Rose dreamed of the sea. It was in her soul, in her blood, its call resonated in her bones every second of her existence.
One day, she swore, one day she would be out on the open sea, out among the waves, and finally feel at home.
Her mother told her that it was naught more than foolish fancy.
The seas were dangerous, filled with pirates and merchants that were more concerned with profit than they were with the safety of their crew or passengers, she said.
Better to stay on land and in port and take the sailors’ money than to go searching for trouble.
Jackie Tyler voiced this opinion often and loudly and patrons of her tavern knew it well, just as they knew Rose’s dreams.
No one dared argue with her, Jackie ran a tight ship for all she’d never stepped foot on a seafaring vessel in her life. There was never any trouble in her place.
The locals had all seen her slap and verbally eviscerate those who had tried to stir up mischief and they passed the warnings onto the seamen who made port in their humble town of Powell.
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