She opened her eyes. Samuel was looking at her with an embarrassing amount of tender concern. Hannah wouldn’t approve of the emotion registered on his face. Hannah. Where was she? Turning away from Samuel, Fannie noticed some people huddled around small campfires. They were … on shore. They looked … so forlorn. Exhausted. Smudged faces. Torn shirts.
A dark face appeared beside Samuel’s. Mr. Davis smiled. “There now, miss. You’ll be fine, just fine. You rest now. Help’s coming. It shouldn’t be long.”
“Wh-what happened?” Fannie croaked, but before either man could answer, she remembered. The shuddering crash, the rushing water, the fire. “Help me sit up,” she said, but when she extended a hand, she realized she was still in her dressing gown. Horrified, she looked about for a blanket, but there was none.
Samuel shrugged out of his coat and drew it about her shoulders. “The envelope you were carrying is in my inner coat pocket. It’s safe.”
She curled her fingers around her mother’s locket and thanked him as she peered at the river. A smoldering skeleton hovered over the place where the Delores had once floated. She looked up at the two men. “Hannah?”
Mr. Davis answered. “There’s men searching both sides of the river, miss. They’ll search until they’ve found everyone.”
Fannie bowed her head. Fatigue washed over her.
The old man’s voice soothed, “You lay yourself back down and close your eyes. Help’s coming soon.”
Terrified as she was, Fannie obeyed. Her head cushioned by a patch of thick prairie grasses, she curled up beneath Samuel’s black coat and closed her eyes. The next thing she knew, shouts were ringing out from the river, and when she opened her eyes, a row of mackinaw boats were lined up waiting to carry everyone … where, she didn’t know.
The silver light of a full moon had given way to morning gold. Fannie clung to Samuel’s arm as he led her away from the landing. They’d been brought there by the mackinaws sent out from this place to rescue the steamboat passengers and crew. Samuel said they were at Sioux City. Fannie’s side hurt where she’d hit the railing. Every pebble felt like a shard of glass against the tender soles of her bare feet. Determined not to cry out, she bit her lower lip, ducked her head, hung on to Samuel, and kept going. Everything seemed to be happening in the mists of a fog that wouldn’t clear. What were bleeding feet in a world where ships burned down and people lost everything that mattered.
She slid her hand along the lining of the black coat still draped about her shoulders. She’d saved the letters, but the idea brought little comfort. Nothing mattered right now except that they find Hannah. Please, God. Let Hannah be all right. She’s all I have left.
The levee bustled with activity. Townspeople clustered around, offering assistance, asking news of the wreck, offering opinions about Captain Busch’s navigational skills, and generally adding to what Fannie considered a curtain of noise hiding the one thing she wanted to see: Hannah’s smiling face. When a train whistle pierced the morning air, Fannie jumped. Looking behind her toward the river, she saw two steamboats at the landing. One was the Sam Cloon, the steamer Captain Busch had been determined to catch … and pass. Shivering, she clutched Samuel’s black coat to her and looked toward the town. As far as Fannie could tell, Sioux City was little more than a collection of clapboard buildings and log huts strewn along streams of mud that people had aggrandized with street names.
When a tall, stringy-haired woman spoke to her, Fannie recoiled at first, but the woman’s voice was kind as she spoke to Samuel about providing shelter. “Here now, dearie,” she said, gesturing toward a false-fronted building up ahead. The letters above the door proclaimed the building to be a hotel.
“I’m Nellie,” the woman said. “Nellie Tatum. My husband and me own the hotel and Captain Busch’s mate has arranged for us to take you in. You’re safe now. You come with me and we’ll get you fixed up in no time.”
Fannie hesitated and, it seemed, so did Samuel. She liked the idea of his being reluctant to let her go, but then she remembered she was wearing his coat. He was just waiting for her to take it off. Grabbing the envelope of letters, she started to shrug out of the coat, but Samuel stopped her. “Keep it for now. Lamar and I are going to go back to the river and see what news there might be of the others.” He touched her arm. “You’ll know as soon as I know.”
Hannah. Blinking back tears, Fannie nodded. She swayed a bit, and was suddenly grateful for Mrs. Tatum’s stepping up to take her arm.
