“Humph. Why anyone would travel to see a cave is beyond my understanding. Especially that one.” She wrinkled her nose. “Bat manure.”
Mr. Hawkins laughed. “I think they made a pretty good profit off the manure harvest. But they’ll be harvesting history now. People are very interested in the story of Devil’s Den, as the Indians used to call it.”
“You may be right.” She shook her head and opened the door. “Sorry, I can’t think of anyone right now.”
Lexie climbed into the wagon and waited while Jolly drank from the trough beneath the hitching post, then she flicked the reins and turned onto the road that led to Forsyth. A part-time job at the general store might not be too bad for a while. But she really had her heart set on working in town. And Mr. Hawkins probably wouldn’t hire a woman anyway.
Chapter 2
Jack Sullivan planted his feet on the wet deck of the Julia Dawn and narrowed his eyes at Bull Thompson, his second-in-command. “Now, Thompson, keep the men in line. I don’t want them half-drunk and surly when we’re ready to push off downriver again. Those shoals need steady hands and minds.”
“You can count on me, Cap’n.” Thompson leaned on his mop. “They’ll be on deck a full day before you get back here and are ready to shove off.”
Jack nodded. He hated to leave the steamer even for the three days he reckoned it would take to wrap up Uncle Pat’s business. Too bad the old guy hadn’t had any children to leave his farm to. He sighed. Surely there would be someone who’d like to buy the land.
He mounted the chestnut mare he’d rented from the livery and rode through the teeming crowd of shoppers who’d come to the landing for supplies.
Suddenly a flash of blue caught his eye and the horse reared. A scream rent the air, and Jack struggled to bring the animal under control. Its hooves landed hard within a few inches of a huddled form on the street.
In seconds, Jack dismounted and ran to where the woman lay, looking stunned, amidst packages and folds of skirt and petticoats. “Ma’am, are you all right?” He gently tried to lift her, and she scrambled to her feet.
“Stop. What do you think you’re doing?” A heavy reticule slammed against his shoulder and pain shot all the way to his elbow. Stormy blue eyes cut through him.
He grabbed her wrist before she could swing the bag again. Jack glanced over her swiftly with a practiced eye.
Black curls tumbled from beneath her bonnet, and frown lines creased her forehead as she jerked away from his grip. She planted her very pretty hands on her hips, and the glare from her deep blue eyes announced her displeasure.
Hmmm. Didn’t seem to be any damage. “Only trying to help, ma’am. What were you doing walking out on the street in front of my horse?”
“Why I…” She sputtered then glared at him. “He wasn’t there when I stepped off the curb.”
Not wanting to call her a liar, he bit his lip and scowled. “Well, since you aren’t hurt, I guess I’ll be on my way.” He gathered up her parcels and shoved them into her hands, then tipped his hat and started to remount.
“Wait a minute,” her voice lashed out. “What about my ripped dress?”
Jack let his gaze run down the blue and white bodice of the dress to a small tear in the skirt that she was gripping with her free hand. He removed his small money bag from his jacket and held a gold coin out to her. “Here, this should cover the expense.”
Slapping his hand away, she bit her lip. “Never mind. I don’t want your money. But you could at least say you’re sorry.”
He grinned and bowed with a flourish. “Ma’am, I am very sorry my horse was in the way when you wanted to cross the street.” He swung up onto the mare’s back and tipped his hat, leaving her with her mouth hanging open.
Now, that was an interesting way to start the day. Too bad such a pretty little lady had an unreasonable temperament. Still, there was no denying she was very attractive standing there with her hands on her hips, anger darkening her lovely azure eyes. Just about the color of a clear October sky, in spite of the storm that had flashed from them. The picture stayed with him as he urged the horse into a canter, kicking up dirt as they left the town behind.
Jack whistled as he rode, surveying the countryside. Rolling hills, studded with oak and cedar trees, met his surveillance. Fog hung over the higher mountain ridges in the distance. Things hadn’t changed much in the Missouri Ozarks. The place wasn’t home to him, never had been from the day he went to live with his uncle. The past fifteen years the river had claimed that title and that was okay with him. It was a stroke of luck the telegram had finally caught up with him when he docked in St. Louis last month.
