Northern Lights Trilogy (82 page)

“Good day, Captain Martensen,” Mason said, taking his coat
from the chair back. “We will not settle our disagreement here. We will meet on the high seas, yes?”

“Who is cowardly now, Dutton? You refuse to fight me man to man?” Luke’s hand pressed harder on Karl’s shoulder, but Karl ignored it.

Dutton’s hand went to the scabbard at his waist. “Not at all. Shall we—?”

Just then, the men behind Mason waved like palms in a storm as someone pushed past them.

“You fight my captain, you’ll have to get through me first!” Charlie called out as he faced off with Mason, a tiny blade in his hand.

The tavern erupted in laughter.

“Sure, boy. I’d be happy to teach you a lesson,” Mason said, his eyes never leaving Karl’s. Now he knew he had him. It infuriated Karl.

“Charles! Get over here!” Karl thundered.

The boy glanced back, unsure.

“Charles! Now, or I’ll whip you raw!”

The cabin boy turned and came to Karl’s side, standing just behind him and to the side as Lucas had done.

Mason laughed. “Another day, Martensen. Another day.” With that, he placed his cap on his head and left the tavern.

Karl stood there shaking, a long time after Mason left the building.

One captain said softly, “Give it up, Martensen. You’ll live longer if you come to a gentleman’s agreement with Dutton.”

Another said, “Aye, son. He’s taken many a ship in and around these waters. Every time the military has any kind of presence, he hightails it.”

“He’s slippery, that one,” said still another.

“The best of the last pirates.”

“Protect your ship and your men, Martensen!” called the first. “For a small fee, Dutton will let you pass without fear.”

“How can any of you go along with this?” Karl exploded. He felt supercharged, enraged. “How can any of us ‘pass without fear’? You
trust a man such as that? He is the lowest of the low. Why, the only way we can beat him is together!”

“They’ve tried that. Five ships together surrounded and attacked Dutton in his lair. They thought they had him. But they were severely outgunned. Dutton’s been stockpiling for years. In the end, their crews were hanged from the lanyards, and all five ships were burned to the waterline. One eyeful of that is all a man needs to make him turn tail.”

“And the local authorities?” Karl asked, incredulous.

“They turn a blind eye and open their pocketbooks. Dutton lines them well.”

Karl shook his head. “This cannot go on.” “It’s been going on for years.”

The first captain spoke up again. “He must have moles within the British and American naval forces. It’s uncanny. Each time they arrive, Dutton is away.”

“Or he’s got the luck of the devil,” said another glumly.

They were all silent.

“There is nothing I can say to sway you,” Karl stated, looking around the room. Few dared to meet his eye. “A tavern full of fine captains, men, and you refuse to stand up to one man who menaces us all? What does he charge you? A flat fee? A portion of your profits?” He grabbed the nearest man by the collar for an answer. “What?”

“Fifteen percent. The deal is fifteen percent. After delivery to the Orient, you port here again. Together you look over your logs and come to an agreement about what you’ll earn in the States on your cargo. If he misses you, he’ll come looking for you, or he’ll bring it up next time you’re around. He keeps records. Very businesslike.”

Karl shook his head again. “He’s a hoodlum. A no-account hoodlum. If you were living in your home, you would meet him at the door with a rifle pointed directly at his head.”

“And he’d come around with twenty men, pointing rifles at our heads,” said another grimly.

Clearly, Karl was getting nowhere. Frustrated beyond belief, dying to punch a hand through something, he grabbed Charlie and hauled him out of the tavern, Lucas following close behind.

From the window of a whore’s room across the street, Mason watched Karl and his men exit the tavern. She stood behind him, her body pressed against his, her hands roaming. But Mason’s mind was elsewhere. He smiled, watching the man’s angry, frustrated gait. Clearly, Mason had gotten to him. It would be a pleasure taking the man’s cargo or forcing him into submission as he had the other captains who frequented these waters. Perhaps he would charge him twenty percent rather than the customary fifteen. For his impertinence. He chuckled. Or as a tax for his friendship with a sworn enemy of Mason’s, Elsa Ramstad.

