Hidden In the Mist

Courtesy Pixabay: Public Domain 

 About Hidden in the Mist

This story began around 2008 as a writing exercise. I simply sat down and started writing. That is probably obvious from the narrative style of the opening chapters. 

When I finished the first chapter, I wondered what in the world I was doing. I didn't like it, but I was curious enough to see where it would take me.

The story became a puzzle. As I wrote, I found myself creating a world that was far more complicated than I expected. I don't usually write about politics, in any world, yet I created a form of government almost without thinking about it. Somehow it made perfect sense. At least intellectually, it worked.

So I kept writing.

Then life intervened.

Before long, I had a dozen or so chapters. Around that time, I discovered another writer using a Blogger site to serialize a novel, so I created one of my own and invited a few friends to read along. Alice stayed with the story for the long haul. She fell in love with *Mist*. I could never quite understand why because I certainly wasn't in love with it. In fact, I hated it.

I was approaching the end of the story when my husband died. My world, the real world, collapsed. Every escape route into other worlds closed, including whatever portal had allowed me to pass through the Mist. I was trapped on the wrong side of the story.

I walked away.

For the next several years, this world lay dormant. I visited it only occasionally, adding a chapter here and there, but the story patiently waited until I was finally able to return.

And I did.

What began as a simple writing exercise in 2007 eventually became a ten-year journey to complete this version of *Hidden in the Mist*. The novel you are reading here is the result of that journey.

Although the story itself is now complete, it is still very much a work in progress. You'll undoubtedly find the occasional typo, grammatical slip, continuity error, plot hole, or any number of imperfections that survive even careful editing. If you happen to notice one, feel free to leave a comment. I'll appreciate the extra set of eyes.

Most of all, I hope you enjoy the story. For me, knowing that someone else has enjoyed something I've written has always been reward enough.

One last confession.

I'm still not entirely sure I wrote *Hidden in the Mist*. I don't normally write fantasy, and from the very beginning this story always felt as though it was writing itself. I simply followed where the Mist led.

Chapter 53

Something was out there. Sam squinted into the thicket beyond the clearing. There was a path that lead away, into the trees. Sergeant stared in the same direction.

Releasing her held breath, she stepped around the dog and moved toward the path. In truth, she didn't know if there was anyone in the Outland that would really hurt her. Based on what she'd already discovered, there were people in the Provinces who would and she'd never been afraid there.

The woods almost engulfed the path as soon as she stepped onto it. Never has she seen forest as close and thick as that in the Outland. Sergeant padded on, stopping to look back at her every few feet to be sure she was following. At least, that's how it felt.

"I'm fine, boy. Just give me enough warning to hide if I need to."

She scanned the green depths to either side of the trail. There was little chance that she be able to detect one of the Green Men. In fact, a whole regiment could be standing three feet away and she probably wouldn't notice. Releasing a long breath, she hurried to catch up with the dog. He would know before she if danger were present.

The smell of something roasting drifted to her on a gentle breeze. Her mouth watered. She should have eaten before she left the house but the sense of urgency kept prodding and pushing out all other needs. Sergeant suddenly broke into a lope and rushed ahead, around a curve in the path and out of sight.

"Wait! Sergeant! Come back!" She ran forward, hoping that she'd find him waiting ahead. She rounded the curve and stumbled to a halt.

Sergeant was standing on his hind legs, front legs against the chest of a man who he seemed to be trying to lick in the face. Her hand flew to her chest and she gasped and stared.

The man looked up, a broad smile lighting his face. Pushing Sergeant down, he stepped forward and extended his hand. "Samantha! What are you doing here?"

"Reece? Reece Lawrence?"

He laughed. "Yes, that'd be me."

"What....." she looked around. What looked like a roast of some sort hung from a spit over a brightly burning but small fire. A small table stood near. Beyond that, a tent stood and she could see, at the edge of the small clearing a horse. "What are you doing here?"

"I might ask you the same question. You're far from home. And alone. That's not wise in these parts." He stepped back and pointed to the log he'd obviously been sitting on. "Have a seat. Would you like some venison?"

She looked at the roast again and made her way to the fire and sat down. "Why are you here?"

He stirred the flames, added a log, and turned the meat. He sat down next to her and looked at her with a half smile. "I asked you first."

With an exasperated sigh she looked at the flames. "I have some questions, about my family, about myself, that I want answer to."

"Ah, a sort of pilgrimage."

Her mouth twisted into a smile. "Not exactly."

"Want to tell me?"

She studied him for a few moments. He was a stranger her brother did not approve of and that she knew nothing about. She looked into the flames licking at the roasting meat. It smelled so good.

"I don't know you Reece. I hired you to work for me a bit but I never learned anything about you."

He took his stick and poked at the logs again. "This is true."

The crackling of the fire grew loud in the silence that fell between them. Her father taught her that silence was often the surest way to make people talk. People had an instinctive urge to fill up silence.

"What would you like to know?"

"Oh...well, ummm....."

He laughed. "Thought it would be more difficult than that, didn't you?"

The flush that spread up her neck was not attributable to the fire. She nodded.

Tossing the stick aside, Reece slid off the log onto the ground, rested his back against the log and stretched his legs out. "I was born in the Outland. My parents...." he sighed. "My parents met and married here, in the Outland. Both were here because their parents were sent here."

"So.... you....."

"I'm an outcast by birth. I committed no crimes. My parents committed no crimes. We simply had no choice."

"But you could have go to any province you wanted."

He laughed. "That's a recent law and if you knew the amount of paperwork involved you wouldn't find that an easy solution. Besides, our families were here, three generations of them."

"You have family in the Provinces?"

"Yes. Uncles, cousins, aunts."

"So you'd have sponsors."

He twisted his head to look up at her in surprise. "No."

She frowned. "But your family. They could sponsor any of you that wanted to come back"

Reece turned his body to face her, propping one arm on the log. "What makes you think anyone would want to sponsor criminals?"

"No," she hastened, "no. You and your parents. You weren't criminals."

"By whose reckoning?"

Her frowned deepened. She didn't understand why he was being obtuse. "You committed no crimes."

"We are descendents of criminals."

Samantha shook her head. "But that's not a crime!"

Reece threw his head back and laughed aloud. "You are magnificently reasonable. How is that possible?"

For some reason she felt she'd been insulted and she scowled at him. "You don't have to make fun of me. You aren't making any sense."

"You're right." Pushing himself up, he turned and bent over the spit and took it off the fire. He went to the table and transferred it to plates, put forks on each one and returned to sit next to her.  He offered her a plate. "It doesn't make any sense whatsoever."

The scent of the roasted deer meat tickled her nose and she realized she was ravenous. "Perhaps we can discuss this after we eat."

"Good idea. Never mix politics with supper."

She slanted a look at him. He was smiling at her.

Chapter 52

Ian stood watching as she and her dog proceeded across the meadow. He'd been very reluctant to allow her to go alone, offering several reasons he should as she mounted up. They were all sound reasons. It was dangerous riding alone in unfamiliar terrain. it would be dark soon. She could get lost. Yes, all sound reason. But she  didn't want him hovering over me. She  also wanted to explore alone. She promised to return before dark and if she did not, he could come after her.

Her calculations told said she had at least three hours before it began to grow dark. That was more than enough to get to the circle and back. She was just going to look around a few minutes. She could return back in the morning for a thorough examination.

The path along the cliff was safe enough. Her horse was not skittish under normal conditions and she knew she would be fine. There was nothing to worry about. Sergeant moved along beside her and then ahead, in a scout position. He often did this and she'd know immediately if he sensed danger.

The breeze off the water was still rather brisk and she was glad she had on a jacket. Looking out at the water she saw birds circling and diving. Obviously, there was something down there that interested them. She I could see but that would mean getting down and looking over the ledge. Not something anyone would be keen to do. The condition of the cliffs was unfamiliar to her. Perhaps she could get John to bring her here on his boat and study the coastline more closely. She knew that many places were simply not suitable for a boat of any kind to put ashore but it would be possible to at least get a look at the cliffs.

In truth, Samantha didn't believe her aunt's statement about there not being a way to the beaches below. People always made a path to the water, wherever they settled. It might not support shipping or even a small boat but she'd never seen anyone who didn't want to find a way to a beach. This area would be no different in my view. Some adventurous young man would have scaled these cliffs and made a path.

Once she reached the forest, the worst part of the trail began. That ten feet of land between the trail and the end of the world seemd very small and she was very aware that one mist step and she could be thrown off in to space. Once she reached the clearing she released a long sigh of relief to be in the open and away from the cliff.

Dismounting and tying the horse to a low bush nearby, Sam studied her surroundings. Nothing has changed. Three rings of stones stood in concentric circles, each ring a bit taller than the rest. She tired to overlay the reality with her dream of the building she'd been in. It didn't seem to match. There had been huge supporting columns inside and the walls outside... there was no indication of walls here.

Turning in a circle she studied the ground. Could all signs of them have disappeared? How long ago had the temple, for that's how she thought of it, how long ago had it stood here? A frown creased her brow. Had it ever stood here at all? Had it really been just a dream?

Signing, she turned and headed across the circle to where the stone table stood in the center. The reluctance she felt to touch it was powerful and she felt almost sick at the thought. There was no one here to help her if something happened to her here. She should have brought Ian but she didn't think Ian was comfortable with all this.

"I'm not touching that thing." The words were only a whisper but their sound surprised her. Sergeant looked at her, his head canted to one side. She laughed. "Sorry, boy, I was talking to myself."

