Love Inspired Historical November 2014

by Danica Favorite

  He sighed as he glanced around the room. The shadows appeared to be drawing closer. He’d thought he was only being practical to keep watch. Now his concerns about the future seemed to darken the room, and he felt as if a dozen gazes were following his every movement with malevolent intent.

  “I’m ready for you,” he said aloud and immediately felt foolish. The only answer was the slosh of the waves against the ship, the only smell the burning tallow from the candle in the lantern. He was completely alone.

  Somewhere behind him came a soft click.

  Clay whirled, staring into the darkness. Was that the sound of a door being opened? Was trouble even now closing in on his family?

  There was only one way to know for sure. He crept across the salon, eyes and ears on the alert. Putting his hand to the latch on Allegra’s door, he turned it just the slightest. It moved quickly, smoothly, as if someone else had just turned it as well. Heart stuttering, he eased open the door.

  Something fell with a clatter, and mud seemed to trickle into his ear. Even as he clapped one hand to his cheek, he heard Allegra cry, “Light the lamp!”

  The lantern flared to life, brightening the space. White tuffs of feathers floated in the air.

  “Is everyone all right?” Clay demanded, waving the fluffy cloud away from his face.

  Allegra and Maddie were staring at him. Allegra looked dismayed, her mouth open. Neither of them had changed for bed, and the deep pockets on the bunks told him they’d been sitting up, waiting for such a moment. Gillian peered down from the upper berth at him, frowning.

  “But Mother,” she protested, “that’s not Father Neptune. That’s my uncle.”

  “Father Neptune, eh?” Clay asked, but his cheek and jaw felt stiff. Reaching up, he felt feathers and something sticky.

  “Oh, Clay!” Allegra rushed forward. “I’m so sorry! We heard some might play pranks tonight, so we decided to protect ourselves.” She plucked a feather off his chin with trembling fingers.

  Clay stared at it. “Did you just tar and feather me?”

  Allegra blushed.

  Maddie shook her head. “Sure’n it’s just molasses and feathers from the pillows. It will wash right off.”

  Clay started to laugh, then choked it back as the congealing molasses pulled at his skin. “Serves me right, I suppose, entering a lady’s room unannounced. In my defense, I was just trying to make sure Father Neptune hadn’t played any tricks on you.”

  “I don’t like him,” Gillian said. “He sounds mean.”

  “You’d ban him from your ship, I know, Captain Howard,” Clay assured her. “But don’t you worry. Your mother can protect herself. She’ll make sure he doesn’t come anywhere near you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I better go peel this off before it gets any harder.”

  *

  Perhaps it was because he had admitted she could take care of herself. Perhaps it was because she’d been the one to devise the trap for Father Neptune that had snared Clay instead. Whatever the reason, Allie felt compelled to offer her help. She thought Clay might refuse, but he waved her ahead of him out into the lower salon.

  “Ms. Gillian and my own self will be right here,” Maddie promised, keeping the door open and narrowing her eyes as if she still expected someone to play some trick on them.

  Allie had been equally concerned Mr. Reynolds or one of the ship’s officers would think it a grand joke to tease Gillian or Maddie. She’d considered Mercer, as well, for the antipathy between them was growing, but she rather thought any man who hid in a coal bin to escape confrontation wasn’t likely to be brave enough to try a prank. Surely anyone tiptoeing about tonight would do nothing if they saw her and Clay standing in the salon.

  “Wait here,” she told Clay as he paused at the nearest end of the dining table. He settled himself with one hip against the wood as she went to the galley. Mindful of the cook sleeping at the back of it, she found a rag and wet it with the water that was always kept hot on the stove.

  Clay was watching her as she returned. Her plans had worked far better than she’d expected. One side of his face was obscured by a shining brown mass that would have made him look like a gingerbread man except that feathers stuck up at odd angles. She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.

  “Go ahead,” he said, though his usual deep voice came out strained as the molasses dripped off his lips. “The joke’s on me, I know. Someone might as well enjoy it.”

