Chapter 2: Superstition and Witchcraft
The blaring noise of the sirens only got louder as they reached the silo where the LifeBoat sat awaiting their departure. A bit on edge from his conversation with Lucy, Wyatt strode forward a little ahead of her as they made their way down the hall together. While on some level he understood where she was coming from, it frustrated the hell out of him that she was so focused on hypotheticals that she couldn't just relax and enjoy them being together.
They had waited so damn long for this. They deserved to be happy.
But she did have a point.
The truth of the matter was, Wyatt had no idea how he would react if Jessica had come back right now. No matter what he felt for Lucy, it was Jessica who was his wife…and what could he do? Divorce her after being the reason she was murdered? Walk away from their marriage? How would that be fair to her when and if, in her reality, they were still happily married? Could he throw all the vows they made to each other out the window and continue on in a relationship with Lucy? Have an affair? The thought made him sick. He could never do that to Lucy. Hell, he couldn't do that to either one of them.
This was exactly why he didn't want to think about these things…hell, this was exactly what had kept him from acting on his feelings for Lucy in the first place. It took him six damn years, six damn years to finally allow himself the chance to move on and the minute he decided to go all in, the one he wanted to move on with is telling him he needs to think about Jessica. Why should he? He had tried to bring back Jessica and it didn't work, so why the hell should Lucy get so damn worked up over it? There was nothing to be afraid of. Jessica was dead and that was that.
"Looking a little tense there, Wyatt…" Flynn observed lazily. He was sitting back in a chair, reading a book, his feet propped up on another chair situated in front of him, completely unperturbed by the flashing lights and shrieking alarms.
Ignoring him, Wyatt marched straight up to the command center, as they called it, and addressed Mason, "What are we looking at?"
Swinging around in his chair and disabling the alarm, Mason reported, "The Mothership jumped to Salem, Massachusetts - September 22, 1692."
"That's the height of the witch trials…" Lucy muttered breathlessly behind him.
Wyatt turned and gave Lucy a concerned look as Rufus muttered, "I don't like the sound of that."
Neither did Wyatt. What the hell would Rittenhouse want with something like the witch trials? Even if you didn't pay attention in history class, the story about Salem, witches, and their executions were tales that inspired movies, books, and plays…and none of them made Wyatt feel any better about being there, front and center, for the whole ugly ordeal.
As they all gathered around Agent Christopher, Wyatt noted with annoyance that Flynn had joined them in their huddle. "What the hell do you want?" he spat out angrily as Flynn elbowed his way in between Rufus and Lucy.
"Well, I'm part of the team now, aren't I?" Flynn asked silkily.
Wyatt and Rufus exchanged looks as Agent Christopher refuted his assumption, "You are here for intel purposes only, not muscle. You are staying put."
"Oh, come on, guys." Flynn sighed in exasperation, "Fighting the good fight through time is kinda my wheelhouse." As if to further emphasize his point, he added, "And I know all about Salem." He looked around the room at them importantly as if his knowledge about the witch trials would guarantee him a place in the Lifeboat.
"Burn a couple witches in your day?" Rufus observed snarkily.
"Witches weren't burned…they were hanged." Flynn corrected in annoyance. "Of the accused, only those who refused to confess were executed and it all came to a head on the 22nd, when then final victims were hung from the same tree…one by one."
Instinctively the entire room looked at Lucy, "He's right…that's all true." she admitted with a shrug.
"See, I am useful." Flynn said with a satisfied smirk. "I would be an invaluable asset on this mission…which, if I may say is something you desperately need." He looked towards Lucy, "Not to point out the obvious, but you lived with your mother how long, and you didn't even know she was Rittenhouse?"
"You leave her the hell alone." Wyatt spat back. "Lucy could have told us about the witch trials, she's the historian. If you want to be really useful, you'd tell us why the hell Rittenhouse is in Salem to begin with." Wyatt looked at Lucy, "Isn't that the whole reason we busted his ass out of prison? To tell us things we don't know?"
