Dakota Dreams (Historical Romance) (19 page)

Martin saw cold strength in Dakota's green eyes. He quickly downed his glass of bourbon before he spoke. "If you have come to discuss fishing rights, you may be correct."

"I have."

Martin pointed to a chair. "You may as well sit down, this could take a while."

"No, thank you, I prefer to stand. What I have to say to you won't take very long."

Martin plopped down in a chair and smiled. "I'm listening."

"It's very simple. The fishermen from your village are encroaching on the territory of the fishermen from my village. If you will intercede and put a stop to the encroachment, then there will be nothing further for us to discuss."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you will suffer the consequences." The threat was spoken softly, but it held a ring of truth.

Martin laughed. "Do you think I fear a threat coming from you? Your people have been left too long to survive on their own. I am willing to bet you couldn't rally enough loyal men to follow you if you offered them all the fishing rights in Cornwall. I believe that if it comes to a fight, you will discover you stand alone."

"I thought to go to the magistrate, but I discovered you have the man in your pocket."

"Yes, he's a fool, and easy to manipulate. He sees only what I want him to see."

"Am I to take it that you do not intend to restrain your fishermen?"

"Restrain them, hell, I'm encouraging them to fish wherever they please. The waters belong to no one."

Dakota's voice was like tempered steel. "That's where you are wrong. I have seen an old document that was signed by my great-grandfather and your uncle. I know the contract is binding, because I consulted a solicitor before I came here."

Martin traced the cut-glass pattern on his glass. "I do not feel compelled to honor a document that was signed before I was born."

"May I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Why will you not cooperate on this? I warn you, if you don't, the day will come when you will regret your actions here today."

The Earl exhibited a pompous air. "I doubt it. You see, our waters are fished out, while your waters are brimming with fish." Martin's laughter was insulting. "It looks like a fight, and I relish a good contest of wills."

Dakota nodded grimly. "I had hoped to avoid a confrontation, but you leave me little choice. As of today, I am warning you, keep your fishermen out of our waters, or be prepared to suffer the consequences."

Martin lazily flicked a piece of lint from his coat. "You know the way to the door; you can show yourself out."

Dakota saw the challenge in the man's eyes. "So be it, Lord Saffron." Dakota walked to the door and paused. "What happens now will be on your head, not mine."

18

Dakota made his way through Weatherford Village with a resolute gleam in his eyes. Women watched his progress from their windows with hope in their hearts. Would the young lord champion their cause? Or would he turn a deaf ear to their plight as his grandfather had?

Dakota walked past the old Norman church toward the sandy shore where several small fishing boats had been beached. His eyes moved over the men who were watching him skeptically.

When Dakota spotted an old fisherman, sitting alone mending his net, he walked in his direction.

The old man looked up at the young lord with little interest, dropped his eyes, and continued mending his net. Dakota seated himself on the edge of a beached boat, watching the gnarled hands aptly perform the age-old task.

The fisherman took a draw on his pipe. "Be you not feared that you'll muss those fancy britches you're wearing?" the old man asked with obvious scorn.

Dakota ignored the fisherman's pointed remark. "You know who I am?"

The old man took another draw on his pipe, his faded gray eyes seeming to look right through Dakota. "I know. I was told you came into our village yesterday and pretended to be interested in our troubles. I saw the wagon load of food you sent last evening. If you think to appease us and dismiss your obligations by handing out food, then you are no different from your grandfather."

Dakota allowed the old man to have his say, then he asked, "Who might you be?"

"Name's Will Simonton."

"Do you mind if I call you Will?"

The old man didn't bother to look up, but kept on with his labor. "It's your right."

"Who is the oldest man in the village, Will?"

Now he had the man's attention. "That would be me. I turned ninety-one this past spring."

"Then you are the one I want to talk to. In the Indian village where I grew up, the wisest and most esteemed men were the elders. The young warriors often went to them for advice. That is why I have sought you out. I need your wisdom."

Will looked at Dakota with interest, but he was still leery of him. The gentry were a race apart from the common people and Will had often found them self-serving and deceptive. He surely didn't trust this one who hadn't even been born in England. "What could I tell you that would be of interest to you?"

"You could tell me from the beginning about the feud between this village and Saffron Village."

The old salt dropped his net, his eyes reflective as he tried to recall the day the trouble had begun. "It started with small things at first. I think the Earl was testing us, wanting to see if his lordship, the Marquess, had any interest in us. When the Marquess didn't come to our rescue, the incidents grew bolder, until finally they had us shore-bound. Course, when we complained, we was told by the Marquess that we could always fish in deep water. But our boats aren't built for deep-water fishing."