A pang of sadness pierced Jack at the thought of his old bachelor uncle’s death, even though they hadn’t gotten along from the minute Jack came to live with him at the age of twelve. He gave a short chuckle. That had been Jack’s fault, more than likely. Looking back, he could still feel the pain and resentment. He must have made things really rough for Uncle Pat, his pa’s only brother, the only family he had when his parents were killed in the barn fire. His uncle was more than likely as relieved as Jack when he took off at the age of sixteen.
He topped a hill and pulled up in surprise. A large, square building stood alone near the bank of the river. Now why hadn’t he noticed it when they’d come downriver last night? The grove of walnut trees must have hidden it from view.
He clicked at the horse and headed down the hill, glancing at the sign as he passed by the building. HAWKINS’S GENERAL STORE. There must be a lot more people here than when he left to support a store.
A man stepped out on the porch carrying a broom and lifted a hand in greeting.
Jack nodded and rode on, mentally filing a reminder in his head to check with the man later. Could be a potential business deal there.
The sun had nearly sunk behind the hills when he pulled up in front of the still familiar farmhouse. The weathered logs were a little grayer than he remembered, but otherwise, the house looked pretty much the same.
Jack dismounted and led the mare to the new barn that overshadowed the side yard where the old shed used to stand. According to the telegram, the livestock, consisting of two mules, two goats, and a yearling steer, were being cared for by a neighbor named Jacob Williams. After caring for the horse, he walked back to the house, half expecting Uncle Pat to hobble out onto the porch.
Jack winced as he opened the front screen and heard a familiar squeak. Some things never changed. He stepped into the front room and took a deep breath. It didn’t surprise him that the room was still neat as a pin. His uncle never could tolerate a mess. A framed photograph of Jack’s parents greeted him from the mantel, and the old horseshoe still hung over the fireplace. He’d never known for sure if Uncle Pat was superstitious or just liked seeing the horseshoe hanging there.
The door shut behind him with a thud. As he stepped across the bare boards, a scurrying sound came from the direction of his uncle’s bedroom. Frowning, he went to see what had taken up residence. He’d need to put some traps out if rats had taken over the place.
He pushed the door open, expecting to see a rodent run across the floor, but perfect stillness met him. Lifting his foot, he stomped once. Still nothing. He shrugged and headed for the kitchen.
Dishes with half-eaten food stood on the table. Jack tensed and glanced around, scanning the room. He walked softly over to the iron cookstove and touched the top. Warm. Someone had been there. And not long ago.
Jack picked up the broom from the corner and kicked open the pantry door. Jars of vegetables and preserves stood on the deep shelves and bins full of flour and sugar lined the back wall. Otherwise, it was empty. He backed out and retraced his steps to the bedroom where he’d heard the sounds earlier.
Taking a deep breath, he crashed through the door yelling at the top of his lungs and swinging the broom in an arc. Screams reverberated from wall to wall, and two small figures darted from behind the bed. Jack reached out as they tried to shoo
t past him and grabbed one in each hand. He yelped in pain as teeth clamped down on his hand. “Why you little…Hold it! Stop your squirming. No one is going to hurt you.”
The struggling stopped, and Jack stared in amazement at two identical little overalls-clad girls shivering with fear before him.
“Now let me get this straight.” Jack paced up and down the floor in front of the brown horsehair sofa where the two wide-eyed girls perched. “You’ve been staying here since your pa died in a mining accident?”
Two blond heads, covered with dirty tangles, bobbed in unison.
“Where’s your ma?”
The girls eyed each other.
“Well?” How was he going to get to the bottom of this if they wouldn’t tell him what was going on?
“Ma died in Kentucky when we were two. We had a stepma named Bella, but she ran off with the doctor last year.” Jack stared at the little girl who’d spoken in such a matter-of-fact way.
“The doctor?” Sympathy washed over him.
“Yep, you know, the one who sells elixir from the gods and all that other stuff.”
