While Travis busied himself with the process of docking, Alicia sent Becky to find someone to haul her trunks up the bank and look for transportation. By the time Alicia had all her trunks packed and tied, Becky was back.
Polite to the very last drop of her blood, Alicia forced herself to locate Travis. With the exertion of poling the boat into position and hauling freight into place, he had cast off his coat and stood now in only shirt-sleeves and breeches, muscles straining at the seams of both as he heaved a crate. At her approach, he stood with hands on hips, glaring down at her, a scowl on his bronzed visage.
“I have come to say farewell. I recognize that you have gone beyond your duty in looking after me, and I wish that we could have been friends—” That was not what she had meant to say, and Alicia hastily changed her direction and finished formally. “When I find a place, I will send you my address so that we might settle the final costs of the journey. Should you find a buyer for the boat, please let them know I am willing to sell.”
This businesslike little speech cost her much effort, particularly as Travis made no attempt to relieve her of it. He merely continued to look at her as if she were a stranger intruding upon his day, and nodded acknowledgment. When it became obvious he had nothing to say, Alicia swung on her heel and stalked away.
The sour taste of dissension marred her arrival in her new life.
At the top of the hill a gentleman in a horse-drawn buggy lifted his cap in greeting. “Good day to you, miss. Your maid tells me you are in need of transportation. It is not often I can be of service to a lovely lady. I am Dr. Bernard Farrar. Where might I take you?”
Alicia smiled up in delight at this civilized greeting, and her smile widened at the sight of the young doctor. Perhaps St. Louis society would not be so heathenish as she feared.
“I wished to go to the address of a Mrs. Bessie Clayton. Do you know of her?”
“Of course. Let me give you a hand.” He extended his gloved fingers to help Alicia into the carriage. With quick dispatch, her trunks were loaded in the rear with Becky bouncing on top, and he switched the horses into motion.
Excitedly Alicia studied the streets they drove through. Relief swept over her as she realized this was no frontier outpost with timbered cabins and makeshift fortifications. The fort on the hill spoke of an earlier need for protection, but the graceful establishments glimpsed through rows of fruit trees and orderly hardwoods gave her an impression of the civilization she had yearned for since leaving Philadelphia. Verandas with delicate wrought-iron traceries lent an exotic air to elegant stone residences, their towering walls giving a permanency to a town not yet half a century old. She could see signs for milliners and boot makers, a dancing academy, and even an assembly room. It exceeded the bounds of her hopes, and Alicia sighed happily as she leaned back in the seat.
The physician smiled at this reaction. “How do you come to know Bessie? Is she a relative of yours?”
“Oh, no. I have never met her.” Rather than go into details, Alicia explained, “A relative recommended her. I am looking for a place to stay.”
The doctor gave a snort of laughter. “You and half the town. Since Jefferson bought the territory, people have been moving in faster than they can build houses. Even private homes are taking in boarders. I myself am staying at Mr. Robidoux’s home. The only other doctor is French, and Robidoux was eager to see an American, which explains my good fortune.”
At Alicia’s crestfallen expression, the doctor added, “But I’m certain Bessie will make room for you. She’s taken in boarders since her husband died. She’s exceedingly respectable and keeps a good table. You were well informed.”
The doctor’s assurances were on the mark. Bessie Clayton took one look at the proper young lady on her front porch, nodded a welcome to the young doctor, and ushered Alicia and Becky into her comfortable home.
“So you’re Chester’s daughter!” Bessie bustled about her spacious kitchen, preparing coffee, slicing a cake just from the oven. A small, plump woman, she was as warm and comfortable as her kitchen.
Alicia responded with overwhelming relief to this acknowledgment of her father. “You know my father?” she inquired.
Bessie laughed, settling her plump frame into the chair across from Alicia and making certain Becky had an extra large slice of cake.
“Chester stayed right here with me for nigh on to two years while he was building his business. A gentleman through and through. He had that upper back bedroom overlooking the garden. It’s occupied now, I’m sorry to say. It’s my best room, but don’t you worry. We’ll find a place to put Chester’s daughter until he returns.”