The old man looked at Dakota slyly. "Then the Marquess sent us a wagon load of food, and we ain't heard from him since."

Dakota's lips twitched. "I see. Tell me, did any of you try to regain your fishing rights on your own?"

Will drew himself up with dignity. "Course we did, but it weren't no good. We were too few, and they had their lord to stand with them." Will's eyes took on a sadness. "I had me a boat, she weren't nothing fancy, but I built her myself and she was a fine boat. I carved her name deep so it would last as long as the boat stayed afloat." The old man's eyes became misty. "Named her the Annie, after my long dead missus."

"Where is the Annie, Will?"

Anger twisted the old fisherman's face. "She was took from me. They came boldly up on shore and took her. When me and my grandson tried to get her back—he . . . Rob was shot dead!"

"I take it you did not get the boat back?"

"No, but I see her sometimes. They never even bothered to change her name. It's almost as if they was flaunting her in my face. It eats at my guts that I can't have what rightly belongs to me." He held up his hands in a hopeless gesture. "I'm an old man. I tried to tell the younger men that if we fight to get our fishing rights back, even if we lost, we would get back our self-worth." He shook his head sadly, looking pensive. "But they don't listen to an old man like me. I don't know that I blame them."

Anger pulsed through Dakota's mind. He felt a kinship with this man and the other villagers, who had been neglected by the Marquess. Dakota didn't understand why his grandfather had not stood behind these people. His Arapaho background had taught him that every member of the tribe was a part of a family. His feeling of kinship and responsibility now extended to every man, woman, and child of this village. In Dakota's mind, it was as if he were the chief, and the village was under his protection. He would not rest until everything was put to rights.

"I'm listening to you, Will. What do you think we should do?"

The old man's eyes projected hope. "Did you say we? Are ye going to help us?"

"Will, you have my word that if it is in my power, you will once more stand master of the Annie. It's time someone taught the Earl and his underlings a lesson in manners."

Dakota glanced across the water, knowing that their foe's village lay just out of sight. "Surely there are some good men in Saffron Village. They can't all be under the Earl's heel."

"Well, you see, he has this strange hold over them. I've known some men that had this same uncanny ability to make men do what they wanted them to. You can't beat the Earl until you best him at his own game."

Dakota noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. Glancing up, he saw the other fishermen of the village walking toward him, and they did not look as if they were coming to pass pleasantries.

Will shook his head. "They be bound for trouble, Your Lordship," he said respectfully. "Let me do the talking."

Dakota stood up, waiting for the men to reach him. "No, Will, they have grievances to air, and it's time someone listened to them. Yesterday they were vague in their demands. Perhaps today, they will be more inclined to tell me what is on their minds."

The men's faces were surly as they circled Dakota. Hubert Clowes, a thickset redheaded man, who had appointed himself spokesman for the group, expressed their complaints. "We're here to have some answers, my lord. We heard that you was putting new roofs on the tenant farmers' huts. What are you going to do for us? We got pride, and we don't want handouts or wagons of food. We just want what's rightfully ours."

Dakota crossed his arms over his chest, and silence fell as he looked at each man in turn. "How badly do you want your fishing grounds back?" he asked pointedly. "How far are you willing to go to settle the wrong that has been done to you?"

There was mumbling among the crowd. "We can't do nothing by ourselves—we already tried that. We got six widows in this village to moan the ones that died to prove that—my sister lost her man in the last tiff. There's not a man here who didn't lose someone or something because of the Earl."

Dakota nodded in understanding. "I intend to be in this with you, but only if you are committed to take the fight all the way. I cannot do this alone. We will have to work together if we are to succeed."

Astonishment and disbelief mingled with hope on the men's rugged faces. They had stood alone for so long, been beaten into the dust, ignored by Dakota's grandfather, and it was difficult to believe that someone was willing to help them. Acceptance came hard to them.

"How do we know we can trust you?" Hubert wanted to know.

"After what you have all been through, I don't expect you to take me on faith. I realize 111 have to prove myself to you."

Each man looked into clear, earnest green eyes and saw the truth. "Will you make our fight yours?" Hubert asked.

"I will."

Several shouts went up, and the leather-faced fishermen smiled and patted each other on the backs. They had found a champion! They no longer stood alone; they had hope in their hearts.

"The Earl is a strong one, my lord," Hubert warned. "You will have to look to your back and your front."

