Beloved Captive (27 page)

“The take from
Vindication
’s over here.”
 

Caleb followed the judge to what seemed to be the midway point in the warehouse. There he saw a stack of what appeared to be ten gold bars with a tag stating its origin on the vessel and a note saying simply
ballast
.

A puddle of something that appeared to be a woman’s skirt caught his attention. He reached to touch a tangle of torn white cloth that appeared to have two bundles of coins sewn into it.
 

“This is odd,” Caleb said as he lifted it and felt the coins shift.

Judge Campbell peered over Caleb’s shoulder, then nodded. “Not the strangest thing I’ve seen come off a ship, but yep, that’s something different.” He moved on and took his circle of light with him. Caleb followed.

“Best we can tell, the
Vindication
’s not insured,” the judge said. “You’ll have to wait for proof, but once it comes, I suppose you know what that means.”

Having studied up on the latest maritime law, Caleb was prepared with the answer. “It all goes to auction without waiting for the insurance claims to pay out. Profits are divided between the wreckers and the municipality, with the wreck’s master—that would be Mr. Tate—getting a greater portion than the others.”

“Yes, that’s right,” he said. “But that brings me back to the captain.”

Caleb stopped before a waterlogged pistol tied with a red sash. Lifting the weapon, he inspected it, then returned it to its spot.
 

He kept his expression neutral, his tone deliberately casual. “Any idea who was behind the wheel when it ran aground?”

“I’ve heard talk, but right now it’s all theories and conjecture.” The judge turned to head for the door, and Caleb followed. Once outside, the door locked, Judge Campbell paused to scratch his chin. “Whoever he was, he’s disappeared faster than the biscuits on my wife’s breakfast table.”

Caleb chuckled, then quickly sobered. “You have a theory?”

“I do.” The judge looked around before returning his attention to Caleb. “Thomas Hawkins. Maybe you’ve heard of him.”

“I have.” He shook his head. “But I thought he’d been tried as a pirate and hanged in Havana.”

They stepped back into the judge’s office, and he headed for his chair. Caleb followed and assumed his earlier seat.
 

“You heard right, all except the part where he was actually hanged.”
 

Interesting. The mercantile owner’s information seemed closer to possible now. “I don’t understand.”

Judge Campbell chuckled. “Neither do the authorities in Havana. One minute he was locked up tight and ready to hang, and the next he was gone.” He leaned forward. “They suspect a woman.”

“How so?”

“The fellow standing guard was neither hurt nor bribed, at least as far as anyone could tell. The other prisoners all say the same thing. The guard was visited by a woman and stepped away from his post. That same woman passed by Hawkins’s cell on her way out. Every last one of them gives the same description: she was a tiny thing wearing a blue cloak and a shawl that covered her head.” He winked. “I doubt that was his mama.”

“Likely someone connected with Hawkins. A lady friend, perhaps?”

He shrugged. “Thing is, bad seeds always turn up again somewhere. The Lord rarely lets ’em grow old, fat, and happy.”

“So you think we’ve not heard the last of Thomas Hawkins?”

“Well, someone hasn’t heard the last of him.” The judge gestured to the desk. “If you’ve got the time, I’d like to go over what I’ll be leaving in your care. Better for you to learn this job while I’m still here rather than to do as I did and figure it out as you go along.”

Caleb nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”

Judge Campbell walked to a locked cabinet and retrieved several items, depositing them in front of Caleb. “Let’s get started, then.”

An hour later they’d only begun to scratch the surface of the work the territorial judge was responsible for. “Are you burned out yet, Spencer?”

Caleb looked at the top of a stack of pages he’d covered with
scribbled notes. “Not yet, but I’m close. Maybe I need to take this back to my room and study it awhile, then come back later this afternoon.”

“Let’s make that tomorrow, since I’m on my way out for the day. You’re welcome to use my office—rather, your office—to start figuring it out,” the judge said. “I know you’re one of those Washington types, but I reckon this is a whole other way of doing things.”
 

