Elusive Hope (3 page)

“You make an excellent nurse, Magnolia,” Eliza said after the last patient left.

“I do?” Magnolia bent over to pick up the bandage scraps. The statement both shocked and sent a spiral of elation through her. She’d never been good at anything. Except—according to her father—being beautiful.

“Of course. You aren’t squeamish. You are efficient, professional, and kind.”

Magnolia almost dropped the bowl of bloody water she held. She stared at Eliza as the woman dried her hands on a towel, waiting for her to chuckle or offer a playful grin.

But it never came.

At least not before Mr. Dodd wandered into the clinic, gripping his injured hand. With a wild mop of blond hair, side burns that crawled down to his chin, a sculpted nose, and sharp blue eyes, the ex-lawman from Virginia was not entirely unappealing. Unless you were a woman and he happened to be in a gawking mood.

“What a busy morning,” Eliza exclaimed, ushering him to the examining table. “How did this happen?”

“Digging. Ran into a sharp root.”

“For gold?” Magnolia’s mocking tone drew his gaze—a gaze that absorbed her like a sponge. The man fancied himself not only a Don Juan, but a fortune hunter as well. He’d been searching for treasure ever since they hit the Brazilian shore—
pirate treasure
, he said. And he had a map to prove it. Foolish quest if you asked her.

“And I’ll find it one day too,” he said. “You’ll see.”

Eliza handed a basin of fresh water to Magnolia. “Hold your hand over this, Mr. Dodd.”

He did so, and Magnolia focused on the twig embedded in his bloody flesh rather than face the lecherous look in his eyes. “Will you share your gold, Mr. Dodd, with those who have fed and housed you during your search?”

He chuckled and reached his other hand up to scratch his blond whiskers. “I like a woman with pluck, Miss Magnolia. I do.” The sharp tang of blood rose to join his smell of dirt and sweat. “But I do my fair share. I look for gold on my own time.”

Magnolia wasn’t sure about that and, from Eliza’s grunt, neither was she.

“Now, this will hurt a bit.” Eliza yanked the twig from Mr. Dodd’s hand and immediately pressed a cloth on top.

To his credit, the man uttered no cry.

He
did
utter a moan of delight, however, when Angeline entered the clinic. The town’s seamstress, and one of the few single ladies in the colony, froze at the sight of him. Unease. No, more like fear skittered across her striking violet eyes. Shifting her gaze away, she hastened to put a cluster of thick, fleshy leaves down on the sideboard. “Some aloe for you, Eliza.” Her voice broke, and Magnolia’s sympathies rose for the woman who always seemed eager to leave Mr. Dodd’s presence.

“Thank you, Angeline,” Eliza said.

“Good morning to you, Miss Angeline.” Dodd’s sultry tone stiffened her spine. “When I’m done here, I’ll gladly walk you back to your hut.”

Frowning, Eliza grabbed a bottle of alcohol and poured it on his wound.

“Ouch!” He leapt off the examining table. “What’ya do that for?”

Magnolia and Eliza shared a smile, but Angeline had already dashed out the door.

Raising his machete, Hayden slashed through a thick copse and shoved the branches aside, the first time he’d used the blade today. “The jungle isn’t as dense as I thought it would be this far inland.”

He could hear the rustle of Thiago’s sandals stomping through the dried leaves that covered the forest floor. The Brazilian guide, assigned to their colony by the emperor to help acclimate them to the country, had been an invaluable aid to Hayden as he searched for his father. “No,
senhor
, much of the jungle inland has no
arbusto
…brush.”

“Just tall, thin trees.” Hayden glanced up at the trunks thrusting into the sky some sixty to a hundred feet above them. Birds, plumed in colors that would shame a rainbow, flitted from branch to branch, warbling their happy tunes.“And these.”He grabbed a vine of vegetable cordage suspended from a branch, then gestured to the dozens of others hanging all around them and running along the leaf-strewn ground before climbing up the trees again. “What are these again?”

