“No, ma’am,” he said, his face brighter than a full moon. He darted out from her grasp.
Sophie chuckled and shook her head. As if she suddenly remembered Joseph, the smile faded from her face and her head turned toward him.
“I didn’t even catch his name,” she said.
“He probably has lice,” Joseph said. “You might want to take off those gloves you’re wearing and burn them.” When she opened her mouth, he quickly added, “That was a mighty nice thing to do.”
“He’s a little boy,” she shrugged, and averted her eyes.
Joseph stepped closer. He inhaled the intoxicating flowery scent in her hair, and reached for her elbow. Too many men still lingered from watching the spectacle. At least that was a good excuse for touching her. He led her up the deck, away from where most of the lower-class passengers milled about.
“What are you doing down here, Princess,” he asked quietly, facing her. He dropped his hand from her arm. Sophie raised her head. Uncertainty flashed in her eyes.
“I was hoping you’d have supper with me this evening, Mr. Walker. We’ve hardly spoken since this journey began, and—”
Joseph laughed. “I don’t think the rich folk want me to mingle with them any more than I do,” he said. “You’ll get enough of me once we get to St. Louis, probably more than you’d care for.” His look challenged her for a response.
“I’m sure we’ll get along fine, Mr. Walker,” she said. “I’m prepared to do what you advise.”
Joseph studied her. It didn’t appear as if she was mocking him. There was only sincerity in her eyes, and . . . He clenched his jaw, and forced his hand to remain at his side. The urge to touch her, to run his palm along her cheek was overpowering. He took a step back.
“Then I suggest you start by calling me Joseph,” he said, clearing his throat.
“All right . . . Joseph,” she said, and smiled warmly. He ran a hand through his hair, his forehead damp with perspiration.
“Careful, Princess, or that watchdog of yours is liable to slap a chastity belt on you for being too friendly.” Why the hell did you have to say something insulting? “Where is your chaperone, anyhow?”
Sophie gaped at him. A flash of anger shot from her eyes, but she remained composed. “Probably in our cabin. I told her I was going for a walk. I didn’t tell her—”
“Miss Sophia,” a shrill voice interrupted her. Joseph grinned. Apparently his time alone with her had come to an end. And he certainly hadn’t put his best foot forward.
From the front of the boat, Lucy marched toward them, a determined look on her face. In the next instance, a loud explosion boomed through the air, and the deck rocked violently.
Chapter Eight
The steamboat’s boilers exploded in a blast so loud it would rival the most violent clap of thunder. People screamed as bodies were hurled through the air. The acrid smell of smoke and fuel filled Joseph’s lungs. He grabbed Sophie around the waist, and whirled her around to face away from the horrid scene.
“Lucy,” she screamed, her eyes wide with horror. She strained against his hold, trying to look over her shoulder. Joseph pulled her tightly to him, holding her head against his chest. She didn’t need to see this.
Most of the upper deck had shattered, people screamed in terror, and lifeless bodies fell overboard. Passengers on the upper deck who’d been spared in the explosion jumped for their lives into the strong current of the river.
In the chaos, animals that had escaped death and their hold in the cargo area ran amuck on deck. His own horse and several others leapt into the water in a panic. The gelding was still fully saddled, and for a split second, Joseph cursed the crewman he’d paid to tend his animal. Then he quickly realized he wouldn’t have to search for his belongings in all the chaos. His horse would swim for dry land. Finding the gelding later was the least of his worries at the moment. Further up the deck, Lucy was lying facedown on the ground.
The boat rocked violently and the deck tilted, then lurched downward. Joseph braced his legs to maintain his balance. The strong current of the Ohio towed the craft along, even as it began to sink. There was only one way to escape certain death.
“We have to get off this boat,” Joseph shouted above the noise all around them. He gripped Sophie’s upper arms. The terror in her eyes wrenched his heart from his chest.
“Lucy,” she stammered. “We have to get Lucy.” She squirmed against his tight hold.
