River Queen (29 page)

“I didn’t say that,” Julienne said impatiently. “You misunderstood me. I just—I just—don’t know how we’re going to support another mouth to feed, that’s all.”

Darcy grinned again. “She can always have oxtail soup.”

“Nobody is
ever
going to let me forget that, are they?” Julienne groaned. “But I do not think this situation is funny at all. Mother’s just fine kiss-me-hand with a strange woman moving in with us, Carley’s already her best friend, Aunt Leah has adopted her, you think she’s pretty, and all Dallas can think about is taking care of the poor little helpless gorgeous girl! I’m tired of this whole mess already!”

“Tired of it? Funny, you don’t sound tired of it. That’s not what you sound like at all.”

“Oh? What do I sound like, Baby Brother?” Julienne said sarcastically. Darcy hated it when she called him that.

He stretched, and then said lazily. “You sound jealous, Jules. Especially of Dallas Bronte. That’s it. You’re jealous.”

“I most certainly am not! Oh, I’m going back to work,” she said indignantly, and marched back to her stateroom.
Jealous, how ridiculous!

But a tiny voice somewhere in her busy mind asked—
Is it?

ALL OF THE ASHBYS’ belongings, including all the clothes that they didn’t have in the tiny chests in their staterooms, were stored in trunks on the main cargo deck. Because the haul to Cairo was not only going to take up every inch of the main deck, and also the ballroom on the Texas deck, Dallas decided to move the Ashbys’ belongings into one of the empty staterooms and told Caesar and Libby that they had better sprinkle the boric acid salts all around the baseboards of the room they were going to use for storage. It was a very effective insect repellent.

They got the trunks and boxes organized, and Dallas strapped the biggest trunk, which was Julienne’s, to a small, wheeled cart and pulled it up the steps. To his surprise, when he reached the stateroom, he saw that it was spotlessly cleaned, even the ceiling. Two heavy layers of canvas had been neatly tacked over the window. Robbie Skinner was down on her knees, rubbing a white paste onto the floor along the baseboards. She looked up and said, “Boric acid works a lot better if you make a paste and mix in some pepper.”

“Really? Didn’t know that,” Dallas said, dragging the trunk into the corner and unloading it. Resting his hands on his hips, he watched her for a moment as she laboriously rubbed the paste into the wood. Her hands were fiery red, and he knew it must be from the pepper, for boric acid was not abrasive. Ruefully he said, “You know, the Ashbys are real nice people, for the most part. They wouldn’t expect you to start in doing hard work today.”

“I know,” she said without looking up. “And I did try to rest for about an hour. But I need to work. I’d feel bad if I didn’t.”

“Okay,” he said, shrugging. Then he turned at the door and said, “I admire you for that, Miss Skinner. Shows your true colors.”

She didn’t answer.

They worked to get all of the trunks strapped up and hauled up, and then they started carrying boxes. Robbie came in without a word and started carrying the smaller boxes. The crew was kind to her and let her carry the boxes without comment. Dallas noticed that even Rev was subdued with her, merely smiling at her and not starting in asking her about the state of her soul.

When they finished, all of the crew started working in the firebox and the engine room. Dallas wanted the
Queen
to be in absolutely perfect working order for their run to Cairo.

They had a fine dinner of cornbread and beef stew with big juicy chunks of meat, brimming with carrots and potatoes. For dessert they had a peach pie, hot from the oven. Caesar and Libby served; they had never joined the Ashbys and the crew at meals, saying it just wasn’t right. There was no sign of Robbie Skinner.

Finishing up his pie, Darcy pushed his plate back and said, “Libby, you outdid yourself tonight. Your cooking’s always good, but that stew and especially that pie were top notch.”

She made a face at him. “Thank you so much, Mr. Ashby, since you just picked out the two things I didn’t cook. That little Robbie made the stew and the pie. I only made the cornbread, of which I noticed you didn’t compliment. And now she’s in the galley, scrubbing it like it was a king’s kitchen.”

The crew went back to work, and finally at about ten o’clock, Dallas said, “Let’s call it a night, boys. I’ve always been proud of the
River Queen
, but right now she’s shining like gold. We’re as ready as we’re ever going to be.”

He went out on the main deck and back toward the stern. He had splurged and bought himself a cigar, an imported cigar from Hispaniola that cost a whole dollar. Dallas hadn’t bought himself one thing since he’d been on the
Queen
, and with only a slight twinge he had ducked into the liquor and tobacco shop that was next to Inman & Sons freight office.

Was that just this morning?
he mused.
Blatherskite, it’s been a long day!
He grinned at his mental grab of Carley’s word.

Robbie Skinner came up to stand beside him, and he jumped a little. “I don’t care if you smoke that,” she said in a low voice. “Believe me, I’ve seen a whole lot worse than a lit cigar.”

Dallas hadn’t lit it yet, and he tucked it back into his shirt pocket. “I guess you have. But it’s a matter of respect for ladies, you see.”

She turned to look up at him. It was a moonless night, but the stars shone as bright as diamonds, and he could clearly see her face. She was a very beautiful woman, with a heart-shaped face, a full mouth that made a man want to kiss her, perfect almond-shaped blue eyes with long dark lashes. Her hair was waist-length, a glowing yellow-gold, thick and curly. When they found her, it had been all down and tousled, but that day she had pulled it back into a tight demure bun. She wasn’t tall, only a few inches over five feet, and she had an hourglass figure that most women would kill for. Dallas was so bewitched that he almost missed her next words.

“That’s what I can’t believe,” Robbie was saying. “That you think I’m a lady.”