Making a slow circle around the table she studied it as close as possible without attempting to touch it. She saw now that there were marking on the pedestal base. It was difficult to make them out because the top overshadowed it. Reading them would mean getting on her knees with a light. She had no light.

Sam looked around. The air here was so heavy. Perhaps the mountains that circled one side and the thick forest on the other prevented adequate circulation. She stood up and moved toward the gate on the far side of the clearing. This is where she's found the fire in her dreams and had actually met her ancestress. Perhaps she'd be waiting for her now.

Sergeant made a sound as she moved away and she looked back at him. He stood, feet planted, head lowered and his eyes on something beyond her. She glanced back but saw nothing.

"What's wrong, boy? What do you see?"

He looked at her and then back to that point beyond her. Sam turned and after a short hesitation she moved toward the wood. She hear the dog move behind her. When she reached the gate, she saw it was close and she reached out to push it open. The shriek of the rusty hinges startled her and she jumped slightly, then laughed at her own foolishness.

Sergeant brushed against her legs as he pushed his way past and through the gate ahead of her.

Chapter 51

Ian frowned at her for a moment and shook his head. "I don't know what you're asking. I thought Mother took you there."

Sam nodded. "She did. But I'm just confused by the whole place. What is it? Where did it come from? Who built it? Why?"

He shifted in his chair and moved his feet around until they were back in the same spot he started in. "It's very old."

She waited.

More shuffling and shifting. "Really, Mother is the one you want to ask. She's all into the history of the Outland and the ancient sites."

"Sites? There are other places like the circle?"

He stood up. "I think I'll show you to your room, Sam. I just remembered something I need to do before dark. I'll let Mother know as soon as she comes in that you're here and want to talk to her."

"Oh." She stood and gave him an airy wave. "That's not necessary. I want to take a walk, work out the kinks from all that riding. I'll be back in a bit. I'm sure she'll be back by then."

Spinning on one foot she headed for the front door, the sound of Ian's steps followed her. "Sam, wait. You shouldn't go out alone."

She turned at the door, causing him to come to an abrupt halt. She smiled. "Why not? I thought it was safe here to go out?"

"Well, yes, of course." He backed up two steps and flushed. "But an attractive young woman... well..." The flush spread.

"Ian," she said and reached out to touch his arm. "how sweet. But I'll be fine." She walked across the porch and down the steps. "I'll be back soon. I won't go far, just to the cliffs."

|A stiff breeze blew off the water, driving the heat of the day from the air and spreading the fresh scent of the sea inland. She waded through the meadow grass, pulling stalks as she walked and tossing them into the air to be caught by the wind and carried away. The feel of freedom that filled her whenever she moved toward the sea was exhilarating and she wanted to run. Laughter bubbled up but she smothered it, shaking her head at her own foolishness. She loved her own house but to live here, where every waking moment she could look out and see the ocean, would be a gift.

When she reached the point where they'd stopped the last time she'd visited, she studied the area as far as the edge. There was no sign that anyone could or had passed in that direction, or at least not often enough to make a path. She scanned as far as she could see in the in each direction but saw nothing unusual.

Turning she began to walk parallel to the cliff, toward the trail that led to the circle. How far was White Beach from here? She knew it couldn't be far by water. Her journey had taken her inland by way of indirect paths. Travel along the coast from where they'd set sail to the beach was a shorter distance than if they'd taken a road. Sam shook her head. She really should have made the trip by water but she knew of no landing between here and town other than White Beach. Common knowledge said Outlanders had no shore line. The area was supposedly landlocked because it ran between the nine provinces.

Yet, she felt there had to be another landing along the area of coastline. It was impossible to believe that people lived in the Outland, with an actual coastline but no place to come ashore. Someone would have created one.

The meadow ended at a stand of forest but the trail they'd ridden to the circle continued along and ran along the coast. She turned and looked back toward the house. She needed her horse. It was too far by foot. Turning back to the cliffs she again studied the edge. Her aunt said there had once been a way down farther along the coast, steps carved into the cliff. But she'd also said they were dangerous. She and John had intentions of going down but events has interfered.

Sam stared out to sea and considered what she was going to do. The sound of the heaving sea, rustling grass, and birds faded away. It was time to figure this out. She's muddled through long enough. John was going to be furious with her anyway so she might as well get it over with.

Whirling about she headed back to the house. Ian met her at the porch, concern creasing his brow.

"Sam, is something wrong?"

"May I please have my horse saddled and I wonder if you could give me a picnic basket. I'd like to take a ride and just enjoy the day. I never get to see the ocean from this vantage point and I simply want to sit somewhere and stare at it."

He smiled. "Why don't I come along?"

"Oh.: She frowned and reached and place her hand on his arm. "Ian, do you mind not. I would really love to just ride and enjoy the weather and the place. I never realized the Outland was such a beautiful, unspoiled land."

"But... aren't you afraid?"

"No. I think, whatever the tales may say, that the people here are probably as civilized as the rest of us. From what I've seen so far, they all care about one another and only want to live their lives in peace and safety."

With a single nod he went back into the house. "I'll have cook prepare you something and I'll get the horse for you."

Chapter 50

It was nearly noon when Sam reached the plateau and she felt the tension in her shoulders drain away as she left the green heaviness of the forest. The ocean lay to her right and she could taste a hint of salt on the breeze. As she headed north, she tried to think of a plausible explanation to give Aunt Isabel for her unannounced arrival.


"Probably should have thought about that before I left." She said to Sergeant. She glanced down at him. He walked along at a steady pace, beside her. She pulled on the reins and stopped. Sergeant stopped and stared up at her. She slapped the back of her horse, just behind the saddle. In a single bound, he landed in the spot. After a moment adjusting to the position, he sat still. Sam gave a gentle tap of her heels and the horse moved forward. 


No horses raced to the fence this time to greet them. No one came out the front door and down the walk. She dismounted and tied her horse to a sapling near the road. Sergeant followed her up the walk. Once on the porch she turned to look out across the meadow toward a calm sea. The sun was lowering in the west and so the land shadows were long on the water.


"Samantha?"


She turned to find Ian staring through the screen at her. She felt a smile move across her face and hoped it reached her eyes. Now that she was here, she didn't know what to do next.


He opened the door and held it for her, motioning her to enter. The dark hallway was several degrees cooler than the outside and a gentle breeze drifted around her, tugging at her skirt and hair as if to pull her back onto the porch. A sudden inclination to follow that tug assailed her but she pushed it back. 


"What are you doing here? Does Mother know you were coming?"


Not good. "Um, well... no... not really."


He smiled. "Don't sound so frightened. We'll all be glad to see you." He moved into the front parlor and gestured to a chair. "Sit down. Would you like something to drink? I bet you haven't eaten. You must be famished."


She laughed. "Ian! Really, I'm fine. Food does sound good but I'd really like a glass of water, please."


"Be back in a moment."


She got up as soon as he left and stepped to the door and listened. There wasn't a sound in the house until she heard Ian's steps returning. She hurried back to her seat.


He smiled down at her as he handed her the glass and sat in the chair opposite.


The glass was cool against her palm and the water soothed her dry throat. She drank all of it and placed the empty glass on the table beside her chair. "Where is everyone?"


"Father is away for a few days. Something to do with the militia. Mother went riding and Alanna, I have no idea. She doesn't consult us these days."


"Is something wrong?" She tried to sound more concerned than nosy. It was hard. Alanna was not someone she worried about in the general sense of the word.


"My sister, as you very well know, doesn't generate warmth from her family. I'm sure something is wrong. I just don't know what."


Sam looked at the tips of her shoes. There was a scuff on the left one. "She is. . .difficult to understand."


His laughter drew her gaze from the abused shoe. 


"She is that but don't feel sorry for her. She brings it on herself." There was a heavy pause during which he frowned and stared at the pattern he traced on the arm of his chairt. "I .... she's up to something."


Sam stayed very still. He wasn't really talking to her and she wanted him to continue. 


"She goes out late quite often. And I've found her twice in the circle. Both times at night."


"You followed her?" She was surprised.The act seemed out of character for him.


Ian blinked and looked at her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." He hesitated, then continued. "Yes. I can hear her going down the stairs in the middle of the night. I finally decided to follow her." He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and studying her face intently. "Sam, when I found her the first time, she was in the circle and unconscious. I had a terrible time waking her. She remembered nothing."


Samantha considered this with skepticism. She remembered virtually everything and she was pretty certain Alanna did, too. 


"Did you tell anyone?"


"I told Mother."


Sam raised her brows.


He waved to her. "She wouldn't say anything. In fact, she was rather annoyed that I had followed Alanna."


She gave herself a few moments to digest this information. Of course, it could mean nothing. Her aunt could have felt that Ian was being nosy. She could have been annoyed Ian had not let her know immediately. It didn't necessarily mean that she was annoyed that Ian knew about Alanna going to the circle.


"Does she go there often?" Sam again studied the toes of her shoes and frowned. There was another scuff on the right that matched the left. What was she doing to keep scuffing the toes. 


"To the circle?" He thought for a moment. "I don't really know. We've always gone there, all of us. It has always been a popular place to have a picnic. We used to carry croquet equipment and play there when we were growing up. I've spent long summer afternoons there with friends." He smiled. "I've spent a few evenings walking there with a girl or two."


She smiled but said nothing.


