Diane T. Ashley

by Jasmine

  She wasn’t ready to share that side of Vance with David. He was already too suspicious of the man. She turned her attention to the part of the room where she’d last seen the scarf she wanted, her cheeks heating as she caught sight of a pair of Tabitha’s lacy pantaloons. “You really shouldn’t be in here.”

  “I’ve seen lady’s undergarments before.” David’s grin widened.

  Grabbing up the brightly colored material she’d come for, Jasmine tucked it into her pocket. “We need to leave.”

  David’s smile disappeared. He raised both hands this time, a mock surrender.

  With a huff, she opened the door. “Come on.” Stepping into the hallway, she waited for him to close the door.

  “What are you two doing down here?” Vance’s accusing voice startled Jasmine.

  She whirled to face him, wishing she’d looked to make sure they were alone before leaving Tabitha’s room. “I … I …”

  “Miss Barlow’s hinges weren’t working properly. She complained that they squeaked like a herd of pigs whenever she opened or closed her door. Jasmine brought me down to see what I could do about them.”

  “Where are your tools?” Vance’s suspicious gaze looked like it might bore a hole into David’s head.

  Reaching into his pocket, David produced an oil can, a wrench, and a hammer. “Any other questions, Mr. Hargrove?”

  Jasmine breathed a sigh of relief. David was prepared as always. She glanced up at him. “Thanks.”

  He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Anything for you, Sis.” Whistling a merry tune, he walked away.

  After putting her hand to the cheek he’d kissed, Jasmine shot a glance at Hargrove. “Excuse me, I have to get back to Clem.”

  By the time she’d negotiated the separate hallways, her heart had slowed its furious pace. She slipped through the door to the costume room and pulled out the scarf. “Will this do?”

  Clem studied the material and pursed her lips. “I think so. What did Tabitha say about donating something for Angelica?”

  “She doesn’t know.”

  Clem reached for the scarf. “What do you mean?”

  “She wasn’t there.” Surrendering the cloth, Jasmine giggled. “I helped myself.”

  “Are you saying you stole something from our star?” Clem’s smile teased her. “I knew you weren’t as sweet as you pretend to be.”

  “She did offer it to me.” Jasmine resumed her seat. “All I did was wait a day or two before accepting her gift.”

  “As soon as I finish this, we’ll talk about your costume. I have some ideas I want to try.” Clem stitched as she talked, her fingers seeming to fly. “How daring are you feeling?”

  Excitement curled in Jasmine’s stomach. The Fourth of July pageant might be her ticket to stardom. She would do almost anything to ensure her success.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  The blue waters of the Ohio River mingled with the chocolate waters of the Mississippi at the town of Cairo, ensuring its importance both during and after the war. Fort Defiance still guarded the port, and plans had begun to build a customs house because of the volume of goods passing through the area.

  Jasmine wrinkled her nose as she picked her way across the mushy ground between the ship landing and the open area where the Fourth of July celebration would be held. On one side of the field, a group of men worked with saws and hammers, building a raised platform for the stage. As she drew near, they stopped their work, one by one, elbowing each other and grinning.

  One would think they had never seen a lady before. Cairo might be little more than a swamp, but it was not the very end of the earth. She lifted her chin and turned her back on them. Where was everyone? Mr. Easley had said they would begin rehearsals precisely at 10:00 a.m.

  The buildings of the town were huddled against the clearer waters of the Ohio. She put her hand above her eyes and looked in that direction to see if she could spy any of the others. Had they gone to the fort instead of meeting here? Had she misunderstood the directions?

  After several moments, she saw Clem walking in her direction and waved a greeting. At least the two of them could talk while they waited for the rest of the actors to appear.

  The clanging and banging of the workers began again as Clem reached her. “What is all of that clatter?”

  “Progress.” Jasmine had to shout over the noise. “Shall we try to find a quieter spot?”

  They strolled in the opposite direction of the workers until the sound diminished a bit.

  Clem scuffed at the dirt with the toe of her slipper. “Have you been here before?”

  “Yes, although we didn’t land here often. My brother-in-law has family and several friends in Cape Girardeau, so that’s where we usually stop.” Jasmine looked back toward the tree-lined bank that hid the Mississippi from their view. “What about you?”

  “Yes, many times. Did you know three states come together here?”

  Jasmine pointed to the Ohio River’s blue water, busy with small flatboats ferrying goods from the riverboats and railroad to destinations on its far side. “Kentucky. And the mud beneath our feet is in the state of Illinois.”

  Clem nodded. “The Mississippi River separates Illinois from Missouri. The first time we stopped here, I didn’t believe the person who told me.”

  Trust Clem to find something romantic about Cairo. “Even if ten states met in this same space, Cairo is still so flood-prone that it’s little more than a mud hole at times.”

  “True.” Clem laughed. “I like to think that one day it will be a beautiful town with wide streets and stunning vistas.”

  “I don’t know how you do it, Clem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You always look for the best in life.” Jasmine linked arms with her friend, and they walked along in silence for a moment.

  “Has anyone seen your costume yet?”