"Wyatt…" Lucy began.
"Seems to me, he could have stayed in there to rot." Wyatt gritted out angrily as he brushed past Flynn and made his way to the weapons locker. "We don't need another historian…and we sure as hell don't need another soldier."
"You're making a mistake." Flynn entreated. "As I said, I know Salem…"
"Yeah, yeah…we've all seen The Crucible. You're still the guy who had me shot."
"We're on the same side now, Rufus." Flynn offered in supplication, "what's that saying? Two heads are better than one?" No one could refute the truth of that statement, but Wyatt was having none of it.
"Say we were crazy enough to let you go along. Who would you replace? Me?" Wyatt scoffed as he slipped his arms through his shoulder holster, "Lucy?" Wyatt let out a derisive laugh as Rufus raised his eyebrows, "We're already taking a risk going after these assholes…why in the hell would we take an even greater risk by bringing you along?"
"I could be another gun…" Flynn said with a shrug.
At that, Agent Christopher laughed out loud, "That is completely out of the question. As Master Sergeant Logan said, if we were desperate enough to actually use you on a mission…"
"We'd have to be pretty desperate…" Rufus muttered under his breath
"…there would be no way in hell I would issue you a weapon." Agent Christopher maintained as Flynn rolled his eyes. "You spent the entirety of last year trying to eliminate every single one of them," she noted as she pointed to Wyatt, Rufus and Lucy. "I'd be a damn fool if I gave you a gun." She shook her head as she cast an admonishing stare towards Lucy, "I already feel like a damn fool for breaking you out of prison and bringing you here." Flynn made to argue again, but Agent Christopher barreled on, "The terms of arrangement were clear…you asked for protection, we asked for intel. Intel in this case does not include sending you off to 1692…not when Lucy is perfectly capable of handling the historical facts for the team. You will not be going. End of story."
Everyone could tell that Flynn was itching to continue arguing with her. They could see his mouth twisting in anger and frustration as he realized that he would not be able to bully, bargain or manipulate his way onto the team. Finally, and to everyone's amazement, Flynn relented with a "Yes, ma'am" offering a mock salute before turning on his heel and heading back to his vacated chair.
Agent Christopher turned once more back to the team and with a look of motherly concern she nodded at them seriously, "Be careful out there."
Hugging Jiya close to him, Rufus murmured, "I hate leaving you here with him." He eyed Flynn as he sank down into his chair, disappointed, and reopened his discarded book. "Stay close to Agent Christopher while I'm gone…I don't trust that guy."
"I don't trust him either…" Jiya admitted. "…but maybe Lucy's right…he's on our side now…maybe he can help us?"
"I'll believe that when I see it." Rufus said simply as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. He climbed the metal staircase, turned once more and gave Jiya a half-hearted wave.
Wyatt nodded towards Lucy, "You ready?" At Lucy's silent assent, he ushered her into the time machine and gave Agent Christopher and Mason a terse nod as he shot one last, long glare towards Garcia Flynn before entering the time machine, himself.
"You know…you shouldn't be so hard on Flynn. He has helped us…" Lucy muttered as Wyatt tightened her safety harness.
"Lucy, a couple of leads does not make up for all the shit he put us through for over a year. The man tried to kill us…" Wyatt argued.
"…had me shot…" Rufus listed. "…left us for dead in 1754…"
"I know." Lucy spat out irritably, "…but is it sobad that I want to trust him to help us? That I think he actually does want to help us get rid of Rittenhouse once and for all?"
"No." Wyatt said simply. "It's not wrong to think the best of people…" he gave her a meaningful look, "but what if Flynn betrays us? What happens if we let him in the bunker and he…and he double-crosses us?"
Lucy furrowed her brow, "Double-crosses us? To who? Flynn hates Rittenhouse. He'd be the last person to be in league with them."