"You have to understand, Samantha. We don't have all the social outlets you have in the provinces. This is the Outland. Our resources are limited by time, distance, and economics. Most of us farm or raise livestock of one kind or another. We have plenty of undeveloped land for it. A place like the circle will be popular with locals as a social setting."


"I understand. But your mother indicated that not many people like the circle."


He looked surprised. "Really?"


"I understood it was taboo to most of the locals. Your mother liked going there because of that."


"Hmmm," Ian paused, frowning. "Well. . .I'm sure she would know then."


"I have one question, Ian. You're mother explained this to me but I'd link another view, too."


"Of course."


"What is the circle?"

Chapter 49

The morning sun slanted into the room and warmed the foot of the bed. Sam opened her eyes and stretched. A rooster crowed in the distance. Samantha tossed back the bedding and sat up. She had a half day's journey left to her and lying here wasn't going to get her any closer to her destination. A knock at the door caused her to pause as she reached for her clothes. "Come in."

Lucy entered with a pitcher held tightly in both hands. "Hot water, Miss. Thought you'd like a nice wash up before getting started."

"Oh yes. That'd be lovely." She took it and smiled at the girl.

"Breakfast will be ready in about half an hour, Miss."

“Thank you. I didn't expect this kind of service.”

The girl smiled and blushed. “My dad said you was to have the best of everything.”

Sam looked up. “Your dad?”

“Yes, Miss.  Nate Ridgeway is my dad. I'm Janie Ridgeway.” She gave a small curtsey and giggled.

“Tell your father I'm grateful.”

“Yes miss.”  She closed the door quietly behind her.

Sam poured the water in the wash basin and dropped a clean wash cloth into it. Twenty minutes later, she was dressed and her hair bound in a braided bun. One last look around the room and she gathered her bag and left.

Descending the stairs she could hear laughter and talking coming from the common room. At the foot of the stairs she hesitated. In the past, her father or John took care of most business transactions. It was an uncomfortable shock when she realized the job was her's now.

Lucy was setting a table for her as she entered the bar. Mr. Ridgeway stood behind the bar putting glasses on the shelf behind it. He glanced at her in the mirror. "Mornin' Miss. I trust you had a restful night."

"Very much. Thank you for your kindness." To Lucy she said, "This looks wonderful and I'm starving."

"You call, Miss, if you need anything. I'll be in the kitchen."

Father and daughter left her then, to eat alone. Sam wished one of them had stayed to chat with her. The journey ahead weighed on her mind and she craved a distraction. Well, you don't have it. Now eat and get moving.

In a soft voice she answered. "Quite right."

Mr. Ridgeway appeared at her table just as she set her fork down. “I trust your breakfast was satisfactory?”

“Yes sir, and thank you, How much do I owe you?” She started to dig in her handbag.

He held up his hand, shaking his head and said, “Now we'll not be hearing that. That room hasn't been used in ages and I'd feel I was cheating you. No, there will be no charge for you.”

“But Mr. Ridgeway, you're running a business. You can't possible have so many paying guest that you can afford let me stay for nothing.”

“What you and your brother have saved us by catching one of the bandits what's robbing us blind more than compensates me, Miss. Besides, I'd be tarred if word gets out I charged you. I'm not the only one that's grateful.”

Sam sighed and dropped her arms to her sides. “He was only one bandit, Mr. Ridgeway. I'm sure there are others to take his place.”

He remained silent.

“I have to go now. I left my horse at the rail last night. I should have seen to him but....”

He grinned and motioned her to follow him as he moved to the door. “We stabled him last night and he's been fed and brushed and is waiting for orders.”

She reached out and shook Mr. Ridgeway's hand. “Thank you for your kindness. I'll probably be passing by in about four days on my way home. I will probably need a place to stay. But I'm paying this time.”

He nodded. “We look forward to seeing you.”

A bell tolled eight o'clock as she left the Inn. Sergeant fell into step beside her and they moved out onto the east road. This way closer than the road between her province and the Inn, with the forest crowding the verge. As on her last trip through, she felt closed in. When she reached the stream where they had met the two strangers, she stopped to water the horse and dog while she drank from her freshly filled canteen. The Ridgeways had insured she had fresh water and an ample lunch in her saddlebag.

A knot settled in Samantha's stomach as she looked ahead. This was the shortest leg of her trip but her least favorite. The next two hours she'd travel the heavily wooded road where she and John and met the two strange men who had seemed to know them and where they had been headed. They'd crept up on them despite having Sergeant along with them. Scanning the road and the forest that boarded it Sam spoke aloud."Well, m'lady, what will you do once you arrive? What will you say to your aunt?"

Chapter 48

She packed only the minimum of clothes. She hoped to be back in four days but if she wasn't, she might have to find a clean creek to wash her clothes in. She would be traveling by horseback and could not afford to carry much. She'd need something to make a shelter with in case it rained. Fortunately, she possessed a small tent that her father had used on hunting trips. There were times, when she was small, that he'd go on hunting trips with her uncles for several days. They would always come back with a wagon load of meat for the smoke house. Since she had five uncles the process was carried out efficiently. Each day, two of them returned to the farm to get the result of the day's hunt into the smoke house. They returned each morning to the site. They rotated who came in and who hunted so that everyone got a chance to hunt. It worked so well, that five families never went without meat.

Once she had locked the house and mounted her horse she just sat and stared around her. This farm was her life and she could not envision ever leaving it. There was no place she could go that she thought she would be happier. There was a time she thought perhaps that she would marry and move with her husband to whatever home he made for them. Now. . . life had taken on a different meaning and she realized that her past, her history was as entwined in this plot of earth as the roots of the trees and grass and crops. She was a part of it and to leave it would be the same as tearing out the oak that sheltered the end of the house.

Tugging the reins, she moved off in the direction of the Outland road. She whistled and Sergeant fell into a lope beside her. Until she reached the band of trees that began the divide her land from the Outland, she would be exposed to view and she urged her mount to a gentle trot. She didn't want to tire the dog but she also didn't like being out in the open. Just as the sun sank below the horizon she entered the woods, the green darkened immediately to a gray tunnel. It would be pitch dark in a matter of an hour at the longest. She didn't relish the thought of riding this route in the dark but there was no help for it. And if the truth were told, it might actually be safer for her.

When the final glimmer faded it was darker than even she imagined. Sergeant had no need of light and it would seem her horse did not either. They seemed to know  exactly where they were headed and stayed on the road. She did slow her horse to a walk. No sense in either of them breaking a . She wondered when she reached the boarder if the sentry would allow her to pass. She had no letters or anything to declare why she was leaving the Province. She remembered that John had had some sort of pass he'd shown them. And if she did get through, she didn't know if she could get back.

It was before her then, the high wall with it's barred gate and guards. Tonight there seemed to be only one man on duty. A small fire burned beside the road, casting an orange glow against the fence and casting dancing shadows. He stood leaning against the fence next to the gate. She knew the moment he heard her approach. He came to attention and moved to stand in the center of the road.

“Who goes there?”

“Samantha Channing,” she said.

“Miss Channing?”

She laughed in relief. She knew that voice. “Caleb Donal? Well, how'd you get this duty?”

“Cursed, that's what I am, Miss Channing, cursed by my own mouth.” Puzzlement evident in his voice, he said, “What in the world are you doing out here this time of night?”

“I've got to get to my aunt's house in the Outland. I meant to leave before it got so late but I had so much to do. I figured I could at least get to the village and spend the night there.”

“Miss, it is dangerous on the road at night!

“I have to go, Caleb. I've got Sergeant with me. I'm not stopping so I'll be fine.”

“Miss, do ya have papers?”

No way to hide it. “No.” She leaned toward him. “Caleb, you know me, my whole family. You know my aunt lives in the Outland. It is urgent that I go tonight. Please, can you let me pass without it?”

A long hesitation. He looked over his shoulder as if he were going to consult someone but since he was the only one on duty it was pointless. “Well, I guess. . . maybe. . . when you coming back?”

It was impossible to know since she had no idea what was going to happen once she got there. “When will you be on duty again?”

“Two nights from now and the three nights following.”

“My plan is to be back in four nights.”

“Miss  Channing, you got to be careful. This road is known for thieves and such. Don't call attention to yourself if you can help it. And hurry. There's a village along the way. You take shelter there soon's you arrive.” He pulled the gate open and stepped back. “Keep to the center of the road, Miss.”

Urging her mount forward, she called as she passed, “I will. And Caleb, if my brother asks, tell him where I've gone.”

The darkness swallowed her up as the gate closed, blotting out the glow of the fire. She pulled up briefly, listening to the crickets and cicadas and night birds. The darkness here was palpable, tugging at her sleeve, her hair. She urged the horse to a trot, whistling for Sergeant to stay close. The last time they came this way it had taken nearly half a day to reach the village in the wagon. In this darkness time meant nothing and it was impossible to know how long she'd been riding. She just rode, stopping only briefly to let the horse and dog rest and to stretch her own legs. The stars were not visible beneath the canopy that sheltered the roadway.

Without any warning a light flared ahead and she flinched. Her horse started but she soothed him and patted his neck. A low rumble issued from Sergeant's chest. As she approached ,the trees thinned and the road opened, revealing the village square. Few light were burning because it was late but the tavern where they'd had lunch seemed to still be open.

Hitching her horse to the rail in front of it, she hurried up the steps, snapping her fingers for Sergeant.  The dog fell into step by her side. The dinning room was empty but a lantern was set on  at each end of the bar.

