Love Inspired Historical November 2014 (34 page)

“And so we do,” Maddie said, coming to join them, as well. “Drool over the officers, that is, or so he fears. His lordship definitely prefers to see us gainfully employed. This morning he brought out a trunk of yarn and set a bunch of lasses to knitting. He says he'll be holding a great fair in Seattle after we arrive and sell our makings to help pay our expenses.”

Catherine's eyes narrowed.

“What's to become of the donated books when we reach Seattle?” Allie asked Maddie, helping Gillian position her fingers properly on the keyboard.

Maddie shrugged. “I haven't heard, but I'm thinking Mr. Mercer will likely be selling them, too.”

“Without allowing us the contentment of reading them?” She wasn't sure why that thought so incensed her, but the insult of it pushed her off the bench. “Those books were donated for our use, and I intend to make use of them.”

Catherine rose, as well. “Protest, dear sister. We are behind you.”

As if to prove it, Maddie rolled up her sleeves.

“Gillian, wait here,” Allie told her daughter. Then she turned and with her two friends started toward the other side of the room.

The space was largely empty so early in the afternoon. Clay and Mr. Reynolds were playing checkers at a little table along one wall. The chair must have been a tight fit or too hard, because she'd noticed earlier that Clay kept shifting this way and that as if he couldn't get comfortable. Now he glanced up, and his gaze met hers.

A slow smile grew on his face, and she had to fight to keep from answering it. She was no flirt! But she couldn't help noticing that he leaned back as if to watch her as she and her friends approached Mr. Mercer, who was standing by the whitewashed bookcase along the opposite wall.

“Alphabetical order by author, if you please,” he was dictating to one of the younger women who was helping unpack the boxes. “
I
before
E
except after
C
.”

“That is only for spelling, sir,” Catherine informed him as they came to a stop beside the pair. “Not for alphabetizing.”

He smiled at her. “It was a test, dear lady, only a test. And of course you passed it perfectly. How fortunate I am to be among such ladies of refinement.”

“But not of education, it would seem,” Allie told him. As Gillian began plunking out a tune, Allie bent and picked up one of the books the other woman was about to put on the shelf. “Are we fit for nothing but children's readers?”

Mercer took it from her hand as if he feared her mere touch would damage it. “You may borrow it later, if you like, Mrs. Howard. If you learn it by heart, you can read it to your daughter.”

He thought she couldn't read anything more than a primer? And she had hoped to leave tyranny behind in Boston! Words utterly failed her.

As if he thought her in need of support, Clay rose and strolled closer. Oh, no, she needed no rescue in this case.

She drew herself up and fixed her glare on Asa Mercer. “My daughter,” she informed him, “mastered this text three months ago. And I am more partial to Blake.”

Clay's voice was like a rumble of thunder. “‘A truth that's told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent,'” he quoted.

Mercer turned red, but the line only steeled Allie's spine. She held out her hand. “I understand you kept back a number of books, Mr. Mercer. I'd like to see them.”

“Now, now,” Mercer said, smile so firmly in place it might have been chiseled from stone. “They are very fine editions, and I should not like to see them injured.”

“And would you prefer to be seeing yourself injured?” Maddie asked sweetly.

Mercer blinked.

“I'd be careful if I were you, Ms. O'Rourke,” Mr. Reynolds warned as he joined Clay at their sides. “We're crossing the equator tonight, and ladies who misbehave have been known to receive a scold from Father Neptune.”

Father Neptune? What was this? Allie knew her frown matched Mr. Mercer's.

Clay, however, stiffened. “That's enough, Reynolds,” he said, voice low and forceful. “I doubt any man aboard this ship would countenance harm to a lady.”

“Who precisely is this Father Neptune?” Catherine demanded.

“It's all in good fun,” Mr. Reynolds assured her. “An old naval tradition that welcomes those crossing the equator for the first time.”

“I don't call dousing people with seawater welcoming,” Clay countered.

Maddie raised her reddish brows. “Would you be threatening me, Mr. Reynolds?”

Reynolds held up his hands. “Never, ladies! My apologies! It was merely a joke.”

Mercer assured him no offense had been taken, but Allie couldn't help wondering if some mischief was planned.