Wyatt scoffed as he adjusted his own harness, "Desperate people do desperate things…and we all know just how desperate Garcia Flynn is and what he's capable of." Rufus nodded in enthusiastic agreement, "That man would make a deal with the Devil himself, if it benefitted him in any way."
Lucy shook her head at the both of them, "Okay…so he tried to kill us…" Lucy conceded off-handedly causing Rufus and Wyatt to gape at her in disbelief. Very much aware that they neither man shared her views, she pressed on determinedly "But, I choose to give him the benefit of the doubt. I just wish you would too instead of…" she trailed off, her face flushing suddenly.
"Instead of what?" Wyatt prompted as Rufus turned in his chair.
Lucy cast her eyes down to her lap, not able to look Wyatt in the eye as she muttered, "instead of focusing on hypotheticals."
Chancing a quick glance at Wyatt, she saw that he was staring at her with a look of complete vindication. She knew he was thinking about their earlier conversation about Jessica and felt more than just a pang of guilt as she realized that she had been more willing to give Garcia Flynn the benefit of the doubt than Wyatt. All her talk about hypotheticals and worrying about things that may or may not happen…and here she was admonishing Wyatt for doing the same thing in regards to Flynn.
"Yeah…you're right, Lucy," Wyatt said with a voice full of meaning, "we shouldn't focus on the hypothetical…we should focus on the here and now."
Lucy gave him a small nod, noting with a sigh that Wyatt looked more irritated than relieved by the outcome of their conversation…as if he were upset that she had gone out of her way to stick her neck out for Flynn while automatically assuming the worst of him…the man with whom she had just spent an incredible night.
She couldn't blame him.
"Yeah, well you two can give Flynn the benefit of the doubt all you want…" Rufus argued, completely oblivious to Wyatt's intended meaning, "to me, he's still a murderer." He further declared as he punched in the final coordinates. "Is it crazy that I'd rather be heading to the Salem Witch Trials than eating Spaghetti O's with Flynn?"
Lucy rolled her eyes at Rufus as Wyatt smirked…clearly agreeing with Rufus's assessment of the situation.
As the LifeBoat hatch opened to the foggy, early morning of 17thcentury New England, Lucy couldn't help but shudder at the eerie scene spread before them. They had never yet traveled this far back in time…and really, it shouldn't have made a difference. Forests are forests. But the knowing that they were about to be witnesses to one of the darkest episodes in Colonial History sent a chill down Lucy's spine as she slipped out from the safety of the time machine and onto the leaf strewn ground below.
"We need to find clothes as soon as possible." Lucy whispered as she drew her arms around her to ward off the cold that now seemed to settle in her bones. "A woman in pants in Puritan New England isn't exactly a welcome or usual sight."
"Kinda like being a black man in just about any point in history…" Rufus quipped with a shrug.
Spying a column of smoke through the trees, Wyatt silently waved them onward, hoping that because of the earliness of the hour, they could procure some era appropriate attire relatively undetected. After walking for what felt like a good half hour, keeping mostly to the trees, the found themselves outside a large farm. The house was dark and large, with tiny windows that gave it a very unfriendly feel. That, coupled with the swirling fog, made it look like the last place on Earth any of them would want to be. As they were in need of clothes, however, they had no choice but to venture forth in the hopes that they could secure a few items that would help them blend in to Puritan society.
Sneaking around the plain barn, they spied exactly what they were looking for, a clothesline laden with all sorts of items, dresses, shirts and breeches. "Jackpot." Wyatt whispered. "Come on, let's go."
"Um…I think I'm gonna pass on the Puritan Chain Saw Massacre, thanks." Rufus said nervously as he backed away into the woods.
"Will you relax, Rufus?" Wyatt harshly reprimanded as he patted his gun holster. "I've got us covered."
After grabbing a few items, Lucy Rufus, and Wyatt slipped into the barn, each staking out a corner in which to change. Lucy had just buttoned up the front of her long, plain, burgundy dress when Wyatt's voice called softly to her, "Do you need any help?"