“Now, dearie, you come with me. Nellie will take good care of you.” She nodded up at Samuel. “You rest easy, now. Time you get back, I’ll have her all fixed up.”
Nellie Tatum kept her word. Leading Fannie inside the hotel, across the splintered floor, and to a doorway that opened from beneath the stairs, Mrs. Tatum escorted Fannie into what she said—with a tone of pride in her voice—were her private quarters. “Mine and Hiram’s, that is.” She guided Fannie to a blue painted chair while she heated water on a tiny iron stove. “You just set there while I heat up some water. I’m thinking you’d like to wash up a bit, and we’re gonna soak those tired feet, too. You can talk or not, whichever. It don’t matter to me. Some like to talk when they been through a tough spot, some don’t. You do what comes natural.”
The woman seemed to think a monologue was appropriate whether Fannie spoke or not, and that was fine with her. She didn’t know what “came natural” to her after a “tough spot.” Right now she didn’t have a thing to say other than to answer Mrs. Tatum’s question about the name of the woman “her friends were looking for.” She managed to answer, although her voice wavered when she pronounced Hannah’s name. After that she sat, her hands in her lap, Samuel’s coat about her shoulders, and tried not to shiver noticeably while Mrs. Tatum heated water. When, a few moments later, she slid her feet into a tub of warm water, she sighed with relief.
Mrs. Tatum nodded. “What’d I tell ya? Nothing like a good foot soak to make a body feel better.” She stood back up and offered a blanket in place of Samuel’s coat. “Thought I’d give it a brushing before he comes back.”
Fannie took the envelope out of the pocket and laid it in her lap, surprised and more than a little pleased on Samuel’s behalf when Mrs. Tatum found the Bible in the other pocket and laid it on the scuffed table. She didn’t know very much about Samuel Beck, but she’d seen enough of him to know the book was important to him. She hadn’t realized it was a Bible until this moment.
“Well, ain’t that nice,” Mrs. Tatum said. “A man of the cloth, I reckon.”
Fannie frowned. Was Samuel Beck some kind of minister? If so, why would he be working as a roustabout?
Mrs. Tatum hung Samuel’s coat on a chair and moved it toward the stove. “I’ll let it dry while I fetch you something to wear.” She handed Fannie a coarse gray washcloth. “You can clean up while I’m gone. And in case you’re wonderin’, won’t nobody bother you while you’re in here. In the way of privacy, I mean. Hiram’s far too busy gathering news of the sinking and pouring drinks for the survivors in the dinin’ room. We’ve a full house thanks to the Delores.” She broke off and changed her tone, shaking her head back and forth and tsking in sympathy. “I do hope that handsome young man and his friend find your Mrs. Pike.”
Samuel and Lamar stood beside the river, looking down at the mackinaw and its sad burden. Samuel spoke first. “How am I ever going to tell her—” he gestured toward the mackinaw— “this?”
Lamar put a hand on his shoulder. “The best way to deliver bad news, son, is to just say it right out. Mrs. Pike is gone.” He paused. “You want me to do it?”
Samuel shook his head. “No. But I wouldn’t mind you coming with me. You can deliver Captain Busch’s message.”
Lamar nodded. Together, the two men stepped into the boat. Together, they bore Hannah Pike’s body up the hill and around back of one of the clapboard buildings, where the hardware store owner had already commenced to building coffins for the three victims o
f the wreck of the Delores.
Two are better than one; because they have
a good reward for their labour.
ECCLESIASTES 4:9
“Well now,” Mrs. Tatum said, “don’t that just look fine, even if I do say so myself. Sets off your golden hair right nice.” She rummaged in a box. “I’ve got me a spool of thread right here. We’ll have it hemmed up in no time. Your young man will think you just went shopping at the dry goods store, even if I do say so.”
Fannie looked down at the rich tones in the plaid underskirt. Where had Mrs. Tatum found such a lovely ensemble in a place like this? And where had she gotten the idea that Samuel Beck was her young man?