“I'll expect to see the rest of those books on the shelves by tomorrow, sir,” she informed Mr. Mercer. Then she took Catherine's arm and motioned Maddie with her free hand to return with them to the piano. She could feel Clay's gaze on them, but she refused to meet it.

“Father Neptune,” Maddie sneered as they gathered together beside Gillian. “He'd do better to fear Mother Maddie!”

“No one should have anything to fear tonight,” Allie told both her friends. “And we're going to make sure of it.”

Chapter Eleven

C
lay prowled the ship that evening, unable to settle. He'd heard from others who had come to Seattle by ship that sailing crews could sometimes be merciless to those crossing the equator the first time. It wasn't unknown for pollywogs, as they were called, to be doused in seawater or struck with ropes. He didn't think any of the sailors aboard the
Continental
would try such tactics on a lady, but when it came to Allegra and Gillian, he didn't like to take chances.

“Have you heard anything about a line-crossing ceremony?” he asked Roger Conant when the reporter passed him on the way to dinner that evening.

A tall, slender, brown-haired man with a dapper style and cutting wit, Conant raised a brow. “Concerned, Howard? Tell me, what dastardly deeds have you performed to earn Neptune's wrath?”

Clay knew anything he confessed would find its way into the man's next report to his newspaper. “Nothing,” he promised. “I'm more concerned about how the lady passengers will feel if they are the target.”

Conant shrugged. “All I can tell you is that something is afoot. The junior officers have been muttering among themselves all day, and I hear salt water is to play a part.”

Clay resigned himself to a long night.

He wasn't sure whether Mercer understood the potential for trouble or whether he was merely continuing in his quest to separate the ladies from the officers. Either way, the emigration agent made a great show of heading for his room at ten o'clock, insisting that any lady in his charge would do so, as well.

A few agreed, and any number of rooms were shut tight by that hour, with no light shining through the slats on the doors. As if to make a point, Allegra, Gillian and Maddie remained in the lower salon. Allegra was sitting with Gillian on her lap as Matt Kelley attempted to teach the little girl checkers. Maddie perched on a chair next to their table to watch. Clay wandered over, as well.

Mr. Debro joined them, his smile pleasant as usual.

“Ms. O'Rourke, Mr. Howard,” he said after greeting Allegra, Gillian and Matt. “I simply wanted to say what assets you've been to this journey. Those molasses cookies today were the best I've eaten in years.”

“It's just in how you mix the flour and molasses,” Maddie assured him, though Clay caught sight of Matt licking his lips at the memory. “But I'm happy to hear you enjoyed them, so I am. Only, don't be expecting more after tonight, for we put the last of the molasses to other uses.” She glanced at Clay out of the corner of her eye.

Interesting. What other baked good required extensive amounts of molasses? He could hardly wait to find out.

“Just as well,” Mr. Debro said, patting the flat of his stomach. “Many more of those cookies, and I would have popped a button.”

“Why?” Gillian said, and Allegra smiled as she pointed her back to the game.

“As for you, Mr. Howard,” the purser continued, face reddening just the slightest from Gillian's question, “I don't think I've ever served another passenger so ready to work. Captain Windsor says I'm taking advantage of your good nature. I hope that isn't the case.”

“Not at all,” Clay replied. “I suppose I've grown used to working. Once I left Boston, I learned that you do the best you can, but there're always times when you need another set of hands, another point of view. I've received such help often enough that I'm glad to give it back.”

“That's because you're nice,” Gillian said. She jumped one of Matt's checkers and glanced over at him as if to make sure he didn't mind. Matt grinned in encouragement.

“Your uncle can be both kind and generous,” Allegra said with a smile to her daughter as if to encourage her, as well.

He was going to end up bumping his head against the ceiling if they kept praising him this way. “Isn't it your bedtime, Captain Howard?”

To his surprise, Allegra's look darkened, and she glanced at the ship's clock on the far wall, where the hands showed a few minutes after ten. “Not just yet,” she said.

“Mother says we are protesting,” Gillian informed him. She jumped two more checkers and frowned. “There aren't any more spaces.”

Matt started explaining the next stage of the game, dark head bent over the board and slender hands moving, but Clay could not shake his concern. Allegra and her friends intended to show Mercer he had no control over them. Would their actions end up bringing trouble on their heads tonight?