"I…I just need to pin up my hair." Lucy called out as loudly as she dared. She felt awful for all that had transpired between them. He had gone out of his way to make it clear to her that he wanted to move on with her, had turned his bedroom into their bedroom and she had to go and rain on his parade…their parade. To make matters worse, she had to go and defend Flynn against Wyatt's list of hypotheticals. How on Earth could Wyatt ever get over such a slap in the face?
She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't realize that Wyatt was standing before her, looking very Puritan in his breeches and long dark coat, studded with buttons. She startled at the sight of him, grateful that she hadn't let out a scream. He raised his eyebrows in amusement as she recomposed herself and went back to brushing back her hair. "You look a little bit like a pirate." she observed.
"You look…pretty." he said with a soft smile.
Lucy flushed slightly but rolled her eyes as she pulled her hair into a low bun and began sticking pins in it, hoping that she could pass scrutiny from any critical eye they might encounter. She paused as Wyatt tucked a loose tendril back into place and then softly grazed her cheek with his fingers. "I'm sorry" she whispered as she looked at him with a pleading, serious expression, "…about earlier…Wyatt, I shouldn't have…"
"There's no need to be sorry, Lucy." Wyatt interrupted in a hushed voice, "I know you're worried…but there's no reason to be. Okay?"
She nodded as he gave her a reassuring smile. "Okay." Lucy responded, "I promise, I'll…"
Wyatt stiffened momentarily at Lucy's frozen expression. Quickly turning to see what had distracted her to the point of bewilderment, Wyatt cautiously glanced over his shoulder and the sight which met his eyes was enough to make him double over in laughter. "Nice hat, Rufus. Where the hell did you dig that up?"
"On a hook over there." Rufus motioned as he pointed to the corner he just vacated. "Keep laughing…I found one for you too." Rufus muttered as he shoved a hat towards Wyatt.
"I am not wearing that thing." Wyatt maintained as he looked around the barn for another piece of headgear that would make them less conspicuous. Finding a tall hat with a wide, round brim, he placed it on his head in satisfaction, "There."
"Now you look like a proper Pilgrim." Lucy said with a wide grin.
Rufus stared at Wyatt, "They had no fashion sense in the…what century are we in again?" he asked.
"17th" Lucy answered as she gave Wyatt, who was still grinning broadly at Rufus' outfit, an admonishing smirk, "Come on, let's go. Salem is still a few miles down the road. We should probably get a move on if we want to find out why Rittenhouse is here."
Even as the sun rose, the heavy fog of the pre-dawn hours refused to lift…something that Rufus frequently noted as "upping the creep vibe" of this mission. True, walking along a forest trail on a gray, foggy day amidst a backdrop of witches and folklore, in a time where just being different could land you in a jail cell or cast out of the colony, was more than a little unnerving.
It was clear that they were approaching a town. The trees grew sparser and the road seemed a little more travel worn as they traversed it's many winds and bends. As they climbed up a small hill, Lucy nodded towards an ominous looking tree. "There it is…that's Proctor's Ledge." She paused as she noted breathlessly, "In a few hours, innocent people will be hanged in that very spot."
It was a dismal sight. The tree, large and looming, rose up before them like a threatening Goliath. Its large branches, witnesses to untold horrors, twisted menacingly over the path, darkening the scene figuratively and literally. There was no need to ask which branch would hold the victims as they swung…beneath one particularly thick limb stood a jutting rock. How easy it would be to push the victim from off its ledge, allowing the rope around their neck to perform its evil duty.
"Poor women…" Rufus muttered as he and Wyatt exchanged dark looks.
"Oh, it wasn't just women." Lucy corrected, "they hung men, too…the ones who spoke up. It's all just…awful."
"So, what are we thinking?" Wyatt asked as he took in the sight of the tree before them, "the sleeper is going to make this worse?" He let out a derisive laugh, "I mean, how the hell do you make this worse?"
