Love Inspired Historical November 2014 (40 page)

“More than you know,” Allie assured him. “Besides, you have the authority of living in Seattle. You can explain to them that better opportunities lie ahead.”

That was the problem. He couldn't convince himself that Seattle was the best place for many of these women. Even after teaching his lessons, he could see that some were too headstrong to be willing to bend their ways to fit in. Others were so trusting they'd be cheated out of their stake the first day they hit shore.

Of course, his feelings didn't mean that Chile was the best place for them, either. Many people in the interior were likely to speak only Spanish or a native language. The country had won its independence more than fifty years ago, but the incident with the Spanish man-o'-war was testimony that fighting continued.

“Let me talk to Captain Windsor,” Clay offered. “Perhaps we can come up with something.”

Allie smiled her thanks. He wasn't sure why she believed in him, but if she was willing to ask for his help for once, he wasn't about to let her down.

The captain was less encouraging. “Mr. Mercer already came to complain of the matter,” he said when Clay approached him in the wheelhouse. “I have no authority to lock passengers in their staterooms unless I can prove a danger to the ship. Short of that, I cannot think of a way to keep them aboard if they are determined to leave.”

Clay rubbed his chin. “There might be a way. Do you agree with me and Mrs. Howard that staying here could be dangerous to the women's safety?”

“Assuredly,” Windsor said. “I would not allow my wife or daughter to remain where they could not speak the language and had no resources or friends to appeal to for comfort.”

Clay leaned closer. “Very well. Then if the Chileans try to take them, here's what we'll do...”

* * *

Clay hoped he and the captain wouldn't have to put their plan into effect, but the week required to resupply the
Continental
seemed to stretch too long. Whether visiting the mission on the hillside above the town or haggling with sellers in the market, Mercer's belles remained the most popular women around. The consulate feted them; officers serenaded them. Two even fought a duel over the right to petition a certain lady for her hand. It was enough to turn any woman's head.

Allie and Catherine seemed the only ones immune. Even Maddie had made a conquest. Clay was with Allie and Gillian on deck when Maddie came to tell Allie the news.

“I'm to be the schoolmistress of Valmontera,” she said, red hair nearly as bright as her smile in the sunlight. “And at pay twice what I ever earned, plus my own house. Sure'n it's more than I ever hoped for.”

“And do you think perhaps it might be too much to hope for?” Allie asked, gaze searching her friend's for a moment before rising to Clay's. He could see the worry written in those deep blue eyes.

“I thought you wanted to be a baker, Maddie,” he tried pointing out.

She shrugged, though her smile faded as if their lack of enthusiasm for her choice hurt. “I love baking, to be sure, but I've ever been after finding someplace I was wanted. I was a child when we left Ireland.... I don't remember life there. My da moved us about so much I never felt like anyplace was home. At least I have a fair chance here.”

“You've a chance in Seattle, too,” Allie said, pressing her hand. “I've come to think of you as family.”

“Sure'n you're a dear for saying so,” Maddie said, face softening. But even that did not change her mind, for she was one of several women waiting in the lower salon the next afternoon, bags packed, expecting a boat from Lota to take them ashore to stay.

Allie's pain touched Clay as well as she hugged her friend tight. “Please, Maddie, don't go. It isn't safe.”

“And where has it ever been safe for an Irish lass on her own?” Maddie countered. Despite her brave words, Clay could see she returned both her friends' embraces tightly, then bent to kiss Gillian on the top of her head. The tremor on the little girl's lips was matched by the one on Maddie's.

Allie gazed at him as if begging him to intervene. He couldn't. If he and the captain were to put their plan into effect, he had to look as if he agreed with this travesty. She turned her back on him, and Clay followed her and Catherine up the stairs, with the other women trailing behind.

Mercer, however, had other ideas. He stood in the doorway, blocking the way to the deck. The sunlight outlined his reddish hair with flame. Clay stiffened when he saw what was in the man's grip.

“No one takes one of these girls unless they pass over my dead body,” Mercer cried, brandishing a pistol.

Clay reached over Allie's head and wrenched the gun from their benefactor's hand. “Give me that before you kill someone.”

As he came level with the man, he could see that Mercer's eyes were wild. “I feel as if I could, sir,” he declared. “Indeed, that is just how I feel. I cannot allow any man to harm one of my ladies.”

“Sure'n you've been planning a fate no worse than this,” Maddie reminded him as she ducked under his arm to reach the deck. “Seattle, San Francisco, Lota, it's all the same to me. A lady must go where she'll be best appreciated.”

