make her more interesting to this warm and giving pair.

“I’m very glad to be here,” she told them.

“Are you, then?” Josh queried, seeming surprised to
look at her and determine that it was the truth. “Many such a lady as yourself would scorn our poor city.”

“Ah, but then you’ve heard the gossip about me already, right?” Teela teased lightly in return.

“Oh, we don’t go listening to gossip!” Nancy began, but she broke off and started laughing. “Miss Warren, you may just do fine here in our wilderness.”

“Pure paradise!” Josh corrected her.

Twenty minutes later, Teela wasn’t quite sure how Josh had managed to find his life a paradise, here or elsewhere. He and Nancy ran a store that offered just about everything in the world. They supplied a number of the traders and sutlers who tramped into the interior of the state, though, as Josh told her, there was darned little left of any white civilization in the interior. Too many times the army had been forced to desert its various posts. If the Indians weren’t bad enough, there was always the fever, and the fever took away more men, women, and children than did war.

Despite the troubles, though, Josh and Nancy were thriving. The whole front section of their log dwelling was store. They sold food, medicines, tools, clothing, boots, liquor, and even farm animals. They sold coconuts and exotic wild bird feathers, mostly brought in by the Indians. If an object could be acquired at all, it would be sold at their general store.

In the back there was a kitchen and parlor combination, one big, drafty room, but with a fire burning cheerfully in the hugh hearth. Though they were moving into spring, the days were still just a little chilly. Beautiful, Teela thought, with the sun coming through the windows, but inside the cabin it was wonderful to feel the touch of the flames. Wonderful and wild. Josh and Nancy had a full house, with toddlers seeming to be everywhere and the oldest of their children only seven.

A very different kind of paradise, Teela thought, but sitting in the parlor, playing hide-and-seek games with the little, enormous-eyed children, she realized that she was happier than she had been in a long time. Josh was
attending to customers, and Nancy was determinedly finding Teela the proper size of good boots for the south Florida terrain.

If only Michael Warren were never to come …

She was down upon her knees playing ball with the three-year-old when she sensed that someone was with her. She spun around toward the door that led to the shop and was startled to see a very tall man with ebony hair standing there, watching her with the child.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He was an exceptionally good-looking man, somehow both rugged and elegant, his appearance entirely commanding. The little girl she was playing with let out a shriek of happiness and went to him, crying out, “Uncle Jarrett, Uncle Jarrett!”

He caught the little girl, sweeping her up, giving her a sound kiss on the cheek, and setting her down upon the ground once again. By then Teela was standing, watching, waiting. “Jarrett McKenzie, Miss Warren. My wife and I have a home down the river, and if you’re in agreement, you’ll be our guest until Captain Argosy returns to bring you to your father.”

“How do you do,” Teela murmured, “and yes, of course, thank you very much.”

He watched her for a moment. “You must be disappointed to have missed your father.”

“Stepfather.”

“Ah … This must be a strange and frightening land without him here to greet you.”

“I’m not frightened easily, Mr. McKenzie.”

He smiled suddenly. “Good. My ship is at the dock. I’ll see to it that your things are brought aboard, and I’d like to leave within the hour while the sun is still high.”

“Thank you.”

He turned to start back through the doorway into the shop. “Mr. McKenzie!” Teela said softly, calling him back. He paused, arching a brow at her.

“You don’t seem to care for Michael Warren very much. Why are you doing this for him?”

He seemed startled, either by her question or intuition. He smiled slowly. “I wouldn’t send you into the wilderness alone, Miss Warren. My wife would never allow it.”

“But you don’t like my father.”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “Miss Warren, I did not say that.”

“Mr. McKenzie, I don’t like him, either.”

The man laughed suddenly. “Well, then, maybe we can keep you at Cimarron as long as possible, eh?”

Then he disappeared.

Teela didn’t see him again until she was on his ship, with Nancy and Josh at her side, giving all kinds of last-minute advice. She needed to be careful of all swampland, it bred fever. She needed to watch out for insect bites, for snakes, and for ’gators. ’Gators were mean—she wasn’t ever to let anyone fool her on that fact!

“Ain’t too many deadly snakes, just four to be exact. Rattler, pygmy rattler, coral snake, and cottonmouth. They’ll leave you alone if you leave them alone.”

She was just up the gangplank on the deck. The ship was much smaller than that which she had sailed in on, with a crew of only five. She could see one sailor rolling his eyes as Nancy continued her advice. Teela smiled.

She heard the deep, rich voice of her host behind her then. “She does seem like an intelligent young lady, Nancy,” Jarrett commented.