Lucy shrugged as movement among the trees caught their attention. Wyatt immediately placed a gentle hand on Lucy's arm and directed her safely behind him as he tucked a hand inside his coat, ready to defend them in an instant should it be necessary. "Who goes there?" he called out in warning.
A hooded figure emerged, clearly a woman. She seemed neither distressed nor surprised at finding travelers along the road, even at this hour. "Abby here." she responded obediently, "who asks?"
Wyatt turned quickly to Lucy, looking to her for her leadership. He had no idea what to say to these people and under the circumstances, he was well aware that one false step could be disastrous. Lucy, taking the hint, stepped forward offering a hand in friendship as she replied, "My name is Lucy…my" she lifted her eyes briefly to Wyatt before continuing rapidly, "husband and I are up from Boston."
Rufus nudged Wyatt meaningfully in the arm, offering him a goofy grin as Wyatt batted him away and stood closer to Lucy.
"I am up from Boston, myself." Abby said with a nod. "My husband has business there." Considering them, she added, "You're to be entertained by this afternoon's hangings, I imagine?" Abby asked as she pulled her cloak closer.
Lucy exchanged a quick glance with Wyatt and Rufus, unsure of what she should say lest she inadvertently land them all in a colonial prison for coming to the defense of the accused. However, her sense of injustice would not allow her to make light of something she had forever seen as a stain on history. Taking a steadying breath, she noted, "I'd hardly call the hanging of men and women entertaining." Abby gave her an appraising look as Lucy continued, "That is why we've come…we've heard such reports in Boston as to concern us greatly. We'd like to help…if we can."
Wyatt and Rufus nodded in acknowledgement as Abby responded with a dry chuckle, "I'm afraid now the fate of these poor souls is left to God. Rumor is, the Governor is not inclined to order the sentences be invalidated…though there is little proof to substantiate the claims made against them." She scoffed, "A few theatrics and a bit of hysteria can cause much mischief among the superstitious."
"I see we share the same opinion on these trials" Lucy noted with relief.
"It vexes me to hear them referred to as such." Abby retorted with anger. "Lies and falsehoods condemning the innocent to die is hardly justice."
Impressed by the passion of the 17thcentury woman who seemed ahead of her time, Lucy noted, "You do realize how dangerous it is to speak out on a day like today?"
"I could not live with myself if I did not speak out against this injustice." Abby retorted fervently. "My own sister stood before the magistrate claiming blindness was brought upon her by her neighbor, Martha Corey." Lucy's eyes widened, but Abby continued, "When I heard those reports, I was troubled and then summoned to come and be of help to my sister in her time of need. I left my own family, my husband and my own small children, to discern for myself whether these stories were true." She hung her head down in apparent shame, "I regret to say, I saw no truth in my sister's claims." She sighed, "But I'm afraid there is little else I can do for the victims of these vicious falsehoods. I plan to make one more supplication today at Ingersoll's Tavern, when the Governor's response is to be read, but I have no hopes that it will change the fate of those who stand accused."
Lucy stood gaping at her in awe even after she wished them a "good day" and continued on down the lane, alone.
"Brave girl." Wyatt observed. "Reminded me of someone else I know." he added with a sidelong glance at Lucy.
"That…that was Abiah Folger Franklin." she muttered in disbelief, still gaping after the retreating figure.
"Who?" Rufus asked…"What…did she like form the coffee company or something?"
"No…she's…she's Benjamin Franklin's mother." Lucy answered in a voice that trembling in awe.
"How the hell do you know that?" Wyatt asked. "All she gave you was her first name." As soon as he uttered that statement, however, he realized it was a stupid thing to say. This was Lucy after all, and he knew more than anyone that she could pick out historical figures with her eyes closed if the situation required it.
