HT02 - Sing: A Novel of Colorado by Lisa T. Bergren Page B

hold, slipping several feet, before gaining his grip again. He swung back toward the ropes where Nic clung. “Here! William, give me your hand!” Nic screamed above the wind.
    William reached for him as he neared, but their fingertips only barely touched before the ship swayed again and his friend was swinging back toward the mast. He rammed into it, lost hold of the rope, and fell to the deck, twenty feet below. Nic lost sight of him as another wave washed over the deck and the whole ship tilted, threatening to capsize. Had the bilge pump failed? Weren’t they riding lower in the water now, plowing through waves rather than sliding over them? Or were the waves simply growing larger?
    “Belay the order! Belay the order for second sail!” called a man from beneath him on the nets. The wind had increased to such a keening wail that they could no longer hear captain or mate from the bridge. They were down to passing along orders. He looked up to the three sailors ahead of him, two already clinging to the second lanyard, high above. “Belay the order!” he screamed. “Belay it!”
    The man ahead of him nodded and appeared to shout to the two up top, but Nic could hear none of it. He took a step down, pleased to be heading toward relative safety. Up on the higher lanyards, in seas like this, sailors talked of being “shaken loose like a monkey out of a tree.” He glanced through the holes of the net as he climbed and at last saw William, cradling his knee, his face contorted in pain. But then there was another wave.
    “Dear God!” Nic screamed at the sky. “Enough! It is enough!”
    He paused a moment, as if hoping his furious words might be heard by the Almighty, but only the continued sounds of wind and wave greeted him. No sudden calm. No beam of light from between parted clouds. He laughed at his foolishness, tasting the salt of the sea on his tongue. After all, he’d sworn off God years before, when “the good Lord” had seen fit to take one brother after another, and then his sister and mother. Why would God listen to him now?
    “Fine!” he shouted upward. “Let me have it! You’ve never held back before!”
    “St. Clair!” shouted a man above him. “Move! Go!”
    Nic glanced from the black skies, still streaming with rain and wind, to the men above him. He was blocking the way.
    “You want us all to meet our death?” shouted the man. “Go!”
    Nic hesitated and then mechanically moved down the ropes. Did he want to die? Was he really ready to die? Disappear beneath the waves this night? Never see his sisters again? He shook his head, as if there were water in his ears and he couldn’t hear himself think. He reached bottom, and the other crewmen passed him by, the first angrily shoving him aside. But Nic just stepped to his left, one fist full of net in case another wave came, as he stared at the deck. Men were striving to keep their feet, stay alive, while the sea seemed intent upon taking them down.

    Bryce sat down heavily at the kitchen table. Odessa was asleep, as was Samuel, and a full moon shone through the window. To his left was the conquistador gold bar, found in Louise’s cabin several years ago, and to his right was his brother’s letter. He cradled his head in his hands, trying to figure out what was the best route. He had to have a plan, answers to Robert’s questions before he asked them.
    If he cashed in the gold, he might stave off financial disaster for a time, but it didn’t resolve his ongoing problem of having too few horses—the only way to fix that was to bring in more Spanish horses, fresh bloodlines, at the lowest cost—and have cash to sustain them on the ranch while he rebuilt the herd. The gold bar was likely to bring him a huge amount of money.
    And yet if he left Odessa to go to Spain, he might indeed be risking his health. If he suffered a consumption attack and died while abroad, what would happen to Odessa and Samuel then?
    He sighed and put his head in his