“I look forward to learning it,” he said. “And I’d be grateful for the loan of your office for the day. Until I officially assume the position,
it is yours.” He paused. “When do you plan to hand the job over to
me?”

“Far as I’m concerned, you can start tomorrow.” His smile faded as he began to shove the mess on his desk into an orderly stack. “But that would mean you’d have to tell people who you are. You willing to do that?”
 

“I am.”

“Well, that’s a relief. My wife’s about to bust her buttons trying to figure it out. Just be warned, though. They’ll likely have a party to welcome you.” He chuckled. “I know they’ll have one when I leave. I’m not exactly the most popular person on the island.”

“A judge is paid to be right, not popular.”
 

“I didn’t expect to like you, Spencer, but it appears we think alike.” The judge pushed the papers toward Caleb, then reached for his hat. “Because I like you, I’m going to let you in on a little secret.”

“All right.”

“It’s easy to forget that you don’t work for the people of Fairweather Key. Your job is to keep sending money to Washington so they can do whatever it is that they do with it.” He paused to don his jacket. “No matter what they want, tell ’em no.”

Caleb rose. “What do you mean?”

“There’s always some pet project somebody’s trying to get the government to pay for. Your job is to see that the government’s interests are looked after.”

“That makes sense.” He gathered the papers and walked around to the other side of the desk.

The judge headed for the door but stopped short. “Oh, and there’s one more thing.”Caleb settled into the judge’s chair and set the papers in front of him. “What’s that?”

“There’s a little issue with the schoolhouse that’s waiting for you to resolve it.” He pointed to the papers. “Details are in there somewhere.”

Caleb began to page through the documents. “Any advice on the issue?”

“Yes,” he said, “no matter who’s asking the question, the answer is no. Take that kind of money out of the funds you’ve been trusted with, and you’re going to have this job forever.”

Caleb looked up sharply from his reading. “What do you mean?”

Judge Campbell placed his hand on the doorknob. “You’re not fooling me, boy. You might have taken this job because you wanted to call yourself a judge, but I don’t believe for a minute you’re content to stay in it for any longer than it takes to get yourself a promotion and head back north to Washington.”

Caleb said nothing. Did his intentions show that clearly, or had this man merely developed a strong sense of discernment in what had obviously been many years on the job?

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning, so hold your questions until then,” he said.

“I will,” Caleb responded. “Thank you for the loan of your office.”
 

“No, boy, your office.” He gave the knob a yank but did not move to step through the doorway. “So, Spencer,” the judge finally said, “who was she?”

He set the papers down and shook his head. “She?”

“Yes, she.” The old man grinned, and his eyes narrowed. “The gal who got you shipped out of Washington.”

“Ah.” Caleb reluctantly returned the smile. “The admiral’s daughter. But it’s not what you think.”

Judge Campbell stepped through the door. “It never is,” he called as it closed behind him.

Chapter 28

Emilie watched as the last child disappeared down the path toward town. “Thank you for coming back here, Micah,” she said. “I feel foolish now.”

“Why?” He leaned down to offer her a protective hand as she stepped over the raised threshold and out into the sun.
 

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said as she closed the schoolhouse door. “I probably just overreacted.”
 

Micah shook his head. “What I saw wasn’t overreacting,” he said. “You were genuinely afraid.”

She was but could never tell him the real reason. After all, how would she explain to a good man like Micah Tate that the escaped pirate Thomas Hawkins was likely after her to exact his revenge?

“Emilie?”

“What?” She looked up to see him staring at her with concern. “I’m sorry. It was a late night last night, what with the guests from the wreck, and I’m not myself this morning.” She affected a casual tone. “Which is likely the reason for overreacting.”

“Well, I do have some good news for you.” He gestured toward town, and she fell in step beside him. “If you don’t mind putting your lunch off for a few minutes, I’d like to introduce you to the man who caused all of this unnecessary upset.”

“You found him?” An image of Thomas Hawkins safely peering at her from behind the bars of the Fairweather Key jail made her smile.
 

“Well, it’s not as exciting as all that.”

She stopped short. “What do you mean? Capturing a criminal is terribly exciting.”

