“I see it! I see it!” Jasmine bounced up and down. “There it is!”
Tamar put a quieting hand on the little girl’s arm. “Yes, it is, but you must not hop about like a grasshopper. Once we are on the water, you are liable to fall overboard.”
An awful vision of Jasmine flailing about as the river swept her away formed in Lily’s mind. Had she made a terrible mistake to bring her sisters? But she could not stand the idea of leaving them behind. She would simply have to be vigilant.
The carriage came to a halt, and Lily gathered her skirts. “Be careful where you step. The ground is very damp. I don’t want either of you to fall into a mud hole.”
Camellia shuddered and closed her eyes. “Perfect.” Sarcasm dripped from the two syllables.
“I’ll be careful, Lily.” Jasmine mimicked Lily’s motions as they waited for the coachman to let down the steps and open the door.
Lily stepped from the carriage, relieved to see the sun had dried the ground some since her earlier visit. “Tamar, will you direct the loading of our things while I introduce the girls to Mr. Matthews and Mr. Moreau?”
Lily picked her way across the fern-strewn bank and stepped onto the boat before turning to help her sisters. Her unseen partner must be still abed. No doubt that was why he had not accomplished much work. Well, he would soon learn better habits. “Mr. Matthews, I have returned with my best labor force.”
Nothing answered her but the loud song of a bird along the riverbank. Finally the stomp of boots on the staircase heralded his approach, and she took a deep breath. She fully expected a battle with Mr. Matthews when he learned of her plans.
“What on earth are you doing back here?” His voice reached them before he did. When his large frame appeared, Camellia gasped. Jasmine made no sound, but her hand tightened around Lily’s fingers. “And what are you doing with a gaggle of children? You were supposed to bring me workmen.”
“You will find that my sisters and I are hard workers. We’ve spent many hours putting up vegetables and fruits. We can clean better than most men. And we won’t charge an exorbitant fee for our services.” Lily was proud of her calm voice. The sentences tripped off her tongue just as she had practiced as she lay in bed last night. No hint of trepidation betrayed her true feelings.
Blake Matthews quirked an eyebrow and stared at all three girls, his blue gaze finally coming to rest on her face. “I suppose Jensen and I can do the heavy work if we leave the cleaning and organizing to you ladies.”
Lily’s pent-up breath whooshed out. Where was the battle royal she had expected?
“Let me show you to the kitchen.” He moved out onto the deck. Lily and her sisters fell back a step to let him pass, but he froze, his attention caught by something on the bank. “What is that—that stuff they are bringing aboard?”
Turning her head, Lily saw the men from home approaching, their arms full of burdens. “Those are our belongings.”
His gaze swiveled back to her, and his face paled. “Your belongings? You and your sisters are going to live aboard the boat with Jensen and me?”
Lily nodded.
“You don’t mind being exposed to gambling and drinking?” His voice was incredulous.
“Of course I would, but no gambling or drinking will occur aboard the Hattie Belle.”
He raked a hand through his dark hair. Several locks fell across his forehead, giving him a mysterious, slightly dangerous appearance.
Lily could feel her heartbeat accelerate. Blake Matthews was very handsome and probably used to getting his way with women as a result. Well, he would find she was impervious to his charms. That was one thing for which she could thank her worthless father—she would never fall in love with any man. Never again would she put herself in the position of being abandoned. Even Grandfather had failed her when he died—
A tug on her hand interrupted her thoughts. Camellia pulled free of her grasp and executed a graceful curtsy, her blond hair gleaming in the midday sun. “Please excuse my sister’s lack of manners, sir. I am Camellia Anderson, and this is my little sister, Jasmine.”
The brooding air lifted from Mr. Matthews’s face, replaced by a look of bewilderment.
