by Cathy Peper
Taekondwa stared at her deep and long. Tori squirmed, almost believing the woman could read her mind.
“Seriously. I told you we had trouble. The necklace was stolen.”
“Who took it?”
Tori considered. Despite all he had done to her, she didn’t want to put Bob/Bryce in danger. On the other hand, she didn’t think Taekondwa, or anyone else, could reach him where he was. “Bob Rivers, a rival keelboat captain.”
The woman again seemed to probe her mind for the truth. At last, she nodded. “We will find this Bob Rivers.”
“I don’t think so,” Tori said.
Taekondwa’s eyes narrowed. “He managed to use the device? Despite Lucas’ claims, I didn’t believe it could be done.”
“The necklace is gone. Go back to New Orleans and forget it ever existed.”
“I would be happy to do so, but Lucas…” Taekondwa’s voice trailed off and her gaze strayed to the door. Sebastien stood in the entry. “I will leave you now.”
She slipped away as Sebastien drew close. Tori expected him to ask her about her unusual companion, but he must not have noticed the other woman. Tori debated whether or not she should tell him about the encounter, but decided not to worry him. If Taekondwa had believed her story, she would not bother them again.
Sebastien’s blue eyes sparkled as he sat down beside her, a sure sign his trade had gone well. “Despite everything, this will be a profitable trip if we can make it back to St. Louis in one piece.”
“There is still one more major quake,” she reminded him, keeping her voice low.
“I know, but we’ve been lucky so far.”
It was more than just luck. Sebastien was one of the best pilots on the river, having earned the nickname “Eagle Eyes” for his sharp vision and uncanny ability to spot submerged hazards. “I can’t wait to see how different St. Louis is from when I lived there.”
“Very, if your tales are to be believed. It consists of only three streets parallel to the river, though there are several more cross streets.”
“I truly cannot imagine, Sebastien, but I’m anxious to see it.” And anxious to marry her handsome beau. Her hand drifted down to her stomach. If her suspicions were correct, they had better not delay. Being an unwed mother in the nineteenth century was something she definitely did not want to experience, having only to look at Arianne’s tragic situation. Tori was now certain Sebastien’s sister had made it to the twenty-first century in time for modern medicine to save her and her baby, but without the time travel device, she would have died in disgrace.
Sebastien dropped a kiss on the nape of her neck and Tori shivered. Every time the man touched her, all her senses sang.
“I see you’ve already eaten.”
“I couldn’t wait. Food on the Fury leaves a lot to be desired.” Unfortunately true, but lately she’d not been able to even keep much of it down, something she’d kept from Sebastien, not wanting to tell him about the baby until she was sure. “If I am to travel with you on a regular basis, we will have to do something about that.”
“It can be your special project. Actually, serving decent food would attract more men, higher quality men. I still can’t believe Dalton turned on me, the rat.”
Bob/Bryce had paid Dalton to steal the necklace. He had shot Sebastien and ripped it from Tori’s throat. Only later, when Bryce found himself unable to activate the stone, had he come back and kidnapped Tori. “He never liked me.”
“No, he resented you for playing the violin better than he did, but mutiny is a serious crime even for a riverman.” The serving girl came to their table and Sebastien ordered the meat pie, on Tori’s recommendation, and a glass of ale. Tori added dessert to her own order. After all, she was eating for two now. Maybe she would share her news with Sebastien tonight.
* * *
Gordon told Captain Hobbs to stop at New Madrid.
“How long will we be staying?”
“Undetermined,” Gordon replied. It was proving more difficult to find someone in a vast wilderness than he had anticipated. His admiration for Frost, the detective who had tracked down Bryce, grew. He was used to city life and the endless expanse of trees unnerved him, although he would never admit to such a weakness. He didn’t understand how Bryce could have chosen this life over that of Gordon’s son and heir.
“The men will welcome a break.”
“As will my wife. There are places to stay in town?”