"She gave us more than that." Lucy said as she lifted her skirts and began walking once more. "That story about her sister and Martha Corey? The woman who accused Martha Corey was Bathsheba Folger Pope…Abiah's sister. Her testimony during the Salem witch trials is the legendary…not only did she claim blindness, she also went into a fit of hysteria and threw her shoe at the accused heads."
"Who throws a shoe?" Rufus muttered to Wyatt in hopes that he would catch his Austin Power's reference, but Wyatt was smirking at Lucy and hadn't heard him.
"Well…Lucy, I think you just stole back the thunder Flynn took from you earlier." Wyatt observed fondly as he brushed his arm against hers. "He may claim to know all about Salem, but he's got nothing on you. I doubt he would have recognized Abby for who she really was." Lucy flushed slightly at the compliment and threaded her arm through his, feeling so much more at ease than she had been. "So…" Wyatt continued, teasing her, "husband, huh?"
"Would you rather have been my brother?" Lucy asked with a quirked brow.
"Hell no." Wyatt responded promptly as he kissed her hand, taking care to tuck her closer to him as they made their way into the town.
Satisfied with his answer, Lucy gave him another smirk as they walked on. It was only five miles to Salem, but with the footwear they were forced to wear in these colonial garbs, they felt each painful step and by the time they finally arrived at the tavern they were oh so grateful to finally have someplace where they could rest and take the pressure off their abused feet.
Though the establishment was packed full of curious onlookers, Lucy, Wyatt and Rufus were able to claim a seat at a table near the window where they could watch the proceedings. No sooner had they slipped onto the roughly hewn bench, then a tall, stately man stood at the head of the large room and addressed the noisy crowd. "Silence!" he cried. "Silence in the tavern!" As the room grew eerily quiet, he nodded towards a burly looking man in the corner, "you may bring in the prisoners."
Lucy gasped as it dawned on her who this man could be, "I think that's John Hathorne, he was one of the leading judges during the Salem Witch Trials…also, he was the great -great grandfather of Nathaniel Hawthorne…you know, the novelist?"
Wyatt and Rufus stared back at her blankly.
"Oh come on…" she whispered harshly, "The House of the Seven Gables? The Scarlet Letter?"
"Wasn't that a Demi Moore movie?" Rufus asked as Lucy rolled her eyes in frustration.
"It wasn't just a…you know what? Nevermind." Lucy spat out in agitation.
"Okay…" Rufus said doubtfully, "but correct me if I'm wrong, here Lucy. You said this guy's name is Hathorne…and the novelist is Hawthorne…you sure that writer didn't claim relation to sell a few more books?
"Quite the opposite actually," Lucy explained in a hushed voice, her eyes still focused on the tall man at the front of the room, "He added the "w" to his name to distance himself from…all of this."
"Can't say that I blame him." Rufus quipped with a head tilt as Lucy motioned for him to turn his attention once more to the front of the room.
A group eight, mostly women were now standing just behind John Hathorne, looking terrified as he read out the response from the Governor…a response to a petition begging for their immediate release. With a sneer, the magistrate informed the now rapt audience in the tavern that there would be no such release, that the Governor had given his blessing that all nine accused were to be executed.
With a look of confusion, Lucy silently began counting the condemned, trying to recall the history and why the number of victims she had been so sure of, was different. Thinking that perhaps one of the accused might have later confessed in order to avoid the gallows and that such a confession was lost to the annals of history, she was just about to turn and make mention of her problem to Wyatt and Rufus when the answer to the mystery was suddenly made clear. From the corner of the room, another woman, a woman she immediately recognized as the one they met on the road was being roughly brought forward to stand before crowd.
"Abiah Folger Franklin" John Hathorne said in a voice steeped with loathing. "You stand accused of practicing witchcraft and making covenants with the Devil…will you confess?"
Lucy gasped out and reached for Wyatt's arm. Judging by Lucy's reaction, Wyatt knew that whatever was happening wasn't supposed to happen, he bent towards her to ask what the needed to do, but Lucy waved her free hand at him, indicating for him to stop talking so that she could hear over the spirited crowd.
