“Well done.” Ike clapped twice. “Old Obie was right, you know. You have a real feel for the river.”
She rolled her shoulders. “Thank you.”
After that, she felt more comfortable as she made small adjustments in direction or power. The dinner bell sounded.
“Do you want me to call Captain Pettigrew when I go to dinner?”
Blanche stared out the window, debating how much time remained before the sky turned a blinding black. “I can wait until after he eats.”
When the captain arrived after dinner, Blanche accepted his hand in getting down from the crate. Her legs trembled more than she liked, but she felt exhilarated.
“You go get a bite to eat, warm up some.” Captain Pettigrew stood behind the wheel as if the rain didn’t bother him in the least. “Do you want to keep watch with me tonight?”
Blanche blinked. “That sounds good. I’ve only been here one other night.”
“I’ll see you later then.” He crammed his captain’s hat on his head and nodded, turning his full attention out the front window.
“How do you feel?” Ike welcomed her to the dining salon.
“Tired enough to sleep for a week.” She thought about it a bit more. “And excited enough to stay awake until Christmas morning.”
That earned a laugh. “I know the feeling.”
The smell of chicken soup drew Blanche like a magnet. Ike brought out two steaming bowls with a plate of crusty rolls. Elaine came to the window. “What can I get you to drink?”
Blanche was about to ask for a glass of cold milk, but then thought about the long night ahead of her. “Better make that black coffee. I want to stay awake and alert tonight.”
She breathed in the steam from the soup. “It smells wonderful.” She spooned it quickly and cleaned the bottom of the bowl with a roll.
When she finished her first bowl, he exchanged it for a fresh serving. Ashamed by the speed with which she ate a single bowl of soup, ordinarily enough for an entire meal, heat slammed into her cheeks. She ate the second with more ladylike decorum.
Ike studied her with undisguised humor. “Do you want to rest before you go back to the pilothouse?”
Blanche considered. “I’m afraid that if I lie down, I won’t get up again before morning.” She poured another cup of coffee, her third, and drained it before wrapping a couple of rolls in a napkin. “I’ll chew on these if I get sleepy.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Hands square on the table, eyes level with hers, Ike gave no hint of his preference.
She should leave him alone and let the Holy Spirit do His work. “That’s not necessary. I’m just there to watch, and Captain Pettigrew will answer any questions that I have.”
Ike started to object, but Blanche raised a hand. “If it’s a question about the Cordelia that only you can answer, we’ll get you right away. Or if possible, I’ll ask you tomorrow. Take the rest of the day off. And thank you for all the ways you’ve helped me today.”
Smiling, he held on to her hands. Then he leaned forward and kissed her briefly on the cheek. He withdrew, sketched a wave, and walked toward the staircase leading to the cabin level.
Blanche stared after him, her hand cupping her cheek where he had kissed it. Oh Ike. Her prayers for him doubled, but it seemed as if the overcast sky held her thoughts earthbound.
Once she joined Captain Pettigrew in the pilothouse, she focused on the worsening weather. Thunderstorms had never bothered Blanche. Before now. Before she was on the water. Before each strike of lightning felt like it would break the glass and knock them down. Before the wind rocked the room at the top of the boat in a constant seesaw.
“Should we stop the engines?” She had to shout to make herself heard.
He shook his head. “That would create more problems than it would solve. It’s better if we run with the wind and steer clear of any problems with the river.” He flashed white teeth at her in a blast of lightning. “And pray with your eyes open.”
“I’m already doing that.” She hadn’t stopped praying since she arrived on deck. Crossing the few feet from the indoor stairway to the door to the pilothouse had left her soaked to her unmentionables. If she hadn’t memorized the route from previous trips, she doubted she could have found the door. Rain pounded her skin, causing her to close her eyes against the onslaught.
Wind whistled overhead, rattling the ceiling and windows. “Will the glass break?”
“It might.” Pettigrew pulled the bell, alerting the engine room to a slight change in speed. “Can’t worry about that now.”
