Year of Jubilee (9 page)

The men threw the luggage to the top and
strapped it to the back as well. The driver was a grizzled tough
nut, and his partner of the same sort, with wiry beards and
sweat-marked hats.

“Looks like we had plenty of time.” Rafe
grinned.

Jubilee nodded, then watched as the driver
and his cohort disappeared into the stagecoach office.

After another twenty minutes, they began to
board. Jubilee, the only woman on the stage, boarded first with the
help of her husband’s hand. She chose the third row of seats and
sat against the far wall, facing forward. The interior was terribly
tight once the others were in, and Rafe threw his arm around
Jubilee to afford a little room for his large shoulders.

She clenched her sweaty hands, wondering how
she could sit so stiffly for five hours. The coach shuffled as the
rest of the passengers climbed in. She turned her head toward the
window to get a small puff of air. Jubilee leaned forward and saw
the driver climb up the side to the top of the vehicle. Another
jostle shook the coach as the shotgun partner mounted on the other.
She heard the driver yell out a ‘Hi-O,’ and they were off.

She caught her breath as everything swayed,
but she soon settled, enjoying the ride. Leaning back, she relaxed
against the seat and Rafe’s arm. The movement of the coach was
pleasant but the seating arrangement was not. The passengers, like
one being, lurched with each jolt of the coach.

There was no concern of losing one’s seat as
the passengers melded as one flesh sandwich with the conveyance
walls as bread. A breeze picked up as they left Princeton. As they
increased in speed, dust came in with the air and Jubilee turned
her eyes inward. The window would be a mixed blessing.

“Well, this is certainly a perfect
opportunity to get to know one another,” the man on the other side
of Rafe commented.

Jubilee leaned forward to catch sight of his
red face and ample girth. The man was at least fifty, with a hat
sitting jauntily on his wispy head. He had a gold chain that ran
from his buttonhole to a pocket on his satin vest. His blue eyes
were merry and friendly.

“I’m Clyde Lane from Vincennes. I own Lane’s
and Sons Mercantile.”

A rumble sounded from Rafe’s chest. “Well,
Mr. Lane, I’d shake your hand, but at the moment, I can’t move. I’m
Rafe Tanner from Princeton.”

The man chuckled back. “And the lovely
lady?”

Her husband cleared his throat.
Yes,
explain that one.
However, he answered without a hitch.

“This is my wife, Jubilee.”

The man leaned forward and gave a smile
showing a gold tooth. “Mighty fine to meet you folks. What business
you in?”

“Farming,” Rafe answered smoothly.

“Ah.” The man let out a breath. “The salt of
the earth kind of people. I always say, that’s the best type. Me,
I’m on my way to Evansville to scout out new merchandise. Got some
competition across the road now, and I figure to expand my
wares.”

Rafe nodded.

“Yep. You make this trip often?” Mr. Lane
asked.

“Ah, no. Actually, I’m somewhat new to the
area,” Rafe replied. “My folks live over toward Louisville.”

The older man let out a chuckle. “Ya don’t
say? I have a sister that lives in that neck of the woods. They own
some fine horseflesh down Kentucky way. You ever been to Three
Pines Horse Farm?”

Rafe adjusted his arm along the back of the
seat, and Jubilee fidgeted. “No, can’t say I have. Heard of the
place, though. My folks are on the Indiana side. They own a farm
northeast of New Albany.”

“Can’t beat the Hoosier State. Bet you were
born and raised there, huh? I hail from Virginia originally.”

“Yes, I was. My grandparents came out of
Maryland and settled in Indiana. My wife came from
Pennsylvania,”

Jubilee could feel the vibrations of Rafe’s
voice against her shoulder and a warmth spread through her that he
thought to mention her roots.

“I see.” Mr. Lane caught Jubilee’s gaze.
“From Penn’s wooded land, eh? My guess is you’re headed to
Pennsylvania or New Albany. Am I right?”

Rafe’s answer came out as a jerk as the
coach lurched. “New Albany, this trip.”

This trip?
“Oh.” Jubilee’s hip ground
against the wall.

The merchant leaned forward again. “You all
right, little lady?”

“Yes.”

Mr. Lane chuckled. “There’s a few bad spots
in this road. Might be best if you climbed in your husband’s
lap.”

Jubilee’s face burned, and her gaze caught
Rafe’s dimple. She quickly averted her eyes.