Looking around the room in disgust, Abiah Folger Franklin, threw her head back haughtily and declared herself "Not guilty" followed by numerous yells and jeers from the crowd. Far from intimidating her, Abiah Franklin scolded the crowd for the gross injustice of the trials and for allowing silly superstitions to cloud their better judgement.
Having heard enough of her protestations, John Hathorne ordered her to be apprehended and taken to the jail house with the rest of the accused as they awaited their sentences to be carried out. Panicking now, Lucy gripped Wyatt's arm harder and turned to him with pleading eyes, "No…she cannot die. She cannot die."
"You mean, she wasn't part of this before?" Wyatt asked with alarm, already sensing her answer.
"No!" Lucy cried out. "I don't even think she was present for the trials…I should have realized that this morning when I saw her…but…". Tears were pooling in Lucy's eyes as she watched the nine accused being led from the tavern. "If she dies, Benjamin Franklin will never be born…do you have any idea how bad that will be?"
"I thought she said she had a kid?" Rufus quipped.
"She does…two actually." Lucy noted, "But Benjamin Franklin isn't born until 1706. If she dies today…"
"That doesn't happen." Wyatt said tersely as he bit his lip in thought. "She said she was summoned here…do you think it was the sleeper who told her to come?"
Lucy shrugged, "I imagine so…they probably are also the ones responsible for accusing her of witchcraft."
"It couldn't have been her sister, could it?" Wyatt suggested. "I mean, she did say that she knew her sister was lying…"
"I doubt she would accuse her own sister of witchcraft, though..." Lucy countered, "…the shame that would bring on the family, alone would be enough to make me doubt it had come from Bathsheba." Lucy shook her head despondently, "No…someone else had to have accused her…but who?
As if searching for the answer to that question, Lucy's eyes darted around the tavern. She inwardly admonished herself, knowing with a pang, that even if the sleeper were in the room, there would be no way she would recognize them. Imbedded in the past, as they were with years of living among these people under their belt? No. They would be indiscernible…they would look just like everyone else.
Wyatt's eyes followed the last of the accused as they disappeared beyond the door. The tavern was a bit quieter now, still filled with men and women who were talking excitedly over their tankards of drink and heaping bowls of stew. Seeing no immediate danger, no one who was particularly paying them any mind, Wyatt offered, "Look, I'm gonna go follow those Puritan assholes to find out where they're being held. Maybe I can figure out a way to break them out." He looked at Rufus, "You stay here with Lucy, it'll be less suspicious if just one of us is snooping around the jail cell."
"Wait a minute," Lucy breathed out as she grabbed his arm, "what if you get caught?"
Wyatt picked up a Bible from the table, "I'll tell them I'm a traveling a missionary…offering up my services to try to save the souls of the damned." he said with a wink. "Don't worry about me…you two stay here and try not to draw attention to yourselves."
"Here." Lucy cried out desperately as she pulled a pin from her hair. "Just in case."
Wyatt smirked, "What…no underwire bra this time?"
With Lucy's reproving glare, he shrugged and offered her a small smile as he made his way towards the side door where the last of the victims had just been led out. He was just about to step outside into the crisp New England afternoon when a commotion behind him made him turn.
"There she is! There's Lucy!" came a loud voice. Hearing Lucy's name being uttered by some stranger in 1692 caused Wyatt's heart to drop into his stomach. From the other corner of the tavern, an older woman had appeared in the doorway and was pointing an accusing finger at Lucy.
His Lucy.
For one brief moment, he was confused as to who would know Lucy in this century, thinking that whatever was going on was some terrible mistake. Almost as soon as that thought came, however, he realized that this was probably the sleeper they were looking for…except that as he looked at Lucy, he noted that she wasn't looking back at this person with confusion…recognition was written all over Lucy's face and she looked absolutely stunned as if she had been betrayed in the worst possible way. With that thought in mind, he turned his attention back to the opposite door, realizing with a jolt of anger that he knew who the woman was too.
