Finally Shanna withdrew from reverie and bent her thoughts to her business here. Facing Pitney, she came abruptly to the point.
“Ruark Beauchamp is alive and here on the island. He is a bondslave to my father and goes by the name of John Ruark.”
Pitney nodded and balanced his mug on the rail beside him. “Aye, I know all of that.”
His voice was calm, and Shanna stared at him, for once wondering what she would say next.
“I knew that he was not hanged,” Pitney labored further, “and that we buried another man, old and wasted in his years. I would’ve told ye at once, but Ralston was there with you. And after that, I could not see the harm in it nor the need to worry ye. I even knew that he was on the Marguerite. I followed Ralston to the gaol, for ‘twas there I knew he got his men, not from the auction block as he has always said. And I would’ve told ye that, but there were too many about who would have carried the word back to your pa. If I’ve done ye harm in this, ’tis no less than the harm I’ve done for that lad. Ye wouldn’t have recognized him when they brought him to the ship, so badly mauled was he. Indeed, lass, he was the one ye saved from a beating the night before we sailed. In God’s truth, I do not know how the man bore it all without being maimed for life or at least being scarred. And I’ve been there meself.”
Pitney did not elaborate what his own plight had been, nor did Shanna ask, assuming he would tell her in his own good time. But she felt her own cause failing badly and had to make another try.
“Will you get him away from here?” she asked sternly, already sure of what his answer would be. “Can you not get him off this island, back to his colonies or wherever he wants to go?”
Pitney gazed out across the harbor for a long time before looking squarely into Shanna’s eyes.
“Madam Beauchamp.” He seemed to try out the title for some whim of his own. His words were studied and slow. “I bounced ye on me knee when ye were no bigger than a spit in the wind, and I’ve seen ye grow into a lovely young woman. Ye’ve had trouble with your pa, and I’ve not always agreed with him. I went with ye on yer journeys under an oath to him to see after ye and to see ye safely home. I’m not so sure I’ve done the first, giving in to yer pleading about this marriage against Orlan’s wishes, but I’ve seen well to the last. Now there’s naught that troubles me but the fact that I’ve added to a man’s woes and abused him for no good reason.”
“For no good reason!” Shanna was angered at his excuses. “But the man was accused of murder and condemned to hang. A brutal murder of a woman with child. Why,”—she waved a hand toward the village—“the next could be any down there, or even me!”
“Lass,” Pitney slipped back into a more familiar form of address. “Do not take to heart all that comes to your ears. I would say the man could not do such a thing. And as I’ve heard of him, there are many who would believe the same.”
Shanna rose and irritably smoothed her riding habit, unable to meet Pitney’s eyes. “Then you will not help me?”
“Nay, lass.” His voice was gruff and firm. “I’ve already hurt the man enough. I will not again lift my hand against him without a deeper cause.”
“Then what am I to do?” she whispered almost shyly.
Pitney thought for a moment, and there was an odd half smile in his eyes as he spoke again.
“Go talk to the man, John Ruark, like ye did in the gaol. Before you leave I’ll give ye directions to reach him. Perhaps ye can convince him to leave. If he wants to go, I’ll help him.”
With some anguish in her tone Shanna asked, “You would help him and not me?”
“Aye,” Pitney nodded. “Yours is but a whim. His would be a need.”
Night descended to cloak Shanna’s ride through the village. The people had sought out their homes after the day’s work, and the streets were quiet and barren. Leaving Attila at the store where he would not draw undue attention, she made her way through the alleyways, keeping to the dark and shadows. When she came in sight of Ruark’s residence, she stopped in amazement. It was little more than a lean-to against the back of an adobe warehouse. A light from a weak lantern leaked from the multitude of cracks between the boards which covered it and from the door which stood half open. Cautiously Shanna drew near and peered within, taking care not to betray her presence. For a moment she thought he stood naked as he sponged his shoulders and arms with water from a small basin, but when he moved further into the light, she realized he still wore those infernal chopped-off pants. Steeling herself for the confrontation, she reached out. Beneath her light knock, the door opened wider, and Ruark swung around instantly, startling a gasp from her.