  She couldn’t help her smile as she held the heated cloth against his cheek. “I’m really very sorry. You must know this wasn’t meant for you.”

  As she removed the cloth, he reached up to run his fingers over the molasses. He found the upper edge below his eye and began to roll the mess down his face. His day’s growth of beard seemed to be coming with it; she could see specks of gold among the brown. The skin left behind was a shiny pink.

  “So sorry,” she repeated.

  Clay kept working at the molasses. “You were only protecting yourself and Gillian. I understand.”

  “Telling a lady she can take care of herself twice in one hour,” Allie marveled. “I shall have to be careful, Mr. Howard, or such praise will go to my head.”

  He grimaced, but she didn’t know if the look had been caused by her words or the pull of the makeshift tar. She went to wet the cloth again and brought it back for him.

  This time he took it from her hand and pressed it against his face himself. His gaze met hers over the material, his eyes in the dim lamplight were the color of the cool green waters. “You should be praised, Allegra, every hour of every day. You’re raising Gillian alone, helping others advance themselves, making sure your friends have the knowledge they need to survive in Seattle. You amaze me.”

  She thought her skin must be as pink as his. “Anyone can be amazing, Clay, if you give them a chance.”

  “Now, that I highly doubt.” His fingers, so strong, wiped away the last of the molasses. She plucked a stray feather off his chin. He caught her hand, held it tight.

  “What are you going to do when we reach Seattle, Allegra?” he murmured. “You’ve fought to get this far. You have to know it will only get harder from here.”

  She shook her head. “But it can’t, Clay. The hard part was making up my mind to do something, to go somewhere. Now I just have to keep moving, and everything will be all right.”

  “I envy your optimism.” His thumb caressed the back of her hand, raising goose bumps along her arm. “But I can’t help thinking you’re going from the frying pan into the fire. How do you expect to support Gillian?”

  Fear flared inside her like a wick brought to life. No! She would not give in. This is Your leading, Lord. Help me remember that.

  “I’ll find a way,” she told Clay. “I had hoped to open shop as a seamstress, but I can see now there won’t be enough work.”

  Some part of her hoped he would argue that point, but he nodded instead. She could feel her spine straightening.

  “There must be some need for an educated woman in Seattle,” she insisted. “Perhaps something you teach us will strike a chord. Or perhaps it will come to me when we get there.” She took the cloth from his other hand.

  He peered at her as if trying to gauge how she was going to react to his next words. “You’re starting to sound like me, going where the wind blows you. Most folks can’t handle that way of life.”

  “You did,” she pointed out. “You seem to have done well.”

  He eyed her as if she’d never thought to hear her admit his success. “I admire your determination, Allegra. But what if you’re wrong? What if the only choice left to you is to marry to keep you and Gillian from starving?”

  Frustration pushed her back from him, pulled her hand from his. “If you have to ask, you really don’t know me at all.” She started past him to return the cloth to the galley, and he caught her arm.

  “I won’t let you starve,” he promised. “If the worst happens, come to me. I’ll make sure you and Gillian
are cared for.”

  It was a noble gesture. She knew that. He was being the gentleman everyone had always hoped he’d be, the kind person Gillian had named him. She laid her free hand against his cheek and was surprised to find it as soft as the silk of her gowns.

  “Thank you for the offer,” she murmured. “I know it is sincere. But perhaps, Clay, it’s time I cared for myself.”

  He was silent a moment, but she could feel the tension in him. His broad shoulders strained against his coat; every plane of his face was tight and controlled. At last he drew in a deep breath and looked away.

  “You asked me to compromise my beliefs once and stay in Boston,” he said, deep voice as gentle as a caress. “I couldn’t do that. Now you’re asking me to compromise again, and I’m finding it just as hard.” His look speared back to hers. “I returned to Boston to protect you, Allegra. I jumped aboard this ship to protect you. Don’t ask me to stop.”

  She laid a hand on his arm. “But I must ask you, Clay. If you protect me from every mistake, how will I learn?”