  Jasmine looked down toward her knees. Her dark brown skirt was narrower than what she was used to, but that was not its most noticeable feature. It was short, ending right below her knees. Below its hem her limbs were encased in brown leggings. The outfit was daring, making her feel bold, brave, and intrepid. “I don’t know yet, but I think I was the topic of conversation over by the stage.”

  Both of them giggled.

  “Not everyone could carry it off.” Clem stepped back and looked at her.

  Jasmine held out her hands and turned around to model her dashing clothing. “What do you think?”

  “You’ll turn every head in the town. The women may hate you, but the men will flock to see you from all over.”

  “Do you really think so?” Jasmine turned back in the other direction.

  “I guarantee it.”

  They reached a lane of sorts and turned to follow it. Jasmine looked over her shoulder and realized the workmen had stopped their labor once more. “If they take this many breaks, we won’t have a stage to perform on until August.”

  Clem didn’t look back. Her gaze focused on a man walking toward them. “Here comes David.”

  Jasmine smoothed the skirt of her gown. What would he think?

  She didn’t have long to wonder as he pointed at her knees. “What on earth are you wearing, Jasmine?”

  “It’s my Princess Pocahontas outfit.” She twirled once more. “Do you like it?” When she stopped moving, she looked to gauge his reaction.

  If a thundercloud had landed on his brow, it could not be any darker. “I don’t know why I expect you to behave with any decorum. If Lily could see you right now, she would be ashamed.”

  His words tore at her like the bite of a rabid animal, but she raised her chin and glared back at him. “You obviously need to build a house and raise a family in Cairo. We all know what it’s like here when it floods. What better location for someone who is a stick in the mud.”

  David’s jaw tightened. “Get back to the Ophelia and put on something less shocking, or I’m going to put you over my shoulder and throw you on the next boat
to Natchez.”

  “I’m tired of your threats, David Foster. You’re not going to intimidate me any longer.”

  Clem’s eyes widened. “But I thought you were Jasmine’s brother.”

  Jasmine bit her lip. She should not have let her anger loose. Now she’d ruined everything.

  “I am.” David took off his coat and wrapped it around Jasmine. “My full name is David Foster Anderson.”

  Jasmine was grateful he had managed to cover her gaffe, but it still didn’t excuse her stupidity.

  “Oh, I see. I misunderstood.” Clem’s wrinkled brow smoothed out. “I have an idea that may resolve your problem with your sister’s outfit.”

  His hands squeezed Jasmine’s shoulders, a warning to keep silent. “What is that?”

  She leaned forward and turned up the edge of Jasmine’s skirt. “I made a wide hem because I wasn’t certain how short the dress should be. I can let it out and add a layer of lace to the bottom of her leggings so they look more like a flounce than … well, you understand.”

  “But I—” Another squeeze stopped her protest. Jasmine fumed but acquiesced … for the moment.

  “Don’t you realize you’re asking for the wrong kind of attention from men? Is that the kind of reputation you want? Can’t you understand yet there’s a reason for rules? A reason to guard your reputation? I know you don’t want to shame our whole family with your actions, so I have to wonder if the reason you do these kinds of things is a lack of confidence in your acting ability. Do you think you have to stoop to sensationalism to draw attention?”

  Shame and anger mingled in her blood. Was David right? Had she gone from daring to scandalous? Or was he being too old-fashioned?

  “Let out the hem.” David’s hands relaxed, kneading the taut muscles of her shoulders. “We’ll see if the change will allow her sufficient modesty.”

  David pulled her up close to his body, shielding her from the glances of the workers as the three of them started back toward the showboat. Clem chattered nonstop about the weather, the town, and the patriotic celebration in an attempt to fill the silence.

  Jasmine thought back to the day Tabitha had first offered to help her. She’d mentioned being snubbed. Was that what David was trying to protect her from? Should she care? Jasmine had her morals, her boundaries. For all he knew, the ill will of others might spring from jealousy rather than moral indignation. It might be part of the payment for the notoriety she craved.

  They crossed the gangplank, and David removed his coat. “Don’t forget to show me the outfit first.”

  Jasmine rolled her eyes. She would not let him see how ambivalent she felt. Reaching their bedroom, she unbuttoned the shirtwaist and jerked it off.

  “I’m sorry.” Clem sat on the edge of her bed.

  “It’s not your fault.” Jasmine summoned a smile for her friend. “I wanted to wear it.”

  “It would be acceptable on the stage in a big city, but David may be right in thinking that the people here won’t be as progressive in their attitudes.”

  Jasmine snorted. David didn’t know everything. He wasn’t an arbiter of decorum or fashion.

  “He only has your best interests at heart.” Clem’s face shone with admiration. “I wish he were my brother. I would love feeling so cherished.”

  “You can have him with my blessing. “What Clem didn’t understand, what she couldn’t explain to her, was that the man posing as her brother had only one goal—to ruin her life. And he was doing a fair job of it.

  Jasmine pulled on her most conservative dress. His condemnation had stung. She would show David Foster—Anderson—that she would do as she pleased.

  Jasmine still refused to speak to him by the end of the week. At least her anger ensured she wouldn’t try to help him with his investigation. Not that he’d intended to make her angry, but that girl knew how to push every boundary to its utmost extent. He refused to stand aside and watch her self-destruct, and if her enmity was the price, he considered it worth the cost.