Alicia’s heart skipped two beats and did a back flip. She could scarcely breathe long enough to get the words out. “My father . . . He still lives in St. Louis, then?”
Bessie looked startled. “Why, of course, child. He travels a good deal and is out of town much of the time, but he’s just built himself a place up by the hill. Not certain it’s even finished yet, what with him not being around and no woman to look after it, but it’s a lovely place. I thought certain he’d asked you to come out to make it into a home. Always set a mighty store by you, he did. Used to sit right here in this chair and tell me all about you. Like to broke his heart to leave you behind. But a girl’s place is with her mother. He was right about that.”
Tears of happiness and disbelief rimmed Alicia’s eyes, and she fought to keep them down. The last few months had been long and exhausting, physically and emotionally. Her hand trembled as she set the cup back in its saucer. Her father was not only alive, but he loved her! It seemed too incredible to be true. She wished for the whole story, but just this small portion of it had nearly destroyed all her defenses.
“Mrs. Clayton, you don’t have any idea how much those words mean to me. I just . . . I’m so tired . . .” Blinking back tears, Alicia tried to explain, but all she wanted to do was lie her head on a pillow and cry. She had not slept well at all these last nights.
The landlady exclaimed, “My heavens! Whatever am I thinking of? You’ve come all this way in a filthy boat with no proper meals or bedding. Of course, you’re exhausted! Let me take you to my room for now, and while you’re sleeping, I’ll have something done with that little room behind the parlor. We’ll fix it up all nice and neat and cheery. Come on with you now, off to bed!”
Bessie and her boardinghouse provided the healing balm Alicia needed to piece together all the torn and wounded fragments of her spirit. Bessie wrapped her in warmth and comfort and security, and her house became a haven.
With Rebecca at her side, Alicia set out each day to explore the sprawling river town and acquaint herself with the inhabitants. Her first stop was at the imposing residence of Auguste Chouteau, where her father resided when in town. She made no attempt to call on the family, but merely left a message to be given to her father when he returned. The black servant impassively accepted the note.
The sight of a city where trees and gardens were as much part of the streets as buildings excited her. Her mother had never traveled, but St. Louis was much like Alicia would have imagined a European city to be. In fact, St. Louis was more cosmopolitan than Philadelphia in some respects. Everywhere she went she heard the chatter of foreign tongues and saw the influence of the years of Spanish and French occupation. But even European cities couldn’t boast the exotic flavor of bronze-skinned natives roaming through town with their packs of furs and blankets to trade, or the boisterous presence of the half-wild trappers who came in for their supplies. Each moment was an education unto itself, and Alicia returned to the boardinghouse bursting with questions at the end of each day.
Unfortunately, freedom had its price, and Alicia was aware of the cost, particularly in monetary terms. The gold she had paid Travis for the boat had depleted her cash reserves. She had written Philadelphia to give her aunt her new address and request that the bank transfer her funds, but if Travis were right, it would be three months before the letter
s could go back and forth. With winter arriving, it might be even longer than that. In the meantime she had rent to pay and a maid who had no suitable clothes.
Becky protested when Alicia marched her down to the dressmaker’s shop for a fitting, but she succumbed to the delights of the lovely wools and heavy cottons Alicia chose for her. She admired the red satins and yellow silks in the shopkeeper’s window, but she grudgingly agreed they would not be very sensible against winter winds. When Alicia promised her the gift of a lovely paisley shawl of many colors to wrap over the drab blues and browns, Becky brightened.
As a personal maid, Becky was worse than useless, but as a protector of Alicia’s reputation, she was a veritable bulldog. She knew no fear when they were accosted on the streets by drunken trappers or curious Indians or even well-dressed gentlemen. She promptly dispatched them all with very little variation in finesse. Alicia had to reprimand her when Becky almost took her booted toe to one poor young man who merely bowed and doffed his hat in their direction.
