Prize of My Heart

Lantern light bounced off the cabin’s rich mahogany paneling, reaching for the darkened corners as Jabez filled the room with his bulk. “I’ve been to see Nathaniel Huntley. I am sorry, truly, but ye must not allow yerself to grieve for long. It will accomplish no good purpose, and besides yer enemies are long dead.”


Brogan quickly blinked the mist from his eyes. Indeed, his enemies were gone, but oh, what he wouldn’t give to confront Abigail one last time. As for Stephen Huntley, he’d never met the man, had never set eyes upon his face. Did Drew favor him in looks? Seemed foolish now, but Brogan had always been of the opinion that he and the boy shared a strong likeness.

He raked his fingers through his recently shorn hair. “From the first, Abigail played me false. My captaincy was not earned by merit but planned for my demise. Yet what I find most contemptible is that she used an innocent child. Her own flesh and blood. Do I tell Drew the man he calls papa bears no relation to him at all? Do I break his heart when he is so thrilled to discover he is not an orphan? Do I tell him his true parents never wanted him and died in shame? Of course I cannot! And if you’ve spoken with Mr. Huntley, then you know well enough I have no authority to make any decision concerning Drew. The ground has been hauled out from under me, Mr. Smith, and I’ve nothing solid left to stand upon.”

Jabez hung the lantern on the nearest wall hook and bent to retrieve the discarded Bible. “Ye can stand upon this,” he declared with all the conviction of his powerful voice.

Brogan dragged himself from his pit of inner turmoil to set his gaze upon his old friend. “Very well, Mr. Smith, ask that Book, what shall I do? Shall I go forward with a shrug of my shoulders as though events of these past weeks never occurred? Forget I ever believed I had a son and came to Duxboro? Come morning, shall we sail off to trade with southern markets or venture to Russia for Huntley’s manila hemp? When I was a child I ran to the sea to escape the horror and loneliness I faced on land. Perhaps that is my lot in life.”

He could flee, but this time there would be no escape. He loved Lorena Huntley with an ardor he had never known and could hardly contain. And he loved Drew still, like his own. In his heart that had not changed. Yet every time he would look upon the son that was not his, Brogan would be reminded of the indignity his wife and Stephen Huntley had wrought on his life. How could he be a husband to a woman who pitied him, so much so Lorena felt she could not be candid for want of protecting him? Was it love or sympathy she felt?

She deserved better.

“The Yankee Heart sails on the morrow,” Brogan announced. “I will speak with Lorena and her father in the morning, and then we shall leave the Huntley family in peace, to continue on as they should have been before I intruded in their lives.”

“Don’t be so hasty to make a decision tonight.” Jabez unhooked his lantern and prepared to exit. “Trust God to steer ye on the right course. Ye can start by having a glance outside yer windows. Seems someone’s been trying to send ye a signal.”

Curious, Brogan peered between the curtains dressing the stern windows. From across the still, black waters of Duxboro Bay he saw Huntley’s fitting dock aglow with a row of small twinkling lights.





Lorena breathed in the clean night air. Only the gentlest of breezes blew off the bay, while deep in the Cowyard waters Brogan’s lovely merchantman sat illuminated by the reflection of her watch lights.

She admired the ship from her father’s wharf, where Lorena had lit every lantern she and Temperance could gather. They burned brightly all about her, a visible symbol of the hope that glowed in her heart and called to the Yankee Heart.

Lorena prayed silently as she waited . . . and waited . . . and waited.

She grew drowsy, and several times her bleary eyes focused on what she thought to be movement. But, no. Each time it turned out to be nothing but her imagination. Nothing until a tiny speck of illumination appeared. Lorena blinked, uncertain, then saw a light bob on the water. Several minutes later she could actually discern a shape. As she continued watching, that shape took form as a boat, and very soon she could see a man sitting at the oars, rowing toward her.

Stars twinkled from the heavens, and Lorena lifted a smile to them in expression of her thankfulness.

As Brogan beached the boat, Lorena ran down the wharf to greet him. He carried a lantern, its light looming brighter the closer he got, until she could distinguish him clearly. The grass crunched beneath his Hessians.

She sensed reserve in his posture and yearned to run to him, but remembering what her father had told her, Lorena slowed. She halted her steps. She would wait for Brogan to reach her.

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