Rebelliously Nadyha said, “Gage? That’s stupid! Why should he take care of this puny gaji?”
“Why do you care?” Simza shot back.
A swift look of unpleasant surprise came over Nadyha’s face, then quickly disappeared. “I don’t care,” she said in English, glancing at Cara. “I’ll go get him.”
To deepen her disgust, Nadyha saw that two prostitutes were flirting with Gage. They were both young, but in the unforgiving light of day they looked old and haggard. One had untidy mousy brown hair, one had untidy dark brown hair, and both of them wore cheap, flimsy, revealing clothes. As she neared them she heard the one with dark hair say, “Oh, but you know, sir, we don’t have the money to buy that shawl. You’re a big, strong, handsome man, and we could show you a real good time, and I think then you might give us the shawl. Maybe even two shawls.” She gave him her best seductive look.
“Sorry, ladies, they aren’t my shawls to—oh, hello, Nadyha. These ladies are interested in buying a shawl,” he said hastily.
“That’s not what I heard,” Nadyha said, glaring at the two women. “If you’re buying, then I’ll be glad to help you. But if you’re selling, go sell somewhere else.”
“La-di-da,” Brown Hair said mockingly. “Insults from a Gypsy? Get over yourself, lovey. C’mon, Jenny, we can come back and visit with Gage later.” She linked arms with the other girl and they sashayed off, looking back over their shoulders at Nadyha and making faces.
Nadyha stared up at Gage accusingly.
“I was just trying to sell them a shawl! But I’m not too good at selling ladies’ shawls, there was a lady—I mean, a real lady—awhile ago, but she got offended when I spoke to her and went off in a huff. I’m lucky she didn’t slap my face for my impudence.”
“You’re lucky I don’t slap your face,” Nadyha retorted, rather unreasonably, Gage thought. “Baba Simza says for you to go bring her back out, and then you sit with the gaji.”
“Huh? Me? Why can’t she take care of her?”
Nadyha stuck her clenched fists on her hips, a warning sign that Gage was beginning to know all too well. “If you pick up a stray dog in the street,” she said with ominous slowness, “and take him home, then you’re responsible for him. Her, in this case. The only thing I wish is that next time you take the stray to your home instead of mine.” She turned her back on him and went to a lady beginning to show interest in the herbal remedies.
“Ouch,” Gage mumbled as he went into the vardo. The girl looked at him with huge alarmed eyes, periwinkle-blue, he now saw. Quickly he snatched off his hat. “Ma’am,” he said. “I hope you’re feeling better.”
“Yes—yes, thank you,” she said, but it was in a low, shaky whisper.
Baba Simza held up her arms for him to pick her up, and as they were leaving the wagon she said in a low voice, “Now you listen to me, Gage. That girl is really in a bad way. Don’t you pay one bit of attention to what Nadyha tells you to do about her. You sit with her, you fan her, you keep a cool cloth on her forehead, get her to take some tea and broth and then later we’ll fix her some solid food. Let her rest.”
Gage set her down in her chair. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And she can stay. As long as she wants, if she wants,” Baba Simza said firmly.
“She can? But—I wasn’t thinking—I didn’t expect—”
“I know. You just mind me, gajo. And I’ll mind that one,” she said, jutting her chin at Nadyha’s back, which still looked stiff with resentment.
“I got the easy job,” Gage murmured. “All right, but if she even starts to look funny I’m coming back out here to get you.”
He went back to Cara and sat by her bed. “I know this is awkward, ma’am. But see, I—uh—I have to do what Baba Simza says. That’s the old lady, the Gypsy lady. I’ll be quiet, and respect your—you. But someone does need to sit with you for awhile, and it looks like it’s going to have to be me.”
“No—but sir, I—that’s not really necessary, I’m feeling better already—” She struggled to get up, and Gage just sat and watched her. Cara collapsed back on the bed. “Maybe—maybe in a few minutes,” she murmured.
Gage held her head as she finished the tea, then drank some weak broth. The effort seemed to exhaust her and her eyelids fluttered, then closed. Gage kept dipping the cloth on her forehead in cool water, and fanning her with one of the Gypsies’ palmetto fans. It seemed she dozed for awhile, and then she woke up again, startled.
“It’s all right, ma’am, you just go right ahead and sleep if you can,” Gage said kindly.
