Every Time It Rains (Uncharted Secrets, Book 3): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories Read online

  Every Time

  It Rains

  Uncharted Secrets, Book 3

  CRISTI TAIJERON

  Copyright © 2014 Cristi Taijeron

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1505466133

  ISBN-10: 150546613X

  Edited by Stacey Coverstone & Janine Lieber

  Cover Artwork by Megan Dinsdale and Cristi Taijeron

  Reign-creative.com

  Interior design by Cristi Taijeron

  Endlesshorizondesigns.com

  To those who brave the storms of life with their heads held high

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Tori, Sarah, Jessica, Shortcake, and Barnabas

  Thank you all for your dedication to my tale.

  I know you have jobs and school and lives outside of this crazy world I live in, so I want you to know how much I appreciate it every time you step outside of your reality to participate in the adventures of my fantasy.

  Nicole

  The way you listen to my plans and inspire character traits and plot twists so passionately assures me that you are just as crazy as I am, and I love you more for it.

  Janine

  How cool is it that two writers obsessed with fictional characters and interested in history live on the same block? Very cool! Thanks for offering such thorough feedback as a beta reader and for being so much fun in general. I truly appreciate your help as much as our newfound friendship

  AJAddams

  We don’t get together to dream as often these days, but it seems a bond built on the love of fiction and a relationship established over wrestling with words is stronger than the distance of any time apart.

  I could never thank you enough for your support.

  Will Smithy King

  Of Kings Forge and Muzzle Loading

  Thank you for painting the perfect picture of the shop at Black Hawke Forge and for being an inspiration for weaponry in all of my stories.

  Corporal Christopher Chase

  Though we just met, the bond between pirate souls strong and the inspiration I have found as we discuss important pirate matters will forever reflect in the future of my stories.

  AUTHOR’S nOTE

  Uncharted Secrets was inspired by a mysterious character mentioned in the Justified Treason series. In those books, Sterling Bentley tells us that he never knew his mother, Hannah, and though his father, Mason Bentley, spoke very little of her, Sterling was well aware that Mason loved Hannah for all of his days.

  When I began writing Justified Treason, Hannah was as mysterious to me as she was to Sterling, but as the tale unfolded I found myself wanting to know more about her. So, I decided to write the story. The surprises I found hiding in the pages of Uncharted Secrets consumed my imagination like a wildfire. There are so many clues to this mystery laced into my other books that I had to delve into the details like a detective, seeking out routes with dead ends and uncovering key elements like pieces to a crime scene. As an author, writing books is sometimes like reading one—I don't always know what's coming next—and the unexpected twists that I have unraveled in this tale have made up a beautifully tragic and unusual pirate story.

  Contents

  I THE OLD WORLD

  1 Mason and Midnight

  2 Sunlight through the Sails

  3 Moonlight on the Bay

  4 No One but the Bird

  5 The World Outside My Own

  II THE NEW WORLD

  6 The Good Kind of Heat

  7 Home-wrecking Love Letters

  8 Backstabbed

  9 The Captain’s Wife

  10 Smoldering Flames

  III WINDS OF CHANGE

  11 Midnight

  12 Sunrise

  13 Brave the Storm

  Every Time It Rains

  Prologue

  Banished for Treason

  As told by Mason Bentley

  January 17th 1650

  The house I bought for her, destroyed inside. The orange tree I planted for her, ripped from the roots. But that boy I gave her, he’s here with me. Lying on the bed in my cabin, he’s humming one of them songs his mother used to sing to him—but now he only harmonizes with the creaking timbers and the lapping tide.

  Only a few months into his third year, he’s hardly ready to face the struggles of a life at sea, but I couldn’t spend another day ashore without his mother. Perhaps it was selfish of me to allow my own heartbreak to drag him out here. God only knows how he’ll handle the first storm we’ll come across. I just might regret this decision when the next roar of thunder rumbles across the sky—scaring him into screaming like it always does—but it is what it is and there’s no turning back now.

  I got myself a crew of my own and a pretty little barque with three masts, new sails, and a clean hull. With my own gold I refitted her for speed and mounted more guns than the average merchantman would ever carry. But I'm no average merchant captain. I'm a buccaneer, and a survivor, and this was the best plan I could muster up to survive the heartache that woman cast upon my soul. This way, my son will be safe under the law of the land, while I’ll still get to live my way: free.

  After falling in love with a witch, raising a family ashore, and having my heart torn apart like a ship in a hurricane, I’ve finally made it back to where I belong. With my son in tow, I’ve returned to the sea.

  -Mason Bentley-

  Just as I put my quill down, I saw a flash of lightning strike outside my stern windows. “Shit. Here comes the thunder,” I said aloud.

  As the angry heavens roared across the sky, Sterling woke up in a panic, crying for his mother.

  “Come here, my boy.” I waved him over.

  Running to me with tears in his eyes, he wrapped his little arms around my neck and wept, “Where is Mother? I want her.”