  This morning he had finally gained entrance to Angelica Fenwick’s bedroom, the last on his list. He glanced around the crowded room. Were all actresses clotheshorses? Although David could understand that they might need a few extra items to supplement the costumes they wore, he was amazed at the number of outfits both Miss Fenwick and Miss Barlow carried around with them.

  Even Camellia wasn’t this bad. At least he didn’t think she was. Of course, Jonah had once claimed that his wife had enough outfits to avoid repeating any particular one for a year. At the time David had thought the man was exaggerating. Now he was less certain.

  He picked up an armful of crinolines to search the bottom of one of her trunks, his eyes widening to find a child’s doll dressed in a pink gown and matching bonnet hidden under the actress’s undergarments. He would never have thought Miss Fenwick the nostalgic type, but the proof was before him. The doll must be a treasured reminder of her childhood.

  Replacing the contents, he moved to the dressing table in one corner of the room. The drawers were filled with brushes, perfumes, and bottles of rouge. Nothing to indicate that Miss Fenwick was guilty. Not that he’d really thought she would be. He couldn’t imagine a female working with a gang of hardened thieves and murderers. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be involved in some way—as a go-between or accomplice of some sort. As hard as it was to invade a woman’s privacy, he had to be thorough.

  Mentally reviewing the list of suspects one more time, David slipped out of the actress’s room. He was beginning to agree with Jasmine’s assertions that no one on board was connected to the robberies. What was he missing? The Ophelia had to be the clue Charlie Petrie had tried to tell him about with his dying breath. David shook his head. It didn’t make sense.

  Everyone on board both the Ophelia and its tugboat was talking about the big race that would begin the Fourth of July festivities tomorrow morning. Some of the tugboat crew even wanted Captain Ross to enter the race. David was glad the man had refused. His intuition told him that if the robbers were nearby, they would use the distraction of the celebration to their advantage. He planned to set up watch outside the bank and catch them red-handed. Once he had arrested the culprits, he would wire the home office that he was taking some time off and redouble his efforts to get Jasmine away from this band of gypsy actors.

  The sound of a distant bell brought his head up. It was time for church. Clem had asked him last night if he planned to attend, but if he didn’t hurry, he was going to be late. He squinted in the bright sunlight as he reached the outside deck, surprise and pleasure filling him at the sight of both Clem and Jasmine apparently awaiting his escort.

  “See, I told you he was coming.” Clem pointed her finger at Jasmine. “You owe me a forfeit.”

  Holding out an elbow for each of them, he grinned. “No one’s ever placed a bet on me before.”

  “Don’t act so conceited. “Jasmine ignored his arm, stepping onto the gangplank. “Clem wouldn’t leave until you appeared, even though I told her you’d make all of us late.”

  “I suppose we’d better hurry then.”

  Clinging to his arm for support, Clem managed to keep up with his long strides. Rebellious Jasmine was having more trouble. He could hear her huffing and puffing, but he refused to be manipulated by the sound. She had refused his offer of support, so unless she asked for help, she could make her own way.

  “Will you take part in the pageant?” Clem sounded breathless, so David slowed his pace a little.

  “I doubt it. I’m not interested in racing. I’ll probably just wander around town and visit the booths.” He had no intention of letting Clem or anyone else know his real plans.

  Disappointment made her smile droop. “I see.”

  Jasmine caught up with them as David and Clem reached the dirt lane on the edge of town. The deserted streets didn’t surprise him. Shopkeepers were either attending church or sleeping late on their one day off. Even the ferries would not run until after mi
dday in observance of the Lord’s Day.

  As they reached the street the church faced, a movement at the end of a nearby alley made David turn his head. He only caught a glimpse but thought he recognized the dark hair and tall frame of Rafe Griffin. Expecting to see the man as they turned the corner, he immediately grew suspicious when no one appeared. Why was Rafe skulking about?

  The question continued bothering him as they entered the one-room church. The center aisle was flanked on both sides by rows of benches. David would have preferred finding an empty spot in the back of the sanctuary, but Clem tugged him forward until they reached the front.

  The preacher, a gray-haired man with a weathered face, smiled at the three of them. “Welcome.”

  David shook the man’s hand. “Thank you.” He stood in the aisle, feeling the combined gazes of the good people of Cairo on his face, as first Clem and then Jasmine sat on the first pew. When he sat, Jasmine put her hand on her skirt and pulled it closer to her body as though she didn’t want him to touch her at all. He crossed his hands over his chest and ignored her.

  “I was going to talk to you about the importance of stewardship today, but God helped me come awake before the sun this morning. He filled my mind with another sermon, one that I feel compelled to share with you.” The pastor opened his Bible. “For those of you who brought your Bibles, I’ll be reading from the thirteenth chapter of the Gospel of Matthew. I’m always amazed when I read this chapter about the sower of seeds.”

  David heard the intake of Jasmine’s breath. He was glad she was listening. She had not been showing him much sign that she still turned to God on a daily basis. Maybe this trip to church would help her renew her faith.