Read Online Midwife of the Blue Ridge by Christine Blevins - Free Book Online

on
    the boatswain’s table. “Where do I sign?”
    Seth scratched his mark several times, anxious to secure the
    girl’s contract before any protest could be lodged. The boatswain
    blotted the ink, dusted the parchment with a sprinkling of sand,
    and handed him a copy of the document.
    “Quite a bargain, young
    fella—I’d say today’s your lucky
    day.”
    “That’s so . . .” Seth grinned from ear to ear and tucked the
    paper into the front of his shirt.
    “My, my . . . it cannot even write its own name!”
    Seth turned to the voice. The fancy Englishman—the viscount
    who had placed the initial bid on the girl—was standing right
    behind.
    “I’ll have that girl. Name your price.”
    “Not interested.” Seth slipped the rifle from his shoulder to
    rest in the crook of his arm.
    “Don’t be a fool.” The smiling Englishman reached into his
    breast pocket. “I’ll pay . . . forty pounds. I’d say that’s more than
    enough to purchase one of these other trollops to tend your hovel
    and whelp your brats and leave you with a few pounds to shove
    in your pocket as well.”
    “Aye—an’ I say, ye can shove that forty pound right up yer
    own arse—I’m not sellin’.” Seth smirked. Many of the onlookers
    were laughing at the viscount’s expense.
    “ Lout! I’ll teach you how to address your betters,” the En-
    glishman sputtered, and raised his cane to strike, but was stopped
    by the barrel end of Seth’s rifle pressed cool beneath his right
    ear.
    “Ye might take notice yer in Virginia, sir . . .” The hammer on
    the flintlock clacked back. “. . . and a lout like me can sink a ball
    in yer brain from a hundred yards with one of these. Take heed
    and leave me be if ye mean to stay out of my sights.”
    Midwife of the Blue Ridge 51
    The threat drew a smattering of applause and a few “hear,
    hears!” from those who witnessed the scene. Seth pushed past
    the stunned viscount and skirted around the crowd of bidders.
    He spotted his girl waiting near the gangway, a large covered
    basket at her feet and a tall sailor planted at her side.
    “Och, but pretty lassies are such a bother,” he muttered. After
    the encounter with the Englishman, Seth was in no mood for
    another confrontation or tearful good-byes.
    “. . . but that was the plan, Maggie,” Seth overheard the sailor
    say. “The auctioneer was told to accept the first bid over twenty
    from anyone other than the viscount . . .”
    “Aye, Joshua, dinna fash . . . it’s done now, isn’t it?”
    “Believe me, Maggie, no one figured a backwoodsman
    would—”
    “This yers?” Seth interrupted, pointing to the basket.
    “Aye,” the girl answered.
    “We’re off, then.” Seth picked up the basket and turned to
    leave.
    Joshua laid a restraining hand on Seth’s shoulder. “Hold on
    there, fella . . .”
    Seth dropped the basket and spun around, his rifle still cocked.
    “This lass goes with me. I’ve paid twenty-three pound and have
    paper t’ prove it!” He motioned for the girl to pick up her basket
    and precede him down the gangway. He glanced over his shoul-
    der several times as he hurried after the girl, happy to be on the
    road leading home.
    5
    In- Country
    One foot afore the other . . .
    Maggie focused on fi nding her land legs. Solid ground proved
    difficult after more than two months aboard ship.
    Set one foot afore the other . . .
    The hard-packed surface of Richmond’s dusty main street led
    to a
    wheel- rutted trail, which disappeared into a rough foot-
    path.
    One foot afore the other . . .
    Maggie trudged alongside the pack mule, each step taking her
    deep into the strange wilderness, not knowing where she was
    heading or even the name of the man she headed there with. Grit
    and bits of gravel weaseled into her clogs, abrading the skin on her
    feet raw. The kerchief she’d tied about her head gave scant protec-
    tion from the hot sun. She swiped the sweat tickling a trail down
    the back of her neck, silently