“Hello?” Moving into the room she waited. “Could I get a room tonight?”

The door behind the bar opened and a dark-haired woman peeked around the frame. “Who're you? What you be wantin' this time of night?”

She smiled and moved up to the bar, leaning forward. “Samantha Channing. My brother and I were here not long ago. I'm traveling to my aunt's but I really need to find a place to stay the night.”

She stepped out, wiping her hands on a dishtowel but halting when she saw the dog beside Sam. “I'm Lucy. My brother's the innkeeper. We only got a small room in the attic. It ain't much and probably smells musty. No one ever wants to let it.”

“I'll take it.” She grabbed her bag and waited.

“Give me a second while I get the key.”

Moments later Samantha followed the woman up the narrow flight of stairs at the top of the house. Sargent pressed against Sam's thigh. She patted his head to reassure him.

It was a small room and as musty as her claim. A small window at each gable allowed moonlight to enter revealing a narrow but comfortable looking bed. Lucy opened the windows and a breeze blew through the room, freshening the air and then she pulled back the covers revealing sheets that shone in the moonlight.

“I'll bring you a pitcher with fresh water and a clean towel in the morning. Would you like anything to eat?”

Sam shook her head. “I don't want to trouble you. It's late. I think I'll just go to bed. But thank you.”

Waving aside the thanks, Lucy quietly closed the door behind her. Sam undressed and slipped into bed. In the morning she'd finish her trip. For a moment she wondered what Aunt Isabel would think. How much did she know? Somewhere a dog barked and Sargent growled softly for a moment fell silent. She'd find out tomorrow.

Chapter 47

“You have to understand, Samantha,” he sat down across from her and began puffing on his pipe again. “The council has control of everything that comes onto the island. They decide who gets what, what gets sent where, and how much it cost.”

“But they insure that everyone has whatever they need,” she said.

“That they do. But they define “need”. You don't tell them what you need to live, they tell you.”

She frowned. She heard what he was saying but there was an underlying tone to his words that needed explaining.

“I'm not saying that they're not treating anyone fairly, Samantha. I'm saying that there are those who could interpret the Council's definition as restrictive and taking far more control than they should be. They might feel that the choices of the Council were not fair and equitable, particularly if they had evidence of that.”

“What kind of evidence?”

“Say you needed a specific item and requested this item from the Council. You're told it is not available and you are denied. Yet, you find, weeks later that someone related to a council member has just obtained the item you requested. If this happens frequently, eventually people will notice. An element will spring up that can provide for the wants of the people instead of the needs.”

She sat back. “So the smuggling is a symptom of a bigger problem?”

He nodded. “I'd say that was a good description.”

“They're stealing from their neighbors, not the Council.”

He drew on the pipe and blew three smoke rings before he answered. “You think the things that have been happening in the Outland with the Green Men are connected to the underground smuggling that has been going on for centuries?”

“Centuries? You don't think this is a recent occurrence?”

He looked surprised. “Of course not. It's common knowledge that most of the robberies that occur are connected to smuggling. They steal items in the provinces and sell them in the Outland. Helps those who would not normally get items they truly need because they are outcasts.”

She studied him for a minute and realized that he didn't know what she was talking about. What he described was what she and everyone else had always known. She shook her head. “No, Uncle Will. I'm talking about the smuggling of items that are coming across the mist.”

Will removed the pipe from between his teeth and stared at her. “That's impossible.”

She shook her head again.

“How?”

“I'm not sure. I think that . . . you'll call me crazy.”

He reached across the table and squeezed her wrist. “Not in a million years.”

“I think they are coming through the mist with things they sell in secret. Not exactly smuggling but underground. And I think that they are separate from those doing the smuggling. I think that is why the Green Men are having such trouble.”

“You're not talking about stealing and simple smuggling, Lass. That's a black market.”

She knew the term but had never heard it referred to in regard to anything happening in the provinces.

“Actually, they smuggle the goods in and sell them on the black market. Called black market because it is not legitimate. But what you are suggesting is impossible. Everything that comes is reviewed by the Council and distributed through the proper procedures. The mist is monitored and patrolled by the Port Authority. The chance of getting caught is high. Besides, they would have to know when the items were coming through in order to be ready to intercept them. That is just impossible. No one has ever been able to predict that.”

She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “But Uncle Will... I can. And if I can, there are bound to be others who can as well.”

The truth of her words sank in slowly, until he finally dropped his pipe onto the small dish he used for the purpose. “Sam. . . are you sure that is what is happening?”

“I'm more than sure, Uncle Will. I think I have been in their storage area.”

She described the trip she and John took to White Beach and what they found. He didn't speak until she fell silent.

“You could both have been killed.”

“I don't think we thought of that at the time. And we never dreamed of what we would find. There had never been an inkling that there was a huge underground complex of caves there. Or anywhere on the island as far as I know. But I just felt I had to go there. My dream started there.”

“That's something else I don't get, Sam. Why are you having such odd dreams? When did it start? I never remember your father mentioning dreams. Only that you seemed to know when someone was coming through the mist.”

She didn't want tell him about her visit to Isabel and the Circle. She felt as if she had already told too many people too much. There was a crawling sensation on the back of her neck that she didn't like at all. It felt as if she had told something to someone she shouldn't but she couldn't put her finger on it. Before she told anyone else another thing, she really needed to sit and think it all through. The feeling that she was still missing a piece was growing. She stood up.

“I'm going home now, Uncle Will. I'm sorry to burden you with all this but I want to find out what all this is about.”

He rose and moved around the table to put his arms around her. “Lass, you are welcome here anytime. If you are in trouble, I will move heaven and earth to help you. I just wish you'd leave this alone. It could be dangerous, especially if what you are suggesting is true. And this stays between us.”

He unlocked the front door for her and stood on the boardwalk watching as she rode away. She still didn't relish the rest of her ride home but there was so much on her mind that she was fairly certain that she wouldn't notice much.

John wouldn't be pleased if he knew what she was planning. He'd be furious. Still, she felt as if she had been drawn into this through no fault of her own and the feeling of being manipulated wasn't something she liked at all. It was time to take things into her own hands. If she had to have this gift she might as well get started using it to her own advantage instead of having other people use it for theirs.

Chapter 46

The ride back to town was longer than any she could remember. There was a twisting knot in her chest that threatened to smother her with each breath. Lillian had been her friend for as long as she had known her. No, more sister than friend. The fury that enveloped her had been unexpected and frightening. Samantha couldn’t recall every having seen anyone she knew as angry as that.

What was even more troubling was the ability that Lily apparently possessed. She seemed to be able to see things that were going to happen but to be able to see emotions was something Samantha had no knowledge of and couldn’t ever remember hearing about. Her own ability seemed limited to seeing people coming from outside, through the mist. Seeing things that were going to happen here on the island was not something she had ever been able to do but which Lily obviously could do with ease. Of course, her own abilities seemed to have been heightened, possibly even growing.

How long Lillian had known about Lily was debatable but Sam was certain of one thing. Lillian had known about it for some time. That amount of rage would not have developed so quickly unless the knowledge had been festering in her mind. At least, Sam hoped not. The irony was that Sam understood completely how Lillian felt. It wasn’t far from the way she felt about her own so called gift. She hated that Lily was the next generation of her family to carry this burden.

Sam reached the main street and turned toward the harbor and The Block and Tackle. Uncle Will might have a minute to talk before he closed for the day. Her horse made her way along with very little help from Sam. Over and over in her mind she reviewed the events of the summer. She was missing something. It was like a splinter that she couldn’t see but had rubbed the spot so much it hurt and still she couldn’t dislodge it.

There were only two people in the store when she entered. Will Rivers was bent over the counter, tinkering with some gadget and a small boy stood patiently waiting and watching. Will looked up and smiled. “Come in, Sam. I’ll be done here in a minute. Charlie, meet my niece, Sam.” He went back to tinkering.

Charlie looked over his shoulder and his dark eyes widened before turning a scowl at Will. He looked back at Will. “She’s a girl.”

Again, Will looked up and he gave a laugh. “Can’t deny that.”

“She can’t be a Sam.”

Sam moved to the counter and smiled down at him. He had sandy blond hair and scattering of freckles across his nose. She judged him to be about 8 or 9 years old. “My name is Samantha but everyone who knows me calls me Sam. It’s a nickname, like Charlie.”

He shook his head. “Ain’t got no nickname. Name’s Charlie.”

Will snapped a part in place and handed the item to the boy. “You’re given name is Charles. They’ve called you Charlie all your life. Here my lad, good as new.”

Charlie examined the gadget and nodded. “See ya, Will.” He tossed a disdainful look Sam’s way. “Good-by, Samantha.”

Both Sam and Will laughed as Charlie dashed out into the fading sunlight. Will shook his head, “Boys,” he said as he began to gather his tools. “Let me lock up and we’ll have a cup of coffee or tea, your choice.”

While Will locked the door as Sam made her way to the back of the building to the kitchen. The double doorway stood open onto a back garden with a stone patio to the left of the door. She set two cups on a tray and added spoons and sugar and a small pitcher of fresh cream. Will came in just as she poured the coffee. The two of them then made their way outside and sat down. Matching sighs escaped them both and they smiled at one another.

“So, how ya’ been sweetheart?” He added cream and sugar to his coffee.

“Confused.”

“Hmmm,” he sipped his coffee. “So’s most of us, I suspect.”