A traveling huckster. He looked at the beautiful little motherless girls. His stomach tightened and he clenched his teeth. How could a mother walk out on her children?
“How did you know the house was empty?” Good, his voice was almost normal. Lord, keep them talking until I can figure out what to do.
The other twin spoke up. “Well land’s sake, our pa knew old man Sullivan. Told us if anything ever happened to him to come here. So we did.”
“You walked?”
“Naw. Rode Pa’s old mule, Buzzard Bait. But then we knocked and we knocked but no one answered, so we sat on the porch and waited for him to come home. But he didn’t. Our old stupid mule took off, and we sure didn’t want to start out walking to nowhere, so we stayed. Finally we got hungry and went inside.”
“We didn’t break in though. The door wasn’t locked.”
“We didn’t know the old man was dead though. Just figured he went somewhere.”
Jack ran his hands through his hair. The story sounded a little bit farfetched, but why would they lie about it? The question now was what could he do with these girls? It would be a shame to send them to an orphanage, but they sure couldn’t stay here alone. They couldn’t be more than seven or eight. “How old are you girls?”
“We’ll be ten next year.” The girl showed no sign of humor as she spoke.
“So that would make you nine, right?” He tried not to grin.
The other girl frowned. “Stop lying, Abby.”
Tuck shrugged. “We just turned eight last month.”
Jack turned to her sister. “I guess you must have a name, too.”
“Sure, it’s Adeline. But Abby calls me Addy. She’s really Abigail.”
“No, I ain’t.” The girl stuck a grubby paw in his direction and shook his hand soundly. “The name’s Kentucky. You can call me Tuck if you like.”
Addy rolled her eyes and shook her head but didn’t say anything.
This was getting stranger by the minute.
“And a last name, please?”
“Flanigan,” Tuck replied then grinned. “Pa said it used to be O’Flanigan, but our grandfather lost the O in a game of cards on the way over from Ireland.”
He hid a smile, wondering how many times he’d heard the same joke with a different name. “Okay. Well, Addy and Kentucky Flanigan, we seem to have a bit of a problem here.”
Both girls stiffened. “Can’t we live here with you?” Addy’s blue eyes brimmed with tears.
Jack’s stomach churned. “Honey, I wish you could. But I’m going to have to sell this place. You see, I own a steamboat and that’s where I live—on the river.”
“Oh.” Tuck’s eyes lit up. “That’s all right. I always wanted to go on a riverboat. Couldn’t we live with you there?”
Jack flinched as he thought of the innocent little girls in the midst of the rough and brash swabs that worked up and down the rivers from here to the Mississippi. “Sorry, that won’t be possible.”
Jumping off the sofa, Tuck stomped her foot. “Well, why not? Don’t you like us?” Addy joined her sister and they stood, hands on hips, brows wrinkled, reminding him of the young woman he’d nearly run over that morning.
“Of course I like you. But, you see, it’s a working boat, and besides there’s no place on there that’s suitable for girls.”
“Huh! I’ll bet you just don’t like girls.” Addy’s bottom lip thrust out and she frowned.
Tuck stomped her small foot again. “And just what’s wrong with girls?”
“Never mind, Tuck. I don’t think a riverboat would be a very nice place for girls to live, anyway.”
Her sister rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a sissy.”
Jack gulped then took a deep breath. He’d faced drunken sailors and shoals that threatened to tear his boat into pieces. Two little girls weren’t going to get the best of him. “Well, for one thing, females are unreasonable and throw tantrums. I said I can’t take you with me. And that’s that.”
Tuck’s lips quivered then Addy’s did the same. A sob erupted from one throat then the other. Before he knew it, both girls were squalling like a thunderstorm on the river.
Now what could he do? “Hey, don’t cry. Let me think about it. I’ll figure out something.”