  He took her hand, cradled it in both of his. The warmth of his touch made her own muscles feel as soft as the molasses. “And how can I stand by and watch you and Gillian get hurt?” he murmured. “I’d sooner cut off my own arm.”

  “I understand,” Allie told him. “I struggle to know when I should keep Gillian close and when I should let her try her wings. But that’s different. I’m her mother. It’s my duty and privilege to guide her steps. You aren’t my father, Clay. It’s not your responsibility to save me from myself. Frankly, it’s not your responsibility to save me at all.”

  Oh, but she was going to have a mutiny on her hands any moment. She could almost see the arguments mustering behind his eyes. It wasn’t in him to give up on something he believed. Perhaps that’s one of the things she admired most about him.

  But she wasn’t about to give up, either.

  She pulled away from him. “Let me offer you a compromise, though I know how much you hate the concept.”

  He cocked his head. “I’m listening.”

  That was more than she’d once thought possible. “Give me the opportunity to make my own mistakes,” she said, “to chart my own course, just as you did when you left Boston. And I promise, if I feel myself incapable of resolving a problem, I’ll come to you for advice.”

  She held out her hand. “Do we have a bargain, sir?”

  He hesitated a moment, then swallowed her hand in his grip. His fingers were as firm as her convictions. “We have a bargain, madam, though I have my doubts that either of us can keep it.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Who was this woman who called herself Allegra Howard? Clay had always found her beautiful, from her thick raven tresses to her sculptured figure. Now her determination seemed to light her from within like a candle in a lamp. The glow only served to draw him closer.

  And that would be a mistake for them both. She was journeying to Seattle to make a fresh start, to provide for her daughter. His life held no stability. Oh, Allegra claimed to be willing to improvise, but he thought that was optimism talking. They’d both been raised to expect a husband to be a steady, reliable force in the home. He’d long ago realized he could never be that man. The best he could do was comply with her wishes and give her room to try her wings.

  He even thought he was dealing fairly well with the idea, at first. He listened to her advice on what to teach, from medicinal uses of the local plants to the best clothing for wet, cold winters. He watched her shelve the books she had insisted Mercer allow the women to read and only carried the heaviest box from storage for her, even though she hadn’t asked. He didn’t intercede when she stood up against Mercer on an increasing number of topics.

  But when they reached Rio de Janeiro in the middle of February, he knew he’d have more trouble merely standing by.

  After more than three weeks aboard ship, Clay was itching to set his feet on land again. He wasn’t the only one. It seemed every woman on board was leaning over the bulwark to catch a glimpse of the red-clay roof tiles of the city. That was about all that could be seen from the harbor, for around them the masts of other ships, thick as a forest, reached for the sky. Clay knew that Captain Windsor had already sent messages to his fellow captains offering to exchange dinners and the like.

  “It appears we are not to be allowed ashore,” Allegra told him when he asked if she’d like to visit the city. She was sitting in her stateroom, Maddie curled up on the upper berth with one of their hard-won books, while Allegra sat on a bench plaiting a ribbon into Gillian’s golden curls.

  “We have to wait,” Gillian told him, lower lip trembling.

  “On whose orders?” Clay said, hearing his voice sound suspiciously like a grumble.

  Allegra’s mouth tightened. “Mr. Mercer’s and Captain Windsor’s. They’ve gone ashore to make sure the city is safe for us.”

  She sounded nearly as annoyed as he felt. Clay knew the orders would make for a long day. He could have taught a session of the Seattle School, but no one wanted to think about the territory when such an exotic city waited across the harbor.

  So they all clustered on the deck and took turns pointing out places of interest, from the rugged mountains that looked like a man’s face staring at the sky, to the deep green waters of the harbor. Tall palms lined the beaches and brightly plumed birds soared overhead.

  “Are we to be kept captive aboard this ship?” Allegra asked as she and Gillian stood beside him at the railing. “Unable to partake of all this glory?”

  Clay couldn’t help smiling at her. “I’ll talk to the captain. There must be a way to go ashore.”