“Uncle Will,” she leaned across the table, reaching for and clutching lightly at his wrist. “I need to know about my family. Who can I ask? Who can I trust to give me the truth?”

The coffee cup made a clinking sound as he sat it down on his saucer. He patted her hand and sat back in his chair. “Ah well, truth, a rare commodity in some regions. You have a few relatives here and there on the island. You talked to Isabel?”

She nodded.

“And didn’t discover what you wanted to know?”

“No, not really.” She hesitated and then asked, “Do you know her daughter?”

His brow crinkled and a grunt escaped him as he leaned forward and picked up his cup again. “I saw her a few times when she was growing up. Met her once then, about a year ago when I delivered supplies.”

When no further comment came Sam raised her hands in question.

“Hell spawn,” he replied between tight lips. “Couldn’t believe she was Isabel’s daughter.”

“What did she do?”

He shook his head, the frown deepening. “Nothing. Just stood on the porch and stared at me. I thought I would smother before I got away from there. I would swear that I was having trouble breathing by the time I pointed that team homeward. The farther away I got the better I felt.”

He paused and then, almost under his breath he said, “Something not right with that one.”

So, he had felt it, too. It had not been her imagination after all. Sam stared off across the field that lay behind the store. It was more a common ground than a field. Several children were playing ball there today. Some days people strolled a path around it.

Finally, she turned her gaze back to the older man. “I felt that, too.”

His eyes widened and his brows rose, whether in surprise or shock she didn’t know.

“I think she has an ability to do that at will. I suspect from what you say of your experience she has been . . . practicing.” She weighed her next statement. “She is getting stronger.”

Will pursed his lips in thought and nodded. “Isabel?”

“Either doesn’t know or is ignoring it.”

Shaking his head, he said, “Be hard to ignore.”

“Yes, it would.”

“Uncle Will, do you know of,” she stopped.

“Of what?”

Samantha opened her mouth to speak, closed it, sighed and opened it again.

“You’ve either got something to say, you’ve got a problem with breathing, or you’re practicing your imitation of a fish. Which is it?”

She smiled briefly. “What do you know about smuggling on the island?”

His eyes widened before he looked away, across the field. “I know there are probably things you shouldn’t ask some people.”

“Are you one of them?”

He didn’t answer. From his shirt pocket he pulled out a packet of pipe tobacco and from his jacket pocket he pulled out a pipe. He took his time tamping the tobacco into the bowl, striking a match, lighting the pipe, and puffing like a steam engine. Finally, he took a long draw and blew out a great cloud of smoke that circled his head and drifted away on a breeze.

“What do you want to know?”

“How big is it?”

“Large enough to establish some fairly important people in business.”

He got up and left the room. She heard the turning of the lock in the front of the store and the tinkling of the curtain ring as the curtains were pulled across the windows. He had just closed shop for the day. When he came back he stood in the door and motioned her to come inside. She gathered up the dishes and followed him. She set them on the counter and turned to find he had closed the double doors and locked them.

“Sit down,” he said, pointing to the table. “And you have to swear on your parents’ graves that you will keep your mouth shut.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d kind of like both of us to stay above ground a bit longer.”

She pulled her chair close to the table and leaned on forward.

Chapter 45

“Aunt Sam? Aunt Sam!”

The small voice drew Sam’s attention and she turned to find Lily standing on the steps staring at her, a sad look on her face. Sam hurried to her and scooped her into her arms. “What’s wrong, Lily? Are you all aright?”

Lily put her good arm around Sam’s neck and hugged her. “I don’t like it when you are sad, Aunt Sammy.”

She pulled back and stared into Lily’s face. “That’s sweet, Lily, but I’m not sad.”

“Yes, you are. The light went out and that means you’re sad.”

Sam gave her a puzzled smile, turning her head to one side. “Light?”

Lily nodded. “Yes. When you are happy, there is light all around you. It’s very bright. Sometimes it has glittery stars in it. But when you are sad it goes out. I don’t like it when the light goes out.”

Her breath caught in her chest and she had to put the child down for fear she would drop her. She sank down, onto the top step and put her head on her knees. Exactly what, she wondered, were Lily’s abilities and where did she get them?

“I’m sorry, Aunt Sam. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She raised her head and covered her face with her hands, propping her elbows on her knees. “Lily, can you go get your mother for me?”

The child darted into the house, calling her mother as the screen door slammed behind her. In moments, Lillian hurried out onto the porch, Lily at her heels. Samantha spoke before Lillian had a chance to say anything. “I’m fine, Lil, but I need to talk to you alone. Now.”

“Lily, I want you to go to the kennel and help your father, please. Tell him I said I needed you to stay with him for about an hour.”

“Mama. . .”

“Go, Lily. You can come back in one hour. Tell your father.”

She trudged off toward the back of the house, glancing over her shoulder as she rounded the corner. Samantha smiled and waved.

Lillian sat down next to Sam and draped her arm across the other woman’s shoulders. “Now, what is it that has you so sad.”

She shook her head. “You know, I didn’t know I was sad until Lily said I was.”

Shocked, Lillian pulled back and laughed. “Lily?”

“Lily,” she nodded. “Lil, how much do you know about my abilities as a seer.”

There was no response from Lillian for the space of three breaths. Sam noticed that it seemed as if the birds had all fallen silent at that moment as well, as if holding their breath for Lillian’s answer.

“John has not talked with me in detail Samantha. I know the basics, that you see when people are going to come through the mist. I don’t know much more than that.”

“And do you know about my father’s sister?”

“Isabel? Yes. She appears to have the same ability.”

She looked at Lillian and tried to keep her voice steady. “And Lily?”

Lillian gasped and paled and pulled her arm away. She refused to look at Sam and stared at her feet instead, clutching her skirt in both hands. “What about Lily?”

“What is she able to do, Lil?”

Lillian shook her head and looked away. “Nothing. Lily is a normal child.”

“I didn’t say she wasn’t. I was a normal child, Lillian.”

“You’re wrong. Lily has no gifts.”

Sam clutched at her sister-in-laws arm, squeezing with out thought until Lillian twisted away in pain. “Lillian, you have to tell me. I can’t protect her if I don’t know.”

Rubbing her arm where the imprint of Sam’s fingers darkened, Lillian stood and moved away from the steps, into the yard, facing Sam. “No, she doesn’t need protecting. Lily knows nothing. She’s fine. There is no reason for you to protect her.”

She tried to think of how to make Lillian understand but she couldn’t. Her voice broke and she could barely speak above a whisper as she pleaded. “You don’t understand the danger, Lil. You have to tell me.”

Lillian’s face twisted and she dropped her arms, clenching her fist at her sides. Sam barely recognized her sister-in-law and friend. “NO! You don’t understand. I won’t have you make her a pariah. I won’t have her corrupted by this. . . this. . . horrible thing. My Lily is good, she’s pure. You’ll not turn her into one of you!”

Lillian had been her friend and confidant for over a decade, since she was little more than a child. But this woman, she didn’t know. Sam stared in horror at the woman before her. The anger that rolled out at Sam was hot and fierce but it wasn’t the anger that bothered Sam the most. It was the pure hatred that surrounded Lillian twisting her face and blackening her eyes that terrified her.

A scream tore through the afternoon jerking both women around. Lillian reacted first, horror washing over her, driving back every other emotion and followed by remorse. Lily had slipped back around the house and crouched just out of sight below the porch. Lillian realized instantly that the child had witnessed the outburst and she ran toward her daughter with outstretched arms. “Lily!”

Sam jumped up. “Lillian, wait!”

But she didn’t. She raced to Lily and reached for her and Lily went wild. She scrambled back, away from her mother, screaming louder and louder. She cowered against the ground, clawing at the dirt with her good arm while holding the splinted arm up as if to ward off an attack from whatever demons she had seen in her mother’s face. And Sam knew that Lily had seen into the pit.

John came running across the lawn, fear etched in the lines of his face. He dropped to the ground and gathered Lily in his arms. She clawed at his chest, both burying her face against him and looking over her shoulder at her mother. Lillian stood in shock with outstretched arms.

“Lily, my baby! I’m sorry. Lily?”

The sobs coming from Lily twisted like a knife deep in Sam’s heart. Lillian was a good mother and she adored her children. For Lily to act as if her mother was a monster had to be tearing her apart.

“John,” Sam spoke quietly, “Take her in the house and get her calmed down. She’s seen something that frightened her.”

Lillian turned on Sam in fury. “How dare you!” she began.

Lily’s screams renewed. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! Make her stop!”

John was obviously confused but he stood and gathered Lily up in his arms. He gave his wife a hard look. “Lil, settle down. I don’t know what has happened but you need to stop. You are frightening her.”

She turned back to face him. Her voice broke when she replied. “John, I didn’t do anything. I. . .”

Forcing a calm she did not feel into her voice, Sam interrupted. “Lillian, you have to listen to me. Let me explain what I just found out myself. Please. Don’t frighten her anymore with this.”

Lillian watched with tears streaming down her face as John carried Lily up the front steps and into the house. The child’s cries went on for several more minutes until they faded away. He had either carried her upstairs or he had quieted her.

Only then did Lillian turn to face Sam. Sam stepped back in shock. There was no friendship, no kinship or anything else of family in her eyes. The look on Lillian’s face was raw and personal. In that moment, Sam realized this was what her aunt had faced over and over and over. Every relationship affected by her gift. Either hated or loved and no way to predict which it would be. No middle ground.

