Chapter 10

JACK SANK ANOTHER arrow into its mark. Each time his aim proved true, but he gained no satisfaction from his success. He was frustrated, and the grueling work of training did nothing to alleviate it. When he closed his eyes, all he saw was Nora, and the wondering started all over again. Why this girl? What kind of trouble was she in? And what kind of role did Jack play? If his dream was correct, she was looking for a Warrior. He pos-sessed skills of a warrior, but how would he know if he was that man?
He’d been at Ben’s two days now, and Ben hadn’t asked him to leave, despite his fully healed shoulder. Though Jack knew he posed no threat to them, they couldn’t know that. So, wasn’t it unsafe to keep a stranger in your house for so long? Even if that stranger did save your life? Didn’t they wonder why he wasn’t leaving? If the roles were reversed, Jack would want someone like him gone as soon as possible. He wouldn’t want some unknown person who had been wandering around in the woods to linger around his family overly long.

Still, unless he was specifically asked to leave, he wouldn’t go until the mystery of Nora was solved. Was this Lord Rogan the person she fought in the dream? Did she know the other people who appeared within it? The Scholar, the Healer, and the Fox. Who were they? Where were they? Were they here, as well? Were they nearby?

Each question propounded another until Jack felt constantly inundated by them. The dream gave him all the questions and Nora held the answers. Didn’t she?

Jack shot another arrow at his target. Again, it landed dead center.

“Magnificent,” a voice called. Jack turned and saw Ben standing about thirty feet away, well out of danger from the line of fire.

Jack liked Ben. He found him intelligent, fair, and inquisitive. Ben liked to answer questions with questions, which Jack supposed could be annoying to some, but it allowed the person to work out the problem themselves and come to a con-clusion that was right for them.

“Come with me,” Ben said, waving his hand. He turned and began walking away. Jack gathered up his weapons and put them back into his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and followed Ben. He moved quickly to catch up and then matched his stride to Ben’s.

“Is this where you ask me to leave?” Jack asked, as Ben lumbered along beside him.

“Why would I do that, my boy?” Ben replied. “You just got here. We hardly know you at all.”

“Shouldn’t that be reason enough to send me on my way then? What if I were a criminal?”

“Are you?”

“Not usually,” Jack shrugged.

Ben chuckled. “I like you, Jack. I admire your skills. I notice you. You may not realize it, but I’ve watched you these last days. You never miss anything. You see things that no one else does. Hear things in the forest no one else can. Skills like that are useful and valuable.”

They stopped when they came to a small brick building on the property. “I wondered what was in here,” Jack murmured.

Ben opened the door and showed him inside. “I call it my laboratory,” Ben explained. He led Jack into the room and moved around lighting oil lamps. As Ben illuminated the room, Jack studied his surroundings. Shelves and workbenches dis-played all manner of tools, glass vials, beakers, scales, a stove in the corner, and books—endless books. Ben had already loaned him books, which Jack devoured in the evenings. He wasn’t a strong reader, as his education with the Indians was informal, but in time he was determined to become better.

“I run scientific experiments in here—one of my hobbies. Betsy asks that I keep the mess out of the house. Occasionally, one or two have been known to cause a fire or create a nauseating stench.”

“What do you experiment with?”

“Anything I come across. I’m a curious man, and well-read. I enjoy tinkering, taking an object and seeing if I can make it better. Tell me, son, do you believe in magic?”

“Magic,” Jack laughed. “Spells and incantations? You can be burned at the stake for that, can you not?”

“Oh, no one gets burned at the stake anymore,” Ben waved off idly. “But your family, they believe in spirits, both the good and the bad, am I correct? They believe in a certain amount of magic.”

Jack shrugged, put his hands in his pockets, and began to wander around. “I respect their culture, beliefs, and religion, but belief in that takes faith, and I am fresh out of faith. Unknown people burned my entire village and killed everyone in it—all of my blood family. I was the only one to survive. My Shawnee father told me that I had wandered away from my home and that was likely why I was still alive. My tribe used to trade with that village and had come to do so again, finding it burned. Those men killed not only everyone I knew and loved, but my faith in my fellow man and in God, as well. Where was His benevolence then? Where was His mercy? All those people dead.
My Shawnee family is good and loving. They always welcome me back, but their ways are…fanciful.”

“What do you believe in?”

“Things I can see with my own eyes and touch with my own hands,” Jack said. He picked up random objects in his wanderings, studied them briefly, and put them back down again. “Anything else is just…dreams.”

“Without a dream and the vision, scientists would have nothing to research.” Ben pointed to a long metal object leaning against the wall. “That staff right there, my boy, is called a lightning rod. It can channel lightning from a storm. You attach it to the top of a building, connect it to a wire, and put another one in the earth. Instead of striking the building and causing a fire, the lightning strikes the rod, travels down the wire, and into the ground, where it is safely absorbed.”

Curious, Jack picked up the metal rod. It was lightweight and hollow. He spun it around in his hands and tested its use as a weapon. Pausing, he looked back up at Ben. “How did you even think to try that?”

“By being fanciful.” Ben smiled.

Jack had to concede that point, and he returned the staff to its spot along the wall. Uncomfortable with the talk of magic, Jack changed the subject. “What can you tell me of this Lord Rogan? Where does he live?”

“He seems to be wherever Nora is.” Jack began to slowly pace the small laboratory, hands in his pockets, head down and thoughtful. “It took him many years to track her down here. He has come all the way from England.”

“Is she related to you?”

“No.” Ben smiled. “She is my ward. She came to me ten years ago needing assistance—needing protection from Rogan. I am not without a certain amount of influence, but even that can-not help her now. He has found her here in the area now and she must leave. She is out of time. Are you married, Jack?”

Jack’s head spun from the abrupt change in topic. It was Ben’s turn now to change the course of the conversation. “No.”

“Have you ever been?”

“No.”

“If you are not otherwise engaged, perhaps you will consider helping us,” Ben said hesitantly.

“She saved my life, and you opened your home to me so that I could heal,” Jack replied. “My debt to you is great. I will do whatever I can to repay your compassion and generosity.”

“One could argue, Jack, that our actions were repayment of our debt to you. You saved her life first, after all.”

“What is it you need, sir?” Jack asked softly.

“As you know, Nora is in trouble,” Ben began. “Before her recent capture by Lord Rogan, we put contingency plans in place for her departure. Those are now imminent. It is only a matter of time before Rogan’s men descend upon this property and take her again. We have plans for her to go to Boston to meet a ship, but she needs an escort—a bodyguard. A woman traveling alone invites trouble. Would you be able to take on such a task?”

Jack considered this request carefully. He was already on his way to New York on behalf of his tribe, but all he had was his horse and his weapons. Still, he got along just fine sleeping in the forest, hunting, and fishing for his food. He supposed he and Running Bull could sustain Nora until Boston. Now that he had found the woman he had been dreaming about his entire life, he needed to know why, and he couldn’t do that if he were part-ed from her. Traveling all the way to Boston would give them plenty of time to talk. Perhaps Jack could discover his answers without giving away why he needed to know them.

Added to that, he was drawn to this woman—attracted to her in a way he had never been attracted to another woman be-fore. Something about her called to him, and he felt it was not altogether separate from his recurring dream. In the dream, he felt it imperative that she make it out of the fight. He felt a help-lessness he had never known before as he watched her fight her way out of the manor while he could do nothing to help her.

And he felt a stirring need to help her.

He would do this for them, and in turn, they would be doing something for him as well.