“
Sijpos,
” Thiago said as he stopped beside him. “We use them to tie wood together for buildings and fences and many other things. Some call them nails of Brazil.”

“Indeed.” Hayden tugged on it. “As thick and strong as ship cordage. Amazing. We should use these in the construction of New Hope.”

“A good idea.”

Hayden dabbed the sweat on his brow, noting the Brazilian never seemed to perspire or even breathe hard. In fact, he quite resembled a Spanish conquistador of old with his olive complexion, black hair, and strong noble features.

“What are we looking for again, senhor?” The man’s dark eyes sparked in playfulness.

“A camp. Or any sign of colonists like us.” Hayden uncorked his canteen and took a long draught.

Thiago nodded.

When the heat had become too oppressive to work in the fields, Hayden had grabbed the Brazilian guide and stole away for a few hours of exploring. As he’d been doing since they’d arrived at the abandoned settlement over two months ago. Trouble was, he wasn’t finding anything—not a footprint, not a scrap of clothing, not a discarded bowl or pot. Nothing that would indicate humans had inhabited these forests for years. So, where could his father have gone?

The immigration officer in Rio had given Hayden the exact location of the clearing and huts that now made up their colony of New Hope. Though the colonists had been overjoyed to find fields already cleared for planting and shelters already erected, Hayden’s disappointment couldn’t have been more devastating. He’d come so close to ending his fifteen-year hunt for the man who had ruined his life—to finally receive the satisfaction of watching his father pay for what he’d done—that to have missed him by only a month gnawed away at Hayden’s soul. A soul that seemed to grow more empty with each passing day.

He started forward again, asking Thiago about the many plants and trees that surrounded them. So far they’d seen tree ferns, bamboos, lofty palms, acacia, cassia, mango trees, and breadfruit and lemon trees. A green lizard scrambled over Hayden’s boot. A thick black spider skittered up a tree trunk, while monkeys howled in the distance. the smell of sweet blossoms and rich earth wafted beneath his nose. A paradise teeming with life.

Yet, paradise or not, if Hayden didn’t find any sign of a settlement in his next two trips, his best bet would be to go to Rio and ask the immigration agent if he’d heard from Hayden’s father. Perhaps The man had returned to the city for supplies or to change his colony’s location. Or, even worse, to book passage on a ship back home.

Perhaps Hayden could take Thiago along to Rio. Especially since Hayden wasn’t altogether sure how to find the city over land. And the guide had been more than willing to accompany him on most of his treks into the jungle. In fact, Hayden had enjoyed his companionship.

“Thiago, how is it you know English so well?”

“My father is an American dentist.” He chuckled.

“A dentist?”

“Yes. Much needed in Brazil. We have few dentists.” He tapped Hayden on the shoulder and spread his mouth wide, proudly displaying rows of strong, glistening teeth.

Hayden grinned and stomped onward, scanning the ground for any sign of human footprints. “I see the advantage in having a dentist for a father.”

“Yes, senhor. Not the least is I learn English. Though we not speak it much at home. Father want to only speak Portuguese.”

“And your mother?”

“A native of Brazil. From long line of Portuguese royalty. I have royal blood in my veins. But it is nothing here. The emperor rules all.”

A band of monkeys swung through the vines overhead, some stopping to chastise the humans below, no doubt for some jungle infraction, before they scampered off to join their friends. Hayden wondered about the emperor. He had seemed a nice enough fellow, but just how much freedom would they have if their new colony became a successful, burgeoning town?

“Instead of becoming dentist like my father,” Thiago continued, “or working at a trade, I become interpreter for English-speaking immigrants. It is good job. I meet many interesting people.”

Hayden chuckled to himself. More like the easiest vocation in the world. Thiago got free food and lodging just for talking with people and making sure they weren’t stealing the emperor’s lands. Hayden should have thought of that years ago. It would have settled on his conscience better than swindling people out of their money.

“Like Mrs. Sarah,” Thiago added.

Good thing the man talked for a living. He was certainly good at it. “What of her?” Hayden nudged aside a thicket of vines then ran a hand over the sweat lining the back of his neck.