“Lily sees emotions, Lillian. She knows things are going to happen. She is a seer.”

“Liar!”

Sam turned and walked to where her horse was still tied. “Ask her what she saw around you . . . if she ever speaks to you again.”

She mounted her horse and rode out of the yard without looking back. There was nothing to see.

Chapter 44

Brother and sister turned to face Rider. He threw up his hand in a casual wave and smiled.

“Hope you don’t mind my dropping in unannounced.”

John looked around. “Dogs don’t seem to mind. They haven’t even started barking.”

A nudge against Sam’s thigh drew her attention. Sergeant stood close against her, watching as Rider approached. She frowned. “Give me some room, fella,” she said and gave him a gentle nudge. He didn’t move and leaned heavily against her.

“Samantha,” Rider said, “I’m been trying to catch up with you for days. You’re supposed to be going with me to the Harvest Festival next week. What with all that has happened I figured you’d forgotten.”

“Oh,” she covered her mouth with her hand. “I did forget! I’m sorry, Rider.”

He grinned, the same grin that had always made her weak in the knees and warmed her all over. It a shock to realize that today, she didn’t feel that. This was Rider, she reasoned. The boy she’d grown up with, played chase with, and mooned over for years.

“No harm done. I was going into the bank as you left town. I figured you were headed here so when I got finished there I followed.”

“Be a shame if she’d gone somewhere else,” John said as he got up from his seat and gathered his cleaning supplies and put them in the supply closet next to his desk. He was a very tidy man where his kennel was concerned. Lillian had often said she wished it carried over into the house. He had shrugged and said that was her province. “She could have ridden on to Mark’s place.”

“Well,” Rider said, “I figured I risk it. I checked on Lily before I came down. Seems she is dong really well.”

John nodded. “She is. Look if you two will excuse me, I’ve got to get back to work. I’ve got a couple of dogs to work with before dark.”

“Sure, John,” Rider answered. “Don’t mind us.” He turned to Samantha, “Walk me back to the house, will you?”

She nodded. “See you later, John,” She called. “Come on, Sergeant.”

Rider and Sam left the kennel. Sergeant walked between them. Sam shook her head. He was acting very strange. “I should have left you in the kennel for a bit. Maybe you just need a vacation.”

“I beg your pardon?” Rider said.

She laughed. “I mean the dog. John thinks he needs a companion. I think he needs a vacation.”

“Companion?”

“A mate. He thinks I should consider getting Sergeant a mate or a playmate. I think he’s fine just as he is.”

Rider walked in silence for several minutes. Finally, as they stepped into the back yard of the house he said, “Maybe John is right. After all, Sergeant isn’t getting any younger. He’s, what, three, four years old?”

“He’s three. But it doesn’t mean I need another dog to care for. If John wants to breed him he can but the mate and pups stay here.”

“Do you think maybe Sergeant isn’t the one who needs a companion?”

Sam missed a step and nearly tripped. Rider clutched her arm and prevented her fall. She managed to recover her footing and her wits. “Why Rider, are you looking for a dog? I’m sure John could fix you right up.”

They had reached the corner of the house and she saw Lily sitting on the porch steps, her small chin propped on one fist. The injured arm was cradled across her thighs.

“Aunt Sam, can I go home with you this afternoon?”

“Oh, Lily, I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. You have to take extra care of that arm and your mama and daddy are the best ones to have around for that.”

Lily gave a heavy sigh. “That’s what Mama said. I don’t like it much, Aunt Sam.”

Sam smiled and she heard Rider chuckle softly. “Well, I promise as soon as you are well, you can come stay a whole weekend at my house. We’ll go swimming and fishing and riding.”

Brilliant blue eyes looked up at her and a radiant smile lit up the afternoon. “That’s great. I’m going tell Mama right now!” She stood up and ran into the house, slamming the screen door behind her.

“Sam?”

She looked over her shoulder at him.

“You understood what I was saying to you.”

“About needing a dog?”

“Look, we’ve know each other most of our lives. We’ve played together, gone to school together, taken walks, rides, and picnics together. We’ve had a few dates. You know how I feel about you. I mean, you should. I’d like for us to take things a step further.”

Did she know how he felt about her? She thought about it. They’d been friends for a long time, yes, but she wasn’t sure beyond that.

“Rider, you’re an agent for the Council, aren’t you?”

“Well,” he said, his brows drawn in confusion, “yes, I am.”

“Would that give you access to Council historical records?”

The frown deepened. “I suppose I could, if need be.”

“If I wanted to look at some of those records, could I do so?”

“Anyone has a right to review Council records if they put a request before the Council.”

“Do you have to make a formal request?”

He didn’t answer but asked a question of his own. “Why are you asking me these questions?”

She looked away, across the yard to the field across the road. It has been left fallow this year. “I’d like to do some family research.”

His brows went up and his eyes widened. “In council records?”

She didn’t know why she felt annoyed. She squelched it. “Yes.”

“What are you looking for?”

“I told you, I’m doing research on my family history.”

“I don’t remember any of your family being on the council.”

She frowned at him. “You don’t have to be on the council to be in the records. They are a very accurate historical record of the island and people on the island.”

“Well, usually if it involved issues the Council dealt with directly. I never heard of anything your family was involved in that would do that.”

“Rider, my family is one of the oldest families on this island. We’ve seen more ships come through the mist than virtually any other family. One of my ancestors was one of the original council members and helped set up the government of this island. I’d say they would be mentioned more than once in the records. They’ve owned land here since before there were records. All land titles are recorded in the Council records as are marriages, deaths, and births. Why would you think that anyone who lived on the island wouldn’t be mentioned in the records?”

“Well, I just didn’t think about it. I haven’t really studied the Council records. Never had a reason to and never asked about them. You already seem to know what’s there.”

“I just want to get a few details clear for my research.”

He walked to where he had tied his horse and loosed the reins, gathering them in his hands. She watched the muscles in his thighs flex as he swung himself lightly into the saddle. “I’ll see what I can find out. I think you just have to submit a written request to see the records.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re not going to discuss that next step, are you?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have an answer.

He sighed. “I’m sorry about that, Sam. We’d be good together.”

She watched as he rode away, urging his horse into a trot at the road. Soon he was out of sight and Sam was left wondering why she felt as if she’d just turned a corner onto a dark street.

Chapter 43

When she left the Tyndale home, she turned her horse toward John’s house, taking her time so she could think about what she wanted to say. She wondered if John had known all this about Helen Harrington and Gannon Tremont. Did he know the gift was from their mother’s side of the family? Was she the only person in the provinces that knew nothing about her own family?

She snapped the reins hard and the horse started and went into a fast trot. At this point, she was unwilling to admit that she’d been deceived but there were certainly things she should have been told. The reasons for not doing so didn’t matter. She should have been allowed to know and decide for herself what was important.

The children were nowhere to be seen when she pulled up and she realized they probably were in school, at least all but Lilly. Lilly was still recovering from her broken leg and was probably inside.

Lillian called for her to come in from the front room. She was seated on the sofa next to Lily who was propped on pillows, toys scattered around her and spilling onto the floor. Lillian had a book in her hand. Obviously, she’d been reading to the child. She lay it down and smiled at Sam.

“Well, about time you came to see us!” she said and started to get up.

“Don’t get up, Lil’! I’ll get my hug later but I want to see how my special angel is doing.”

Lily smiled and her rosy cheeks dimpled. “I’m very well, Aunt Sam. Will you come sit with me and read a story? I like the way you do it.”

Lillian laughed and stood up, handing the book to Samantha as she passed her. “Well, I know when I’ve been dismissed.”

Sam laughed and sat down next to Lily, gathering her close so she could see the pictures in the book as well as enjoy the sweet scent of the soft blond hair. “Where did she stop, Lily?”

“Sleeping Beauty had taken a bite of the apple. She’s fallen asleep, you know. She isn’t dead. Prince Charming will come kiss her awake soon.”

“I see.” Sam found the page and opened her mouth to read but then stopped.

“What’s wrong, Aunt Sam? Can’t you read it?”

Carefully, she smoothed the pages of the book and thought about what she was going to do. Lily was probably the only one who could really answer the question and John would never ask it.

Sam lay the book aside and shifted to face the child. “Lily, can I ask you some questions?”

“Sure you can but aren’t we going to read?”

Sam patted her hand. “Of course we are but in just a minute. Lily, Mari told me something and I want to ask you about it.”

She frowned and her blue eyes became troubled. “Am I in trouble, Aunt Sam?”

“What? Oh . . . oh no, Lily! You’re fine. I just wanted to ask you about some things Mari said. No one is in any trouble.”

The small face cleared and the bright smile returned. “O.k. then, you can ask me.”

“Lily, I have dreams where I see things that sometimes happen.”

The deep blues eyes grew large and round as Lily slowly took in what Sam was saying.

“Do you ever have dreams like that?”

From the mantle the clock ticked the minutes away. Sam waited as Lily studied her face with a frown. Finally, she looked down and picked up a small doll, cradling it in her arms. “I have dreams sometimes. Sometimes they are funny and don’t mean anything. Mama says its beans.”

Sam smiled. “I have those, too.”

“You do?” Lily looked up into her face.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“But then, sometimes,” she looked down and patted her doll, “sometimes, I have other dreams. Strange dreams about people I don’t know sometimes. Then, sometimes I know the people.”

“Tell me about one of those dreams, Lily.”