Blanche spared a thought for the danger broken glass would pose. But she was here to learn, not to tremble in fear. “Why did you tell them to decrease speed?”
“Wind is pushing us along. We need less steam to keep the boat moving at the same speed.” He tugged the wheel one spoke to the right. “If we were going in the other direction, we’d increase power instead.”
Lightning crashed and thunder sounded immediately. A lack of power wasn’t the problem on this evening.
In the wake of that spontaneous, spectacular kiss, Ike stumbled on the first step. He straightened himself, but he couldn’t do anything about the silly grin on his face. He had kissed women before, several of them, but none of them made him feel like that innocent caress of Blanche’s cheek. He lifted his foot to take the second step when the boat rolled underneath him. The storm had risen another notch. He skipped down the steps two at a time to reach the bottom as quickly as possible.
At the bottom step, the boat lurched again, throwing him to the floor. Down the corridor, Effie opened the door to the girls’ cabin. “Is everyone okay?”
Ike stood and dusted himself off. “It’s just me.”
A frown creased Effie’s face. “I thought I heard something fall down. The rocking motion is tossing things around my cabin. I’ve put a few things in my dresser drawers.”
“It’s pitching badly.” This time when the boat swung, he braced himself against the wall. “Anything broken?”
“Not yet. Isn’t Blanche with you?”
“Captain Pettigrew asked her to stay with him during the storm. She wants to learn how to pilot the boat in all kinds of weather.”
“Oh.” Effie’s shoulders slumped. “I might as well go to bed. If the wind doesn’t toss me out of my berth.” For a moment, she reminded him of the little girl who was scared of staying alone for the first six months they lived aboard the boat.
“Would you like me to stay with you for a while?”
“Would you mind?” Her words offered an out, but she was already opening the door to let him in.
Her bag of knitting sat tucked under her chair. “I tried working on the sweater, but after I jabbed myself once and lost stitches twice, I decided I better put it away.”
“And on the desk, is that the Bible Blanche got for you?”
“Yes. I was reading the story of Noah again. And it was a little frightening, with the storm tonight.”
Thunder rumbled through the deckboards overhead, and she shrank away.
“Stop reading before you give yourself nightmares.”
“If that happens, I’ll come running to my big brother.”
Thunder, or perhaps waves, shook the cabin, and Effie trembled. Ike planted himself behind Effie and placed his arms around her shoulders. “Shh, I’ve got you.”
Her shivering continued. After the next crash of thunder subsided, she asked, “Ike, would you pray? For our safety?”
Her simple request yanked him back by fifteen years. Their mother lay dying in another room, and she asked him to pray. When God didn’t answer that prayer, he had stopped praying.
“For you, Effie, anything.” At church, people bowed their heads and closed their eyes when they prayed, but Ike felt more natural speaking with his eyes open. He looked at the ceiling, where thunder crashed and the boat shook.
“God. According to the Bible, it’ll never rain for forty days and nights ag
ain. I guess I should thank You for that. But even shorter storms can turn deadly, and You didn’t say anything about them. So I ask You first of all for the lives of the people on this boat.”
“Amen,” Effie whispered.
“And I suppose I should ask You for anybody else crazy enough to be on this river tonight. Or on the riverbanks, if it floods.
“Then I guess my mind rushes to things. Does that make me selfish? I don’t care, not a lot. We need to deliver our cargo safely to make a profit. We need to make a profit for us not to run a gambling game. And You want us to work for our food, right? Well, if we lose the cargo, that’s going to be hard. So I ask that things won’t get broken or wash overboard.”
Effie reached up and patted his hand, as if reassuring him that his prayer was acceptable.
“And I pray for Captain Pettigrew and Blanche. Effie, too. I know she’s scared. So I ask that You will take away that fear.”
He paused. “I guess I can’t think of anything else. So, how do I say good-bye? I guess, amen.”
“Amen,” Effie echoed, a sob breaking the word.
Ike’s arms tightened around her. “What’s the matter?”
“You prayed.” Tears moistened his shirtsleeves. “Oh Ike, are you ready to trust God with your life?”