Will Simonton grinned, and his faded old eyes sparkled. "The Earl won't be so strong when he comes up against us now. I got this feeling that Saffron Village is about to pay homage to our Viscount"

"What do we do?" Hubert asked, his eyes bright, his chest heaving with excitement. "When do we go to Saffron Village and take them on?"

"We don't go to them, we make them come to us," Dakota said in a voice that carried to every man. "Then we ambush them. I know several Indian tricks that just may turn the tide of battle in our favor."

The men gathered in closer as Dakota explained the meaning of ambush as the Arapaho had taught it to him.

***

Breanna heard the sound of a rider, so she ran to the front of the house, hoping it would be Dakota. When she wrenched open the door and saw it was Levi, the welcoming smile froze on her face.

Levi chuckled. "Sorry to disappoint you, my lady, but it's just me and bearing ill tidings at that. Dakota sent me to tell you he wouldn't be back for several days, and he asked me to escort you back to the big house."

Disappointment showed on Breanna's face. "What has happened, Levi?"

"Well, you know about the trouble with the neighboring villagers? Dakota don't aim to stop until he gets our villagers' fishing rights back."

Breanna smiled because the old hunter had included himself in the feud. "Come in, Levi. I had a special dinner prepared for Dakota, but since he isn't here, will you share it with me?"

Levi's eyes lit up. "I'd be proud to be your guest. Besides, I haven't had a jealous husband mad at me for nigh on to twenty years."

Breanna felt some of her disappointment fade as Levi charmed her with his crusty wit. "We shan't tell my husband that I sent all the servants home and it was just the two of us for dinner."

"Now that sounds right nice, my lady."

"It always sounds like 'my lady* sticks on your tongue, Levi. Why don't you call me Breanna?"

He flashed her a smile that made his faded blue eyes shine. "Dakota will surely be jealous now. Already his wife wants me to call her by her intimate name."

Over dinner, Levi charmed Breanna with tales of the American wilderness. She was spellbound as he talked of Dakota's life in the Arapaho village. But she noticed he avoided mentioning Running Deer, and she could not bring herself to ask him about the dead Indian maiden.

As the afternoon sun streaked low on the horizon, Levi and Breanna walked in the woods.

"Levi, I have heard many stories about trappers and hunters in the American wilderness, and you do not fit the picture I have painted in my mind."

He chuckled. "Are you referring to my manner of speech?"

"Well . . . yes. While you don't sound like an Englishman, your speech is refined at times"

"It's very simple. My papa was a schoolmaster, and I learned at his knee."

"How ever did you end up trapping. Levi?"

"There's no mystery about that. I had itchy feet and didn't like being confined to a town." He squinted his eyes up at the sun. "There can't be more than three hours of daylight left. I'd better get you over to the big house."

"I'm not going, Levi. I intend to wait right here for Dakota."

"He won't like it."

"My mind is made up. When you see him, you can tell him where to find me."

Levi saw the stubborn tilt of her chin and the determined look in her eyes, and he knew it would do no good to try and dissuade her. "At least let me take you back to the lodge, Breanna."

"No, I want to stay here in the woods for a while." She smiled at him. "I'm glad we had this time to get to know one another better. I can see why Dakota counts you his best friend."

He grinned. "I can tell he's going to be mighty partial to you, too. I wasn't too sure how you two would get on when I first heard he was marrying a real lady by birth; now I couldn't think of a better match than you and Dakota."

The teasing light left Levi's eyes and he became serious. "Dakota deserves happiness in his life. He's had more than his share of unhappiness."

Levi realized he was being too serious, and he grinned. "Of course, he wears unhappiness well. I never knew him to complain. Now I best be off, we got things to do tonight. If Dakota's plan works, the fishermen from Weatherford will soon be back in their own fishing grounds."

"Will there be danger?"

"Not so as you'd notice it. Don't go worrying that pretty head of yours."

Breanna raised an arched eyebrow. "Do all men from your America cut their women out of their lives and try to pacify them by telling them not to worry?" she asked.

Levi winked at her. "It doesn't always work with the American woman, and I have a feeling it isn't going to work with you." He tipped his cap. "Ill tell your husband that you decided to stay here instead of returning to the big house. Might as well let him know right off that he might suggest something to you but he can't give you orders."

Breanna watched Levi move down the path, his head held high while he whistled a merry tune. What a strange man he was, but she liked him. The old hunter was a crafty man, for she realized that while he had shared many things with her about Dakota's life, he had actually told her very little.