Camellia rose and stretched out a white-gloved hand for him to place a salutatory kiss. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”
Lily sighed. Trust Camellia to attempt a flirtation with the man. She was not nearly as concerned with guarding her heart. But then she didn’t know about their father’s true perfidy. She and Jasmine had been told that he had died. Their grandparents had decided that would be the best way to handle the situation. Only Lily knew the truth—Papa had not loved them enough to stay with them. “His name is Mr. Matthews, Camellia, and as soon as he shows us the way to the kitchens, you and Jasmine will don your aprons and begin working.”
“Right this way.” He walked stiffly down the right side of the riverboat.
Lily followed his lead. “Be careful,” she instructed Camellia and Jasmine. “The wood looks damp where it’s in the shade.” She was relieved when their guide opened a door in the approximate center of the boat.
“This way, ladies.” He bowed, irritation obvious in the stiff movement of his arm. “I trust you won’t be overwhelmed.”
The dark room felt like a cave. Lily waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. “Aren’t there any windows?”
Mr. Matthews sighed and walked outside.
“Where did he go?” Although she couldn’t see, Lily recognized Jasmine’s fearless voice.
A clunking sound came from outside, and sunlight blasted into the room. Mr. Matthews must have removed a shutter.
Something skittered into the shadows, eliciting a tiny shriek from Camellia.
“It’s only a mouse.” Mr. Matthews stood in the doorway once more, a half grin on his face.
Lily supposed he was trying to frighten them. “Once we get this place cleaned up, no vermin”—she tossed a meaningful glance at him—“will dare make their home here.”
His grin widened. “I’m sure you’re right. No mouse would dare remain near a shrew.”
Lily turned from the irritating man. “Hang up your cloaks on those pegs, girls.”
Tamar appeared, her arms full of linens. “I’ve brought the aprons.”
“Good.” Lily looked around for a clean surface, gave up, and pointed to a counter under the window. “If you’ll help the girls get started, Mr. Matthews and I have a few things to discuss.”
Blake watched in fascination as Miss Anderson took over. How had it come to this? They had been invaded by a marauding army. An army of females. The enemy forces had taken over the Hattie Belle without firing a single shot.
He’d never met such a managing female. She had more backbone than many of the men he’d met in his travels. She reminded him of the women in his family—as innocent as Ada, as determined as his mother.
Not that Ma had ever been pushy. She always let Pa take the lead. He couldn’t imagine Ma owning property, but if she had, she would have insisted on keeping it clean enough to serve dinner on the floor. And she never would countenance serving alcohol or gambling.
But that didn’t mean he should let Miss Anderson get her way without a challenge. She headed toward the paddle wheel, chin high, skirts swaying back and forth.
He caught her elbow with one hand. “Where are you going?”
“I want to explore every inch of my boat. I need to start a list of repairs we’ll have to make.” She tried to shake him off, but her foot slipped.
To stop her from falling overboard, Blake grabbed the girl around the waist and pulled her close against his side. She clung to him for a brief moment. Her curves felt so comfortable against him—so right—like she was made to fit against him.
The thought shook him, challenging everything he held dear. To mask his confusion, Blake adopted a cynical tone. “Careful there, honey. If you’re going to move onto our boat, you’ve got to learn to keep your feet under you.”
“I am not your honey.”
That was better. She was as stiff as a piece of plywood in his arms. He let go of her but remained ready to grab her again if she was still unsteady. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
She sniffed. “Does the paddle wheel need any repairs?”
“Right to business. I like that in a partner.” At her dark look, he assumed a more serious expression. “The Champneys had it repaired after the Hattie Belle’s last run from St. Louis.”
“Good.” She turned back and eased her way past him. “The deck looks like it’s in good shape. How many staterooms?”
“Six. Jensen and I are using two of them, but that leaves plenty of room for your family.”
She shook her head. “That will never do. We’ll have to take on passengers as well as cargo. You and Mr. Moreau will have to share a stateroom. We’ll share another one, which will leave room for four paying passengers.”