  I rubbed his trembling back. “I want her, too, but we can’t always have the things we desire.”

  “Where is she?” He looked at me with tears filling his green eyes. It was something else looking at his face so similar to my own.

  “Ah, don’t worry your smart little head about her. She’s all right, and so are we.”

  Another crash of thunder rolled through the night, causing him to tense up in my arms. Covering his ears, he cried, “I don’t want to be here. I want to go home and I want my mother.”

  As of yet, the sea was still calm, but if it got rough—which it eventually would—I’d have to get out on deck with my men. He was going to have to learn to be tough.

  Grabbing his tear-stained face, I forced him to look at me. “Listen here, my boy. This is how it’s going to be now. Just you and me. So, if you want to cry or talk or whatever you need, you come to your father. But in truth, you shouldn’t be crying, no how. You’re a tough little bugger and soon enough you’re going to be a sailor. In fact, I was wondering if you’d like to be my first mate. You know, helping me make decisions and all.”

  Sitting up straight, he looked at me with a humorously thoughtful squint. “Can I be your navigator?”

  “Aye. That you can.” Turning in my chair so he could face the table, I showed him the map I had laid out. “Looky here, mate. This is a map of the Caribbean Sea.”

  “Where are we at?” He looked intently at the map with no further concern about the thunder.

&nbs
p; “Well, we just left Barbados.” I pointed at the tiny island. “According to Kinnley’s marks, it looks like we doused the sails somewhere about here.”

  “That isn’t very far,” he said. “It feels like we’ve been gone forever.”

  “Ah, it’s been two days. This journey has only begun.”

  “Where are we headed?” He waved his hand over the map.

  “Let’s look in the rutter.” I reached for the book of maps. As I opened it, he clapped with joy.

  Showing him a map of the world, I pointed at the island of England. “We’ll be docking in London to drop this load of sugar we’re hauling. Then we’ll be bringing shit back to the rich folks who live on Barbados.”

  “That’s far away.”

  “Aye. And it could take up to a month or two to get there, depending on how well those sailors can manage this beauty.”

  “Maybe if I help we will go faster.” He flexed his arm muscle the way I often did while playing around with him.

  I laughed. “I reckon it’ll be more fun with you helping, too.”

  We spent the next part of the hour admiring the maps in my rutter. He had a million questions for each page we eyed, and his excitement over the concept of sailing the world easily overrode his worries about the weather.

  “I like this map best.” He showed me the one his mother did of Tortuga.

  “Ah, I have a certain fancy for that one myself. Tell me why it pleases you so.”

  “I like the way the shore looks and the birds are nice.” He made a chirping bird sound. “Who drew this one? I like the feather and the moon.”

  Pointing at her signature, I said, “This is the symbol of the Midnight Feather. See, some sea artists like to keep their identities hidden so they only sign with initials or emblems. Sneaky little buggers they be, and Midnight—the one who drew this map—he was the sneakiest one of them all.”

  Looking at me with wide, inquiring eyes, Sterling asked, “Do you know Midnight?”

  “That I do.”

  “Where is he now? Can I meet him?”

  I rubbed my hand down my face. “No. No. You won’t be meeting him. He was uh, well, he was banished for treason.”

  “Treason? What is that?”

  “Ah, it’s a terrible act of betrayal. One who turns his back on those who trust him is guilty of treason.”

  He kinked his head to the side like a parrot. “So Midnight betrayed his crew?”

  “Aye. That he did.”

  “That’s not good.” He shook his head.

  “No good at all,” I agreed. “But shit like that happens in this world. Most people are only out for their own good and have not a care about the sake of others. I know a lot of people, Sterling, and I even like a good deal of them, but I don’t have many friends. True friends are hard to come by. Hell, I reckon you’re the best one I’ve got.”

  “I don’t have any friends either.” He looked sad and confused.

  Knowing his loneliness was created by his mother’s doing, I lifted his chin. “The way we’re living now, you’re going to be meeting all kinds of people. But no matter how many of them come and go, you and me, we stay true to our own code. All right?”

  Smiling at me—with that grin that would forever remind me of his mother—he said, “You’re my best friend, too. And I want to be your navigator. And one day I’ll draw maps as good as Midnight’s. But I’ll never betray you.”

  X

  Every Time It Rains

  As told by Remington Rain Wilshire

  PART I

  The Old World

  London, England

  Summer of 1661

  Chapter 1

  Mason and Midnight

  “Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the foreboding clouds encroaching upon the masts. The storm was so close that the roar of thunder immediately followed the electric strikes. Wicked winds whipped through the night, howling through the portholes like a thousand ghosts. Vicious raindrops pelted the crew from every direction, as were the waves crashing over the decks. Everyone was soaked to the bone. Grabbing tight to the jack line with slippery hands, they did all they could to keep themselves and their ship from sinking to the deep.