“Used to be,” Hobbs replied, “but rumor has it most of the town has moved into a tent city. You might find someone still living in their home and willing to rent out a room if you’re willing to risk the roof falling on your head with the next big shake.”
Gordon grimaced. After his own close call, he held more respect for the earthquakes. “We will remain on board,” he said although he knew Olivia would be disappointed, a sentiment he shared. His old bones ached from sleeping on the floor in the tiny cabin. Still, it would be good to walk on land and enjoy a few good meals.
Olivia took the news better than he expected. She stood on deck with him as they pulled into port. The small hamlet showed obvious damage. Most of houses chimneys had come down and some tilted at strange angles.
“I expected worse,” Olivia said.
“We can inquire about lodging if you wish.”
“No, we will be safest on board.”
Repairs had begun on a few of the dwellings, but the latest quake had erased their progress. Tumbled bricks lay next to trowels and buckets of mortar. The tavern, ever hopeful, had begun repairs yet again and remained open with a few walls braced.
Gordon and Olivia ordered food and drink and then Gordon approached the bartender. “Looking for a few people,” he said, tapping a coin on the bar’s worn surface.
“Aren’t we all,” the man said, but he eyed the coin.
“I am interested in the whereabouts of Bob Rivers, a ship called the Fury, Sebastien La Roche, Victoria Foster and a man named Dalton.”
“Just missed the Fury, along with La Roche and Foster. They were in here a few days ago, but they’ve left town.”
Gordon slid the coin over to the man. “Did they meet with anyone?”
“La Roche always meets with the merchants in town.”
“Anyone else?”
“Don’t think so. Well, wait a minute.” He called over one of the waitresses. “Didn’t you tell me someone approached Miss Foster when she was here? A black woman?”
The waitress nodded. “I remember because I thought we might have to throw her out. Can’t have black folk bothering white customers.”
“And did this woman bother Miss Foster?”
“Didn’t look like it. They talked for a few minutes, but by the time I brought the matter to Henry’s attention, here, the woman was gone.”
Gordon pondered a moment. Claude had not mentioned a black woman, but it wouldn’t hurt to follow up. “Did you recognize this woman?”
“Sure, she and her man had been hanging around here for days. Haven’t seen them since, however.”
The mysterious black woman had been accompanied by a man. “Was this man white or black? Could it have been Dalton?”
“I think he was white. Don’t think I ever heard his name.”
Gordon turned his attention to the bartender. “Are you familiar with Dalton, Henry?”
“He comes here now and then, but I can’t recall when I last saw him.”
“And Rivers?” Gordon held his breath.
“Haven’t seen Rivers since the first quake. His boat was tied up here that night and so was the Fury. Since the Fury came by a few days ago, the Revenge will probably be here soon, if it survived the quakes.”
Not the news he had hoped to hear. He handed Henry a few more coins and rejoined Olivia. “Bryce has not been seen here in New Madrid since the first quake.”
Olivia reached a hand across the table and grasped Gordon’s. “He could still be alive. You mentioned hiring someone to continue the search, maybe even the sam
e fellow you used before. Do it, and we can go home.”
“Losing your taste for adventure?”
Olivia’s lips twitched into a semblance of a smile. “You warned me, but it’s proved rougher than I anticipated.”
Rougher than he had, as well, although he kept that to himself. “It would take too long for Frost to get here. If I can find any local talent, I’ll hire them, but I need to do this myself. And we’re too deep in the wilderness for me to feel comfortable sending you back.”
“So what’s the next step?”
“I need to find Dalton.”
Chapter 17
Sebastien sighed as Victoria snuggled closer to him. They barely fit on the narrow cot, but Sebastien planned to replace it with a larger, more comfortable bed once they reached St. Louis.
“Sometimes I think you just use me as a foot warmer,” he teased when she slid her chilled feet against his legs.
“Guilty as charged.”
“My services don’t come free.”