As it was, Allegra and Gillian stayed up until half past ten before glancing about and bidding the company good-night. Clay thought Allegra's gaze rested on him the longest, but he wasn't sure why. Matt followed them to their stateroom before taking his leave, as well.

Others, like Maddie, continued to occupy the lower salon in direct defiance of Mercer's orders, talking with friends or promenading on the arm of one of the unmarried senior officers. Clay settled himself into a wooden chair along the wall and waited.

As the hour grew later, the crowd thinned. One by one, the women bid their friends good-night, the men made their excuses, until only Clay, Maddie and Mr. Debro remained. As the purser went about extinguishing the candles in most of the lamps, she strolled over and plunked herself down on the chair beside Clay's.

“Sure'n you've no call to defy Mercer's orders,” she said with a smile. “They don't apply to you. So what would be keeping you up?”

Clay leaned back in his chair. “It must be the excitement of crossing the equator.”

She chuckled. “Excitement, he calls it. And why would that be cause for celebration? It isn't as if they painted a big red line across the ocean, you know. It's just a silly made-up thing.”

“I cannot agree, by your leave, Ms. O'Rourke,” the purser said, coming to take down the lantern nearest them. “You may not see the equator, but it divides our world. Crossing from one hemisphere to another is a rare thing, even for some sailors.”

“Aye, and so is crossing the Atlantic,” she countered. “But I did that at me da's knee. No one celebrated that. I'm not thinking the going south is any grander than the going west.”

“I cannot argue with you there.” Mr. Debro nodded to them both. “I'll be turning in now. Leave the lantern burning by the kitchen in case there's need of it.” He tipped his cap to Maddie. “Good night, Ms. O'Rourke.”

“May you be having pleasant dreams, Mr. Debro,” she replied. She rose from her chair as the purser moved off, then nodded to Clay. “I'm thinking it's time I turned in meself.”

Clay rose as well. “Good night, Maddie.”

Before she could answer, a board creaked to their right, and Clay swung his gaze in that direction. The glow of the last lantern left a circle of light around the door to the galley. The rest of the room was sinking into twilight. Did something move along the far wall?

“Who are you expecting?” Maddie murmured as if she'd seen his look.

“Trouble,” Clay murmured back. He kept his gaze on the darker shape that seemed to be gliding toward the kitchen.

She stood on tiptoe to speak in his ear, blocking his view for a moment. “Rest easy, Clay. We're expecting trouble, too. But I own a derringer, and I'm not afraid to be using it.” Dropping back onto the balls of her feet, she headed for the room she shared with Allegra and Gillian.

Clay started forward toward the shadow he'd seen, then realized that the way to the kitchen lay empty. He glanced around, ears straining for any sound. A snort from one of the rooms told him someone was about to commence snoring.

He ought to go to bed himself. Maddie claimed they were ready for trouble. And a derringer? He shuddered thinking how the temperamental redhead would use such a pistol. He'd handed his over to Captain Windsor to be stored in the ammunition locker.

Of course, she could well have cause to be so prepared. There was still an unreasonable belief in the East that anyone of Irish descent was somehow less than human. He'd seen cartoons in the paper depicting them as bulldogs or apes. Based on comments he'd overheard, some aboard ship still harbored the prejudice. Would their misguided feelings cause them to strike out against Maddie tonight? Would Allegra and Gillian be hurt in the process?

Clay shook his head. What was wrong with him? Was he so determined to protect Allegra that he saw danger around every corner? She'd proven herself more than capable of taking care of herself and Gillian aboard ship. Was he trying to find a way to justify his presence here?

And then there was the matter of Seattle. He knew a number of the women were looking to find employment. Maddie intended to bake and Catherine to nurse. Others clearly hoped for husbands. Allegra hadn't mentioned what she hoped to do. As determined as she was to stand on her own, surely she wasn't seeking to remarry.

He sighed as he glanced around the room. The shadows appeared to be drawing closer. He'd thought he was only being practical to keep watch. Now his concerns about the future seemed to darken the room, and he felt as if a dozen gazes were following his every movement with malevolent intent.