Alicia hid her laughter at the gentleman’s startled expression until they were around the corner, and then she could no longer cover her chortles. Still smarting from the scolding, Becky sent her a suspicious glare.
“What you laughing for now?” she demanded. “I thought you didn’t want no more men bothering you. And then you let that one get away just ’cause he dresses toffy.”
“He only bowed, Becky. He was being polite. I can’t stop people from looking. It’s better just to ignore them,” Alicia tried to explain. In truth, these walks had taught her that Travis was right once more. The men of St. Louis did notice her, and she rather enjoyed the attention.
“Hmph,” Becky snorted. “I bet if Travis fixed himself all up proper like that, you’d not turn your nose up at him like you did.”
The mention of Travis was like a slap in the face, and Alicia sobered. “Mr. Travis is not a gentleman and has never pretended to be one. Instead of spending your time thinking about men, you’d best turn your observant little ears to finding a suitable position for us if you wish to eat these next months.”
That sobered Becky, who had obviously known hunger too often.
When no other solution came to mind, Alicia turned to Bessie Clayton, who smiled unconcernedly. “Your father will be back before your money runs out, child, don’t you worry. Whatever would he think if he returned to find his daughter working for her room and board? ‘Why, Bessie Clayton,’ he’d say, ‘You know better than to let my little girl work.’ Oh, he’d give me a proper dressing-down, he would.”
With much argument Alicia convinced her that she wanted to work, that she had come to St. Louis so she could work, and Bessie eventually nodded her head. “I suppose things are different than in my day. Bless Mr. Clayton’s soul, I always had to work, but then I was never a proper raised lady like yourself. I’ll see what I can find out. A teacher, you say? Seems like there’s always room for a teacher. But a young and pretty one . . .” She shook her graying curls thoughtfully. “We’ll see.”
Bessie was as good as her word. Within the week Alicia had an invitation to an interview at a small academy for ladies that had just lost one of their teachers to marriage. Married teachers were taboo, Alicia learned, but her assurances that she had no fiancé and no immediate prospects of one pleased the academy’s spinster owner, along with the fact that she was Chester Stanford’s daughter and a lady by birth. A dozen little nine-and ten-year-olds running unsupervised made the position a certainty. Alicia was hired on the spot.
Alicia had no experience with the eager minds and active bodies of a younger generation. She had been tutored at that age and had never played with other children. By the end of that first Monday, she wondered if she had ever been a child. By Tuesday evening she wondered if she would even survive. Friday, when all the spelling tests came in nearly perfect, she thought she might possibly have a grasp of the situation.
Sunday evening Travis knocked at the door.
Bessie stopped at the small chamber that had been made over into Alicia’s bedroom and whispered in distress, “It is a gentleman. At least I think he is a gentleman. For you. I’ve showed him into the front parlor.”
Puzzled, Alicia searched her brain for a reason for a gentleman to call on her. She had met no one but the doctor, and Bessie was acquainted with him. For that matter, Bessie was acquainted with everyone.
“Did he not give a card?” Perhaps gentlemen didn’t carry cards out here. Very likely they didn’t.
Bessie shook her head, gray-blonde curls flying. “I was terrified to ask. He’s so tall.” She emphasized the last word as if it answered everything. “And fierce. Like an Indian, but not like an Indian. If you know what I mean.”
Alicia knew what she meant. Travis. She breathed a little easier and patted her hair to be certain all the pins were straight. She still wore the wine-colored velvet she had worn to church with its high frill of white lace about her throat, and she felt appropriately garbed if he had come as gentleman.
“He is captain of the boat that brought me here. I left him with some business to transact for me. Don’t fret.”
Bessie broke into a wreath of smiles. “I must say, he’s a handsome devil, but I could not imagine what your father would say if you started stepping out with someone as ferocious-looking as that!”
Alicia was laughing at Bessie’s description of her caller when she entered the parlor. Travis turned at the sound, and steadied himself with a hand on the mantel. His dark gaze swept over her with fascination. “I see you are faring well,” he said dryly, sweeping a gallant bow.