“Don’t worry, though. We’ll soon be at the
Log Inn Stop, and they’ll give us a fresh set of horses. We can get
out and stretch our legs. ’Tis a mighty fine eatery, too.”

Jubilee’s glance went to the seat in front
of her, which only had a leather strap to support the passengers’
backs, and grimaced. The men in the first two seats faced one
another with their knees intertwined. She glanced at Rafe’s legs
and realized his knees were jammed against the wood of the middle
seat.

“Won’t be long they’ll lay that railroad
track. They’re saying now the construction should be started by
next year.” Mr. Lane slapped his leg. “I’m banking on those steam
engines to haul up my merchandise to Vincennes, lickity split. I
suspect traveling to Evansville will get much easier than this old
Concord.”

Rafe grunted his agreement.

“You know anything about Vincennes?”

“Can’t say I do,” Rafe answered.

“Well, I can certainly pass the time telling
you of our rich French settlement. We have a college, also. It’s a
right fine city.”

Thus began the lesson of the founding of
Vincennes by Mr. Clyde Lane, well-to-do merchant. He remained
interesting enough to help pass the time, but Jubilee was thankful
when she caught sight of a double-gabled building. The coach
stopped and the first and second row of passengers emptied out,
groaning and stretching their legs.

Mr. Lane hobbled to the exit, his head bent
to avoid the roof. Rafe went next. Jubilee, her legs unsteady,
stood and moved to the door. Rafe’s eyes swept her face and,
instead of handing her down, reached both hands up, caught her
around the waist, and lifted her to the ground. She hated to admit
it, but she was grateful for his assistance since her legs seemed
to have locked up. Most of the passengers made their way into the
Log Inn and Rafe held his elbow out to assist Jubilee.

“May I escort you, my lady?”

With a swallow, she slid a trembling hand
into the curve of his arm, thankful for once for his strength. Mr.
Lane continued walking on Rafe’s other side.

“Why, Mr. Henry Clay’s presidential campaign
came through here in ’44, headed up by a…let me think, oh, what is
his name? Levinson, Linton…Lincoln! Yep, that’s it. I believe his
first name is Abraham. ’Course Polk won, so I guess he’s not that
noteworthy. Lincoln gave a fine speech, though.”

Jubilee took in the log interior as they
wandered to a table. Seats quickly filled and Rafe invited Mr. Lane
to join them, along with a couple other male passengers as well.
Jubilee watched two woman scurry around to feed everyone as the men
made small talk, Mr. Lane taking the lead. The special was fried
chicken, and it wasn’t long before a huge basketful was plunked on
their table. Mashed potatoes, beans, and cornbread finished out the
meal. About an hour later, the driver and his partner rose.

“Stagecoach leaves in fifteen minutes,
folks.” They plopped their worn hats on their heads and walked to
the door.

The talk quieted as everyone rushed to
finish their food. Outside, they were soon forming a line at the
stagecoach. The generous meal made the inside of the Concord even
tighter, if that were possible, and Mr. Lane’s incessant chatter
lengthened the second leg of the journey. Jubilee’s body waxed sore
and her ears weary by the time Evansville came into view.

They ate dinner in a hotel dining salon near
the Ohio River. Rafe guided Jubilee to her room. Thanks to her
previous sleepless night, she practically dozed on her feet.

“I’m right across the hall.” Rafe indicated
the door directly opposite of hers. “Knock if you need
something.”

She nodded, too tired to respond. Clicking
her door shut, she barely registered the small white room with only
a bed, a nightstand, and a lamp. The last bit of sunlight crept
through the thin curtains on the window. Not bothering with a
light, she undressed and slipped beneath the cool sheets.

* * *

An earsplitting horn filled the air. Jubilee
edged behind her large husband. She’d seen her fill of paddleboat
packets on the Delaware River as she ran errands for Mrs. Galston
in the Old City of Pittsburgh. But never had she contemplated
boarding one. The thing was huge, and smoke poured from the two
chimneys. The name, ‘Lil’ Bluebell,’ was painted in blue across the
pilot’s house and in larger letters on the wall of the main deck.
Rafe, tickets in hand, didn’t seem to have any qualms as he turned
around with a crooked grin, eyes dancing in laughter.

“It’s quite an invention, isn’t it?” Rafe’s
dimple appeared and he gestured toward the ship.