She batted her eyes at him. “I don’t have much money.”
“I’m sure we can think of some way for you to repay me.” Her long blond hair spread out on the pillow and his heart swelled within his chest. He still found it hard to believe that this beautiful woman had chosen to remain with him in the nineteenth century when a magical world awaited her in the twenty-first. She didn’t complain, but the dark circles under her eyes gave away her fatigue. Recently she had started taking his advice, sleeping in while he started the day with a poling session. Later they would meet on the roof, where they would talk as he watched the river and directed his men. Every few hours, he changed position with his first mate, Roger, and took up a pole again. He wasn’t the type of captain who left all the backbreaking work to his men and they respected him for it.
“I’ve something to tell you.”
“What?” He fondled her breast through her nightdress.
She moaned and then batted his hand away. “I’m serious. Stop distracting me.”
Reluctantly, Sebastien turned his full attention to her. “I’m listening.”
“I didn’t say anything earlier because I wanted to be sure, but I’m pretty sure now.”
He nibbled at her ear. “Sure about what?”
“I think I might be pregnant.”
Sebastien froze. “You’re going to have my baby?”
“Yes.” A frown line creased her forehead. “Are you happy? I thought you would be happy.”
“Of course I’m happy, but you’ve taken me by surprise.” He shouldn’t have been. They had been lovers since New Orleans.
“It’s still early. Most miscarriages happen in the first trimester.”
Now that he knew she was from the future, he enjoyed her unusual expressions and the wealth of knowledge she had about various topics. He wasn’t quite sure what a “trimester” was, but he didn’t want her losing the baby. “Don’t worry. I will take good care of you.” No wonder she had been so tired lately.
“I know you will, but sometimes these things just happen.”
“Still, even in your time?”
Victoria nodded. “Even then. Doctors don’t have an explanation for most miscarriages. However, very few women die in childbirth in my time.”
Sebastien closed his eyes. The fear in her voice reflected his own terror. Although he hoped Victoria was right and his sister was alive in the future, he would never forget the night she had gone into labor. Her screams of pain and his own feeling of helplessness would haunt him forever. “What do they do differently?” he asked.
“They keep everything clean. Make sure the doctor washes his hands and instruments. They also have ways to eliminate the pain and can perform surgery if necessary. I don’t think I could survive a Cesarean section in this time period.”
Sebastien blanched. He was little better than Bryce, the man he had been willing to kill for seducing and abandoning his sister. Well, he would never abandon Victoria, but it seemed Bryce had not intended to abandon Ari either. “We need to be married as soon as we reach St. Louis.”
“It does make the situation more urgent, considering this time period has no tolerance for unwed mothers. Things are different in my time, but a solid family home with both mother and father is still the ideal.”
Sebastien found it hard to imagine the world she described. “So Ari is not ostracized.”
“Not at all. She has a job and a cozy little house for her and Hannah. She’s a great mom.”
“I’m happy for her, but she has found no one else? It’s been four years.”
“Anne told the authorities she was running away from an abusive lover, but I was always a bit confused by this because I had a strong impression that she loved Hannah’s father. It’s possible for a woman to love her abuser, but I couldn’t see Anne being one of those women who refused to place charges against the men who hurt them. I don’t think I ever fully believed her story, even though I could never have imagined the truth.”
“If she truly loves Bryce, do you think they will find one another in the future?”
“I don’t know. There are far more people in my time period than yours, so the odds are against them, but if they are meant to be together, then fate might take a hand.”
Sebastien hated thinking of his sister with Bryce, but he also didn’t want her to be alone. Perhaps it was just as well they were two hundred years in the future and immune to his intervention. “I should let you sleep.” He rested his hand on her still flat stomach, amazed that his child grew inside her.
“I will sleep in tomorrow.” She fiddled with the hair on his chest.
“What about the baby?”
“We won’t hurt him.”