He had only seen her once before.
In 1918.
As Emma held Lucy at gunpoint, this woman looked on, admonishing Lucy for conspiring against them, telling her that she would no longer be able to protect her if she continued to thwart their plans. Wyatt had responded to that heartbreaking statement by proudly informing her and Emma that he would be there to protect Lucy…and he sure as hell meant it. Now, as he stood there in the tavern staring at Lucy's mother calling out her daughter in the middle of a 17thcentury tavern, Wyatt was more than ready to make good on that promise.
One look from Lucy, however….one brief, but meaningful look, kept him from barreling through the crowd and rushing to her side as she slowly lifted her hands in surrender.
By now the tavern was abuzz with commotion and even though Lucy had silently communicated to Wyatt that he stay put, he couldn't help but elbow his way through some of the crowd in order to keep his eye on her. He was kicking himself for leaving her and absolutely terrified that she and Rufus were essentially cornered. Fighting the urge to call out to her, knowing that by doing so, he would put them in a bigger mess than they were already in, Wyatt watched with horror as armed men surrounded his team. What the hell Carol Preston had in store for her daughter, Wyatt could only imagine…but never could he have believed that the woman whom Lucy had idolized her entire life, would turn a haughty sneer to John Hathorne and declare her only daughter a witch.
As her accusation rang out above the din of the tavern, Wyatt yelled out an involuntary "No!" but thankfully, his protestation was lost among the shouts and murmurs of the excited crowd.
Desperate now to get Lucy the hell out of there, Wyatt fought his way through the crowd only to see Lucy cast him another sideways glance and shake her head slightly. She looked hurt, terrified, but absolutely determined that Wyatt stay where he was…and Wyatt knew, regrettably, that she was right. He would be of no help to them if he got himself captured too. He had his gun, after all…and while these muskets were no match for his 9mm, there was no way in hell he would be able to clear out the whole room without putting Lucy and Rufus at risk.
He tucked his hat down over his eyes and blended into the crowd as best as he could as Lucy and Rufus were led away. He saw with a certain amount of dread that Carol was scanning the crowd, possibly in search of him…of course she would know that he would never have allowed Lucy to venture here without his protection and as he was not currently being shackled next to Rufus, no doubt she knew he was somewhere hiding in the wings.
Wyatt watched helplessly as Lucy and Rufus were led away from the tavern in chains, no doubt to be hung with everyone else later that day.
Not daring to draw any unnecessary attention to himself, he stepped outside and stood against the tavern wall, petting a horse as he watched them be led to a small clapboarded building at the far end of the road. Lucy looked back over her shoulder towards the tavern…he wasn't sure if she had spotted him or not, but now more than ever he knew he was going to have to find a way to get into that jail.
Notes:
Okay...so you'll notice a few changes to what is seen in the show. I did that because I kinda hate that episode for more reasons than just Jessica.
Abby Franklin had a baby IN 1692 so already the likelihood of her being in Salem at this time are slim. Also for her to be out and about stabbing notices to trees as a married woman with children...also very slim. So it DRIVES ME NUTS. So in writing this, I tried to fix that narrative by making the story a bit more plausible with what is in the historic account. I know...I self-identify as a nerd...you guys can call me that all you want...I KNOW I AM.
I cut out the scene with Bathsheba because there's really no point to it for this story. In the show, they go there, Flynn beats up her husband, figures he probably has a gun and then later goes and steals his musket. Since Wyatt is there and has a gun, he doesn't need to go stealing one. (Though I admit, Flynn looking for weapons in Puritan New England is my favorite part of that episode). So anyway, I cut that so the story/narrative would flow better.
I hope you enjoyed this update, I'm doing my best to weave canon with new timeline ideas. Please, if you are so inclined, leave a review. I always enjoy hearing from readers...especially on a daunting project like this. .
