The Pattern of Her Heart (34 page)

“Aye, that he has, and I do na want to disappoint him,” he said with his gaze fixed upon her hand as she continued to lightly grasp his arm.

“I do na think that would be possible.” Her voice sounded thick and sweet like the honey he used to pour on his pancakes when he was a wee lad living in Ireland.

“Bridgett and I were discussin’ the St. Patrick’s Day dance. She was tellin’ me about the new dress she’s makin’ for the dance.”

“That’s nice. I’m thinkin’ she’ll look lovely whether her dress is old or new.”

“But having a new gown to wear to a dance always makes a woman feel special.”

He didn’t know what she wanted him to say. Surely the lass knew he had no knowledge of dresses and sewing, and there was little more he could add to a discussion of dress for the St. Patrick’s Day dance—or any other dance, for that matter.

“Will ya be purchasing new trousers and shirt for the dance?” she finally inquired.

Paddy scratched his head. “I do na think so. I do na give much thought to such things until the time is upon me. Unlike you women, I do na plan to be doin’ any sewing.”

“Of course, if a lass wanted to make a new gown for the dance, she’d have to know some time in advance that she was going,” Mary Margaret said.

“Anyone can go to the dance. Ya do na need a special invite,” he said. “Well, here we are—I’ve gotten ya home well before ten o’clock, and now I must be hurrying off before Jake beds down for the night. He will not look kindly on me if I wake him up needin’ my wagon.”

He tipped his hat and nodded. “Good night to ya, Mary Margaret. I enjoyed spending the evenin’ with ya.”

“Good night,” she replied, giving him another of her sugary smiles.

The girl was a puzzle—of that there was no doubt!

Kiara rounded the table and placed a plate of eggs and sausage in front of Paddy. “Get busy with yar breakfast,” she ordered Nevan and Katherine, who were busy annoying one another rather than eating the food their mother had placed in front of them.

“You do na have to tell me more than once,” Paddy said, picking up his fork. “Has Rogan already eaten and gone with Liam?”

“Aye, about five minutes ago.”

He nodded. “I thought I saw him go by when I was mucking out some of the stalls. And how’s that fine babe doin’ this mornin’? Seems little Aidan is always sleepin’ when I come in.”

“That’s what babies do. They sleep. And thankful we are that they do. He’s nearly six weeks old now, Paddy. He’ll soon begin to stay awake a wee bit more. Were ya able to get the wagon repaired?” she asked.

“Aye, it’s back in the shed if Rogan’s needin’ it for anything.”

“And did ya stop by and see Cullen and Bridgett?”

“Aye, along with Mary Margaret O’Flannery.”

“Is that a fact, now? Do tell me how ya happened to be keeping company with Miss O’Flannery,” Kiara said as she wiped the apron that covered her green chambray skirt.

Paddy related the entire episode in between bites of breakfast. “If ya do na begin eating that food, Nevan, I’m going to clean yar plate as well as me own,” he said to the boy with a grin. “Now, where was I?” he asked, turning his attention back to his sister.

“Where she’s talkin’ about the dance,” Kiara said impatiently.

“Aye. Well, if I did na know better, I’d think the lass was wantin’
me
to ask her to the dance,” he finally said.

“And why would that be so hard ta believe? Ya’re a fine young man that any lass would be lucky ta have!”

“Ya saw how she acted when she and Bridgett were over here—her nose up in the air as though she did na think much of me. Yet last night, she was sweet as a peppermint stick. I do na understand the mind of a lass,” he said, wiping his mouth. “I best get back out to the barns. There’s much ta be done today. And I hope the two of ya are done with yar breakfast by the time I come in for the noonday meal,” he added with a wink at his niece and nephew.

Kiara began to clear the table while contemplating the information her brother had imparted. ’Twas true Mary Margaret appeared to think Paddy a wee bit full of himself, but Kiara thought she’d noticed the girl’s feelings soften— especially when Bridgett was telling her about their voyage from Ireland. Perhaps what Mary Margaret and Paddy needed was a little more time together. Time to get to know one another a bit better in a friendly environment. Perhaps she’d extend a dinner invitation to Mary Margaret—and the sooner the better, for St. Patrick’s Day would soon be arriving.

T
HE WOMEN AND
children were huddled in a small circle, praying Nolan would return with the news they could board the boat. Jasmine had begged Nolan to go into Grand Gulf the preceding night and rent a room at the hotel, but he had refused, saying they would raise too much suspicion and would be too easily remembered should Rupert or his men come looking for them. She knew he was correct: one man, three children, and three women—one of them colored. There was little doubt they would raise eyebrows, especially in their filthy condition. So now they waited, Jasmine leading them in yet another prayer for safe passage home.

“It’s Papa,” Spencer whispered as they heard footsteps drawing near.

“Shh. Stay quiet. We can’t be certain,” Jasmine whispered into his ear.

She captured a glimpse of Nolan’s brown wool coat as he edged through the thick brush. “Jasmine, it’s me—Nolan,” he called. He greeted her with a hand to her shoulder. “I talked with a number of men along the docks and some of the merchants doing business near the wharf. None of them had seen strangers loitering near the docks.”

“Did you book passage?” she asked excitedly.