“She very pretty. And nice. Is she not?”

“I suppose.” Hayden hadn’t really noticed. The teacher was far too prudish for his tastes. Besides, she just had a baby, and he had no interest in being a father. He would probably end up being just as bad a one as his own had been.

“What happened to her husband?”

“He died in the war.” Hayden slapped a mosquito on his arm and turned to study Thiago. “You have an interest in her.” It wasn’t a question. More an observation. And one that was confirmed by the way the man squirmed and dug his hands into his pockets.

“She nice to me.”

Hayden swung around. “She is nice to everyone.” Still, he smiled. Perhaps the poor widow would find love after all.

As he passed a large tree, Hayden eyed a beetle the size of his palm clinging to its trunk. Butterflies and other more annoying pests buzzed around his ears and face. A shriek sounded in the distance. A monkey? A bird? Hard to tell above the cacophony of croaks, buzzes, and squawks surrounding him. The living jungle swayed like gentle waves at sea, and Hayden sensed a thousand eyes on him.

Then the crackling began. Barely audible at first, but heightening with each step he took. He glanced around, saw nothing, and continued. Still the sound increased like the spit and crack of a large fire. Raising his machete, Hayden scanned the foliage. “Do you hear that?”

“Yes, senhor, but I do not know what it is.” Thiago’s dark brows collided as he froze and stared into the jungle.

A shadow—no, more like a dark cloud—sped through a cluster of trees to their right.

Hayden pivoted in that direction. Thiago pulled a pistol from his belt and cocked it. The sound echoed in the moist air. The crackling halted.

The dark shadow sped to their left.

Hayden’s chest tightened. “Who’s there?” he shouted.

The leaves rustled. A large fern parted. Hayden raised his blade.

C
HAPTER
3

C
lutching her skirts, Angeline darted from the clinic, eyes on the ground, trying to get as far away as she could from Mr. Wiley Dodd. All the while, chastising herself for not staying in Rio de Janeiro when she had the chance. But how could she have made a living? She didn’t speak the language. Or have any skills. Except one. And that particular one she refused to use ever again. Which brought her back to Mr. Wiley Dodd. Wiley. The perfect name for the man, for he was as wily as a fox. Surely he recognized her. He had to. Then why hadn’t he told anyone else? Did he intend to blackmail her? If so, she wished he’d get on with it.

To make matters worse, he’d been a lawman back in the States! From Norfolk of all places. Sweet saints, if he were to connect her to the woman the Norfolk police had been looking for, it would all be over. Her new beginning. Her second chance here in Brazil.

Her life.

Hugging herself, she hurried down the main street, forcing tears from her eyes, and barreled into a chest as firm and wide as a tree trunk. She brought her gaze up to see a thin cotton shirt plastered against muscles bulging from exertion. Oddly, the sight brought her no alarm. Just the opposite, in fact. She gasped and took a step back, raising her gaze at least a foot to the sprinkling of dark stubble on a rounded chin, the slant of steady lips, and finally to the bronze eyes of the doctor turned preacher. “Pardon me, James. I didn’t see you.”

The corners of those bronze eyes now crinkled in concern. “Are you all right, Miss Angeline?” He cocked his head and touched her arm. “You’ve been crying.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Something wrong at the clinic?”

“No. nothing like that.” She slipped from his touch. Not because it bothered her. But because it didn’t. In fact, she rather liked it. She dropped her gaze to see mud sprinkled over his Jefferson boots and splattered on his brown trousers held up by a thick belt into which a pistol was stuffed. So odd for a preacher, but then again the jungle wasn’t exactly Jackson Avenue in Knoxville, Tennessee, where the man had grown up. And where she’d met him that dark, bleak night over a year ago. He’d claimed to be a preacher then as well, though he’d behaved like nothing of the sort. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to recognize her from their brief encounter. She refused to ponder the odds of having met, prior to their journey to Brazil, two of the twenty-eight men in a colony of strangers. If there was a God, He was definitely not on her side.