Captain Windsor moved down the deck to meet them. “I'm afraid I must intervene. I cannot have such shenanigans aboard my ship.”

“You see?” Mercer crowed as the other women pushed their way past him to the deck. “Listen to the captain if you will not listen to me.”

Maddie put her hands on her hips. “I don't see how you can be ordering us about, captain or no. I didn't sign on as one of your crew.”

Captain Windsor inclined his head. “Indeed you did not, Ms. O'Rourke. I was speaking to Mr. Mercer.” A glance around her set the emigration agent to sputtering. “And I am no tyrant,” Captain Windsor continued. “But you cannot leave today. Neither the tide nor the hour is favorable to ferrying all your belongings over to the town now. You and the ladies will have to wait until tomorrow.”

The women exchanged glances as if they could not believe him. Clay held his breath, his gaze brushing the captain's. Windsor did not so much as smile.

Maddie peered over the railing as if to confirm the captain's words. When she straightened, she snapped a nod. “The tide's out, ladies. Tomorrow it is, then.” She glanced among the captain, Clay and Mercer. “And I'd like to see the fellow who can stop me.” She lifted her chin and her skirts and marched back down the stairs. The other women followed, with Mercer scurrying behind, still voicing his protests.

Allie let out a breath. “Well, at least that gives us more time to reason with her.”

Catherine shook her head. “Reason cannot prevail here, I fear.”

Clay could only agree. He excused himself from Allie, feeling her gaze on his back as he approached the captain. “Will you do as I suggested, then?” he murmured.

Windsor nodded. “I'll weigh anchor after midnight. By tomorrow, we'll be far out to sea. But I wouldn't want to be in your shoes, sir, when Mrs. Howard and Ms. O'Rourke find out that this was your idea.”

Chapter Seventeen

“M
en,” Maddie said the next day, “are nothing but bums, cheats and liars.”

Mutters of agreement echoed around the circle of women who were sitting on the hurricane deck mending. The afternoon was bright; a breeze tugged at the sail above their heads. Those who had more summery gowns were dressed in organza and linen, their hair brushed back from their faces.

Allie couldn't help glancing to where Clay and Gillian were watching the waves for mermaids. At that angle, both her daughter and Clay were silhouetted against the sky, and it was a bet as to which studied the sea more seriously.

She had asked him to keep the women aboard. She'd expected him to argue with her friends, appeal to reason, extol the virtues of their original path. Instead, he'd resorted to trickery. Though part of her was thankful Maddie and the others were safe aboard the
Continental,
she could not like his methods.

He'd acted a bit too much like a Howard.

Mr. Mercer climbed the stairs from the main deck and strolled toward them, smile pleasant. Since the crisis at Lota had been averted, he had been in an uncommonly fine mood. He'd instigated a number of parlor games, as if that would keep his charges' minds off their shattered dreams.

“And away from the officers,” Catherine had surmised.

Now he approached their little circle, hands clasped behind the back of his black frock coat.

“Ah, nothing gladdens the heart more than the sight of industrious women,” he proclaimed, stopping to rock on the balls of his feet.

“The same could be said of an industrious man,” Catherine replied, taking a careful stitch in the sleeve she was mending. “A shame I've seen so few this trip.”

Several of the women tittered at that, and Mercer's face darkened. He turned purposefully away from her toward Allie.

“Might I speak to you a moment in private, Mrs. Howard?” he asked.

What, would he scold her for her friend's behavior? Allie couldn't imagine what else he had to say to her that couldn't be said before the group. They'd clashed often enough on the trip that no one had to guess where each stood on a number of topics. He simply couldn't understand that the more his grip tightened on his charges, the more inclined they were to slip through his fingers.

Still, a part of her was curious as to what he intended, so she asked Maddie to keep an eye on Gillian and rose to accompany Mr. Mercer down the stairs. She could see Clay watching her as they passed below his vantage point and entered the upper salon.

Several of the women were sitting and chatting. They, too, watched as Mercer led Allie to a little writing desk in a corner and bid her to take a seat beside it. He perched on the wooden chair and cupped his hands over one knee.

“I'm sure you have noticed, Mrs. Howard,” he said, eyes intent on hers, “that I have incurred considerable expense in bringing our fair ladies west.”

“Expenses for which you were reimbursed,” Allie reminded him, “either by the ladies themselves or by the good people of Seattle.”

He sighed, dropping his gaze to his laced fingers. “Oh, if only that were true. Unfortunately, I have had to resort to using my own finances to support this worthy venture.” He raised his gaze once more and leaned closer. “I'm sure you'd agree that such a circumstance is most unfair.”