Sebastien needed no other invitation. He pulled off her nightdress and sucked gently on her breast. Now that she had told him her news, he noticed they were fuller and more rounded. He moved to the other, giving it equal attention. She moved restlessly against him and his hand dipped low, stirring her to greater excitement.
He was ready, had been from the moment she slipped into bed, although his passion had waned with concerns for her health. She had but to touch him or look at him a certain way and desire surged within him. She was wet and ready for him, too, so he inched her legs apart, teasing her with his fingers before thrusting inside. She closed tightly around him and he withdrew, only to push forward as far as he could. They fell into a rhythm, slow and steady until she gasped and clung to him, then faster, until he found his own release.
“I love you,” he said, rolling off her and drawing her into his arms.
“I love you, too.”
He wanted to say more, to mention the baby, but sleep called to him, dragging him under. Tomorrow would be soon enough. He gave up the battle and drifted off.
* * *
Dalton sat in a corner of the tavern at New Madrid, a beer clutched in his hands. He would nurse it as long as possible since he didn’t have the funds to purchase a second. Not if he was going to be able to come here tomorrow and escape the cold for a few hours. Sometimes he ordered food, but his savings were disappearing quickly and soon he would have to dip into the money Rivers had given him for stealing the necklace and that was his ticket out, his chance to escape the river and head back East. So he usually made do with whatever he could shoot, cooking it over his campfire before bedding down for the night.
He’d planned to get another keelboat job, which would take him to New Orleans where he could book passage on a ship, but with the combination of the infernal shakes and his own reputation, jobs had failed to materialize. Traffic had declined sharply and those who still risked their boats and their lives, along with the lives of their crews, didn’t want to hire a man who had lost his job with the Fury and fallen foul of the captain of the Revenge. Dalton took a healthy swallow of his ale, cursing under his breath. Damn Rivers. He’d never much liked La Roche; the man kept a heavy hand on his men, rationing whiskey consumption while on board and firing any men who v
iolated his shore leave policies. His dislike had turned to disgust after the man had forced him to lend his treasured fiddle to the little tart he had pulled out of the river.
But his hatred for Rivers surpassed even that of La Roche and his mistress. He had done what Rivers asked, bringing him that stupid necklace. Ripped it off the wench’s skinny neck himself. Even shot his boss, something that felt wrong, even though he didn’t like or respect the guy. And what had he gotten in return? Well, his escape money, but also threats from that milksop who hadn’t the guts to do his own dirty work. He’d expected to work Rivers’ boat until they returned to New Orleans, but instead, he found himself out of a job and treated like he was dirt under the man’s fingernails. Not that a fop like Rivers would be caught dead without perfectly manicured nails.
He would teach Rivers a thing or two. The man would learn you didn’t go around threatening the likes of Frank Dalton. The door to the tavern opened and Dalton slunk lower in his chair, hoping to avoid both prying eyes and cold drafts. He couldn’t actually hide from the blast of cold air that signaled the arrival of every new patron, but with his hat pulled down low, his hair cut short and a new mustache gracing his face, he had not yet been recognized.
To his surprise, the object of his brooding hatred walked in the room. Bob Rivers, wearing the typical guise of a riverman; red shirt, leather breeches, and a fringed leather jacket. The Revenge must have finally made it to New Madrid. The Fury had already come and gone. He’d been amazed that Sebastien survived the gunshot wounds, but relieved not to be a murderer. He wouldn’t even be a criminal, hiding in a smoky tavern if it hadn’t been for that blasted woman flaunting her skill with the violin.
He’d kept his head down when he spotted Victoria in the bar, but he’d noticed her talking to a black woman. Later, he’d eavesdropped on the slave and her master. They had spoken softly, and in French, not his best language, but he’d heard enough to understand they, too, were interested in the necklace. What was it with a silly piece of jewelry? It wasn’t even gold. He knew Rivers had it but saw no reason to enlighten the pair. They had left even before the Fury, vanishing into the night like thieves.