Ike didn’t move or speak. “I think I am. Who would have believed it?”
“Me. God. Blanche. Mr. Sanders. Lots of people.” She laughed through her tears. “No time like the present to ask Him to save you.”
He couldn’t fight it any longer. He and God had been waging war ever since he first saw Blanche at Christ the King Church, and God had won. He stifled the desire to fold his hands and bow his head. Now if ever he wanted to face God like a man. Raising his face to heaven and lifting empty hands to accept God’s gift, he reopened his dialogue with God.
“God, I know I’m a sinner. I never pretended to be anything else. Not the worst, but I’m not a good person either, and besides, I hear that doesn’t matter to You. You sent Your Son to die for me. Will You forgive me for all the things I’ve done wrong, please?”
He squeezed Effie’s shoulder. “Is there anything else I should say?”
“God sees your heart. There are no perfect words.”
“Well then, I guess that’s it. Again. So… amen.”
Thunder crashed again, and Effie laughed. Ike joined her.
“I guess that’s God’s answer.”
“What, a big no?”
“No, silly. Amen! Exclamation point!”
A big grin split Ike’s face to the breaking point. “Exclamation point! I like that.” He jumped to his feet.
“Careful, now.” Effie’s tears had stopped, her fears at bay. “I don’t know if that prayer will protect you from sheer foolishness.”
The ship pitched, slamming him against the wall. The loudest crack of the night sent shudders through the ship. The nightstand tilted, throwing the lantern off. Ike caught it with his hands, heart in his mouth. Fire. He blew it out, the sudden darkness disorienting him. A sharp crack ripped through the air.
“Effie.”
“I know. You have to go.”
“I have to find out what happened.”
He took a lantern in his hands and doused each lamp as he went down the hallway. He knocked on the doors. “Anyone hurt? Turn out the lights.” His heart urged him to get up to the pilothouse, to Blanche, but the danger of fire couldn’t be overlooked.
God, if ever we needed help, it’s now.
CHAPTER 32
Lightning shimmered off the water and raced to the boat. Shivering, Blanche couldn’t manage much of a prayer beyond I’m scared, God. The fear didn’t go away, but she gained control of it, trusting God to look over the boat and all its inhabitants. Short breaths interspersed with quick glances out the window. The boat headed straight into the heart of the storm. Lightning traveled through water, didn’t it? That meant she was more in danger from the storm on the boat than on land.
When Blanche was a little girl, a tornado had ripped through Roma. Wind whipped sand in the air as they rushed to the storm cellar. Belowground she could hear but not see the wind devastating the town.
Tonight she could both see and hear the wind. The mixture of wind and water could turn over this sturdy boat as easy as a house made of matchsticks.
Lightning struck so close that it blinded her. The boat heaved to one side, sending her into the wheel. Captain Pettigrew groaned, and she heard the sound of him hitting the floor. Hearing replaced sight as thunder crashed and a loud crack suggested something had broken.
Grasping the wheel, she pulled herself upright and sight returned. Miraculously, the windows remained intact; and the boat appeared headed on a straight course. She turned, expecting Pettigrew to take charge of the wheel.
He lay slumped against the captain’s table, blood seeping from his forehead, his eyes closed. “Captain! Captain!” Panic laced her voice.
A moan greeted her cry. He’s alive.
The need to keep her eyes on the river battled with the need to attend to the man lying on the floor. Deciding she’d have to chance it, she knelt down. “Captain?”
His eyes fluttered open. “Can’t… move… my arm. You have to pilot the boat.”
“Me?” Blanche’s stomach flipped. Piloting the boat on a calm sunny day was one thing. A night when storm filled the skies was another matter indeed. “I haven’t even taken the test yet.”
“Noah didn’t need a test when God called him to pilot the ark.”
With a pleading eye on Captain Pettigrew, Blanche dragged the crate behind the wheel.
“Keep your eye sharp out there. Don’t worry about me.” He grunted, a cry of pain, and Blanche jerked her head to keep from turning around to see what had happened.