She regarded him, now much more alert and aware. “Aren’t you going to ask me any questions?”
“Not until you’re feeling better.”
“I’m feeling better. Go—go ahead,” she said faintly.
Thoughtfully Gage said, “Really, I just kinda wish you’d just talk to me, instead of me interrogating you. You know, no one here wishes you any harm. We just want to help you, that’s all.”
“Not everyone,” Cara said, looking down and picking at her threadbare shirt.
“Aw, you mean Nadyha. Don’t pay any attention to her, she doesn’t like anyone. I’ve been hanging around with these Gypsies for awhile now, and she hasn’t been able to run me off yet. Baba Simza won’t let her.”
“Baba Simza, that’s the old lady. She’s nice.” Cara grew quiet, then sighed deeply. “I guess I owe you an explanation.” She went on to tell Gage all about everything that had happened to her, including the theft of her wallet. “So when I got here, I was just looking around, really trying to find a drink of water. And I saw the Gypsies, and the bear, and the grapes . . .” her voice faltered and then trailed off into silence.
Gage was silent for a long time. This girl was in a heap of trouble, no doubt about it; no wonder she dressed up like a boy and fled to a big anonymous city. After the war, it had seemed that the Union was going to be fairly lenient on both the Southern combatants and noncombatants—until President Lincoln had been assassinated. That had changed the victors’ tone and attitude. If the Union captain was dead, then they might very well hang even a young innocent girl. A thought occurred to him, and he asked Cara, “You said this captain is at Fort Butler in Donaldsonville?”
“Yes, that’s where I’m from.”
“You know his name?”
“Captain Joseph Nettles.”
Gage nodded. “I have a friend who might be able to look into this, see if Nettles really is dead, and what they’re thinking about it. I mean, maybe they think he just fell. It happens.”
“Maybe,” Cara said, unconvinced.
Gage said, “There is one thing I would like to ask you, ma’am.”
“Of course.”
“What’s your name?”
She smiled a little. “I didn’t tell you my name. How odd. It’s Cara Cogbill.”
Gage took her limp hand and bent over it. “My name is Gage Kennon, Miss Cogbill, and it’s a very great pleasure to meet you.” He rose and said, “I think you can sleep some more now. I’ll be sitting out on the steps there, so if you need anything just call. In awhile we’ll bring you something to eat. And don’t worry, Miss Cogbill, for now just forget everything and rest.”
THAT NIGHT AFTER NADYHA and Anca had performed, Denny told Uncle Zeke, “I’m going to talk to them right now. If I try to talk to them in the morning Nadyha will be really mad at me for interrupting their sales.”
“Take them on the Queen,” Wainwright urged. “Show it off to them. Talk about a good sale! I’m going back to the hotel. But you’ll come back and tell me how it goes, won’t you, Denny?”
“You bet. I’ve got no desire to camp out any more,” Denny replied. “Go ahead and take the carriage, if I have to I’ll borrow Cayenne again.”
Wainwright left, and Denny stood at the edge of the crowd for awhile, for they were still clapping and urging more dancing, more singing, more Anca and Boldo, more Nadyha. Good-naturedly Nadyha waved them away, calling, “It’
s time for our supper. Anca is hungry. I don’t think you want to be too close when Anca is hungry!”
Laughing and grumbling, the crowd dispersed slowly. Two wide, shallow baskets were sitting by the two front braziers, and people tossed coins and even some bills in them. Unobtrusively Denny went forward, half-hidden behind a large chubby man, and tossed two ten-dollar bills in a basket. Then he melted back to wait until everyone left.
Finally he stood alone, watching Gage and the Gypsies. Niçu and Gage started setting out chairs, Mirella was preparing bowls of stew and plates with bread and butter and cheese. Nadyha sat next to Baba Simza, talking urgently in her ear. Denny came into the camp and everyone greeted him. “Will you eat with us, Dennis?” Mirella asked. “Please, we have plenty.”
“Thank you, ma’am, but I’ve already had supper. But I’d like to talk to you while you’re eating, if you’ll pardon me being so rude.” He sat down, they were now all seated in a loose semicircle around the campfire brazier.
“I liked your poem,” Nadyha said.
“So did the crowd,” Denny said. “Thank you so much, Nadyha, for using it in your performance tonight. And that’s exactly what I want to talk to you about—the great shows that you all put on every night. I’d like to offer you all a job. And I mean you too, Gage.”