“I'm ready for you,” he said aloud and immediately felt foolish. The only answer was the slosh of the waves against the ship, the only smell the burning tallow from the candle in the lantern. He was completely alone.

Somewhere behind him came a soft click.

Clay whirled, staring into the darkness. Was that the sound of a door being opened? Was trouble even now closing in on his family?

There was only one way to know for sure. He crept across the salon, eyes and ears on the alert. Putting his hand to the latch on Allegra's door, he turned it just the slightest. It moved quickly, smoothly, as if someone else had just turned it as well. Heart stuttering, he eased open the door.

Something fell with a clatter, and mud seemed to trickle into his ear. Even as he clapped one hand to his cheek, he heard Allegra cry, “Light the lamp!”

The lantern flared to life, brightening the space. White tuffs of feathers floated in the air.

“Is everyone all right?” Clay demanded, waving the fluffy cloud away from his face.

Allegra and Maddie were staring at him. Allegra looked dismayed, her mouth open. Neither of them had changed for bed, and the deep pockets on the bunks told him they'd been sitting up, waiting for such a moment. Gillian peered down from the upper berth at him, frowning.

“But Mother,” she protested, “that's not Father Neptune. That's my uncle.”

“Father Neptune, eh?” Clay asked, but his cheek and jaw felt stiff. Reaching up, he felt feathers and something sticky.

“Oh, Clay!” Allegra rushed forward. “I'm so sorry! We heard some might play pranks tonight, so we decided to protect ourselves.” She plucked a feather off his chin with trembling fingers.

Clay stared at it. “Did you just tar and feather me?”

Allegra blushed.

Maddie shook her head. “Sure'n it's just molasses and feathers from the pillows. It will wash right off.”

Clay started to laugh, then choked it back as the congealing molasses pulled at his skin. “Serves me right, I suppose, entering a lady's room unannounced. In my defense, I was just trying to make sure Father Neptune hadn't played any tricks on you.”

“I don't like him,” Gillian said. “He sounds mean.”

“You'd ban him from your ship, I know, Captain Howard,” Clay assured her. “But don't you worry. Your mother can protect herself. She'll make sure he doesn't come anywhere near you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I better go peel this off before it gets any harder.”

* * *

Perhaps it was because he had admitted she could take care of herself. Perhaps it was because she'd been the one to devise the trap for Father Neptune that had snared Clay instead. Whatever the reason, Allie felt compelled to offer her help. She thought Clay might refuse, but he waved her ahead of him out into the lower salon.

“Ms. Gillian and my own self will be right here,” Maddie promised, keeping the door open and narrowing her eyes as if she still expected someone to play some trick on them.

Allie had been equally concerned Mr. Reynolds or one of the ship's officers would think it a grand joke to tease Gillian or Maddie. She'd considered Mercer, as well, for the antipathy between them was growing, but she rather thought any man who hid in a coal bin to escape confrontation wasn't likely to be brave enough to try a prank. Surely anyone tiptoeing about tonight would do nothing if they saw her and Clay standing in the salon.

“Wait here,” she told Clay as he paused at the nearest end of the dining table. He settled himself with one hip against the wood as she went to the galley. Mindful of the cook sleeping at the back of it, she found a rag and wet it with the water that was always kept hot on the stove.

Clay was watching her as she returned. Her plans had worked far better than she'd expected. One side of his face was obscured by a shining brown mass that would have made him look like a gingerbread man except that feathers stuck up at odd angles. She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.

“Go ahead,” he said, though his usual deep voice came out strained as the molasses dripped off his lips. “The joke's on me, I know. Someone might as well enjoy it.”

She couldn't help her smile as she held the heated cloth against his cheek. “I'm really very sorry. You must know this wasn't meant for you.”

As she removed the cloth, he reached up to run his fingers over the molasses. He found the upper edge below his eye and began to roll the mess down his face. His day's growth of beard seemed to be coming with it; she could see specks of gold among the brown. The skin left behind was a shiny pink.

“So sorry,” she repeated.

Clay kept working at the molasses. “You were only protecting yourself and Gillian. I understand.”

“Telling a lady she can take care of herself twice in one hour,” Allie marveled. “I shall have to be careful, Mr. Howard, or such praise will go to my head.”