Elusive Hope Read online

  Or bugs, or heat—her stomach growled—or hunger.

  “You may go back to the fields now, Hayden.” She dismissed him with a wave, knowing full well both her tone and gesture would annoy him to distraction.

  His subsequent groan—akin to an angry bear’s—brought a satisfied smirk to her lips.

  “I’m not one of your slaves, Princess,” he said with more frustration than anger. “We are all equal here. There are no bluebloods who plant their soft bottoms in plush carriages and spew mud on all those they pass.”

  Magnolia was about to kick some of that mud on his trousers when her mother’s shrill voice stiffened her.

  “What in heaven’s name! Miss Magnolia Scott. You are covered in dirt.”

  “I am?” Magnolia gazed at her gown in mock horror. “Oh, mercy me, however did that happen?” She smiled at Hayden, who winked at her before he excused himself and walked away.

  Her father, following close on her mother’s heels, scrunched up his nose, scanned her from head to toe, and shook his head. “I realize we live in the jungle but that doesn’t mean we are to behave like wild beasts.”

  Magnolia sighed. She started to tell him what happened—wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter what she looked like here in the middle of the jungle—but decided it was no use.

  “Go wash that mud off and put on something presentable!”

  “Yes, Papa,” Magnolia said numbly as she made her way down the street with one overpowering thought in mind. The sooner she left Brazil, the better.

  CHAPTER 2

  Magnolia poured fresh water into the basin, set the bucket down, and pressed a hand on her aching back. She couldn’t even carry water from the river without causing herself pain. She was completely useless. Back home on the plantation, she’d kept busy with her cotillions and soirees and calling on her friends for tea, keeping up with the latest gossip, and playing the coquette with the town’s eligible bachelors. But here in the Brazilian jungle, life was hard. Even though the sun was just peering over the horizon, most of the men had been up for an hour tilling the fields, chopping wood, and building a barn. The women were up as well, preparing breakfast, hauling water, and gathering fruit. No one was idle. Well, except Magnolia’s parents, who spent most of their day complaining of the heat and overseeing Moses as he built their new house. Magnolia so wanted to help the colony. She truly did. But she didn’t know how.

  So, she came to the one place where she felt of any use at all. The clinic. Even the smells permeating the tiny hut—a mixture of pungent herbs and lye and beeswax—brought her a smidgeon of comfort.

  “Good morning.” Eliza’s cheerful voice preceded the lady into the hut. “You’re up early, Magnolia.”The ex-war nurse and wife of the leader of the colony, Colonel Blake, never failed to have a positive outlook on life.

  “I couldn’t sleep. My father snores.”

  Eliza gave her a knowing glance. “Ah, yes, my husband made quite a racket last night as well.” Magnolia grinned. Pink blossomed on Eliza’s cheeks as she set down a bundle of clean cloths. “But, honestly, I couldn’t care if he sang Dixie all night at the top of his lungs, as long as he’s by my side.”

  Now it was Magnolia’s turn to blush. Yet her heart grew heavy at the same time. Would anyone ever love her like that? Had Samuel, her fiancé? Obviously not or he would have sought her out after the war—would have come to Brazil looking for her by now, begging her to return. “Marriage becomes you, Eliza. You are fortunate to have such a wonderful man love you so much.”

  “God has been good to me.” Eliza began folding the cloths, but her beaming smile began to fade. “My first marriage was different. Stanton was a beast. Cruel and heartless. And selfish.” She shot a somber glance at Magnolia. “It’s so important, Magnolia, whom you choose to marry. And sometimes, it’s the least likely person you would ever consider.”

  Magnolia knew she spoke about the troubles that had almost kept Eliza and the colonel apart. In fact, it was a miracle they’d been able to overcome the obstacles and marry at all. Moving toward the cupboard, Magnolia grabbed a damp cloth to wipe down the examining table in preparation for their first patient. Had Samuel been the least likely person for Magnolia to marry? No, he had been the most likely. Young, handsome, wealthy, from a prominent family, educated, and on the path to success, who else would be more suited to become her husband? He was the perfect choice.

  “You should never choose a husband based on a list of requirements,” Eliza continued as if she read Magnolia’s mind. “Only God knows the man for you.”

  A breeze blew in and rustled the loose strands of Eliza’s brown hair. The woman never seemed able to keep her coiffure pinned up properly. Magnolia patted her own bun and dangling curls, ensuring all was in place as she pondered the woman’s words. Samuel would make a great husband. She would never have to worry about money again, and if his political aspirations succeeded, he would usher her upward through society’s ranks. Of course she loved him. Who wouldn’t love a man like that?

  By the time their first patient arrived, a myriad of birds, kissed awake by the sun’s ascent, began their orchestra outside the tiny hut, adding a cheerful tone to the morning. Sarah, A war widow and the colony’s teacher, entered the hut, greeted them both, and laid her baby, Lydia, nearly four months old now, on the examining table. Magnolia kept the child busy by making funny faces while Eliza examined her, pressing her abdomen, looking in her mouth, nose, and ears, listening to her heart and lungs with the stethoscope and asking Sarah dozens of questions.

  “You’re good with children, Magnolia,” Sarah said after the examination was complete. “You should help me out in the school.”

  “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly.” Magnolia shook her head. “Truly, I don’t care for children at all.” She leaned over and blubbered her lips at Lydia, making the baby giggle. “But I make an exception for your sweet girl.”

  Eliza washed her hands. “Do you never wish to have children of your own, Magnolia?”

  Magnolia ran a hand over her tiny waist that had been the envy of all of Roswell, maybe even all of Georgia. “And ruin this figure?” She laughed.

  “There are some things more important than a good figure.” Sarah’s smile softened the censure in her blue eyes. Magnolia bit down her retort. Though a lovely lady and pleasant in all respects, Sarah was no raving beauty. How could she possibly understand losing the only thing that made Magnolia stand above the other ladies in her class?

  “Is that why you still wear your crinoline? And all those petticoats?” Eliza asked while Sarah dressed little Lydia. “Most of the women have given up on such cumbersome underthings in this insipid heat.”

  “My father forbids it. It isn’t proper. a lady should dress like a lady wherever she is.”

  Sarah hoisted Lydia in her arms. “I believe we should always be modest and look our best, but I also believe in comfort. Most of the women in Rio de Janeiro didn’t wear these contraptions.”

  Most of the commoners, she meant. But Magnolia wouldn’t say such a thing. She also wouldn’t tell them that just because they were in a savage country that didn’t mean they had to dress like savages. Mercy me, that thought sounded so much like her father, it caused her stomach to sour.

  Several more patients came in with minor complaints: a cut, a sore back, indigestion, and a rash. Magnolia did her best to assist Eliza while trying to learn as much as she could about tending the sick and wounded. She would never tell her father, but she found the profession fascinating and enjoyed the rewards of healing those in need.

  “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.