The embers in the fireplace sputtered, spewing sparks onto the ashes. Jack sighed and leaned forward in the ladder-backed rocking chair, his head in both hands. Tuck and Addy lay curled up together in the feather bed in the small bedroom that Jack had called his own until he was sixteen. He’d tried to go to sleep in Uncle Pat’s oversized bed, but thoughts whirled in his mind. Of course, there was no way he could take the girls with him on the steamer. It was a shame that the sweet-faced twins would have to end up in an orphanage after all, but there was no other solution.
Unless…Maybe the storekeeper would know of a family that might take them in. Surely someone would have compassion for two little motherless girls. Jack didn’t have to tell them about their tempers. Yep, that was the answer. He’d ride over there tomorrow and have a talk with the man. Then he’d get his uncle’s business settled. He could be back on the Julia Dawn and ready to head downriver toward Batesville, Arkansas, with a load by the end of the week.
Chapter 3
Lexie sighed. Should she take the job at the Hawkins store or not? She had been crushed when she hadn’t found suitable employment in Forsyth. Then after spending so much time searching for a job, she’d broken her word to Aunt Kate and hurried to the docks to do some fast shopping.
The incident with the horse had slowed her down as well. Now she found, to her chagrin, she couldn’t get the face of that rude, impossible man out of her mind. There was no denying he was handsome with those dark-brown eyes that seemed to stare into her soul, but oh how cocky and egotistical. If she ever saw him again she’d give him a piece of her mind that he’d never forget.
“Lexie, you just kicked the corn seed right out of the furrow.”
Startled out of her disturbing thoughts, Lexie threw an apologetic glance at Will and dropped to her knees. She packed the dirt carefully around the seed. Without corn to harvest, Jolly and Old Stubborn would be mighty hungry when last year’s feed ran out.
“Lexie.” She looked up in surprise at the worry in Will’s voice.
“Wh–what’s wrong?”
“You’ve been acting strange ever since you got home last night. Did something happen in Forsyth?”
“Oh, it was nothing.” She tossed him a grin. “Except a horse nearly ran me over down at the landing.”
“Landing?” Aunt Kate stood at the end of the row, her hand inside a small bag of seed corn. Lightning flashed from her eyes. “You promised you wouldn’t go down by the boats.”
Uh-oh. Lexie cringed at the accusation and guilt squeezed her middle.
“Well, Will Rayton? What do you have to say to your sister? I c
an’t do anything with her anymore.” Her frown washed over Lexie. Then she looked back at Will. “You need to take over the buying from now on.”
Will winked at Lexie, then coughed and covered his mouth, hiding a smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll get onto her good when we’re done with the planting today.”
Lexie ducked her head to hide a grin and scooted down the row, pressing the dirt over the seeds. As if he could tell her what to do. She’d been bossing him around all his life.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Kate. The stores weren’t stocked yet when I arrived in town. I wouldn’t have made it back before dark if I’d waited.” She bit her lip. Well, it was probably true. She would have been pushing the limit. It was easier to go ahead and buy from the boats.
“Humph. Well then. I wouldn’t have wanted you to ride back in the dark.” The familiar worry lines creased her forehead. “But I think maybe you’d better let Will go to Forsyth from now on.”
“Maybe we’ll both go.” Will raised an eyebrow in Lexie’s direction.
“Good idea. I wouldn’t mind being escorted by my handsome brother.”
“Oh, you two. I know when I’m being hogwashed.” A glimmer of a smile started in Aunt Kate’s faded blue eyes, made its way to the corner of her lips, and was soon a full-blown grin. She folded the empty seed bag and stuck it under her arm. “Let’s get supper on the table, Lexie. It’s almost sundown.”
They walked arm in arm, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. Lexie sighed. Her second favorite time of day.
“Lexie, wake up, wake up!” Will’s voice invaded Lexie’s dream, and she sat straight up in bed. “Get up, Lexie. There’s a fire somewhere. They may need our help.”
In a flash, Lexie jumped out of bed as her brother rushed out of the room. She dressed quickly and hurried to the kitchen. The door of the mudroom stood open and she hurried outside.
Will rode out of the barn on Jolly.
She wrinkled her nose at the acrid smell of smoke. What could be burning? “Can you tell what it is?”
White River Brides Page 2