“Forewarned is forearmed!” Nancy said with a sniff. “You be careful yourself,” she chastised firmly, then gave Jarrett a huge, warm hug. “There’s a blanket for the baby in that satchel for Tara, Jarrett McKenzie. You give the wee one a mighty hug for me. And Tara as well. Tell her I’ll come out soon.”

Josh was shaking his head. “Nancy’s afraid to come.”

“Afraid?”

“Ah, well, the settlers here are just getting over their fear that the Seminoles might attack Tampa at any time,” Jarrett said.

“It’s a dangerous river,” Nancy said.

“Not with me,” Jarrett said softly, offering Nancy an encouraging smile. He shook Josh’s hand and gave Nancy a kiss on the cheek. “Get off my ship, now! I’ve a good twenty-four hours to home, and I’m anxious to see my wife and child.”

“Remember, we’re here if we can ever help you,” Nancy called to Teela as her husband escorted her firmly from the ship. She waved in return.

Before long, they had cast off from the dock. Teela kept waving to the couple.

When they were just leaving the city behind them, Teela gasped suddenly, seeing two men in army issue uniforms come tearing down the dock where the small ship had been berthed.

McKenzie stood behind her, she realized. “Friends of yours ” he asked.

“Not exactly,” she murmured uncomfortably. “They’re my—escort.”

“Watchdogs?”

“But really not bad fellows, considering.”

“Do we go back for them?” he asked politely.

“Oh, no. Please, no!” she exclaimed.

“They can find Cimarron themselves, you know.”

She sighed, looking down into the water. “Perhaps. Maybe we should go back. Michael would be furious if he knew they were left behind purposely.”

“Would he really?” McKenzie queried.

She spun around. His eyes were dark. Almost as dark as his hair. There was definitely a devilish light to them now. He leaned toward her, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Then we definitely leave them.” He raised his voice suddenly. “Men! Full sails. Let’s catch what breeze there is. Let’s move from this place!”

Then he turned and left her, and she couldn’t help but smile as she left her first taste of this strange new territory behind her and moved ever inland.

Cimarron

A
s James rode through the trail of trees that broke onto the lawn, he stared at his brother’s house, and felt a welcome lightening within his heart. He’d helped build the house, he’d lived the dream of its creation with his brother, and to this day he loved it.

They’d planned to build another together. One that would be his home. Though they’d both grown up for the most part among the peoples who had traveled into Florida and become
Seminoles
to the whites, they’d both grown up with their good Scots father as well, and they’d been tutored in white ways as well as Indian custom. James knew how to plan and build such a home, and he also knew how to manage fields, cattle, and laborers. He was also familiar with the works of Defoe, Bacon, Shakespeare, among others, just as he had been taught the fine music of Mozart and Beethoven.

But he’d fallen in love when he was very young with an Indian girl. Deeply in love. And he’d joined her clan, because he’d been needed there. And through his mother’s bloodlines he had found himself in line to be a
mico
for a band who had pleaded for his leadership, and so he had lived with his people in a sprawling, beautiful hammock….

Until war had come.

But no matter how bitter the war that raged, no matter how deep the pain and anger that too often guided him still, he loved his brother, just as he had loved their
father, the most enlightened man he had ever known of any race. Since his birth, his life had always been entertwined with his brother’s—no war could change that.

“James!”

He heard his name called from the porch, and he dismounted from his horse, seeing his sister-in-law, Tara, emerge from the house and start down the steps, running to greet him. He stood by his horse, waiting. When she reached him, he spun her around and hugged her, then set her upon the ground again. She was a stunning woman, golden blond, blue-eyed, as delicate as porcelain, yet absurdly strong and determined. She had made his brother the perfect wife.

She touched his cheeks, as if assuring herself of his health, then stepped back, frowning. He was clad in denim pants and a rawhide vest, with a band about his hair and moccasins on his feet. She shook her head. “It’s still cold!” she chastised him.

“Tara, it’s never really cold.”

“It can be cold enough.”

“It’s spring.”

“The air is cool.”

“How’s my daughter?”

Tara’s eyes went alight and she smiled. “Growing like a weed. She is an incredibly beautiful little lady, James. She is so smart. And so good with the baby!”

“Ah, yes! And how is that little rascal nephew of mine?”

“James, he remains an angel,” Tara said indignantly. “He isn’t much more than six months old. All children are angels at that stage.”

“Well, since he is my brother’s child, don’t count on it for long,” he warned sternly. “But Jennifer is well?” he asked again, a certain note of strain coming into his voice.

He couldn’t help it, couldn’t quite help keeping the fear at bay. At times, no matter how he hated it, he could almost be grateful for the war. It kept him from thinking. From remembering. From spending hours beneath
the sun wishing that he could die himself. From the anguish that could never be healed.