The Gypsies exchanged puzzled glances. Denny went on, “First I gotta explain—uh—about me, and my uncle and father and our business. My family’s business is called Wainwright Investments, Limited. It’s a partnership that owns some businesses outright, and invests in others to share in the profits. Mostly we own textile mills, and we invest in cotton and machinery and iron and—uh—some other things I can’t remember right now. Anyway, one growing concern that we do own outright is a steamboat. My family’s company owns the Queen of Bohemia.”
“You’re joshin’,” Gage blurted out.
Nadyha’s eyes glinted in the firelight. “You own that riverboat? That great, huge, grand riverboat?”
“Aw, I own a little piece of it,” Denny said dismissively. “My father owns forty-eight percent of the company, my uncle owns forty-eight percent of the company, and I own four percent. So I guess you could say I own maybe one stateroom. See, my father and my uncle are about as much alike as Boldo and Anca. They’re both good businessmen, but they have very different ideas about things, and all of their lives they’ve fought over business decisions. Now, my grandfather was one hundred percent owner of the business—he’s the one that made it grow from owning one textile mill to a profitable national company. And my uncle and my father used to drive him crazy, arguing about stuff.” Denny grinned his boyish smile. “My grandfather liked me a lot, but I was only sixteen when he died, he wasn’t about to give me a big chunk of the business, and I don’t blame him a bit. But he did make sure that I got a big enough piece to have yea or nay say over decisions. And I’m really glad that he did, because never on this earth would my father have bought a riverboat if Uncle Zeke and I hadn’t had fifty-two percent of the company,” he said vehemently. “Anyway, so here we are, with the Queen of Bohemia. I’ve tried and tried to figure out how to explain to you all—but I’d really rather show you. Would you please come with me and I’ll give you a tour? Then you’ll see exactly what I’m offering.”
Nadyha jumped up. “A tour? We can go see the big boat?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Denny answered. “All of you, because as I’ve said, what I’ve got in mind is a job, and I mean a pretty good-paying job, on the Queen of Bohemia.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Without any discussion whatsoever, the Gypsies jumped up and started packing away their goods and tables. Denny went to talk to Gage, who was helping Niçu store his tinware into crates. But as Denny neared Niçu’s and Mirella’s vardo he saw a shadowy figure sitting on the steps; the light from the nearest brazier barely made the figure discernible. Curiously, Denny went nearer to the wagon, then stopped abruptly, his face a picture of astonishment. Gage hurried to him and said, “Uh, yeah, Denny, there’s something I need to talk to you about. That is, I need to ask you—”
Denny demanded, “Who’s that girl? And why’s she dressed like that?”
“Yeah, that’s—she—it’s kind of a long story,” Gage said. “I’ll explain, but I did want to ask you a favor. Is there any way you could find out the status of a bluebelly captain at Fort Butler in Donaldsonville?”
“Yeah. But who’s that girl? And why is she dressed like a dirty little boy?”
Despairingly Gage said, “I’ll introduce you, Denny, but try not to stare like that, you look like a goggling goldfish. And don’t say anything about her clothes. And don’t ask her a bunch of fool questions.”
“But—”
Gage took his arm and hauled him to stand in front of Cara. “Miss Cara Cogbill, I have the pleasure of introducing you to my friend, Captain Dennis Wainwright. Captain Wainwright, it’s my honor to make known to you Miss Cara Cogbill,” Gage said formally.
Denny snatched off his top hat and bowed. “Miss Cogbill, it’s a great honor to make your acquaintance. Er—uh—”
Cara finally looked up at him, for she had still been hiding beneath her hat. “Captain Wainwright, it’s a pleasure to meet you. May I ask if you are a captain in the—” she swallowed hard—“in the Union Army?”
“Not now,” he answered, staring at her, still goggling. “I was mustered out of service about a month ago. Uh—I—that is—uh—”
“Denny, close your mouth,” Gage said tightly. “Miss Cogbill, please excuse my friend, he’s kinda excitable, if you know what I mean. Anyway, he’s invited us to go tour his riverboat, the Queen of Bohemia. That’s why we’re all rushing around stowing stuff.”
“Yes, I heard,” Cara said lightly. “I’m ashamed to admit I was eagerly eavesdropping. I don’t know the Queen of Bohemia, Captain Wainwright, but she sounds wonderful.”