“Guess you’re wondering about such finery in a place like this.” Mrs. Tatum knelt on the floor and began to pin the skirt up. “Fact is, Hiram and me are opening a store. Me being the best at cipherin’, I keep the books and I been hiding the ladies things from him for weeks now. Don’t want to hear him holler about it. But the way I figure, with the railroad and all, it won’t be long and all kinds of ladies will be walking these streets. Putting something fine like this here dress in the window will draw ’em inside.
“Hiram don’t like to admit it, but he knows I’m right. You get the ladies’ business and you got a good chance of making it.” She continued pinning. “That’s why I work my hands raw scrubbing floors and such in this here hotel. Keep it clean and the word gets out. The ladies will all want to stay here, and with the ladies come children and that means good business for the dining room, now, don’t it. We done sold several pans of my sweet rolls just today to folks comin’ off the train.”
Fannie looked down at her. “You do all that? Cleaning rooms, setting up for a new store, baking bread? Do you ever sleep?”
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” Mrs. Tatum chuckled. She gestured toward the box she’d carried in with her when she returned with the traveling suit. “I guessed about yer size. You can get yerself a pair of shoes outta that box. You don’t see what you like, I got a whole barrel in the storeroom next door.”
Fannie crossed the room and opened the box. She selected a pair, but then Mrs. Tatum shook her head. “No. That black won’t look good with the gold. I shoulda thought of that.” She tapped the black shoe in Fannie’s hand. “Try that on. If it fits, I’ll take it with me. Be back with brown in no time. Proper stockings, too. You can work on the hem while I’m gone.”
Fannie did as she was told, but after Mrs. Tatum left, she sat, needle in hand, not having any idea how to hem her own skirt. Hannah had always done the hemming. Fannie tried to remember back to the lessons she’d had as a child about French seams and fancy stitches, but she hated sewing and Mother hadn’t forced the issue. She poked the needle through the fabric, but instead of stitching she stabbed her finger hard enough to draw blood. She was blinking back frustrated tears when Mrs. Tatum returned with a pair of lovely brown high-buttoned shoes in hand. As she came in the door, she said, “Your young man and his friend are back. They asked to see you.”
Fannie swallowed the lump in her throat. If the news was good, Mrs. Tatum would be bustling about to help Hannah the way she’d helped Fannie. She put her hand to her still-snarled hair.
“Here now,” Mrs. Tatum said, and produced a hairbrush. “Let me help you get fixed up a bit more.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Fannie said, and suddenly nothing did. She really was alone now in the world. The dark clouds she’d left behind in St. Charles had found her again—and there was no one to help her escape them this time.
Mrs. Tatum cleared her throat. “You know what? How about I just let your friends come on in and we’ll see to the rest later.” She put her hand on Fannie’s shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze before crossing to the door. “I’ll be just outside, miss. You need anything, you holler.” She opened the door and spoke to the men waiting just outside. “She’s ready.”
No one was ever ready to hear news like that. Samuel and Lamar came into the room, hats in hands. Lamar crossed to her and knelt down on one knee. When she extended her hand, he took it between his calloused palms. “Captain Busch done said to tell you that whatever you need, he’ll see to it. Hotel … food … passage home … everything first class.” He squeezed her hand before letting go and standing back up.
Home. The word brought back the image of peeling paint and the seedling growing out of the sagging gutter. And a life-sized stone angel bending over two graves. Taking a deep breath, Fannie forced herself to stand. “Where is she? I need to … see her.”
Samuel’s deep voice soothed. “Word is there’ll be a service at the cemetery. Later today or tomorrow morning. We could ask about a church service if you want one.”
Fannie didn’t think she could face a preacher’s voice echoing in a mostly empty church. Tears welled up as she thought back to all the grousing Hannah did about what she called “putting on airs.” She cleared her throat. “Hannah was a simple woman. She’d want a simple burial.” She glanced at Samuel. “If you wouldn’t mind reading a few words from your Bible, though. I think Hannah would like that.” The tears she’d been trying to keep back spilled down her cheeks. “I’ll want a proper headstone. She was more of a mother to me than anyone. I won’t have her treated like she was no one.”
Samuel nodded. “I’ll be honored to read the service. Mrs. Pike was a good woman.”
Lamar spoke up. “That she was. Gave me some liniment for my knees. It worked real good, too.”
