Race to World's End (Rowan and Ella Book 3) (14 page)

 
 
13

“Lose your way?”

Rowan’s gut
tightened at the sight of the captain filling the doorway. Before he could
respond, Toad pushed past Sully and entered the cabin.

His eyes widened
and then narrowed to see Rowan in the room. “Get below,” he growled to Rowan.

Had it been a trap? Had they been watching all along?

As Rowan moved
out the door, Sully stopped him. “I’ll take that,” he said, holding out his
hand. Rowan hesitated and then dropped the lighter in the man’s palm. As he
emerged from the cabin, Toad slammed the broadside of a dredging spade into his
stomach. Rowan took the blow and crumpled to his knees on the deck. Toad
dropped the shovel and shouted orders to two men standing nearby.

Rowan gasped for
breath and clutched his stomach. The bastard had broken at least one rib, but
he knew he could expect far worse for his crime. It had been a terrible risk.
The memory of the last beating—the one Jan said had just been for
show—came roaring back into his mind.

 
“Oy! Hold ‘im over there by the water
barrel,” Toad shouted. Out of the corner of his eye, Rowan could see the man
was in a state of agitation. Almost joy.

Why were they
positioning him by the barrel and not the lashing mast?

Two of the men
held him, and refused to meet his eyes. Rowan knew they hated doing it but he
also knew they had little patience for the sort of behavior that would bring
down Toad’s wrath. He could expect no sympathy.

The biggest of
the men, a one-eyed Tunisian named Argo, grabbed Rowan’s right arm and held it
on the barrel while another man began tying it to the iron grid work that framed
the barrel. Rowan tried to jerk his hand away.

Son of a bitch! They were going to…

Toad stood in
front of him with the axe held down by his knee so that Rowan could see it.
“Tell me when he’s secure,” he said.

In a panic, Rowan
began to pull ferociously against the leather ties and to fight the men holding
him. He heard the captain come out of his cabin and call out to Toad.

“I’m told he’s a
good carpenter, Toad,” he said.

“Aye, Captain,” Toad
said, hefting the axe for weight.

“So mind you don’t
take his good hand.”

***

Sully sipped his
rum and flicked the lighter open. He spun the dial and watched the blue flame
shoot to life before he snuffed it by snapping the cover shut. On the back was the
inscription he’d read many times already.

To my dearest Rowan on our first wedding anniversary. Always
an adventure, darling. In bed and out. Ella.

Now what sort of poetess or educated slattern could write
such a thing?
In Sully’s
experience, refined women who could write rarely mentioned bed or whatever
might happen in it. And never, in his experience, had he heard of a woman
referring to the delights of the bed as an
adventure
.

The sounds of the
men’s gaming below, laughter intermixed with groans or the occasional shout,
told him that regardless of today’s excitement the men had accepted it as a
natural part of life on the high seas. There needed to be laws. There needed to
be consequences.

They wouldn’t
keep him long as their captain if there weren’t.

But the bosun was
right, too. When he’d interrupted the giant’s punishment to insist they just
throw him into the ocean as lop off his hand for all the good he’d be to him after
that, it made too much sense to ignore.
 

No sense in taking part of your cargo and watching it bleed
to death just to show your crew who was in charge.

No, in the end,
another public lashing—and this time one that woke the bastard with a
bucket of sea water every time he passed out to lash him again—was
imminently more satisfying than a brief moment’s pleasure followed by a night
of listening to the bastard scream in agony.

Who was this man? Why does he have a lighter—something
that won’t be invented for at least another fifty years—and how does he
have a wife who sounds more like a free love hippie chick from the sixties than
an eighteen-twenties wench?

Sully tossed the
lighter onto his nightstand and listened to the sounds of the crew as they
became slowly less raucous. They’d put the giant in his hammock to mend as he
would.

It was just as
well. The repairs on the ship were largely done. And done well. Until another
job could be found for the man, let him heal, Sully thought.

At least this way whatever job we give him, he’ll be
able-bodied.

As he extinguished
the lantern light on his nightstand, Sully’s eyes fell once more on the
lighter.

Perhaps he had
more in common with the giant than he originally thought?

***

Halima tucked the
blanket ends under Ella’s legs and patted her knee.

“I’m not an
invalid,” Ella said.

“No, in fact, you
are stronger every day. You’ll come with us to the park today?”

“I was hoping to
go to the Old Market.”

Ella watched Halima’s
back stiffen as she turned to walk over to the couch to retrieve a magazine.

“I think that’s a
good idea,” Halima said. “If you’re up to it.”

Ella had been
back nearly three weeks and she still suffered from blistering migraines for
the bulk of her days. When she landed back in the darkened toilet stall of the Majestic
Hotel in 1925, her head hurt so bad it was midmorning before she was able to
stumble out to the lobby. When she did, an ambulance was called and she spent
the next two days in a clinic for Europeans on the outskirts of town. She had
the doctor call Halima to tell her she had returned from her “trip” and would
be back in Cairo as soon as she was well enough to travel.

The recent
experience of going from 1825 back to 1925 made Ella think she might not
survive another attempt. Even now, she tired easily and the throbbing pain of
her worst headache was always just a breath away.

“Do you think she
can tell you how to manage the pain better?” Halima asked. She handed Ella the
magazine.

“I don’t know.
But that’s not why I’m going. I need to ask her how I can…direct it better. I
mean, what if I try again and this time I’m a year off? Or more? What if I try
to come back and Tater is in college and I’ve missed his whole childhood?”