“But—why—” At this point Gage elbowed Denny sharply in the ribs. Denny mumbled, “Unh—ow. Oh. Um—Miss Cogbill, may I extend the invitation to you? It would be an honor if you would accompany us.”
Her eyes widened, and not only did she look very young, but she looked like a very young pretty girl. “It would? You—you wouldn’t mind? I mean, I—I’m not—you see, my clothes aren’t—”
Denny had recovered, and he grinned widely at her. “Miss Cogbill, the captain of the Queen of Bohemia is a gentleman, formerly a rear admiral of the Navy, named Edward T. Humphries, and he is just as stuffy as his name sounds. It’s going to be so much fun to see his face when I bring Nadyha, Niçu, Mirella, Baba Simza—with Gage carrying her, of course—and you on board. Please, you must allow me this pleasure.”
“Far be it from me to deny you,” Cara said with a mischievous air that surprised Gage.
“Good! Then it’s settled,” Denny said happily. “Hmm . . . I wonder . . . can we bring Boldo?”
ALTHOUGH IT WAS AFTER ten o’clock at night, there was the usual hurly-burly on the New Orleans docks. The waterfront of New Orleans was lively pretty much twenty-four hours a day, every day of the year. Denny led them straight to the Queen of Bohemia. Stopping at the eight-foot-wide gangplank, he gestured expansively. “The grand entrance is just down there, at the center of the boat. But I want to show you the cargo area and third class first, so we have to board here.” He went to the bow, where two great double doors stood open. They all trooped after him: Gage, carrying Baba Simza, Nadyha, Niçu, and Mirella, all talking excitedly, with Cara trailing behind them. Denny had decided that it wouldn’t be necessary—this time—to bring Boldo.
They gathered in a big empty space, with a wooden deck and only four windows on each side. At the far end were two more big double doors. “This is the cargo area,” Denny told them. “This boat is really a passenger steamer, but it does carry cargo sometimes and there’s a particular reason, which I’ll explain later, that I wanted you to see it,” he said, glancing at Nadyha. “Down there are the crew quarters, then the boiler room and e
ngine room. Now, let’s go on up to the Promenade Deck, which is actually for third-class passengers.”
“Can’t we see the boiler room and engine room?” Gage asked with interest.
“No!” Denny, Simza, and Nadyha all said in unison. Denny said, “It’s dirty in there, and besides, right now there’s no engineers or firemen on board to explain all that stuff to you. You can prowl around in there all you want later, Gage. So let’s go on back outside to the stairs.”
Two staircases, at the bow and the stern, led up to the second deck. They went up the bow stairs. A wide balcony had two entrance doors into the staterooms. Denny went into a wide, very long hallway lined with doors on both sides. “Now see, on this deck and in second class there are interior staterooms, that means that they don’t have windows out onto the promenade. They’re cheaper, of course, but we’ve furnished them just as nicely as the exterior rooms.” Going to the first door on his left, he opened the door and Gage was surprised to see that it slid sideways into the wall. Denny went on, “All of the doors slide. It makes for much more room in the staterooms, see? And of course you can still lock them.”
“Put me down,” Baba Simza said. Obediently Gage set her on her feet. Niçu was carrying her cane, and she could get around very well with it, though she was slow.
They all trooped into the room and looked around. Gage asked, “You said this is third class?”
“Yeah. Third class interior,” Denny said, his eyes sparkling. “These are the crummiest rooms the Queen of Bohemia offers.”
The room was fully as large as a middle-class family’s parlor. The walls were painted a pleasing soft cream color, the floors of highly polished red oak. On each wall was a gas lamp with brass fittings. Two wrought-iron beds painted white with brass accents were against one wall, with a small chest between them that held a cut glass water carafe and two glasses. In one corner was a round table with two chairs, and in the other corner was a washstand with a mirror mounted on it and a porcelain pitcher and washbowl. All of the furniture was made of cherry. The mattresses and pillows were thick, and the coverlets were red-and-gold striped damask. Above the beds were two oil paintings, Mississippi River scenes. “All of the beds on the Queen of Bohemia were ordered from France, and all of the furniture on the boat was special-ordered from Jarrod Brothers in Boston,” Denny told them. “Of course, all of the draperies and upholstery and linens came from Wainwright Dry Goods, Limited.”
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