She nodded, in awe of her exciting, yet
curious surroundings.

“Are you ready to board the wild dragon?”
His left eyebrow rose in challenge.

He seems to be enjoying this. Does he
just like paddleboats, or is he laughing at me?
She looked
toward the steamboat, eyeing its huge, dripping wheel and gave a
shrug. He grinned, making heat fly up Jubilee’s neck. He stuck his
elbow out toward her.

“It’s quite the experience. You’ll love
it.”

Clutching his arm, she stepped toward the
beast. Once on board, however, she agreed as she marveled at the
sparkling water as it meandered around the bend. The front of the
steamer was crowded with both humans and animals, but Rafe led her
to an empty bench on the side of the boat.

“We’ll sit here awhile and enjoy the
view.”

Everything fascinated her. The people. The
river. The huge waterwheel.

Rafe settled his big frame in the seat
beside her. As more passengers loaded, folks nudged and stepped in
front of her, blocking her line of sight. A scruffy man sat to her
right, and Rafe put an arm around her shoulders. She inhaled a
shuddering breath.

“Perhaps we should find an empty spot along
the rail.” He spoke softly in her ear.

At her nod they stood, and he guided her to
the starboard rail among the crush of people, breaking through to
the side. He placed his hand on her waist and shifted her in front
of him as he leaned against the wood. She caught her breath as the
breeze brushed her face. The horn blew again, and Jubilee gasped
and plugged her ears.

“We’ll launch here in a minute. I think
you’ll actually enjoy it.” Amusement lit his face, steadying her as
the boat moved.

Jubilee gave a start. He must consider her a
dolt. She set her gaze determinedly toward the river, hiding her
eyes from him.

“I wasn’t making fun of you.” Rafe dipped
his head to catch her eyes.

When she didn’t turn, he spoke again. “I
enjoy your curiosity.”

“It’s not that I’ve never seen a boat.
It’s…” She stopped and gave a small cry.

The steamer pitched forward and, without
thinking, she grabbed whatever was available—Rafe’s lapels. Much to
her surprise, she couldn’t seem to let go as the ship inched
forward. Jubilee’s lips parted, and her eyes swung to the moving
landscape. The sound of falling water thundered behind them as the
engine began to pick up a little speed.

She attempted to speak, but the floating
motion and the breeze across her cheek made it hard to breathe. The
wonder of the ship’s departure caused her to flick her gaze to
Rafe, who had a gentle grin on his face. One of his brows lifted as
he surveyed her expression. Jubilee stared at him a moment before
realizing her mouth was open. She snapped it shut and detached her
hands from the fabric of his jacket.

“Sorry,” Jubilee murmured.

Rafe couldn’t take his eyes from her as she
stroked the material until satisfied it was straightened. Looking
up, she caught his gaze and blushed. She turned to the white rail.
A bird flew close to their heads and drew Rafe’s attention. Birds
of every kind were all around. Plovers ran swiftly across the sand
bars. Flocks of ducks and geese paddled near shore as well.

“Interesting, huh?” Rafe asked.

She nodded.

“The boat is loaded with supplies and going
upstream. I doubt this sternwheeler will reach New Albany until
morning.”

She leaned over to watch the animals below
on the main deck. Bales of hay and cotton lay alongside stacks of
barrels. Grubby men milled about, smoking and chatting.

“This is a beautiful packet, isn’t it?” He
gestured toward the large Dining Salon behind them.

“Yes, but…” She stopped.

“What?” Rafe prodded.

She turned her eyes to his. “They’re very
dangerous, aren’t they?”

A scuffle behind Rafe caused him to bump
into Jubilee. A red-faced gentleman mumbled an apology.

“Excuse me, Jubilee,” Rafe said. “Yes, I
suppose they are. Boiler explosions are the main concern. But I’ve
met the pilot, and he’s well known as a man with great expertise
below the Falls of the Ohio.”

“What’s the Falls of Ohio?”

Rafe grinned. “It’s where the Ohio River
drops near Louisville. Impossible to go up them in a steamer and
only a few can navigate one down. We’ll be getting off before
then.”

She examined the large cabin to the right
through the crowd. “Is the boiler on this deck?”

Rafe shook his head. “Well, this is the
promenade deck, or the boiler deck, but it’s actually below
us.”

Jubilee’s eyes widened. “So, if it does
explode…”