The pirate’s eyes shifted to the sea. How long would it take for him to find Elsa Ramstad again? He had searched for the Ramstad ship when he had seen them the year before. But the coward had fled like a mouse from a burning barn. Perhaps if he had found them, she never would have written that piece for the
Times
. She had made a deadly mistake in filing that article. Before that, she had been a distant memory that intrigued him. Since she had published her words, setting the naval dogs on his heels, Mason’s interest in her had become a burning desire to get even. He would make her pay for the torture she had put him through, forcing him to post extra guards and lose precious income wherever he went. He just needed to find her; then he could get his restitution. What would be appropriate punishment for Mrs. Ramstad?

Mason thought for a while and then smiled. It was too good. Yes, it was just too good. And he could not wait for the day to put his plan into action.

February 1887

K
aatje awakened to find Jessie at her bedside, staring at her intently. “Why, Jess, what has you up so early?”

“I had a bad dream.”

“Oh? Come here, sweetheart,” she beckoned, spreading open the sheet and down comforter. “It is cold out there this morning.” She shivered. Jessica nodded. “Want to tell me about your dream?”

“I dreamed you went away. That I had to find a new mother.”

Kaatje fought to keep herself from reacting. “And what happened?”

“I don’t know. I woke up before I found her. All I knew was that I was so sad to be away from you.” She stared at Kaatje, her Soren-blue eyes never leaving her mother.

Kaatje pulled her close, her small body snuggling against her. She was cold. How long had she stood beside Kaatje’s bed? “No one will ever take you away from me,” Kaatje promised. “You are mine and I will always be your mother. But there is something I have to tell you, Jessie.”

“What?”

“I’ve tried to find the words, the right time …” She stroked Jessica’s
hair, trying to soothe her own shattered nerves. “You know that Auntie Elsa has a sister.”

“Miss Tora.”

“Yes,” Kaatje said, surprised that the girl had gathered so much. “Yes, well it was Tora who gave you to me.”

Jessie sat up slowly. “Gave me to you?”

“Yes.” Kaatje pasted on a smile. “I was so blessed to get you. Tora couldn’t care for you the way she wanted. She came to me in Dakota when you were just a tiny baby. I decided right then and there that I would try my best to be your mother, if Tora could not.”

“So … so you aren’t my real mother.”

Kaatje fought back tears. “I am your mother in every way possible except for one. I didn’t carry you in my womb.” She reached out to stroke the child’s cheek. “But I have always been there for you, and I always will be. I love you as my own.”

“But Tora is my mother.”

“She gave birth to you.”

“She didn’t want me?”

“I think she loved you deep down, sweetheart. She just couldn’t care for you at that time in her life.” She hoped the answer would suffice.

“What if she decides she wants me now? Will I have to go with her?”

“No! No. I am your mother now. She can’t just come in and lay claim to you, Jessie.”

“You won’t let her?”

Kaatje pulled her back down on the bed for another embrace. “I promise you, Jessica. You are my daughter in every way. And I would fight to keep you safe with me as much as I would for Christina.”

By late afternoon, her early morning conversation with Jessie was still haunting Kaatje. When Elsa called for tea, Kaatje decided she had to know where her friend stood. Elsa had affirmed her belief that Jessie
belonged with Kaatje, but now that she’d seen Tora … seen Tora on a better track, in a different light …

“Elsa, I had a most troubling talk with Jessica this morning,” she said in low tones, not wanting the children or house staff to overhear.

“Oh?” Elsa asked, looking up from her sketching. “About what?”

“About Tora.”

“Oh. I had wondered when and if she might come up.”

Kaatje stood to pace the room. She wrung her hands, searching for the right words. “You have been so kind to me and the girls. I don’t want anything to come between us.”

“Nothing ever could, Kaatje,” Elsa said, her eyes staring into Kaatje’s.