“If you want to make money fast, you need to give up your plan to carry cargo or passengers. I can make you more money in a week without leaving the bank. I’ve been making tables for the ballroom upstairs. All I need is a little time—”
“Mr. Matthews, I want to get one thing straight—I am a respectable woman from a God-fearing home. I will not countenance games of chance on this boat. We can make a comfortable living moving cargo and passengers on the river.”
“What if I don’t want just a comfortable living? If we follow my plan, we’ll both be rich beyond our wildest dreams. Then you can buy all the reputation you want. You can afford a big house in town where you can have tea and introduce your sisters to the best society.”
“If you want to spend your time taking money from unsuspecting clients, pack up your things immediately and go back to where you came from.” She lifted her nose in the air.
He wasn’t about to leave. This was his dream as much as it was hers.
He studied her features objectively as she began enumerating all the reasons he would bow to her wishes. Miss Anderson would never be considered a beauty, but something in her face, something in her whole attitude, filled him with longing. What was it about her? She had some indefinable quality that he admired. She was very cute, too, standing up to him even though he was at least a foot taller and could toss her over the side of the boat without much effort.
“So you must see my point.” She looked at him, her chocolate-brown eyes shining.
He gathered his wandering thoughts. “Just because you own a measly two percent more of this boat than I do doesn’t mean I’m going to allow you to turn the Hattie Belle into a charitable concern.”
“I don’t expect you to.” Her voice was earnest. She put her hand on his arm, making his muscles tense in response. “I’m sure we’re going to work well together as soon as we establish a few basic rules.”
He pulled his arm free and held up a different finger for each point he made. “So we can’t have any gaming; I have to move in with my hired help; we won’t have any workmen to help with the repairs; and we have to hire a captain.”
“That’s right, except for hiring a captain. I’ve taken care of that.” She smiled broadly. “I’m glad we’ve got that all straightened out. After yesterday, I was worried we would have a problem. I had no idea you would be so reasonable.”
“What do you mean you’ve hired a captain?”
“Yesterday on the ride home, Jean Luc Champney offered, on my behalf, to approach the man they used to employ.”
A feeling of foreboding settled on his shoulders. “Not Lars Steenberg …”
She shrugged. “If he was the captain before you took over. Please don’t tell me you disapprove of him, too.”
Blake leaned against the wall. “I was not overly impressed with his abilities, but at least he has some experience on the river and with our boat.”
“Good, that’s settled, then.” She dusted her hands and turned to go back to the kitchen.
Blake decided it would be better to bide his time than wrestle with Miss Anderson right now. Life on the river was difficult. She and her sisters would be ready to go back home after the first week of snags and tree islands. He would gamble his part of the Hattie Belle on it.
He climbed the stairs slowly as he thought about it. Yes, that was exactly what would happen. As soon as she saw how hard it was to move cargo, the determined Miss Lily Anderson would change her mind. Then he and Jensen could go back to their original plans.
Chapter Seventeen
We’ve been cleaning for days.” Jasmine’s lip protruded. With her hair wrapped in a white cloth, she looked more like a servant than a young lady.
Lily withdrew her list from one of her apron pockets. “Sometimes we have to work hard to accomplish our dreams.”
“But this is not my dream.” Camellia perched on the edge of the bed they shared and wrapped a second cloth around her head. They had learned the importance of covering their hair after rubbing the brass fittings in the engine room. Their activities had raised a storm of dust that had settled on them like a quilt.
“I need to go into town this morning for some supplies Mr. Matthews needs.”
“We’re supposed to call him Blake, remember?” Camellia sighed.
“Would the two of you like to go with me?” Lily pinned a bright smile on her face. She was not happy about the way Camellia mooned over the gambler, but she had to admit he always treated the girl like a younger sister. In the past week, all of them had spent a great deal of time in close quarters as they polished, dusted, and scrubbed their way from aft to stern. And Blake had a knack for getting more work out of Camellia than anyone else. Lily wrestled with a touch of jealousy at the easy camaraderie he shared with her sisters. Why couldn’t he be as charming to her?