Allie could not imagine where he was leading. “Sometimes we must sacrifice to bring our dreams to fruition, sir.”

He straightened and beamed at her. “We certainly must. I knew you would be quick to see the problem.” He slid a piece of paper across the desk toward her. “If you would be so good as to sign this note, I will allow you to return to your sewing.”

Allie frowned as she picked up the page, then heat flushed up her. “This is a promissory note! For five hundred dollars!”

Mercer's smile didn't waiver. “A paltry sum, I know, especially for a lady related to the Howards.”

Allie pushed to her feet and dropped the note on the desk, feeling as if the paper had burned her fingers. “I may carry the name of Howard, sir, but I am no relation. And I refuse to pay you another cent when you apparently misplaced the money I originally gave you.”

His brows rose with his body. “Dear lady, do not for one minute think I expect you to pay this money. No, indeed. I'm certain Mr. Howard would be more than delighted to reimburse me the funds once the two of you are wed.”

“Wed?” Allie could barely speak. “What makes you think I intend to marry at all?”

He went so far as to reach out and take her hand, which she jerked away from his touch. “Of course you will marry, Mrs. Howard. Do not think you can hide your feelings from me. One of our other passengers acquainted me with the story of you and Mr. Howard. I reunited you with your first love. I'm certain you agree that entitles me to some compensation.”

“It entitles you to nothing!” Allie was so angry her hands shook. So did her legs, but that didn't stop her from backing away from him. “You, sir, are a charlatan! The money for me and my daughter has been paid, twice over. You will get nothing further from me or anyone with the name of Howard, if I have anything to say about the matter.” She turned on her heel and stomped from the room.

What an unscrupulous man! She knew not all the passengers had paid full fare, and a few had racked up bills at the hotel waiting for the
Continental
to sail. Very likely he'd had to lay out some funds to keep the expedition going. But that promissory note was nothing less than extortion.

She took the long way back to Clay and Gillian, circling the ship, to give herself time to calm.
Lord, what am I to think when every day I'm faced with men who cannot act with honor, with compassion? Am I to entrust Gillian's future, my future, to such as these?

Clay's face came to mind, that smile of his lifting, that dimple showing. She could not deny that he had helped many people on board the ship, especially her and Gillian. But at times he seemed controlling. She sighed. He was no Mercer, but she could not trust that he wouldn't act like the other Howards.

She'd thought she'd mastered her emotions by the time she climbed to the hurricane deck again, but her feelings must have betrayed her, for Clay took one look at her, set Gillian down and told her daughter to go sit with Maddie and Catherine.

“What happened?” he asked, a hand on Allie's elbow as he led her to the opposite side of the deck where the shadow of the funnel provided a little shelter from the breeze and the gazes of the others.

“Just another misguided conversation with Mr. Mercer,” she reported. Around the funnel, she caught sight of their so-called benefactor leading one of the older widows down the stairs. No doubt he had other notes he wished signed.

Allie sucked in a breath. “It was horrid, Clay,” she informed him, feeling her fists bunch in her gray skirts. “He asked me to sign a promissory note for five hundred dollars!”

Clay's brows came thundering down. “What! Why?”

“He says he's lost money on this venture,” Allie explained, barely managing to keep her tone civil. “He thinks the men we'll marry will gladly make up the difference.”

“They might at that,” Clay said, then held up his hands at her scowl. “It's the truth, Allie. There are men in Seattle who'd happily pay any price for a good wife. From what I hear, some already have.”

Allie narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you mean?”

“You know this is the second trip Mercer has taken, don't you?”

She nodded. “That was one of the reasons many of us felt comfortable following him. Flora Pearson says he brought out her father and sisters two years ago.”

“She's right. Her sisters were two of a dozen women who journeyed with him then.” He shifted on his feet as if he wasn't sure she'd like the next part of the story. “His friends financed the trip, three hundred dollars each for a bride. I don't know who paid him this time, but I'd guess he accepted twenty to thirty commissions.”

Allie stared at him, feeling as if the ship had commenced rocking again. “He said the people of Seattle helped pay the way for some. Was it only the bachelors, then?”

Clay's nod only served to fan the flames of her temper.

“And these men who paid their money, what do they expect?” she demanded. “Do they think they can march aboard the moment we reach Seattle, pick any woman they want?”

Clay shrugged. “I'd imagine a few will think just that.”

She could scarcely breathe with the enormity of it. “We've been sold, like cattle!” She paced in front of him, hands clasped to keep from striking something. “Surely there is some recourse. No one can force us to wed if we choose not to. No one can tell us who to marry.”