“Yes, well, I know that is what you say. But this is what concerns me. Jessie had a bad dream last night. A dream in which I was gone and she had to seek a new mother. If anything happened to me, would you take in the girls?”

“Of course. Without question.”

“You wouldn’t give them to Tora?”

“Tora? I hardly think she’s in a position to—”

“No. She’s not in a position now to take them on. But you said yourself she’s made a remarkable change. Perhaps she’s getting her life back in order. And if that is the case, what would stop her from coming to get Jessie?”

“If her life is back in order—” She paused as Mrs. Hodge arrived with the tray of tea and cookies. After the woman left, shutting the door behind her, Elsa continued, “Even if she gets her life back in order, she’s hardly in a place to take on two girls.”

“But what if she was? What if Trent continues to pursue her, to court her? And they marry? She’ll have every luxury. Any servant she wishes to hire. And how can I compete with that? She is Jessie’s real mother.” Kaatje felt frantic, at odds within.

Elsa calmly poured a cup of tea and offered it to Kaatje. “Here. Drink some tea. Then let us play a game of chess.”

Her manner irritated Kaatje to no end. She whirled and struck the china cup from Elsa’s hand, sending it flying toward the fireplace and shattering. “I don’t want tea! Nor to play chess! I want to know where you stand!”

“Kaatje!” Elsa exclaimed, rising.

An apology crossed her heart, but Kaatje was inexplicably angry. Elsa was clearly going to side with Tora. Didn’t she already love Trent as a brother-in-law? Every night, that was all Kaatje heard. “Trent said” this …”Trent said” that. If he married Tora, how could Elsa turn them away?

“They’re family!” Kaatje said, pressing the back of her hand to her sweating brow.

“What?” Elsa asked, looking utterly confused.

“Trent! Tora! If they come to you together, intent on getting Jessie back, how could you not support them?”

Elsa sighed and pointed toward the couch. Kaatje began to cry. “Sit down, Kaatje. Sit down, right now.” When she had done so, Elsa knelt near her feet, looking as precarious as a teapot with a rounded bottom. “Kaatje,” Elsa said, taking her hands and waiting until she met her gaze. “I will never let Tora take Jessie away from you.”

Kaatje wrenched away from her friend and went to the window. “I cannot find it within me to entirely believe you.”

“Why? Have I ever deceived you? Wronged you?”

“No. It’s just that there’s this feeling within me that tells me it will only be a matter of time.”

“A matter of time before I betray you?”

Kaatje considered the madness of her words. But it was true. It was how she felt. “At some point, Elsa, we all fail. Isn’t this a likely way for you to fail me?”

Elsa came near her, a hand at the small of her back. She frowned at Kaatje’s words. “Just because Soren failed you, betrayed you, doesn’t mean I will. Just because Tora sliced open your skin and poured salt on the wound does
not
mean I will!”

Kaatje was silent for a moment, staring out at the gray skies. “He was so rotten,” she whispered.

“Soren?”

“Yes. I’m still so angry at him. For his indiscretions. For leaving us. He never even gave me a chance to yell at him! He left me with a small child, and then Tora …”

“It was bitterly unfair.”

“Yes!” It felt good to give in to the pity she felt for herself in her heart. “I deserved better!”

“Yes.”

“It was not fair of God.”

“It was life, not God, that dealt you such a rotten hand. Life is difficult, but God is not. Soren was not following the ways of the Savior.”

“So I had to suffer for it?” Kaatje asked, glancing at her.

Elsa winced again and sat down. “You chose Soren.”

“Ah. So it’s all my fault.”

Elsa sighed and reached out a hand. “No. Not all of it is your fault. But we choose our paths, Kaatje. You know that. We make choices, good and bad.”

“And Soren was a bad one.”

“Perhaps. But look at your beautiful daughters. Christina and Jessie. They’re yours and you have plenty to be proud of. And Kaatje …”

“What?”

“I will
never
ever let Tora take Jessie from you. She is yours, as much as if you had borne her yourself. Tora has no right to her. I’ll tell her so. I promise you.”