Staring into her horror-struck eyes, Joseph nodded against his better judgment. He held tight to Sophie’s hand, and pulled her along behind him. Together, they ran down the deck to where the maid had fallen to the ground, dodging people and debris.
“Lucy,” Sophie sobbed when they finally reached the woman’s body lying on the ground. Sophie dropped to her knees. Joseph knelt beside her, shielding her from panicked people all around them. Slowly, he turned Lucy onto her back. One side of the maid’s face was covered in blood and black soot, a deep gash below her hairline. Her large bosom moved up and down in rapid succession as she gasped for air. Her head turned slightly, and she smiled at her charge. Sophie threw herself at her maid, sobbing uncontrollably.
“We’re going to help you, Lucy,” Sophie cried. “Just hold on. Joseph will help you.”
Lucy lifted her arm, and she grasped Joseph’s hand. Her glazed eyes stared up at him. “Please. Take good care of her,” she rasped. At a loss for words, Joseph merely nodded. Her grip loosened, and her arm fell to her side. A soft smile froze on her face, while her lifeless eyes continued to stare up at him. The boat lurched again at that moment, and the wooden deck groaned ominously. Sophie’s hand shot out, and she grabbed his upper arm to steady herself, renewed fear and panic in her eyes. They couldn’t waste any more time. They had to get off this boat now if they were going to survive.
“We have to go,” he shouted, and pulled Sophie away from the body. Joseph hated to leave her beloved maid behind. Sophie cared for the woman deeply, but it made no sense to risk both their lives for a dead person.
“No,” Sophie shrieked, fighting his hold on her. “I won’t leave Lucy. Let me go.”
Joseph clenched his jaw and hardened his heart. Lucy’s dying words echoed in his mind. A week ago she had threatened him with bodily harm for looking at Sophie with interest. He was more determined than ever to honor Lucy’s request, and in order to fulfill her wish, he had to get Sophie off this boat.
Wrapping one arm tightly around her middle, he hauled her away from the lifeless body, and veered toward the side of the deck. Sophie’s arms flailed wildly and she strained against him with a strength that belied her slight size. Her fists connected with his arms and chest, but Joseph ignored her attempts to free herself from his grip.
“You have to save the nice lady,” a child’s voice hollered. Joseph’s head turned to see the young boy Sophie had helped earlier rush up to him. “Into the river,” the boy shouted, pointing to the shoreline some thirty feet away.
“That’s what we’re doing,” Joseph yelled back at the boy. “Can you swim?”
“Yessir,” the boy nodded, and ran for the edge of the deck. He hesitated, and glanced back. Joseph nodded in encouragement. The boy jumped into the water and disappeared from view. Adjusting his hold around Sophie’s waist, Joseph dragged and half-lifted her along. She continued to struggle against him.
“Let me go. Please, let me go,” she screeched, digging in her heels on the wooden deck. “We can’t leave Lucy behind.”
“Take a deep breath,” he yelled, ignoring her pleas. He didn’t stop when he reached the edge of the deck, and leapt overboard, his arm wrapped tightly around Sophie’s middle. Her shrill scream pierced his ear. The cold river water closed around him and over his head. Joseph kicked with his legs and free arm, pushing upward to the surface. His head broke through the water, and he sucked in a deep breath. He lifted Sophie above water, and she gulped for air.
“Kick with your legs,” he commanded in her ear. �
�I’ll keep you afloat, but you have to help.”
Sophie gasped, her arms paddling frantically like a dog’s. Joseph pulled his free arm through the water, the weight of the woman in his grip growing heavier by the second. Sophie’s skirts acted like anchors, dragging her down and hindering his efforts. She coughed and sputtered, and struggled with her arms. He renewed his hold on her, refusing to let go. Why the hell hadn’t he thought to pull all those petticoats off of her before jumping into the river?
“Can you swim?” he shouted without looking at her. If she didn’t help, she’d drown both of them.
“Yes,” she choked. “I’m trying. My skirts are too heavy.”
The strong current swept them along, and Joseph kicked his legs through the water to get them closer to shore. Debris from the destroyed steamboat rushed past, and every now and then, the head or arms of a lifeless body bobbed up and down in the water. Joseph hoped the young boy was strong enough to swim to shore.