Hearing that Hannah had shared her precious liniment with Lamar wasn’t a surprise, but something about that little bit of news broke through Fannie’s resolve not to make a scene. Covering her face with her hands, she began to sob. Samuel pulled her into his arms.
He couldn’t think of a single man in all of creation who could watch a beautiful girl cry and not want to comfort her. Human kindness demanded it. On the other hand, a great deal more than human kindness was going on inside of Samuel while he held Miss Fannie Rousseau. The longer she lingered, the more aware he became of the feminine curves of her body against his. He closed his eyes. She could cry for a millennium as far as he was concerned.
Eventually, she laid her palm against his chest and pushed herself away, apologizing in a flustered way that verified what Samuel knew to be true. Mrs. Tatum’s arms would have served just as well for this moment. “There’s a packet boat leaving midmorning tomorrow,” he said. “The Isabella. She’ll wait for the early train to come into town in hopes of picking up a few passengers bound for St. Louis. We can reserve a cabin for you.” When Fannie didn’t answer, he said, “If you aren’t quite ready to decide, that’s all right.”
Lamar agreed. “There’s plenty of boats on the river. There’ll be another one tomorrow.”
Fannie’s hand traced the outline of the small lock on the leather envelope behind her on the table. “I just don’t know.” She curled the fingers of her free hand around her locket. “I’d like to see Hannah now, please.”
If Samuel’s heart hadn’t already been broken for Fannie, it would have broken when he and Lamar took her to see Hannah Pike’s body. He offered to wait outside, but she didn’t want to be alone. She asked both him and Lamar to stay. Samuel’s heart ached as tears flowed down Fannie’s cheeks and dripped off her jaw. Lamar’s tears flowed freely, too.
The undertaker arrived while they were there. He’d already taken his measurements, he said. The coffin was ready. He listed the services he’d performed in less than tactful terms and said that ten dollars would take care of things in full. “Payment before I plant,” he said, then stood back and folded his arms across his expansive belly, a complacent smile on his face.
Samuel wanted to knock him out of the room, but the man’s insensitivity seemed to help Fannie in an odd way. She stopped crying. Bent to kiss Mrs. Pike’s cheek and murmured good-bye. And then she asked for a pair of scissors. “A knife will do if scissors aren’t available,” she said.
With a confused frown, Samuel opene
d his pocket knife and handed it to her. He glanced at Lamar and then at the undertaker, who seemed no less concerned than Samuel when Fannie lifted the hem of Mrs. Pike’s apron. Frowning, she looked up at the undertaker. Smoothing the apron back in place, she moved to the foot of the table and lifted the hem of Mrs. Pike’s skirt. She handed Samuel’s knife back and spoke to the undertaker. “I believe you have something that is mine.”
He scowled. “I don’t know what—”
“Yes,” Fannie interrupted, “yes, you do.” She looked up at Samuel. “I thought Hannah was being ridiculous when she sewed all our money into the hems of her clothing, but the house was burglarized not long before we boarded the Delores, and she insisted we not trust our traveling money to locks and keys.” She glared at the man standing across the room.
The angle of the undertaker’s jaw went from stubborn to determined. “I don’t know anything about any money other than the reasonable fee I charge for my services.” Fannie repeated the request for her money, but this time her voice wobbled. The wobble weakened her position. The undertaker stood firm. “I am sorry for your loss, miss. If someone took your money—and of course it would be ungentlemanly for me to question such a lovely lady’s veracity—whoever took your money, did it before your friend’s body came to me.” He looked pointedly at Lamar.
One edge of the man’s mouth curled up in what Samuel could only see as a mocking smile. A dare. And Samuel just had to wipe that smile off the man’s face. He would do violence if necessary, but first he’d try another way. Putting his arm about Fannie’s shoulders, he pulled her close. “I don’t believe you’re hearing what the lady is saying, sir. There is evidence that our dear friend’s ‘safe,’ if you will, has been violated. Since the Missouri wields neither knife nor scissors, it’s obvious humans were involved. Now, sir, I am a man of peace, and I do prefer peaceful resolutions to conflicts. But where the lady and our dear friend are concerned, if peace isn’t possible—” He released Fannie then, held up one clenched fist, and headed across the room.
A Most Unsuitable Match Page 9