  She shook her head. “It was merely a complaint born of boredom, Clay. I’m perfectly capable of speaking to Captain Windsor myself.”

  As it turned out, however, Captain Windsor and Mr. Mercer didn’t return until late, so it was the next morning before anyone could request a moment of the gentlemen’s time.

  Clay had dressed in his navy jacket, tucked his brown wool trousers into his boots and come down to breakfast in the lower salon when he saw Mercer step to the head of the table. Allegra in her blue-and-white gown looked up from where she’d been dividing an apricot-colored muskmelon for Gillian. At least some fruit had found its way aboard from the captain’s excursion.

  “My dear ladies,” Mercer said, raising his hands as if to issue a benediction, “may I have your attention?”

  The diners quieted as Clay made his way to stand behind Allegra and Gillian. Mercer smiled as if in appreciation that they had listened to him for once.

  “I fear I must be the bearer of ill tidings,” he confessed, hanging his head. “The city is besieged by cholera.”

  Gasps rang out, and Allegra covered the pieces of fruit with her hand before Gillian could take another bite.

  “Yes, yes,” Mercer said as if he agreed with their dismay. “And smallpox, as well. In epidemic proportions, I fear. The place is most unhealthful, ladies. I cannot advise you to brave the dangers.”

  Allegra was the first to speak up. “Advise us or allow us?” she asked.

  Mercer turned his smile her way. “Why, both, dear lady. It is my duty to protect you.”

  Clay nearly groaned aloud. Hadn’t Mercer learned his lesson by now? If Allegra had refused to allow Clay to protect her, with their family connections and shared past, she wasn’t likely to approve of the emigration agent taking that role. But to Clay’s surprise, murmurs ran through the group like thunder before a storm. Seemingly oblivious, Mercer excused himself and headed for the upper salon to make his report there, as well.

  Allegra lifted her hand to stare at the melon. “The nerve of the man. Are we to be his prisoners?”

  Clay ruffled Gillian’s silky hair. “If Captain Windsor agrees with him, I’m afraid we will be. What do you think, Captain Howard?”

  Gillian was frowning. “What’s coller-a?”

  Allegra wrapped her arms around her as if to protect her eve
n from the word. “A very nasty disease, Gillian. One none of us wishes to catch.”

  “And one very unlikely to bother a sweet little girl like you,” Reynolds said, strolling up to them. He nodded in greeting to Allegra as he thumped his walking stick down on the floor as if to make his point. “I wouldn’t let Mr. Mercer’s report stop you from visiting Rio, Mrs. Howard. In fact, I’d be delighted to escort you and your daughter.”

  Clay scowled at him. “And what if Mercer’s telling the truth for once? You could kill your entire party.”

  Allegra puffed out a breath as if she was thoroughly vexed, but at him or Mercer, he wasn’t sure.

  Reynolds took a moment to smooth his mustache down either side of his smile. “There were no reports of an epidemic before we sailed,” he pointed out. “And I see no quarantine signs on any of the other ships in port. Old man Mercer is merely trying to scare you.” He put a hand on Gillian’s head. “I say bring the girl ashore. Make it a party. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, my sweet?”

  Gillian ducked under his hand and scrambled off Allegra’s lap to wrap her arms around Clay’s leg. “I want to go with my uncle.”

  Reynolds frowned, but Clay loosened her grip and swung her up on his shoulder. “What, go ashore and abandon your ship, Captain Howard?” he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Captain Windsor went,” Gillian protested, wiggling to settle herself on her perch. “Please, Mother?”

  Clay could feel Allegra’s indecision in the tension across the shoulders of her blue gown, the compression of her lips. She had to be as tired of the small ship as he was. And it wasn’t as if they were likely to come this way again. Yet was she so determined to try her wings that she’d risk Gillian’s health and her own?

  “I’d be willing to go ashore if Captain Windsor thinks it advisable,” she said at last. “I trust his judgment. Would you ask him, Mr. Reynolds?”