Winds of the Storm

by Beverly Jenkins

  Chapter 11

  The girls left on the next morning’s train, and Zahra began preparations for her own temporary departure. She’d already decided that Madame Domino would have to disappear permanently, but she hadn’t worked out the details of how it would be accomplished until she’d had an afternoon talk with Juliana. The plan they’d settled on was a simple one.

  “Alfred is going to drive me to the train,” Zahra explained to Archer that evening in his suite. “I’ll take it to Baton Rouge, get off, transform myself into the country mouse daughter of your mother’s old friend, and take the next train back to New Orleans. If all goes well, I’ll be back on the three o’clock train tomorrow.”

  He shrugged. “Sounds simple. Then what?”

  “Your mother, and you, probably, will meet me at the train here and take me to her home.”

  “You’re going to be staying with Mother?”

  Zahra laughed at the delight shining in his dark eyes. “Yes, I’m going to be her companion until your step father returns in April.”

  “Ah. Where will you sleep?”

  “At your mother’s.”

  “A pity.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You are insatiable.”

  “Yes, I am, and so are you.” Then he paused. “Mama has a good-sized house, and there are many hidden places where you can spread your wings for me and we won’t be disturbed.”

  “Archer, I will not be singing the orgasm aria in your mother’s house.”

  He laughed, “The what?”

  “Orgasm aria. The girls call it that.” The recollection made her wonder about her girls and where they might be on their respective journeys. For the short time they were together, Lovey and the others were the sisters she’d never had. She missed them already but wished them Godspeed.

  “Where are you, Zahra?” he asked softly.

  Zahra met his concerned eyes. She wasn’t accustomed to having someone so attuned to her. “Just thinking about the girls.”

  “Missing them?”

  She nodded. “Probably will for a while.”

  He came over and took her in his arms, then kissed the top of her hair. “They’re a good bunch. I’m sure they’ll do fine.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t stop me from missing them.” Then she backed out of Archer’s arms and wiped at the telling moisture in her eyes. “Goodness, when did I become so sentimental? This is all your fault, Frenchman.”

  “Mine? Why?”

  “Because you’re the only one here.”

  He laughed and eased her back against his heart. “I sort of like the sentimental Butterfly. I also like the razor-carrying version, too.”

  She chuckled against his chest. “And the nude version? Where is she on the list?”

  His face widened with mock surprise. “There’s a nude version? Where? May I see her, please?”

  Giggling like an adolescent, she said, “You are such a loon.”

  “Loons mate for life, did you know that?”

  She paused and searched his eyes. “Really? Well, if I see a female loon, I’ll send her your way.”

  He smacked her playfully on the behind. “Sassy woman.”

  She enjoyed their play but was immediately sobered by the knowledge that once the mission was over, there’d be no more of this.

  “A doubloon for your thoughts.”

  She shook her head and placed it back on his chest. “It was nothing.”

  In the silence that followed, he asked softly, “You are coming back from Baton Rouge, aren’t you?”

  Zahra closed her eyes and unconsciously tightened her arms around him. “Yes, I’m coming back.” But the time was coming when she wouldn’t be. She didn’t want to think about that now. “Do you still wish to see the nude version?”

  She heard the low rumble of humor in his chest. He lifted her chin, and she swore she saw his heart in his eyes. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  Zahra raised herself on her toes so she could kiss him, and as it deepened, he swung her up into his strong arms and carried her to the bedroom.

  The following morning, Archer watched her dress for her journey. The idea that she might not return was still in the back of his mind, but he pushed it aside. Knowing the threat the Death Books held, his worries were unfounded; she’d return, if only to find the books. Once that was accomplished the real battle would begin, but he set that aside for now, too.

  “What are your plans for the day?” she asked, tying on the black domino that matched the black traveling costume she’d borrowed from Sable. Wilma had altered it to suit Zahra’s needs.

  “Help with preparations for a rally the Republican Party is having to denounce the violence.”