“Indeed,” Halima
murmured.

“I know you
worry, dear,” Ella said, yawning and feeling grateful that the urge to nap
would soon usurp the beginning edges of a coming headache. “Try not to.”

“Yes. I’ll try.” Halima
sat on the couch and picked up her teacup.

Ella closed her
eyes. “Every day I’m better.”

“Of course you
are. It’s just…” Halima cleared her throat and Ella opened her eyes.

“What is it, Halima?”

“What if you leave
and
Effendi
returns?”

“We’ve discussed
this.
Effendi
can’t return on his
own.” Ella scooted up in her lounge chair and pulled the wool blanket from her
knees. Suddenly it felt confining, not comforting. “Remember? You need a talisman
to pull off the travel between the years. Something of personal importance to
you.”

“Like your
mother’s necklace.”

“Yes, exactly.
And whatever Rowan had on him that helped push him over to 1825, maybe his
wedding ring…well, he won’t have it anymore.”

“Because…the men
who have him will have taken it,” Halima said quietly.

Ella knew Halima
didn’t like to think of what Rowan might be going through—or had gone
through. God knows she didn’t either. But the fact was Rowan was not going to
be able to travel back to 1925 without help. Without Ella.

“That’s right.”

Halima smoothed
out the crease in her long skirt and put her teacup down. Ella couldn’t help
notice the woman’s precise, delicate movements. She had the heart of bull
elephant, Ella knew. And the will to do whatever was necessary for the ones she
loved.

“When will you go
back?”

“As soon as I can
do it without ending up in an 1825 hospital ward. The clinic in Casablanca was
appalling. I can’t imagine being in a hospital in 1825 in a frontier town like
Key West.”

“And your…this Olna…believes
that the more time between travels will lessen the likelihood of that?”

“She said every
time I do it, I’m going to lose a little something,” Ella admitted. She rubbed
her temples as she felt her afternoon headache forming. “Memory loss, vision,
bad headaches, even possibly insanity if I do it too frequently.”

Ella watched Halima
and she saw her hand shake as she reached for her teacup.

“It can’t be
helped, Halima. I have to risk it.”

“I know.”

“So I’ll wait
another month and that should be enough.”

“Is that what she
said?”

“No, that’s what
I said. I need to go
get
him, Halima.
I called the consulate and bought us more time in Egypt. Another month will be
enough. It’ll have to be.”

Halima stood up
and re-draped the blanket on Ella’s lap. “Rest now, dear one. So that you will
be ready for your visit to the market this afternoon.”

“Thanks, Halima,”
Ella said, closing her eyes again. “Just a little nap, and if you could have
Mohammed bring me in a couple of aspirin? Is Tater still napping?”

“Sleep now. All
is well. All will be well.”

That afternoon,
Ella walked into Olna’s shop. Her mind felt alert and her energy had at least
momentarily returned. While the headache bubbled just beneath the surface, it
wasn’t an impasse to clear thinking. In fact, it was the first day she had felt
almost normal since returning from Casablanca.

“May I help you?”

A young woman
dressed in traditional Egyptian robes smiled at her from behind the counter.

“Yes, I’m here to
see Olna? My name is Mrs. Pierce.”

The smile fell
from the woman’s face and she glanced down at the small clutch bag in Ella’s
hands. “I am sorry, Madame,” she said. “My grandmother has recently passed
away.”

Ella felt her
hands grow cold. She took two steps toward the curtained back room before
stopping herself, as if she could find the old woman back there sipping tea if
she would just look.
Olna, dead?

“I need her,”
Ella said, mostly to herself.

“Excuse me,
Madame?”

Ella shook her
head as if to clear it. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. Is there
something I can help you with?”

Ella looked into
the young woman’s eyes. “No. Your grandmother was a very special woman.”

“I know.”

On the drive back
to the townhouse, Ella tried to sort out what it meant.

I’m really on my own now.

Olna had said
Ella could become more adept at the details of traveling. She just never said
how
.

When Ella arrived
back at the townhouse, Tater ran to greet her and she scooped him up and
squeezed him tight.
This,
she thought
as she buried her face in his neck and kissed him as he giggled.
This.

As soon as she
released him, he scampered back toward the kitchen. Ella could smell something
baking. She went to the salon and sat heavily in one of the formal chairs. It
wasn’t good for relaxing, but worked very well for thinking.

“Was your
afternoon profitable?”

Ella turned to
see her friend come into the room. “Hey, Halima, come in and sit with me unless
our favorite little tyrant has you on a short leash.”

“He’s having
dinner in the kitchen. Cook spoils him terribly.”

“Good for him.
No, it wasn’t profitable.”

Halima sat down
and her brow furrowed.

 
“Olna is dead,” Ella said.

“Oh! That is
indeed worrisome.”

“Yeah, especially
for Olna.”

“I did not mean
to be insensitive.”
 

“No, no, you’re
right. It
is
worrisome. I mean, she
was my guide and without her…I’m winging it here.”

“Can I help in
any way?”

“I don’t think
so. I may go to the American University Library tomorrow.”

“You think there
is something written about…your traveling abilities?”

“I don’t know but
it’s more than I have now.”

Halima sighed. “A
letter came for you today.”

Ella felt her stomach
turn painfully. One of the first things she had done upon returning from
Casablanca was to send to the State of Florida Health Department for a copy of
a death certificate.