Lily pursed her lips, tapping the bottom one with her slender finger and squinting into space. “Let’s . . . see.” Her face cleared and she smiled. “I know. One night I dreamed that you and Daddy were in a dark place.”

Sam flinched.

“Daddy had a stick with fire on it and you were following him through this very dark place. I could hear a roaring somewhere and . . . it was a scary place. There was something in the darkness that I didn’t like.”

“Could you see it?”

She shook her head and her curls bobbed. “No, I couldn’t see anything but you and Daddy and the light. I was a little afraid but I knew you would be safe with Daddy. I . . .” She frowned and fell silent.

Sam nudged her arm. “What, Lily? You what?”

“I thought . . . I don’t know. I didn’t understand why you were in a room with lots of boxes. One moment you were in this dark place and then you were in a room with boxes. I thought maybe it was a store and you were buying toys or something. But I didn’t see any. And . . . you were afraid.”

Sam remembered the trip to White Beach and the cave with its storeroom of boxes. She remembered her fear as she stood behind the shelves.

Her own blue eyes gazed into Lily’s and then, she looked away, through the front window, out into the yard. Ryder Tremont rode up to the porch and stepped down from his horse. She hadn’t seen that coming, for sure. And she wasn’t ready for it.

She lay the book on Lily’s lap and patted her arm. “Lily, I have to go talk to your mother for a minute. Wait here.”

Lillian was in the kitchen peeling potatoes. She glanced around when she heard Samantha enter. “Done already?”

She moved toward the back door as she spoke. “Lil’, if you’re asked, I’m not here at the moment. I’ve gone down to the kennels.”

Lillian lay the knife and potato on the counter and turned, wiping her hands on her apron. “What?”

Lily ran in then. “Mama, there’s a man at the door wants to see you.”

Lillian looked at Sam as she slipped out, carefully closing the door behind her.

The path to the kennels was well trod and after she got past the back fence, it was fairly concealed from the house by the woods. She was there in minutes. The dogs set up a ruckus as soon as she entered. She grabbed a handful of treats that John kept in a bin near the door. He would speak to every animal he passed and give them a treat. Sam made her way along the aisle, looking into each stall, speaking to the animal, and tossing a treat. Some animals knew her but some were pups she hadn’t seen.

“What are you doing here?”

She jumped, her hand jerking on the head of the dog she was petting. She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m petting Toffee. He remembers me.”

“He should. You’ve spoiled him completely. I don’t know if I will be able to find a buyer for him.”

“Pooh, you never have trouble finding a buyer and you know it. Everyone wants Channing dogs.” She ruffled the dogs ears and he closed his eyes, appearing to smile in pleasure. “I’ve been thinking about buying him myself.”

“Sergeant would never allow it.” He began sweep aisle, heading toward the back of the building.

“He’d like a companion.” Toffee made a groaning sound and rolled over for her to scratch his belly. She laughed.

“Not a rival, though.”

She looked at John.

“You belong to him. You start giving your affections to another male, he’s not going to like it. You want another dog, I’d suggest a female.” He swept a few more paces before he added with a grin. “I suspect he’d appreciate that.”

Sam studied Toffee. He was cute but John knew his dogs. Sergeant might not like the pup and could possibly hurt him. She studied the long hallway of stalls. There was a female halfway down.

“I’m not getting another dog,” she said, “not even to give Sergeant a mate.”

John chuckled and swept on. After several minutes, he asked, “So, what’d you come for?”

Sergeant strolled along the hallway, sniffing at each door and moving on. He seemed at home in the kennel and he didn’t harass the other animals on the other side of the doors.

“Have you ever heard of Helen Harrington?”

He paused, leaned on the broom handle and stared into space with a look of concentration. Sam couldn’t tell if it was contrived or not.

“Someone’s grandmother,” he said, “I think.”


“Our’s.”

He looked surprised. “Really?

She nodded. “Actually, she’s probably a great-great-grandmother.”

The swish-swish of the broom resumed and the small pile of dirt grew.

“How about Gannon Tremont?” she asked.

“Ryder’s relative?”

“You never heard stories about them?”

He bent over to sweep under a narrow table along the wall. “Not that I recall at the moment but I could have and don’t remember. Is there a reason I should?”

“Gannon Tremont testified against Helen Harrington before the Council.”

He stopped sweeping, straightened up, and stared at her. “Tremont?”

“Gannon Tremont was in love with Helen Harrington. She rejected him. He accused her of being a witch. They were brought before the Council of Nine and questioned for three weeks.”

John’s eye widened and his mouth rounded. “Where did you hear all this?”

“The Misses Tyndale told me about it. It’s in the Council records.”

“I’ve never heard any of this.” He leaned the broom against the wall and went to fetch the dustpan from the closet. When he returned he swept up the pile of debris and empted it in a trash can next to the back door. “Are you sure they weren’t just stringing you along? And they are kind of old. I’m not sure they have all their nuts in one basket.”

Sam laughed. “They’re brighter than most of the Council members.”

“That’s not a recommendation, Sam.” He chuckled as he poured water into a basin and washed his hands. He nodded in the direction of the table he’d just swept under. “Could you take that bowl of food and give it to Maggie?”

She did as he asked, sliding the bowl through the slot in the gate for that purpose. Maggie was one of the largest females in John’s kennel. She stood at least three feet at the shoulder. She’d had several litters of some of the smartest dogs John had ever trained. Sergeant was her son. She was no longer bred but some of her daughters had inherited that smart gene and had produced some intelligent pups.

“So, what does all that stuff mean, Sam?”

“I think Helen Harrington is the Helen I saw when I fainted the other day.” She hesitated a minute. “She said her name was Helen.”

This time John sat down in a chair at his desk in a corner of the large main room of the kennel. “Sam, that was a vision. You didn’t see a real person.”

A clock ticked loudly on the wall and she looked up at it. She’d never noticed that clock before.

“Sam?”

She sighed. “I don’t always know what’s real and what’s dream. That’s part of the problem. Dreams feel different. When I’m in the vision, I am aware, at least I am now.”

He frowned. “Meaning you weren’t before? When did it change?”

“After our visit to the circle.”

The frowned deepened. He clearly didn’t like that.

“And I’m learning that a lot of what I see has happened or may happen. I can’t predict which I’ll see and for the visions of the future, I don’t know if there is a way to change outcomes or if what I see is unchangeable.”

“That doesn’t help much. I suppose it’s a good thing you can’t change the past.”

“Why?”

“Neither of us might be here.”

She smiled. “I would.”

They were both laughing when Ryder walked into the kennel.

Chapter 42

She woke late the next morning and John had already left. After she let Sergeant out she dressed in a hurry. There were several people she had to see and she intended to do it all today. For some reason she had a vague sense that she had to hurry, that something was about to happen and it gave her a sense of urgency.

The trip to town was as uneventful as ever and she wasn’t really aware of the ride. Her mind was occupied turning over everything in her mind, seeking something that stood out or resonated within her thoughts. Somewhere there was a reason for all of this. More and more she felt that Alaina was a loose cannon and somehow tied to everything that was happening.

She reached the main thoroughfare and drove past the church and turned toward the beach beyond the docks. The Tyndale sisters lived on a street where many council members had lived over the years. All the houses faced the ocean. The docks weren’t visible because of a band of woods that had been left standing and that gave the small elite street a secluded feel.

When she pulled up in front of the house, a maid stepped onto the porch and began to shake a rug into the yard. She stopped to look up as Sam approached.

“Morning, Miss. May I help you?”

“I’m looking for the Misses Tyndale. Are they in, by chance? I’m Samantha Channing.”

The woman disappeared inside, leaving her rug hanging over the porch railing. She was back shortly and held the door open. Then, she led Sam to a parlor at the back of the house. The back wall was glass and faced a large garden ablaze with color. The sisters obviously loved flowers. She was standing admiring the view when the they came in.

“Samantha, dear,” Drusilla approached, both hands extended, “how nice of you to stop by!”

Sam placed her hands in the cool papery hands and let the older woman kiss her on both cheeks. Priscilla stood back with hands clasped in front of her. She smiled and indicated a chair.

“Please, Samantha, have a seat. To what do we owe this visit?”

A good question, indeed. Why was she there? She sat on the edge of a stuffed chair near the sofa where the two sisters sat. “I . . . I’m looking for information, history really. When we talked last, you seem to be the best informed.”

Drusilla laughed. “You mean we’re the oldest people you know.”

Sam blushed and smiled but nodded. “Yes. And you probably know as much about my family as anyone.”

“So, this is personal history you’re seeking?” Priscilla asked, her eyes narrowed and her head turned slightly to one side.

“Um . . . I suppose that’s correct.” Sam twisted her hands in her lap and sighed. “Yes.”

Priscilla was nearest and she leaned forward and laid her hand on Sam’s nervous ones. “My dear, it’s all right. We’ll tell you whatever you wish to know.”

Sam looked up into pale blue eyes that stared back at her with an intelligence she had not recognized. “I’d like you to tell me about my mother’s family.”

The ladies looked at one another and something passed between them. They both nodded and looked back at Sam. Drusilla spoke first. “Samantha, may we ask why you have come to us?”

“Because you said I could, after Mrs. Parker was killed. You told me to come and see you.”

Again they looked at one another. Priscilla folded her hands and looked into the back garden as she began to speak. “You’re mother’s family was probably the oldest family in the provinces. They have been here for longer than anyone knows. Once, long ago it was even speculated that they were the first people to ever come to the island and may, in fact, have been here all along. Your family, my dear, actually, your mother’s family, probably helped shape the government and life itself on the island.”