  “I thought you resigned your position with the party?”

  “I did, but the hotel is hosting the speaker’s luncheon.”

  “Ah.” Her domino secured, she turned from the mirror and said, “Please be careful. Those thugs aren’t above shooting into the crowd.”

  “I know. It’s happening all over. I promise to be in one piece when you step off the train.”

  “I’m holding you to that.”

  “Question.”

  “Yes.”

  “You won’t be masked when you return. How are you going to keep from being recognized by anyone who may know you as Butterfly?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that, too. Being your mother’s companion isn’t as public a position as being Domino. I’m hoping to stay as much in the background as possible because that’s the only option I have at this point. I must find those books. My personal safety is secondary.”

  Archer understood her dilemma, but he didn’t agree with her last statement. Her personal safety was of the utmost importance to him. At least having her near Juliana meant that he and his brothers would be able to keep a close watch on her.

  Since she appeared to be finished dressing, he asked, “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes.”

  He walked over and took her in his arms. He looked down at the face that had turned his life upside down. Never having known such strong emotion for a woman before, he lightly traced her mouth, then the eyes of her mask. “I’m going to miss Madame Domino.”

  “Then how about I save the domino I’m wearing? That way, you can see her whenever you like.”

  He smiled like a pleased male. “Good idea.”

  “I must go,” she said softly. “I’ll see you when I return.” They shared a long, fervent kiss, then Zahra hurried away.

  Archer went to the window and looked down on the street. He could see Alfred waiting beside the rented coach. When Zahra returned to the city under her country mouse persona to take the position as Juliana’s companion, Alfred would be hired as Juliana’s new driver and thus remain close to Zahra’s side. The other members of her staff had been divided up between Archer’s hotel, his mother’s household staff, and Sable and Rai’s orphanage. Their unfamiliar faces made them perfect for the positions; more importantly, the plans Zahra and Alfred had set into motion before the fire wouldn’t be interrupted. Alfred’s cousin Roland had found work at Sophie’s place. His people were also spread across the city posing in various occupations until needed.

  Archer turned his attention back to the busy street and saw her getting into the coach. Even though she’d only be gone overnight, he was pining for her already.

  According to the plan, Zahra gave Alfred a big hug on the depot platform. She wanted everyone to see Madame Domino leaving town, even the biddies that had hissed at her when she was standing in line to buy her ticket from the agent. Her ticket designated Chicago as her final destination, so she worked that into her act too.

  “If you’re ever in Chicago, stop in and see me,” she said to him as they broke the embrace.

  Looking appropriately grim, Alfred shook his head. “I will. You take care of yourself, now.”

  “I will.”

  Alfred walked away, and Zahra waited for the train to arrive.

&nbs
p; When it finally made its appearance belching smoke and embers from its stacks, Zahra got aboard and headed for the gambling car. No decent conductor was going to allow a masked whore to sit with the God-fearing passengers, so she’d have to settle for traveling with the godless ones.

  The car was already filled with cigar smoke and the train hadn’t even left the depot. The interior was no better or worse than ones she’d traveled in before, but at least it was clean. There were tables, chairs, and a bar with a bartender selling drinks. She had no idea how many people would eventually occupy the space, but as a woman traveling alone, she knew it best to be nice but to stay on her guard.

  She took a seat at a table near a partially opened window and looked out. Passengers were still boarding. She saw tearful partings of men and women, and a woman clutching the hand of an adorable, chocolate-skinned little boy hurrying to get on. Her attention was then caught by the passengers entering the smoking car. There were Black and White men sporting fine, gentlemanly attire and laborers wearing faded work clothes and mud-stained brogans. There were even a few women, all looking to be soiled doves like herself. However, when Etienne Barber stepped inside, she cursed silently. Sensing her smooth little plan was about to become wrinkled, she met his eyes, and his immediately turned hostile. She hoped he had the sense to steer clear of her, because she would shoot him again. With that in mind, she slipped her hand into the pocket of her black skirt and waited.