“And you,” Alicia replied. He did look well with his hair cut fashionably to fall over his forehead and trimmed in back so it did not touch his immaculately white cravat. The forest green of his coat suited him. The beautifully tailored cut emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and narrowness of his waist. A gold and green waistcoat opened to reveal fawn trousers over his trim abdomen. He looked considerably less ferocious than before, and the thought of Bessie meeting him when he wore bandanna and earring made her smile again.
“Might I inquire as to what you consider so amusing?” Travis asked with irritation.
Alicia was instantly apologetic, indicating a chair by the fireside that he might sit. “Not you, I am sorry. Or maybe, yes, just a little. Please, sit down.” She took the chair opposite, unable to contain her inexplicable happiness at seeing him again. “You terrified my landlady. Whatever on earth did you say to her?”
A flicker of understanding flashed in dark eyes, and Travis relaxed in the seat offered. “Perhaps I did sound a trifle surly. I shall try to make it up to her on the way out. I trust you won’t mind conducting a little business on a Sunday?”
“Of course not. I had not expected you to sell the shipment so quickly. Did you take much of a loss?” Alicia prayed he had not. A substantial loss would empty her coffers even faster than anticipated. She was unaccustomed to cutting corners.
“On the contrary, we did quite well. They are desperate for everything that can be hauled up the river. St. Louis is not quite so conveniently situated as New Orleans.”
Travis removed a small purse from his jacket and set it on the table beside her. The coins clinked nicely. “I also have an offer for the boat. You will take into consideration that it is in need of repairs.”
Alicia sat forward expectantly. From the sound of the coins he had put beside her, she would be able to provide a merry Christmas for Becky and Mrs. Clayton, and even buy small trinkets for her students. The sale of the boat would see her comfortably until the money arrived from Philadelphia.
“Your offer?” she asked.
She was enjoying this, Travis realized. The Philadelphia heiress had adapted to this life of living by her wits and talent. Another woman in her place would be despairing of the comedown from mansion to boarding house, a dozen servants to one, overflowing purse to single coins. This one seemed to be thriving on the challenge.
“I�
��ve been given license to offer twenty-four dollars,” he said, watching her reaction as if this were a poker game.
Alicia considered the offer. “That is scarcely half what I paid. If St. Louis is really desperate for whatever comes up the river, it seems as if I could get a little more, don’t you agree? Surely the boat isn’t much worse off than when we started, except for the little hole, of course.” She knew the cause of that hole, but she was having difficulty picturing the gentleman across from her carving up another human being like a savage as he had done then.
Travis crossed a booted leg over his knee. “Best damn boat on the river, pardon my language. I build them to last. What are you asking?”
That disconcerted her. She had hoped he would give her an idea of what the boat was worth in this market, but he just sat there grinning at her. So be it.
“Let’s say thirty-five dollars,” she replied.
“With what I just gave you there, that means your journey not only didn’t cost you a cent, but you made a profit on it,” he reminded her.
“It cost me more than money, Mr. Travis,” she answered in a low voice. “I would be quit of it as soon as possible. Of course, you must take a fair commission for arranging the sale.”
The haunted look was back in her eyes, the veiled anguish that Travis had so desperately wished to remove. He had been a fool to think she could forget. It would take time and patience to heal those wounds. And he, who had prided himself on his patience, had nearly opened them up again. Perhaps some ladies weren’t worth the effort, but this particular woman was.
“I did not mean to remind you, Alicia,” he said, before diverting the topic. “I will sell the boat for enough to cover my costs and get you the thirty-five dollars. Have you heard anything about your father yet?”
The change of topic worked. Alicia’s face glowed like a thousand candles. “He is alive! He is out of town on business, but Bessie says he can be expected back before the snow comes. And she says he used to talk of me all the time, and write. She doesn’t understand what happened to the letters. She says he seldom received mine, either.”
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