“As far as I’m concerned, all women are ladies, until they prove otherwise to me,” he said lightly. “So far you seem like an honest, hardworking, sweet lady.”

She laughed, a delightful trilling sound. “The Meacher brothers sure didn’t think I was sweet. You heard what Milt said, that I’m as mean as a snake.”

“I don’t put much stock into what Meat and Meat Junior said,” Dallas said dryly, leaning over to rest his elbows on the rail. “They didn’t have enough sense between them to fill a frog’s brain.”

“No, they didn’t,” she said vehemently. “And I wish you had let Zeke draw that gun, so you could have shot him dead. If I could’ve gotten my hands on a gun, or even a knife, they both would be worm food.”

“Can’t say I blame you, Miss Skinner,” he said gently, “but it just didn’t play out that way.”

She nodded, a short angry bob. “I know. And don’t think I’m not grateful, Dallas, I am. And I want to explain all this to you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to.” Her face twisted and she said, “I saw the way you were looking at me just now. I know you can’t help it. Men have been looking at me like that since I was thirteen years old. And my mama made sure I stayed like this, pretty and with soft hands and skin, so men would keep on looking at me like that.”

She turned, gripped the railing, and stared out over the river. “You see, even when I was born, my mama knew I was going to be pretty. I don’t look like her, I don’t look like my daddy, and I don’t look like a single one of my eight older brothers and sisters. My mama pampered me, never made me work, made me stay in school when my brothers and sisters had to work. We had a farm, just outside of Vicksburg, see. But I never had to do one pinky finger’s worth of work. Mama taught me to cook and clean and sew, because she said I’d need to know how to do all that, even though one day we’d all have our own slaves to do such things for us.

“Anyway, from the time I was little, my mama made me bathe every day, wash my hair every other day, she taught me how to use a curling iron, she made me pretty clothes that we couldn’t afford. And then, when I turned twelve and started filling out, and my daddy saw for sure that I wasn’t his, he just picked up and left.”

She hesitated, so Dallas said, “I think I’ve got an idea of what’s happened, but I think you need to talk, ma’am. So you just go right ahead and talk it out.”

Without looking at him, she murmured, “Please stop ma’am-ing me. And call me Robbie, please, Dallas.”

“Okay, Robbie.”

She took a deep breath and continued, “I guess there’s no need to tell you what my mama was all about. She explained to me when I turned fourteen that some rich man was going to want to take care of me, and I would take care of him, and he would give us all kinds of money. She paraded me all over Vicksburg, took me to every town meeting, took me to the playhouse when she had the money for tickets, walked me up and down the main street, where the shops were, even when we didn’t have any money to buy anything. Pretty soon all kinds of men were talking to me, following us around, but mama wouldn’t have any of them. She said they weren’t rich enough.”

Dallas looked confused, and she gave a brittle laugh and looked over to him, her expression twisted with disgust. “I know, you’re thinking of the Meachers. See, my mama fiddled around and fiddled around; she really thought that some rich planter was going to take me as his mistress, she called it, but I call it a whore. Anyway, Mama started drinking, and she got to where she didn’t haul me all over town any more, trying to auction me off. She just woke up at noon, started drinking rotgut whiskey, and drank until she passed out. I started working on the farm, which we were about to lose.”

She shrugged and finished, “And then one day a couple of weeks ago, we went to town. I had to get some supplies, and because I wouldn’t buy Mama any whiskey she came with me to go buy it herself. She was half-drunk already, and she went into a saloon. When she came out, the Meachers were with her. And I found out she had sold me for fifty dollars.”

He stared at her. Her voice was hard and bitter. He had thought anyone would weep at such a betrayal, but Robbie only seemed angry.

“I pretended to drink with them,” she said, “so they’d pass out and leave me alone at night. During the day I’d fight them, hard, and then I’d tell them that I needed to have a drink to—to—”

It was the first time she had faltered, and Dallas quickly said, “I understand, Robbie. I know what you’re saying, that you’re still a pure woman. You don’t have to tell me all the filthy details about those two, and in fact, you didn’t even have to explain to me at all. I figured you hadn’t been raped, and I knew you hadn’t had a man.”

“How did you know?” she asked, mystified.

“You can tell, most of the time,” he said quietly. “A man can be fooled, but if he’s sharp enough, and pays attention, he can see innocence.”

Now her big eyes filled with tears, and she moved close to him and clasped him around the waist. He turned and hugged her comfortingly. She whispered, “Thank you, Dallas. Thank you for everything. You’ve given me a real life, all with one bullet, in one day!” She looked up at him, now smiling through her tears, and he searched her face.

She reached up, put one tiny hand behind his neck, and pulled him down to kiss her. And he did, gladly. He didn’t think about the right or wrong of it; he didn’t think about her vulnerability, or the fact that he might be taking advantage of her. He just wanted to kiss her. But he let her control the situation, and after a long lingering sweet kiss, she pulled back and then whispered in his ear, “I’ve never even been kissed, Dallas. I never wanted anybody to. But I wanted to kiss you. Thank you again, from my heart.”

Standing above them on the Texas deck, Julienne Ashby’s face turned ashen as she watched them kiss. She hadn’t heard anything they’d said. She had just that moment come out to see if Dallas was on deck. And she hadn’t heard Robbie’s whisper of pure gratitude.

Silently she turned, went into her stateroom, taking care to close the door quietly, and flung herself onto her bed. Staring up at the ceiling, she muttered through gritted teeth, “That good-for-nothing river rat! Maybe he’s no worse than any other man, but he sure isn’t any better! I’ll never,
never
trust him again!”