  She didn’t have to wait long. To her displeasure he strutted over, stood right next to her chair, and in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, said dismissively, “Well, if it isn’t the whore.”

  Zahra could see that he’d caught everyone’s attention. She assumed he was pleased by that, but she pointedly ignored him and turned her masked eyes towards the window.

  He kept on, “Heard you and the rest of your whores were burned out. Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving bitch!”

  The force of Zahra’s right cross connecting with his groin made him squeal like a fat piglet caught in a fence. He dropped to his knees. Holding his injured anatomy and keening in tremendous pain, he rolled on the floor of the car, gasping, bug-eyed and pale.

  The rest of the passengers shook off their shock, then began to laugh. They had no idea what had precipitated the confrontation between the man and the whore in the black domino, but the whore had won this round, and for them it had been a good show. Short, but good; one they’d gleefully describe to their friends and family when they reached their destinations.

  Zahra had no more trouble out of Barber; in fact, to the added amusement of the other travelers, he dragged himself to a table on the far side of the room and collapsed into a chair. She was content.

  It was dark when the train pulled into Baton Rouge, and Zahra wondered how long it might take her to find a room for the night. She’d never been here before and knew nothing about the city. She and Juliana had failed to take that fact into account when they’d put the plan together, but she was confident she’d find somewhere to lay her head eventually. The train would resume its journey in the morning, but until then all of the passengers had to depart. Barber had recovered enough to shoot her simmering looks of contempt, but he didn’t open his mouth or attempt to approach her. Holding her tapestry carpetbag and black cape, she stood and joined the rest of the passengers moving towards the exit. A few of the men stepped back politely to let Zahra depart ahead of them, and she gave them a smile of thanks.

  When Zahra stepped out into the night air, she glanced back and saw Barber standing on the platform watching her, but she ignored him and joined the large group of women slipping off into the cover of the dark trees to take care of their needs. Zahra had other needs however. Distancing herself from the rest until she found a private spot she removed her cape and set it at her feet.

  She quickly untied the domino, but held it with her teeth because she didn’t want to lose it in the dark. Moving precisely, she undid the button on the waist band of her skirt, stepped out of the skirt, reversed it so that the blue inside was now the outside, stepped back into it and secured the waistband button. Bending, she opened the carpetbag, removed a blue, short-waisted jacket, took off her black jacket, and turned the bag inside out so that the paisley inside became the outside. She stuffed her black jacket and the domino inside. After shrugging into the blue jacket, she reversed her cape, making it now dun brown, and pulled up the hood.

  Now she was ready. Making sure she exited the trees from a different spot than where she’d entered, she stepped back onto the dimly lit platform. Sure enough there stood Barber waiting near the trees where he’d seen Domino disappear. She smiled to herself and walked right by him.

  The depot was badly lit, but there was just enough light for her to see the cabs with their lit driving lanterns lined up waiting for fares. Most of the drivers she approached wouldn’t even look her way—the cabbies practiced segregation, she supposed—so stalking off, she saw two Black drivers and their poor-looking cabs waiting a distance away. She headed towards them, only to see one snapped up by a well-dressed man and woman.

  She yelled at the cab that remained, waving and running towards it, hoping to catch his attention. It worked. Upon seeing her, he set his horse in her direction, and a grateful Zahra slowed to a walk. As she climbed in, and the old man pulled away from the depot, she saw a perturbed looking Barber standing on the platform, and she smiled to herself again.

  The elderly cabbie introduced himself as Mr. Poole, and a short while later they reached the boardinghouse he’d recommended. She paid him, and he drove off into the darkness.

  The owner of the boardinghouse, a tiny, brown-skinned woman with a bulldog face, showed Zahra the room. Zahra didn’t care that the place was tiny; she simply wanted it to be clean. Pulling back the quilts and sheet on the small bed, she didn’t see any bugs scurrying away, nor did she see anything moving around on the well-swept floor.

