Page 57 of Part of Your World

Grandpa Clem shook his head. "Lord, have mercy."

"I pray he will," Zane said. "Muriel's gone after him."

"On her own?" Grandpa Clem's eyebrows arched in shock.

Zane knew what his grandpa was thinking. What kind of man let his woman go after smugglers on her own?

The desperate kind.

"She has a lead on the boat and plans to swim out to where it's anchored while I make the exchange with the villain responsible for the abduction."

Max groped for the wall. "Whoa. What exchange? I feel like I came into the theatre during the third act and have no idea what's going on."

Zane clapped him on the shoulder. "You don't need to get involved, Max. It's likely dangerous. I'm sure your mother would prefer you take her home."

He straightened away from the wall, a scowl on his face. "Our driver can see Mama home. I'm not about to abandon my best friend in his time of need." He waved off the rebuttal that Zane tried to give. "You can explain things to me later. Just tell me what I can do to help."

The tension radiating through Zane's neck eased a bit, and he slapped his friend's back. "I can use more eyes searching for Muriel's kin."

"You got it."

Thank you, Lord.

"Grandpa Clem and I have both met them, so we'll split up. You and Grandpa Clem take the rail yard, and I'll search the wharves with my father."

Grandpa Clem's eyebrows shot up again. "Horace is comin'?"

Zane's mouth tightened. "Reluctantly, but yes, he's coming."

"'Bout time that boy of mine did somethin' worthwhile," Grandpa Clem muttered beneath his breath.

"We need to hurry." Zane headed for the door. "If they're going to help Muriel, we need to find them before eight o'clock."

Grandpa Clem checked his watch. "Best take the horses, then. Max can borrow your mama's mare."

Zane nodded. "Father should be heading to the stables now."

"I'll make our excuses to our mothers and meet you there," Max said before dipping out of the room.

Grandpa Clem's gaze narrowed. "Think I'll grab my old revolver. Best to be prepared so the worst don't get the upper hand."

A shiver ran over Zane's skin. Bullets were the last thing this night needed, but he wasn't so naïve as to assume the other side would act with honor. He gave his grandpa a nod and headed to the stables.

The search took less time than Zane expected. It seemed Patrick Quinn had mobilized his entire crew along the docks. Dozens of men were out looking for Fletcher, and they all pointed Zane in the same direction—Labadies Wharf. Smaller, darker, farther west. More likely to boast criminal types after dark. A place no father or grandfather would ever wish to hunt for their child.

As Zane came around a warehouse, he spotted a large, well-muscled man with flowing white hair holding a thin man with a bottle in his hand up against the wall of a cargo shed. The thin man's feet dangled at least a foot above the dock.

"Mr. Quinn!" Zane nudged his mount into a trot and left his father by the warehouse. The horse's hooves made hollow-sounding clops on the timber beams extending over the bay.

Patrick Quinn turned toward Zane, his expression frightful. "He heard a pair of smugglers talkin' 'bout me grandson. I need to jar his memories loose."

Zane dismounted and touched the man's wide shoulder. "Muriel knows where Fletcher is. She's going after him now."

"Alone?" He roared the word and tossed the inebriated sailor to the side then spun to face Zane, grabbing him by the arms. "Ye let her go after smugglers alone?" The force of his grip felt as if he might snap Zane's arms like twigs.

"She needs me to meet Mrs. Underhill," Zane ground out. "I'm to keep the woman busy so Muriel can swim out to the smuggler's ship anchored offshore, west of the hotel. Muriel sent me to find you so you could row out to meet her. She intends to rescue Fletcher, but she needs our help."

All at once, the pressure on Zane's arms released and blood began flowing into his forearms and fingers again.