“I do!” Jasmine executed a twirl in the center of the room, managing to bang her hand against the table holding their bowl and pitcher.
Lily grabbed the table before it could overturn, so relieved to have a new focus for her unruly thoughts that she didn’t chastise Jasmine.
Camellia walked over to the mirror and leaned against one wall of their bedroom. “I don’t want anyone to see me looking like this.”
“Suit yourself, Camellia. You can stay in the carriage and wait for us.” Lily ignored the exaggerated sigh and left the room to get Tamar.
Walking the length of the second floor, she had to admit to a feeling of accomplishment. The tables Blake had made for his gambling salon had become dining tables, lined up with military precision along one side of the former ballroom. Sparkling crystal chandeliers would illuminate the room during meals. A wood-burning stove in the far corner would offer warmth during cool, damp evenings. If she closed her eyes, she could almost see well-dressed passengers sitting around the stove as they discussed their comfortable travel. Maybe they could find a piano. That would please Camellia. It was the thing she bemoaned most often.
Blake’s deep voice interrupted her daydreaming. “Jensen is waiting outside.”
Lily could feel her cheeks heating. The man had a talent for making her feel inadequate. She tried to quiet her heart as she turned to face him. “Did he have any trouble finding a carriage?”
As usual, Blake wore only dark trousers and a flowing white shirt with sleeves rolled up above his elbows. His dress should have made him look like a greengrocer or laborer, but he carried himself with the assurance of a planter. From the set of his shoulders to his wide stance, Blake was a man one could not ignore. “I doubt it. Jensen has a way of acquiring whatever we need.”
Had he stolen the equipage? She hesitated to voice the question. What if he confirmed her fear?
“I sent him to the livery stable.” The lift of his right eyebrow and the half smile on Blake’s lips indicated he’d read her thoughts.
More hot blood rushed to her face. She glanced down at the floor. “Have you seen Tamar?”
“She’s already outside.” He stepped closer and lifted her chin with a finger. “Unless I am mist
aken, there is romance in the air.”
Her brain sizzled. What did he mean? Had he formed an attachment for her? Impossible. They barely spoke.
“I only hope Tamar will not break his heart.”
Her heartbeat slowed its frantic pace, and Lily pulled away from his hand. “Tamar would not be so foolish. She is here because of her love for us, not because she wants to find a husband.”
He just raised that eyebrow again.
Camellia and Jasmine exited the bedroom and stood beside Lily. “We will be back before too long.”
“Are you sure you don’t need me to accompany you?”
She shook her head.
“You have the list I made out?” His question chased her down the stairs.
Lily shooed her sisters ahead of her. The sooner they left him behind, the better. She breathed deeply as they hopped off the deck and picked their way to the road.
She cast a furtive glance back toward the boat as she settled on the seat of the rented carriage, but Blake was not standing on the deck. The feeling that pierced her chest could not be disappointment. It had to be relief. Didn’t it?
“What do you think of this material?” Tamar held a length of navy-blue broadcloth. “Would it look good on the dining tables?”
Lily’s eyes widened. “It’s perfect. All it needs is lace edging.” She looked around for a bolt of the lace she envisioned.
A bell tinkled at the front of the mercantile, and she looked up to see if it was one of her sisters. They had begged her to let them go to the park. Camellia wanted to stroll; Jasmine wanted to explore. Lily agreed to let them go after making them promise not to talk to strangers.
But instead of seeing one of her sisters, her gaze met the dark eyes of the intriguing Jean Luc Champney. “What a happy coincidence.” She moved forward with her hand outstretched.
Jean Luc took it in his and placed a warm kiss on her skin.
The gesture should have made her heart race, so why didn’t it? Why didn’t blood rush to her cheeks the way it did every time Blake Matthews talked to her? Maybe because Jean Luc was not abrasive and challenging like Blake always was. Yes, that had to be the answer.
Lily (Song of the River) Page 11