  The landlady, who’d introduced herself earlier as Bitsy, asked, “This do for you?”

  A satisfied Zahra nodded and paid her for one night’s stay. “How do I get a cab to the train depot in the morning?” she asked Bitsy.

  “I can send my grandson over to get Old Man Poole to come take you, or if you don’t mind a wagon, my brother Tommy is going to the depot tomorrow to ship some livestock. You can catch a ride over with him.”

  “Who’s more reliable?”

  The bulldog face smiled. “Tommy. Old Man Poole don’t get up ’til noon.”

  “Then Tommy has a passenger. I’ll pay him, of course.”

  “That’s fine. Anything else?”

  “Not that I can think of.”

  “See you in the morning, then.”

  She closed the door, and Zahra released a sigh of relief. She’d made it.

  The ride back was far less dramatic, thanks to Tommy and his livestock. The livestock turned out to be pigs, and Zahra arrived at the Baton Rouge station seated up front holding a small sow and two piglets on her lap. She thanked Tommy, paid him, and went to buy her ticket.

  As Zahra made her way through the small depot, the passengers on the platform gave her wide berth. At first Zahra attributed it to her attire, but when she reminded herself that Madame Domino was no more and that she was presently attired as primly as a deacon’s daughter, she figured out what all the sour faces around her were about. She smelled like pigs! Instead of being alarmed, she found the situation amusing. It also worked to her advantage. Her pungent clothing and shiny, paint-free face gave credence to her role as a country girl traveling to the big city of New Orleans for the first time. Moreover, because none of the other passengers wished to ride the ninety-mile journey anywhere near her, Zahra had her row of seats, and the ones directly in front and in back, all to herself. Smiling, she looked out the window and settled in for the ride.

  The train arrived in New Orleans right on time at a little past three in the afternoon. Remembering her role, she got off the train and peered around, a
s if not knowing where to go or what to do.

  The White conductor who’d been kind to her during the journey in spite of her smell stopped and said, “Do you need some help, miss?”

  Raising the pitch of her voice, as she’d been doing since stepping off the train in Baton Rouge yesterday, she said, “I’m not sure. I’m supposed to be meeting a friend of my mama’s, but I don’t know what she looks like.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Mrs. Le Veq Vincent.”

  He looked impressed. “They’re a very prominent family. Come on with me, maybe she’s waiting on the other end of the platform.”

  Carpetbag in hand, and wearing what had to be the ugliest pale blue jacket and skirt she’d ever had the misfortune of wearing, Zahra let the conductor lead the way. They didn’t have to go far.

  “I believe that is Mrs. Le Veq Vincent there. I’ve seen her on the train many times.”

  Zahra saw Juliana and Archer standing by the depot. Zahra fed her eyes on the tall, handsome Archer, then, remembering herself, asked the conductor, “You sure that’s her?”

  “Positive.” He raised his hand to catch Juliana’s attention; she was pretending not to know what Zahra looked like. The conductor escorted Zahra over and said to the Le Veqs, “Mrs. Vincent, this young woman said you were to meet her here at the platform?”

  Juliana smiled. “Are you Zahra Crane?”

  Zahra nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Juliana hugged her and said, “Of course you are. Welcome to New Orleans. You look just like your mother, Hanna. This is my son, Archer.” Then she drew away, and her nose wrinkled.

  Archer asked, “What on earth is that smell?”

  “Pigs,” Zahra said brightly. “I had to ride to the depot with my landlady’s brother and his pigs. I had a cute little sow and her piglets on my lap the whole way.”

  The smiling conductor departed, and Zahra kept up a running conversation all the way to the buggy.

  Archer was amazed at Zahra’s transformation. Everything about her was different: her voice, mannerisms, the way she walked in that country ugly blue suit she was wearing. There was nothing about her that even suggested she’d been Madame Domino.