A few more yards away from where he thought the water would be shallow enough to touch bottom, a heavy jagged object rammed into him, just above his left hip. Joseph inhaled sharply, and gritted his teeth. For a second, his vision blurred and faded to blackness. He blinked and pushed on despite the crippling pain. He lost his hold around Sophie, and she flailed her arms in an effort to keep her head above water. Her hands clung to his arm, and he redoubled his efforts. Pure determination and adrenaline drove him forward. His feet finally touched bottom, and he breathed easier. Stumbling onto the banks of the river, he hauled Sophie out of the water. She collapsed instantly, gasping for breath and sobbing.
“Come on, we’ve almost made it,” he said to encourage her. When she didn’t respond, he bent and scooped her into his arms. Water poured from her drenched skirts, and he strained to lift her up off the ground. Her clothes were so heavy with water, it was a miracle he hadn’t lost his hold on her in the river. She flung her arms around his neck, and grabbed on, her body shivering uncontrollably.
Joseph stumbled up the embankment, each step sending agonizing pain up his hip and down his leg. A safe distance away from the water, he sank to his knees, breathing hard. Water dripped down his face, and strands of his long hair fell over his eyes. He set Sophie down in the tall grass, bending over her. Her arms clung like a vice around his neck and shoulders.
“We’re safe now,” he breathed against her ear. His side burned like hell, but he ignored it. Sophie’s body continued to tremble and shudder, and he gathered her firmly against his chest, offering any warmth he had. He drew in a deep breath. While she shivered, his insides heated at holding her so close. Joseph cursed his reaction to her. This was a hell of a time to notice her as a woman. She sobbed into his soaked shirt.
“It’s all right, Princess. Everything’s gonna be all right.” He cradled the back of her head, and held her close.
“Lucy,” she mumbled. “Why? Why did this happen? This is all my fault.”
Joseph was willing to do anything at that moment to take away her pain. He didn’t know what to say, so he simply held her and let her cry. He stroked the back of her head, and brushed his lips against her forehead. How could he take away the horrible images of what she had just witnessed and experienced?
“Nothing is your fault, do you hear me,” he said forcefully. He held her face between his hands, and stared into her tear-filled eyes. With his thumbs, he swiped away the water that dripped down her cheeks.
“I asked her to come along,” she whispered. “If I hadn’t asked her to come with me, she would be alive right now.”
Joseph’s grip tightened. “I won’t let you blame yourself for this, Sophie. Steamboat boilers are dangerous. Explosions are all too common. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I should have insisted we travel by horseback like I first intended.”
She stared wide-eyed up into his face, the water from her drenched hair mixing with the tears flowing from her eyes. What could he possibly say or do to persuade her that Lucy’s death wasn’t her fault? A violent shiver passed through her, and Joseph wrapped his arms around her again to shield her from the chill in the air. He had to get a fire started, and somehow convince her to get out of her wet clothes.
Sophie raised her head away from his chest and gazed up at him. The moisture on her lips glistened in the sunlight. Joseph groaned silently. Before he realized her intent, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Her arms reached around his neck, and she leaned into him.
Heat raced through him like a wildfire out of control. He wouldn’t need a campfire to stay warm after all. He couldn’t control his reaction to her surprising move any more than he could stop his heart from beating. Joseph’s lips parted, and his hand reached behind her head, holding her to him. His other hand slid along her exposed neck, the contour of her jaw, and up to her cheek. His fingers caressed her soft skin. Sophie moaned quietly, driving his desires to greater heights.
Her innocence was evident in the way she allowed him to take command of the kiss. His lips slid along her soft mouth, slowly coaxing a response from her. Her heart beat fast against his chest.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a warning bell went off. What the hell was he doing? Sophie had just lived through a terrifying and tragic ordeal. She was merely seeking a way to cope with what she had witnessed and experienced, and he was taking advantage of her like some moose in rut.