Then another thought struck. Allie spun to face Clay. He took a step back from her.

She advanced on him. “Mercer said you would pay my note. He claims someone aboard ship informed him of our past. He said you would be glad to help out because he'd reunited us. Did you pay him to bring me to Seattle?”

* * *

Clay had never seen Allie so angry. Her face was flushed, her eyes snapped fire and her shoulders were so high they might have brushed the lobes of her pretty ears. He didn't want to add fuel to the blaze, but he refused to lie.

“I've funded a lot of risky ventures in Seattle,” he told her, “but only when I trusted the person who requested the money. I knew what he hoped to accomplish, and I believed in the principles of the venture. I don't agree with Mercer, on any number of points. I've said so on more than one occasion. I certainly don't trust him. Why would I underwrite his activities?”

Still she watched him, as if she expected to see the truth appear on his forehead in bright gold letters. “Perhaps because your family told you to. Perhaps it was the only way to trick me into complacency.”

Clay met her gaze, held it. “Since when do I do anything to please my family? As it is, I had no idea you were heading to Seattle until my mother told me.”

She took a deep breath as if to calm herself, dropping her gaze and her shoulders at last. “That doesn't mean there isn't a man waiting in Seattle, expecting me to bow down in gratitude for bringing me out as a wife. I won't have it!”

Neither would he. The reality slammed into him and knocked him speechless. Allie didn't want to marry; she'd made that perfectly clear. But Clay didn't want her to marry, either. Marry anyone except him, that is.

She had the fire to make it in Seattle; she had the determination. Her vision was so strong at times he was certain he saw it, too. He'd worried that he couldn't be the man she would need, but with her by his side, there would be nothing he couldn't do, even being a good husband. And he could be a father to Gillian.

Lord, help me be the father You would want me to be.

He longed to take her in his arms, promise to love her forever, to help her reach whatever dreams her heart devised. But now was no time to express his devotion, not with steam pouring from her ears faster than the
Continental
's funnel.

“No one could hold you to a contract you never signed,” Clay told her. “If any gentleman thinks otherwise, you send him to me.”

Allie glared up at him. “I'd prefer to fight my own battles, sir. I just didn't realize this particular fight was coming. Why didn't you tell me?”

“I thought you knew. The pacts were common knowledge in Seattle. I'm sure I saw at least one article on them in the newspapers.”

She sighed. “I tried to avoid the papers after they started reporting my disappearance.” She glanced up at him. “Your family put a reward out for information on me, as if someone had kidnapped me.”

“I'm sorry they treated you so badly, Allie,” he said, meaning every word. “I wish I'd come home sooner so I could have helped.”

She raised her chin. “You came at the right time, Clay. I was the one who had to help myself. Until I was ready to do that, nothing would have made a difference. I only wish I knew what to do now. I won't be coerced into marriage.”

Or courted, either, he realized. Small wonder she'd bristled when he'd tried to play the gentleman. She didn't need a society beau. She needed someone who would believe in her, encourage her.

He wanted to be that person, even if it cost him.

“Stand your ground,” he told her. “Neither Mercer nor his cronies can force you to marry. You have the right to say no.”

She took a deep breath. “We all have that right. But I still say forewarned is forearmed.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the other women sewing so contentedly behind them. Perhaps none of them knew the fate awaiting them in Seattle.

“Maybe it's time for another session of the Seattle School,” he said, “and I don't particularly care whether Mercer likes it.”

“I'll gather your students,” Allie offered, face set. “You get Gillian.”

The plan agreed, Clay met with Allie and her friends a few minutes later, taking up his usual place with his back to the funnel on the hurricane deck. Apparently word had circulated about the purpose of his lesson, because the women shifted this way and that on their deck chairs, muttering, gazes dark.

“So, we've been sold, is it?” Maddie blurted out before Clay could speak. “Passed to the highest bidder like horses! Isn't that just like a man?” She narrowed her eyes at Clay as if she suspected him of being part of the pact.

“Why are you all so upset about the matter?” an elderly widow asked, glancing around with a confused frown. “Mr. Mercer said he picked me out especially for an older farmer looking for a wife. It's a comfort to know I'll be cared for when I arrive.”

“And how do you know you'll be cared for?” Allie challenged, rising to face them beside Clay. Her strength was so loud he felt as if he heard a battle hymn. “What if this farmer is cruel or cowardly?” she demanded. “What if he lives so far from town you never see another soul for help? How can you know the character of a man you've never met?”