Sam stared at her in shock. She’d never heard such a thing.

“She was a quiet woman. The whole family was like that. They never bothered anyone nor asked for anything. They took care of their own folks and never asked for anything from the Council. They didn’t need to. They’d been surviving here for longer than anyone. They also did not participate in gossip of any sort. They attended church faithfully and paid tithes with a dedication that many ministers found amazing and gratifying.”

Drusilla stopped her. “I’m not sure we can give you a lot of family details as they were so circumspect in their dealings with everyone that very little was known outside of the family itself. I’m surprised you don’t know all this already.”

There was a slight question in her voice and Sam felt it was best to just tell them the truth. “I’ve never heard any of this, ever. My mother spoke very little of her family and I never knew many of them. Her sister and one of her brothers lived here when I was growing up but then, one day they weren’t here anymore. Everyone seemed to live in different provinces and we only visited one another once a year. When they died my uncle offered me a place in his home but I didn’t want to leave.”

Both sisters nodded. “Yes,” Drusilla said, “I can see that. They were very secretive people. It is why so little is known about their history. Well, other than the fact that they have always been here.”

Sam sat silent for several minutes. She hated secrets. This was a very big secret to have been kept so well. It was a shock to realize that in all her years growing up that she knew next to nothing about her mother’s family. Even more shocking was that she never realized how little she did know. How was that possible?

“My dear, is there something specific you want to ask?” Priscilla asked.

“Yes,” she said suddenly, “Yes, I think there is.”

They waited politely and finally Sam looked at them. “Who was Helen?”

Both women blinked and stared. Drusilla asked, “Helen who, my dear?”

Sam floundered with confusion. “I . . . don’t know her last name but she is or was related to my mother in some way.”

Drusilla got up with some effort. They really weren’t young. She hobbled as if her knees hurt. Along the inside wall, next to the door they had entered, were hundreds of books. She let her finger trail along the spines until she came to a large hand-bound volume. She pulled it free and brought it back to the couch.

She sat for several minutes with the oversized book in her lap, her hands clasping it on each side and staring at the cover. She looked up at a Sam. “This is one of the earliest histories of the Island and it is only one of two copies. The other resides in the Council’s private library and is inaccessible without the head of the Council’s written authority. All the history of the Island is in the keeping of the Senior Council and is locked in a vault.”

“Then . . . how . . . why . . .”

Priscilla interrupted with the first signs of impatience. “Because our father was head of the Council for some years and a member of the Council for decades, Samantha. He . . . he brought this copy home when he realized that some things must be safeguarded at any cost. He was afraid . . . perhaps concerned is a better word, concerned that this particular history would be destroyed or lost. Had he been discovered . . .”

Drusilla closed her eyes. “He would have been banished. Or worse.”

Sam needed no explanation of ‘worse’. “How do you know a copy is in the Council’s hands?”

“Because Father told us,” they said in unison.

For several minutes she studied the two women across from her. They had knowledge of things that very few people in the village would remember or even know. She considered asking them how old they actually were but Priscilla’s impatience could have a limit and Sam didn’t really want to test it.

“I’m sorry, ladies. I don’t mean to annoy you but I’m confused.”

“And,” stressed Priscilla, “we’re trying to rectify that.”

“Priscilla,” Drusilla laid a hand on her sister’s arm. “Do stop being so mean. It is not her fault she doesn’t understand our cryptic comments. She has no way of knowing what we know.”

Priscilla took a deep breath and straightened her spine. She was already ramrod straight as far as Sam could tell.

“I appreciate the time you are taking, ladies. I will do my best to get that back to you as quickly as possible.”

Drusilla smiled. “My dear, I’m sorry but this book never leaves this room. For any reason. You are welcome to come here and read it for as long as it takes but you can never remove it from here. Should it be found in our possession, well, father’s name would be ruined at the least.”

Priscilla snorted. “We’d be banished!”

“I promise to keep your secret but honestly, ladies, I don’t think I have time to read a history to find out what I need to know.”

The sisters looked at one another with identical expressions. She had notice they did this frequently and she wondered if they were reading each other’s minds. Reading an early history of the island might give her a lot of answers but the growing sense of urgency in her made her know there wasn’t enough time.

“I still want to read it!” she added, “but . . . the answers I need are specific and I need them now.”

“Samantha, this Helen you speak of, where did you hear of her?” Priscilla asked

Now how could she explain that? “I’d rather not say at the moment but it is the reason I’m looking for more information. I have to be sure my . . . source . . . is correct.”

Drusilla nodded. “What do you know about her?”

“She was tall and slender with long dark hair and blue eyes. Very lovely, really. She was somehow related to my mother.”

“How do you know that?”

Sam grimaced. “Well, I don’t actually know it. I was told she was a distant relative but I don’t know how distant.”

Drusilla opened the book and began to thumb slowly through the pages. Finally, she closed the book and clasped her hands on the covers. With her eyes closed she said, “Your family, your mother’s people, as I said, were very prominent Island residents for probably centuries. They did much to improve life here. They were respected and liked throughout the provinces. They never sought to elevate themselves but rather preferred to work and care for their families.

“Approximately two hundred years ago something happened that was later hushed up by the Council. Charges were brought against the Harrington clan.”

Sam held her breath and leaned forward.

“The Council called a convocation to address the charges against them. This was a secret meeting and only High Council members and two of the Harrington family were present. This had never happened before and I don’t know if it has happened since, certainly now while our father served.”

“Who brought these charges and what was their basis?”

Drusilla looked over her glasses at Sam. “A member of the Council brought them and they accused the Harrington’s of being witches. Seems it was discovered that the Harrington clan had an ability that they had kept hidden.”

Sam sat back in her chair and her breath came out in a rush.

“Yes, that’s pretty much how the Harringtons felt,” Priscilla stated.

“So what happened? No, wait! Who were the family members who attended?”

Priscilla and Drusilla did their shared look thing again before answering. Then, Drusilla answered, “John Colin Harrington and his sister, Helen Harrington.”

Words failed Sam at that moment. There was no way this could be her Helen. No way.

“Helen Harrington was specifically accused of being a witch. She was purported to be able to see into the future and predict events before they happened. She was said to hold séances, summon spirits, and dance naked in a grove. Another accusation was that she headed a coven of witches with the same abilities but when the accuser failed produced names that was dismissed from the initial charges.”

A knot began to form in Sam’s gut and she had to force herself to not clutch the arms of the chair. Obviously, this was her Helen. What was worse, some of the accusations could very well have a basis in truth. If Helen and she were related and they shared a common ability, then seeing into the future might be a fair charge. The rest was sheer foolishness, at least where she was concerned. She’d have to investigate Helen before she could vouch for her but she doubted any of her kin had ever danced naked anywhere. She shook her head, wanting to laugh but not daring to. Of course, she could ask her. Maybe.

Priscilla said, “The High Council investigated carefully. The Harringtons were questioned for three weeks in sessions that lasted all day. They refused to cooperate with the Council on several points and ultimately, the charges were dismissed for lack of evidence. The proceedings were written in the history with careful attention to the fact that nothing was ever proved or disproved. Seventy-five years later, someone on the Council sealed the volume of history Drusilla holds in her hands. An attempt had been made to change some of entries related to that event. There are always two copies of Island history made and stored in separate locations. It was at this point that our father determined to protect the facts at a risk to his own reputation. He stole this volume. That is why we can’t let you take the book from this house.”

“Oddly enough,” Drusilla said, “No outcry was ever made about the missing volume. No one questioned it or asked about it. The Harringtons more or less fade from history after this single incident. They became just like any other Island resident, something they wanted all along.”

She sat for a long time in silence, watching the garden as the sun sank lower in the west. No doubt that she’d have to read the history. Finally, she looked at the sisters. They were old women and didn’t need any trouble at this stage of their lives.

“Who brought the charges against Helen?”

Priscilla looked at her with dancing eyes and her mouth struggling to contain a smile. “Well now, I could have guessed you’d want that information.”

“I really don’t think that’s important, my dear,” Drusilla hugged the book to her chest and shifted in her seat. “It was a long time ago and no one really cares anymore.”

Sam waited.

Drusilla got up and put the book back in its slot. “Would anyone like a cup of tea? I’m rather dry from all that history.”

Priscilla made no comment and continued to watch Sam.

“I’ll be right back then.” She bustled out of the room.

Finally breaking the silence, Priscilla asked, “Why do you want this information, Samantha?”

She studied the elder woman’s face and when she felt satisfied that she could trust her she answered. “I needed to know that what I saw was not just a bad dream, that I’m not crazy.”

“You’re not crazy, my dear.” She lowered her gaze and studied the tips of her shoes. “There are only a handful left, you know. They hide themselves for a reason.”

Stunned, Sam looked at her but she wouldn’t return the look. Instead, she stood and moved to the door. “I’m glad you came by, dear. Please drop by any time you wish. We love company but find most people have no use for old ladies with an intellectual bent.”

Sam followed her to the front door where she turned and extended her hand. “Thank you, Miss Tyndale. I will keep your secret.”

Smiling she shook Sam’s hand. “We know you will. That’s why we shared it.”

“Miss Tyndale?”

“It was a man named Gannon Tremont, Rider Tremont’s great-great-grandfather. He was in love with Helen Harrington. She refused him.”