Micah looked at her. “Let’s just reserve judgment. He seems to be a decent fellow.”

A decent fellow? Not the Thomas Hawkins she had encountered.

“Come on,” he said as he reached for her elbow.
 

Emilie allowed him to lead her down the path toward town, then onto the street leading to the courthouse. The day was glorious, the fresh breeze having blown away any remnants of the previous night’s showers.
 

At the courthouse, Micah took the lead, bounding up the steps to stop at the door to Judge Campbell’s office. Emilie followed at a slower pace, unsure as to whether she wanted to actually come face to face with the Hawkins fellow again.

As Micah reached for the doorknob, Emilie stopped him. “Wait,” she said. “I’m not ready for this.”

“It’ll be fine,” he said. “Besides, that man owes you an apology for scaring you, and I’m here to see you get it.” He leaned down and traced the edge of her jaw with his knuckle. “There’s no need to be afraid of him, Emilie. I’m here.”

Micah Tate was a good man, one of the best, and in his sincere way he obviously had feelings for her. This had not happened before, this feeling of a man’s appreciation, and Emilie couldn’t say whether she liked it or merely felt uncomfortable. In either case, it seemed wildly inappropriate to continue in this vein on the courthouse steps.

Slowly, she swung her gaze to meet his stare. His eyes were a lovely shade of copper, not quite brown and not so light as to be considered hazel. She stared, transfixed, until the bell on the lookout stand shook her.

“Wreck ashore,” the lookout called.

Micah jerked his hand back and opened his mouth to speak, then obviously reconsidered. “I’ve got to go.”

“Yes,” she said, “you go.”

The bell clanged again, and then the lookout repeated his call. “Go,” he repeated. “Now,” came out as he turned to leave.
 

The clanging bell continued until Emilie covered her ears. Likely the thick walls of the judge’s office kept the bell from being so obnoxious. Still, with Micah gone, Emilie found no desire to go inside.

What if Thomas Hawkins had convinced Micah and the judge that he was a good fellow? What if he now waited inside for her to open the door, only to pounce and do her in for testifying against him?

“You won’t let that happen, will You, Lord?” she whispered.
 

Emilie inched toward the door just as the awful bell ceased its peals. Her ears ringing, she did her best to peer into the office through the small window in the door.

Her heart skidded to a stop when a face appeared on the other side of the glass. With a jerk, the door flew open.

“You must be Mr. Tate’s Emilie,” he said before taking a step back. “You,” he said as if he’d seen a ghost. “It can’t be.”

* * *

“I beg your pardon.”
 

She wore his mother’s dress. Even if he hadn’t recognized the bolt of cloth he’d brought from a trip to Paris, there was no mistaking the dark-haired female who’d haunted his dreams and taunted him in his nightmares.

Miss Crusoe had found him.

“What are you doing here?” he managed, his fingers worrying the door latch until he realized it might show weakness and stopped.

“Micah Tate brought me here.” She gave him a puzzled look. “He said the man who frightened me this morning was here to offer an apology.” The puzzled look deepened. “Do we know one another?”

Now would be the time to give a truthful answer. He knew none of the details beyond the fact he’d been found by Fletcher clutching the attorney general’s letter in his hand.

In hers was the missing pistol, its barrel still smoking.

What now, Lord?

The woman he now knew to be Emilie continued to stare, and Caleb realized she likely did not recognize him. When she’d done her damage, his beard hid his face and his unkempt hair had begged for the barber’s shears. His own mother had joked that even she did not know him until she’d had his face shaved clean and his hair trimmed by a local barber during those days when he lay between life and death.

How long he stood staring, Caleb could not say. By degrees, he became aware of a rush of activity on the courthouse square.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

“There’s a vessel on the reef,” she said, still wearing the same puzzled expression. “The wreckers are heading out to save anyone aboard. Then they unload cargo and bring it here.” She paused. “Why am I explaining this to you? And where is Judge Campbell?”

Caleb sprang into action. He’d been studying up on the proper procedure for processing a wreck, but the judge’s notes were proving hard to decipher.