Midwife of the Blue Ridge by Christine Blevins Page A

you’re Maggie!”
    She leaped to her feet and tried to push past, but Tom Roberts
    grabbed her by the arm before she could get away. His hat had
    slipped from his head and his eyes shone ever blue in the bright
    sunlight. His provocative smile was quite unnerving. Maggie—
    who rarely found herself at a loss for words—found herself struck
    dumb by this man.
    “ Maggie Duncan! Duffys! MacGregor! The lot of you—go
    46 Christine
    Blevins
    line up with the others,” Pebley ordered. “The auction’s about to
    begin.”
    The hunter’s blue eyes clouded over. The playful smile up-
    ended into a frown. Still having hold of her arm, he spun Maggie
    around to see the contract pinned to her back.
    “Hmmph! Servants!” He released her arm, picked up his hat,
    and strode away, his dog padding after him.
    Maggie stood astounded by this swift shift in attitude. “That
    was quite odd.”
    “Odd indeed!” MacGregor agreed. “Colonials . . . verra bra-
    zen, if ye ask me.”
    “Some men just don’t cotton to the notion of folk selling them-
    selves into slavery,” Pebley said. “Rubs ’em the wrong way.”
    “We’re no slaves!” Maggie argued. “Slavery is a lifetime.
    We’ve but contracted four years.”
    “It’s all the same to a man like Tom Roberts. Those backcoun-
    try men walk the earth beholden to no one and no thing. Why,
    most of them don’t even consider themselves Englishmen.” The
    boatswain waved them along. “Get a move on now and join the
    others. The bidding’s about to begin.”
    H
    A richly attired and very fat woman proclaimed her delight at
    acquiring a perfect matched pair of footmen for a mere seventy
    pounds after winning the bid on the Duffy brothers. MacGregor
    did not fare as well. A man building a crew to labor in his to-
    bacco fi elds purchased the scholar’s contract for a lowly twenty
    pounds. Maggie’s heart ached as bewildered MacGregor tripped
    past, following his new master down to the pier. She waited her
    turn on the block, wringing her hands, choking back tears, ut-
    terly regretting the day she signed her indenture.
    “Stop fretting,” Josh Stark said. “How many times do I have
    to tell you? It’s all arranged. The captain has a plan. Cavendish
    will not win your contract.”
    “Aye, but soon we’ll ken who my master will be.” She mo-
    Midwife of the Blue Ridge 47
    tioned with a wave toward the quarterdeck and burst into
    tears.
    “Stanch them tears! No one will bid on your contract if you
    blubber and then Cavendish will certainly win.” Joshua pulled
    Maggie from the queue and gave the next man a shove up the steps
    in her stead.
    “They’re gone—the Duffy lads, MacGregor—an’ I didna have
    a chance to wish any of them a proper farewell.”
    “Don’t cry . . . you can’t cry, not now.” Josh untied the ker-
    chief from his neck and used it to swab the tears from Maggie’s
    cheeks. “Chances are you will see them again one day.”
    “You think so?” Maggie sniffed.
    “Sure . . . why, just today I met up with an old friend I haven’t
    seen in years.”
    Maggie flushed with renewed embarrassment, and gave an
    angry swipe to her nose with a handful of skirt. “And how is it
    yer friends with that brute?”
    “Tom? Ah, don’t let his gruff looks frighten you. Tom Roberts
    is all wool and a yard wide. We were boys together—grew up at
    Penn’s Settlement.”
    “Quakers!” Maggie couldn’t help but grin at the notion.
    “Well . . .” Josh smiled. “We were raised Quakers, Tom and
    me, but the elders claimed we were more suited to raise hell.
    The plain life held no appeal for either of us. As soon as we
    could, we bolted—Tom for the high timber, and me for the high
    seas.”
    Maggie winced as the auctioneer’s gavel banged out a fi nal
    bid. “I wish I could bolt right now.”
    “Everything’ll be fine, you’ll see. You’ll get a position with a
    nice family and I promise to call on you whenever I’m in port.
    Now get ready,