Dear Cora

I am excited to tell you about my first experience on a train. It's rained every day since we left Old Town and I'm wondering when it's going to let up. My Grandfather passed away and it seems heaven weeps for him. Selene says he was old but I think it was a matter of the heart. We will be further than ever from our home now and I can't help but feel the loneliness stabbing at my heart. We are stopping in Manhattan before we get to Maine. How I am looking forward to seeing you again one day. We'll be switching trains in Virginia and that's when I'll be sending my letter out to you. It's amazing sending a letter without a return address from a strange place.

Your friend, Heloise

Heloise dropped her letter in the sack as a train whistle sounded over the misty station. Holding her rain hat on she ran back over to where Astrid, Alifair and Hannah were waiting. A woman with two yappy dogs was boarding the train ahead of them and Heloise thought she was wearing enough makeup to satisfy a circus.

A finely dressed couple passed them and the woman did a double tale at Heloise. "Why I've never," she said to her husband. "Did you see that negro child? Her skin was as fair as mine."

Her husband briefly glanced back but never broke his gait. "I've seen such things before. A white crow is still a crow I'm afraid."

Heloise starred after them but she didn't let their remarks sink into her flesh. She was elated about stopping in Massachusetts and conspired to find a way to see Cora. How she missed her so much. Cora had never made an issue about her skin color unlike Olive Johnson and Amy Birch. She had never laughed at her or mocked her for being different.

/

Hints of rain tapped on the small window of the room above the coastal boat shed. The gas light burned reluctant for a heart that was already on fire. The door opened and the strong smell of a stormy sea washed in with the new arrival. He brought with him the smell of a muggy trail and a wet horse. He dropped a sack on the table before the angry soul and flipped back the hood of his riding cloak and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Did you find anything more?" he asked releasing two sneezes. He didn't relish coming down with a cold.

The angry soul looked up with blazing blue eyes. "I haven't. We must start over, we must have missed something."

"Missed something!"

"Isn't that what I just said?" Kincaid got up from the table unraveling a sandwich made of cheese and fish from the sack. He glanced at the other man then took a bite. "You are not more upset than I am, Benedict ."

"Oh I believe I am! I put my entire career on the line for this. I put my hopes in a promise you made."

"So it goes with putting faith in your fellow man." Kincaid took another bite of the sandwich then set it and himself on the table.

Benedict let out an aggravated sigh. "How can you be so calm about this? That man you dragged into this killed Monroe." He waited for an answer but didn't get one. "You were there at the fight. You saw the house burn..."

Kincaid smirked. "Exactly," he said and Benedict face became confused.

"One thing that always stood out to me about the legend of Fair Lady was the fire." He got up from the table and crossed the room to the window. "Not long before her disappearance she engaged in combat with a pirated ship in the Gulf of Mexico. When the ship set her ablaze they thought they had won the battle but she refused to burn. Picking up speed and feeding the flames she rammed them, ripping a hole in the bow." Kincaid's face was glowing with incredible excitement like he was a boy hearing an exciting tale from his father. "That ship foundered but Fair Lady remained."

Benedict sighed. "That's what you heard. That's what your old treacherous friend heard, but hearsay doesn't make something true."

"But the house, Benedict ." Kincaid's excitement was still fueling him. "The house didn't burn, just like in the story."

Benedict sunk into a broken chair and put his hand over his face. His reluctance; however, could not deter Kincaid Keller.

"If the legend is real, then the treasure is real. Rooms of gold, mounds of silver..."

The door blew open and rain sprayed across the floor as a tall dark figure flanked by two dogs entered.

"How nice of you to join us, Pharaoh," Kincaid said.

"Kincaid," Benedict got his attention again. "How do we know that the people who wrote all of this didn't just make it up?"

"Because we have the scroll. We just need someone who can read it and you claim to know someone who can."

"But even so, that could be a lie."

"If I'm lying, then may my soul reside forever on the Flying Dutchman."

Benedict scoffed. "That's what this is all beginning to sound like. A ghost ship and nothing more. People will mock you for the rest of your life."

"I shot the last man that mocked me so," Kincaid said. "He never laughed again and neither will anyone else when we find the loot." He turned to Pharaoh who was helping himself to a sandwich from the sack. "Any sign of our dear old friend?"

"None," Pharaoh grunted, checking the contents of the sandwich and taking a bite. "He's probably gone back home. Rich folk like him aren't cut out for this work. He betrayed us and now he has no one to do his bidding."

"He can't go back home," Kincaid said. "And he'll find people who are willing to get their hands dirty for pirate gold. Besides we have his precious heirloom. He'll come looking for it which is why it is urgent we have it deciphered. Now what we must do is make sure these girls stay out the way. Columbus here let them escape."

"You weren't clear what you wanted done with the rest of the family," Benedict said. "You forget I actually have a professional career to maintain; an image."

Kincaid and Pharaoh ignored him."We need to find out where the rest of the family has gone," Kincaid said.

"The old man is dead," Pharaoh said.

Kincaid nodded. "Well then we need to find the seven daughters." He faced his companions. "That's just what I want you two to do. I'll head west to have this scroll deciphered."

Pharaoh gave a deep nod. "And what shall we do once we find them? To be clear."

"I have no need for them," Kincaid said. "And, Pharaoh, get those nasty dogs out of here before they stink up the whole room."

With a grunt, Pharaoh took the dogs by their chains and led them outside to be tied in the old boat house.

"Where did you find this man?" Benedict asked once Pharaoh was gone.

"In the garden of black hearts," Kincaid said returning to the table. "The same place I found you."

Benedict scoffed. "You ain't scared to close your eyes at night with a big negro like that sleeping nearby?"

Kincaid laughed. "Pharaoh is a good reason not to be afraid. He killed eight men with his bare hands."

"So what's in it for him? A colored man won't last long totting pirate gold."

Kincaid shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Some people like the thrill of the catch and others live for the thrill of the chase."

"And which one are you?"

"I like to see others lose." He put his feet up on the table and dirt fell from the creases of his boots. "I've been a bottom feeder for too long. My whole family rejected me because I wasn't quite fair enough." He pushed his hand through his red locks. "My own ma was labeled an adulteress on account of me and my brother and sister say the shame killed her." He looked down at his nails. "But all that's going to change now. They turn their heads when I walk in and never reply to my letters...my pa too. But I'll prove it to them...then they'll be the ones who are ashamed."

Benedict starred at Kincaid Keller as the sound of the storm filled the thin walls of the room.

"You know, Fair Lady's sister ship wrecked in this harbor." Kincaid suddenly spoke and looked towards the window. "It was a stormy night like this one and she was runaround just north of where we're sitting. They recovered goods and livestock aboard but no crew. They say that on nights like this you can see them splashing in the water, trying to make it to land..."

"Ghost stories." Benedict shrugged.

Kincaid just smiled. "unsolved mysteries."