Mystic Memories by Gillian Doyle, Susan Leslie Liepitz Read Free Book Online

footing.” The blue of his eyes deepened, and his narrowed gaze allowed no argument. “My offer still stands—”
    “Your ‘offer’ sounded more like an order. ”
    “Be that as it may, you are invited to come with me. My men will be coming ashore soon to look for me.”
    “Your men? Who are you? How do I know you’re not a pirate of some sort?”
    “I am Captain Blake Masters of the Valiant , a merchantman that has been two years on the coast gathering cattle hides from the owners of the rancheros. We will soon be on our way back to Boston with a full hold. But, alas, no pillaged loot from innocent victims, I assure you. And you would be . . .?”
    “Cara Edwards.”
    “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he responded with a single nod. “As I was saying—I was a guest on the Mystic when circumstances altered the events of the evening.”
    Cara could see that he’d planned to say something else but changed his mind. For a moment she sensed his intense anger and disgust, as though his feelings were her own. She knew, too, that his hatred was directed at the captain. “I take it you weren’t on friendly terms.”
    “Captain Johnson and I met only yesterday when he made anchor here off San Pedro.”
    Cara glanced around. “ This is San Pedro?”
    “Yes.”
    Her surroundings looked nothing like the same area in 1998. In her own time, a long and rocky breakwater protected the enormous twin harbors of Los Angeles and Long Beach, where oil tankers and cargo ships passed one another every day. Now she looked upon a barren stretch of land with little vegetation and no trees.
    She had been on the Mystic in the twentieth-first century. And she had come through to the same ship in an earlier time and at a different location. What year was it? She couldn’t ask without raising unwanted curiosity in Captain Masters. It was bad enough that she couldn’t explain how she, a woman, had ended up on a merchant sailing ship.
    “How is it that you came to be on the Mystic ?” asked Masters, startling her with the very thought that had been running through her mind. Was it merely a coincidence? Or had he unknowingly picked up on her thoughts? If so, she would need to guard her silent speculations carefully.
    Avoiding his gaze, she cautiously answered, “I secretly boarded the ship in Santa Barbara. I’m looking for a little boy. I thought he might be aboard the Mystic . I didn’t expect to sail with her. I just—”
    “Is he yours?”
    “Mine?” Cara quickly calculated the benefit of claiming Andrew to be her own son. It would make it easier to explain her search—far easier than the reality of being a private investigator from the future. “Yes, of course he’s mine. Why else would I go to such dangerous extremes?”
    “Why, indeed,” he answered with more of a statement than a question in his voice, while looking at her with sympathetic eyes.
    She tried her hardest to make a show of motherly worry for the missing boy.
    “Perhaps I may be of some assistance in your search. As soon as I take care of the present state of affairs here, I will be setting sail for San Diego. You may find some answers there.”
    “Do you know something about Andrew?” Cara searched his face, hoping for a sign of encouragement. With his tanned olive complexion and fine lines at the corners of his eyes, Masters had the rugged good looks of a strong, healthy athlete.
    “I couldn’t say I know the name—Andrew, you say?” When she nodded, he went on, “I recall a few young lads lolling about the hide houses while their ships were in port. He would undoubtedly have brown eyes and hair like yours, I assume.”
    “Light-blue eyes. Blond hair.” Seeing his dark brows angle upward in mild surprise, she hastened to add, “He looks like his father who is—was very blond. White-blond, actually. And pale. Yes, Andrew is the spitting image of my Swedish husband. That is, my deceased husband, who passed away two years ago.”
    She