“Yes, though I pray I didn’t make a mistake. I continue to wonder if we should wait until we reach Vicksburg to board a vessel.”

“You may place the responsibility on my shoulders, Nolan. I truly can go no farther, nor can the children. If any of Rupert’s men board the ship looking for Prissy, we’ll hide her, but I honestly believe they’ve given up by now.”

Nolan glanced about the weary group. “Do you all agree?”

“Yes,” they replied in unison.

“Then we shall board. It’s not what you’re accustomed to, my dear. In fact, we’ll have little space since the boat is already loaded with cotton.”

“You’ll hear no complaint from me so long as I don’t have to walk another mile in these uncomfortable shoes. I have blisters on top of blisters,” she said while bending over to rub her tender feet.

“We have no time to tarry, for the captain tells me they’re preparing to lift the gangplank within the hour. If we’re not on board, they’ll sail without us.” Nolan lifted Alice Ann to his hip. “Can you manage Clara?”

“Yes, of course. Spencer, please help Prissy and Henrietta gather things together and let’s be on our way,” Jasmine instructed.

Nolan quickly surveyed their camp to assure himself they’d left nothing behind. If Rupert or his supporters searched these woods, they didn’t want any evidence to remain that their family had been there. It would take only a piece of fabric or a small toy of Alice Ann’s to alert Rupert’s men, convincing them to continue their search. When Nolan had finally completed his appraisal of the campsite, he motioned for them to follow.

“God has heard our prayer,” Jasmine told Henrietta and Prissy.

“Don’ be too sure—we ain’t out of here yet, Missus,” Prissy said as she hoisted one of the satchels under her arm.

Jasmine ignored Prissy’s gloomy response. She could feel God’s hand guiding them, so she would not be deterred by anything Prissy or anyone else might say. In her heart she knew they would arrive home safely—all of them.

The dock bustled with stevedores and roustabouts unloading packet boats heavy with freight destined for Vicksburg, while other dock workers hauled cotton bales and freight onto boats destined for Memphis and St. Louis.

“This way,” Nolan directed, hurrying the bedraggled group toward a steamer at the far edge of the riverbank. The boat was laden with cotton bales that filled the lower deck of the boat and were stacked high around the front and sides.

Jasmine hesitated as Nolan headed for the gangplank. “Come along, my dear,” he said, motioning her forward.

“The bales are stacked so high we won’t be able to see a thing unless we go to the upper deck, which, I might add, looks none too safe.” She eyed the vessel from the top of the tall black smokestacks and back down again. “They should have a higher railing up there. I truly wonder if this boat is actually seaworthy—especially with so much cargo on board. It doesn’t appear well maintained.”

Nolan turned to face her, Alice Ann clinging to his neck, and leveled a look of utter exasperation in her direction. “I didn’t ask to review the maintenance log. I thought it more important to locate a boat going to Vicksburg that had space for us. As I recall, you said you couldn’t walk another mile,” he reminded her.

“That’s true, but from all appearances, this boat has picked up all the cargo it can possibly carry.”

“I told you there would be little space. I believe the boat is safe, but if you prefer to wait for another, we can go back to the woods.”

“No, Mama. Please let’s get on the boat,” Spencer urged. “It’s safe. I just want to go home.”

Prissy was wringing her hands as her gaze settled on the murky water. “You think we’s gonna end up at the bottom of that river, Miz Jasmine? I sure don’ know how to swim. I never did like being ’round no water deep enough to drown in. You remember ol’ Elijah what lived in the slave quarters?”

Jasmine shook her head. “No, I don’t think I knew him.”

“Well, he never did learn to swim neither. And one day when he was fishing in the pond down by the quarter, he done fell in and drowned hisself. I sho’ don’t want that happening to us,” she said, her eyes shining with terror.

“We’re not going to drown, Prissy,” Nolan assured her. “This boat is perfectly sound. Otherwise, the plantation owners wouldn’t use it to transport their cotton. Come along now—we’re all going to be fine.”

A short time later the boat released a long, shrill whistle. They watched from the upper level but well out of sight of anyone who might be watching from the shore as the gangplank was lifted and the boat began to move slowly away from the levee.

“We’re going home, Alice Ann,” Spencer said brightly. “You’ll soon be able to ride Winnie, and I can ride Larkspur once again. Do you think Larkspur will remember me, Papa?”

Nolan tousled Spencer’s disheveled hair. “I’m sure he will.”

“When Reggie last wrote to me, she said Moses was exercising Winnie and Larkspur every day. I wonder if Larkspur will want Moses to ride him more than me when I get home.”

Nolan gently clasped Spencer’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t wor ry. It may take a few days, but Larkspur will soon remember you and be happy to have you back home.”

A scruffy-appearing seaman approached as the boat began to gain speed and move farther away from the bank. “Captain says to tell you there’s a small cabin of sorts that you can use if ya’ve a mind to—ain’t much, but it’ll give you a little privacy. Follow me. It’s back this way,” he said. “Call out if you think you smell anything burning. Don’t want this load going up in smoke. Fire’s always a problem when we’re carrying a big load of cotton. We have one most every voyage, what with all the wood to fire the boilers and all this cotton—guess it’s to be expected.”