  I reckon some of them might have wanted to cry out in fear, some were even heard begging the Lord to have mercy, but the captain was fierce, and cowardice would not be tolerated on his deck. No. These men had to fight this weather like warriors, giving all they had in their souls to save themselves and each other from the raging swells of the monstrous sea.”

  Thunder rolled outside my window, intensifying the frightful scene my mother was painting with her words.

  “Did they make it out alive?” I held tight to my blankets, tense with suspense.

  “Of course they did, my daughter. Mason would see his men through every obstacle they faced. And when the sun rose in the east—painting pink and orange colors over the calming sea—Midnight came alongside and told him how proud of him she was.”

  “She truly loved him, didn’t she, Mother?” Coming upon marrying age myself, I had been thinking deeper into the love story within her tales.

  Her blue eyes moistened as she sighed, “Yes. She loved him with all of her heart. You know, he was her hero, she even called him her angel sometimes.”

  “Hannah, my dear,” my father called to my mother from the hallway.

  “I’ll be right there, Thomas,” she answered, a bit nervously. Fearing these tales would inspire rebellion, my father forbade my mother to tell them, but loving them as I did, I was ever so thankful she had yet to heed his warnings. Even after all of these years.

  Kissing me on the cheek, her ribbon-wrapped braids tickled my nose. I grabbed one of them. “Will you do my hair like this in the morning, Mother? I love when you style your hair this way.”

  “I would love to, my little rain drop.”

  “I wish my hair was blonde like yours.” I twirled her braid around my finger.

  “Oh, but your brown is lovely, contrasting with your light eyes in such a way you might be mistaken for something mythical, like a mermaid. But I’ll tell you what, come summertime, we’ll get out in the sun for a while and see if any blonde streaks will show up.” As the final words left her mouth, she looked away in the distance, traveling off to that far away land in her mind. She never told me what she saw there, but it was hard to tell if it hurt her, or if she loved it.

  The sound of Father opening my door caused her to inhale a startled gasp. Looking at me as if I had just appeared like magic, she stared at me for a moment, breathing like she had been running. My father grabbed her hand. “Come, my love. It’s time for bed.”

  She kissed me again. “I love you, Remington Rain. More than you will ever understand.”

  Wandering out of the room—still looking dazed—she breezed right past my father in the doorway like he wasn’t even standing there. He lowered his face in his hand, and after a deep breath, he came in and took her place on the little bench beside my bed.

  “You two are up so late tonight.” He grabbed my hand. I loved the feel of his big warm palm.

  “Yes. I couldn’t sleep, so Mother was keeping me company.” I knew better than to tell him about our bedtime stories, but I was curious about her strange behaviors and finally braved the nerve to ask. “Where does Mother go in her mind when she stares into space? Do you know?”

  His brown eyes widened. “That is a very wise way to ask such a question.” Patting my hand, he hummed like he was thinking. “Your mother’s life was not always pleasant, Remington. Though she has overcome a great deal of her fears, I think she still struggles with her bad memories sometimes. When she drifts away like that, I believe she is reliving them in her mind.”

  Thinking back on the strange behaviors she’d displayed over my lifetime, I asked, “What are those unpleasant things, Father?”

  “Things you’ll never need to worry about. You are both safe here with me and all you need to do is sleep so you can come with m
e to work in the morning. I am going to need help counting the crates.”

  Closing my eyes, tight and dramatically, I said, “I will go to sleep right now.” I peeked through one eye. “Can I carry the logbook and take the notes?”

  “Of course you can, my darling. You know my business would not be half as successful as it is without your witty little mind and helpful little hands.” He let out a satisfied sigh. “You’re growing up so fast, my dear. I want to spend as much time with you as I can before you’re married off.”

  Knowing that day was but a few short years away, I held him extra tight as he hugged me goodnight.

  The moment the door was shut behind him, I started dreaming about the fun I would have tomorrow at Father’s shipping yard. The ships sailing in and out of the harbor set my imagination ablaze. Where were they headed? What stories would they return with? Oh, the world had to be so big outside of London. I had always admired the maps in Father’s office, and I would often dream of what the faraway lands looked like.

  No longer able to contain my spiraling curiosity, I snuck out of bed and peeked out the window. The glass was frosty from the cold outside, so I wiped it off with the corner of the blue curtain and took a deep breath. The lights in the windows across the way glowed orange, and the full moon was beaming above the fog layer. I could hardly see the river Thames, but soon enough a gust of wind blew through, lifting the misty wall like a curtain. In the brief clearing I spied the masts of a ship. Though it disappeared as fast as it came, the memory rang clear in my mind.

  Imagining Mason and Midnight climbing the shrouds and unfurling the canvas sails so they could soar off on another adventure, I hoped that one day I would get to sail the seas. I wanted to go to secret beaches and meet interesting islanders, and in these fantasies, I always wore my hair in those pretty braids my mother would wear in her hair when we were alone.