“It’s my job to pray while you man the helm. Remember what I told you. Keep to the middle of the river. If the wind dies down, slow the engines.”
Unwilling to trust her voice, she nodded. I’m not ready for this. “You need medical attention.”
Pettigrew chuckled. “Have you hired a doctor recently? Ike will know who takes care of minor injuries while you’re on the river. But you can’t leave the wheel and I can’t get down there on my own power.” Another chuckle. “Besides, I’ll be right here if you need to ask me a question.” The words stopped, and his breathing rasped.
Lightning flashed again, farther away this time. Praise God. The captain cupped his right arm with his left, his face twisted in pain, his eyes closed. The thunder drowned out his breathing.
God, why this? Why tonight, before I’m ready? She channeled her fear into angry questions that helped strengthen her shivering limbs. You gave Noah one hundred years. I haven’t even had a month. Is this all some kind of punishment? Or maybe You’re testing me, to see if I’m worthy?
Her internal argument with God continued unabated while she kept her eyes fixed out the window, when the crate fishtailed beneath her and she had to climb off and reset it behind the wheel again. In between flashes of lightning, she snuck glances at Captain Pettigrew. Despite his brave words, he was in no condition to answer her questions. Had the wind lessened? Was it time to decrease the speed? Not yet.
Blanche needed to get a message to Pete and Ike, but she couldn’t leave. They hadn’t considered this possibility when they planned the schedule.
I suppose You planned that, too, God.
Where was Ike? She hadn’t asked him to come to the bridge tonight, but she missed the security of his presence. God, send him here tonight.
She thought she heard the stairs creaking, but when no one came into the pilothouse, she decided it was only the deck shifting in the wind.
So I guess it’s just You and me tonight, God.
Another clap of thunder followed, as if God was saying I’m right here. What had Reverend Sanders said about Noah’s argument with God? That you have to believe in God to argue with Him? She looked at the clouds racing alongside the boat, the ligh
tning striking on the Mexican side of the river. “You are here. Right here with me.”
Her grip on the wheel remained strong and steady, but her heart stopped racing as fast as the boat. God was here. She could trust Him.
Ike stood still in the center of the hallway, gauging the motion of the boat. She rocked a little as it might at sea, but nothing felt broken beyond repair. Up until now, he had stayed busy taking care of passengers. People ran in and out of cabins, screaming questions and fighting small fires.
The storm had decreased in power, and he finished his inspection of the cabins. Next he would check the communal areas. In the kitchen he ran into Elaine, her round face gray by lantern light. “I turned off the ovens. It’ll be a cold breakfast in the morning.”
Ike nodded. “Smart move.” Elaine was a veteran of storms on the river. After the kitchen, he toured the theater. Aside from a few repairs to stage props, the room remained undamaged.
When he put his foot on the staircase leading to the main deck, wind carrying raindrops whistled down the hole. Frowning, he considered going back to his room for a rain slicker. No. Someone might interrupt him with another problem. He wanted to check on Blanche and Captain Pettigrew, to reassure himself that the storm had left them unscathed. He hadn’t hurried before now because the boat continued to run smoothly.
As he crossed the deck, lightning revealed pieces of a broken crate and other items scattered across the deck. In the pilothouse, a slight, feminine figure stood at the helm. Dark and rain descended again, and he couldn’t see where Pettigrew was located.
What the fool was the man doing allowing Blanche to take the helm in weather like this? Keeping the lantern aloft so he could spot obstacles underfoot, he ran up the stairs.
Turning the corner into the room, he almost stumbled over Pettigrew’s prone body. For a quick, frightening moment, he wondered if the man had died. Then the captain’s chest heaved and a moan came from between his lips.
“Ike?”
Blanche turned her face, white in the bright flash of lightning, a hint of lines at her eyes suggesting she had peered into the heart of the darkness of the sky. He also thought he saw a hint of excitement.
The Brides of the Old West: Five Romantic Adventures from the American Frontier Page 37