Joseph pulled his head back, and pried her arms away from around his neck. He sucked in a deep gulp of air, and fought to keep his erratic breathing even. The stunned look in her eyes - fear mixed with wonder and . . . desire, was almost his undoing.
“Sophie, I . . . ah . . . we need to get a fire started, or we’ll freeze to death come sundown.” Joseph sputtered like a love struck juvenile. He inched away, needing to put some distance between himself and her. He stood, and turned quickly to hide his body’s reaction to her. A sharp pain jabbed his side, and he clutched his hand to his hip, his injury all but forgotten. Joseph raked his hand through his wet hair, and gnashed his teeth. How the hell was he going to survive the weeks ahead, and keep his thoughts and desires in check after that kiss?
Twigs snapped loudly to his right, and Joseph’s focus shifted immediately. He wheeled around, and pulled his knife from his belt, almost thankful for any kind of diversion at the moment.
Chapter Nine
A horse snorted, and in the next instant, the young boy from the boat emerged from the thick foliage that grew in abundance along the banks of the Ohio River. The little fellow reminded Joseph of a drenched muskrat. The wet rags he wore clung to his thin body, and water still dripped from his unkempt hair. Trampling through the brush right behind the boy was Joseph’s horse.
Joseph sheathed his knife and relaxed his stance. He shifted weight from his right foot onto his left, and grimaced. Damn! He kept forgetting about that nasty gash in his side. It was about time that he took a look at his injury. He glanced quickly over his shoulder. Sophie sat in a wet heap on the ground, shivering violently. Her lips had turned a shade of blue to match the dress she wore, and her eyes appeared sunken and hollow. He had to get a fire started, and her out of those wet clothes, or she’d freeze to death by morning.
“Well, ain’t this a surprise,” Joseph said cheerfully, forcing his attention back to the boy. Astonished that the child had survived the river, he was also grateful for the temporary diversion. “How did you manage to round up my horse?”
“He dragged me through the river,” the little boy beamed brightly. He handed the reins to Joseph, and patted the gelding on the shoulder. The little tyke just barely reached past the horse’s belly.
“Did you know this was my horse?”
“Yep. I seen you with him earlier.” The boy avoided eye contact and stared at the ground.
“Well I thank you for bringing him to me. I need to get a fire going, and then I was gonna try and find something to eat. I bet you’re mighty hungry.”
“Yessir,” the boy answered eagerly, and lifted
his head. His wide eyes were filled with hope. How long had this child not eaten?
“What’s your name?” Joseph asked conversationally while limping to his animal’s side. Thankfully, his rifle was still in its scabbard, although it would be useless for a while until it dried out. He pulled the gun from its sheath, water dripping everywhere. After inspecting the chamber, he set the rifle on the ground. He’d be practicing his knife and tomahawk throwing skills today if he hoped to catch anything to eat.
“My name’s Caleb, sir,” the young boy answered.
Joseph lifted the flap to his saddlebags, and pulled out a swath of oilskin. It was wet on the outside, but hopefully the shirt he had rolled up in it had remained somewhat dry. Untying his drenched blanket from the back of the saddle, he unrolled it and hung it over a low branch of one of the trees. Perhaps it would be dry enough later.
“You got a last name, Caleb?” Joseph glanced up from loosening the cinch on the saddle, and waited for the boy to answer. A look of apprehension passed through the child’s eyes.
“You mentioned you have folks in Louisville,” Joseph coaxed, pulling the saddle from his horse’s back and setting it on the ground.
The boy’s eyes darted to where Sophie sat quietly on the ground. She hadn’t said a word.
“Why’s she cryin’?” Caleb asked, nodding toward her, his little forehead wrinkling in concern.
Joseph peered over his shoulder again. The need to start a fire to warm Sophie was more pressing at the moment than finding out what the boy was obviously hiding. He grabbed the flint from his saddlebag. “She lost someone very close to her in that explosion,” he said, not taking his eyes off of her. Sophie slowly raised her head to him. Her expression remained stoic while her body continued to shiver. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Can you gather some wood for a fire, Caleb?”
“Yessir.” The boy scrambled off into the bushes.
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