Page 61 of Part of Your World

"Yep. That's the signal. I'll fetch the boy."

Muriel jumped to her feet and held the hatchet up. "Spread yer feet," she urged.

The frayed rope created slack, and Fletcher pulled a couple inches. Muriel bent down and chopped through the rope. His legs sprang apart.

"Hey!" Thundering footsteps.

Muriel yanked the hatchet from the decking and looked desperately for another rope to chop. Fletcher's hands were tied in front of him. She couldn't get to that rope without injuring him. Her only chance was to sever the leash tied around the mast above his head.

The deck vibrated as the smuggler bore down on them.

She swung at the rope where it was lashed to the mast. The hemp snapped. Fletcher scrambled to his feet.

His hands were still bound, but they had no time.

"Jump!" she yelled as she yanked the hatchet free.

She turned and threw it at the advancing smuggler then ran for the side of the ship. The sound of the hatchet clanking harmlessly to the ground echoed behind her. Fletcher struggled to get over the railing, so she hoisted him by the elbow and tossed him over. She moved to follow him, but a meaty hand grabbed her ankle.

"Not so fa—"

Desperate to get to Fletcher before he drowned, she acted on instinct. Twisting to face her attacker and ignoring the resulting pain in her knee, she used the railing for leverage and smashed her other foot into his face. The instant his fingers loosened, she flipped backward over the side of the boat to be swallowed by the sea.

Chapter 27

A fist slammed into Zane's jaw, jerking his head to the side and grinding his skull into the sand. His advantage over the smuggler had been short lived, and now he couldn't help but wonder if he would be short-lived. The burly fellow had managed to get a leg between them and flipped Zane onto his back with a bone-jarring thud then pounced and pummeled with the skill of a man accustomed to brawls. Unlike Zane, whose only recent brawling experience was with a catboat mast. He'd lost that one, too.

He fought back as best he could, blocking blows with arms bent over his face and looking for an opening. Only . . . no opening came. Only blow after blow.

Until a gunshot cracked the night air.

"Get off my grandson, or the next bullet is goin' straight through your skull."

Grandpa Clem?

Grossman ceased punching and raised his hands. "Easy, old man. Your kid jumped me. I was just defendin' myself."

The moment the blows stopped, Zane scuttled backward across the sand like a soft-shell crab desperate to escape a snapping seagull. Gaze still locked on the smuggler as he retreated, Zane caught the glance the man darted to the left. A dark object lay in the white sand. Zane bounded to his feet and snatched up the gun.

"You all right, Zane?"

"Yep." He hurt all over, actually, but that didn't matter. Muriel was waging a war of her own, and he needed to finish here and find her.

"Good." Grandpa Clem stayed atop his horse, spouting orders like a general. "Go give your daddy a hand." He twisted his head toward their driver. "Eddie! Get in here and tie this feller up. I sent Max after the police. They'll be here soon."

At that news, Grossman pivoted toward the beach and started running. Grandpa Clem nudged his horse into action and cut him off like a professional cowboy. Assured Grossman would be no trouble, Zane aimed his pilfered weapon at the second fellow. Grandpa Clem had taken him hunting and taught him to shoot, but he'd never aimed at a person before.

"Let him go!"

Neither man seemed to hear him. They were too busy fighting over something. As they tussled, Zane spotted the pistol clamped between them. His gut clenched. If it went off . . .

Zane lowered the hammer of his own revolver, tucked it into his belt, then hurried forward. He had to stop them somehow. Before someone ended up dead.

What could he do to stop the fight without endangering his father? The two were so embroiled, it was hard to tell where one stopped and the other started.

Help me.

A gust of wind kicked sand into Zane's face, making him jerk his head and rub at his watering eyes.