by Shirl Henke
“He’s lucky to have a job on a boat like this ’un. Lots of street boys, them without families—or families that has too many mouths to feed—end up working for the likes of Red Riley, or signing on with captains what works ’em to death. Goin’ upriver ain’t easy, but it beats goin’ hungry.”
“You’ve been upriver before, haven’t you, Luellen?” Delilah asked.
As she continued slicing from the huge hambone, Luellen nodded. “Twice. Wanted ta see what my late husband’s great uncle seen in the far West. John never stopped talkin’ ’bout the man he was named fer.”
“John Colter, the man who went with Lewis and Clark?” Delilah had heard stories about the fabled expedition to the Pacific at the opening of the century but had not considered that her friend might be related to one of its members.
“The same. He saw boiling pots o’ colored mud that spewed into the air like ole Satan hisself was stirring ’em up. Bears with paws big ’nough ta split logs and Injuns…all kinds o’ tribes. We’ll be meetin’ up with what’s left along the way. Some’s friendly, some not.”
“Captain Dubois and his wife explained about the government’s plans to place the Indians on reservations—or kill those who refuse to go. It’s monstrous.”
“Cain’t rightly say I blame the heathen for fightin’ back,” Luellen agreed. “On my last trip—” Her words were cut short by a commotion down on the levee. “Whut in tarnation now?”
“It isn’t Red Riley’s men back for more trouble, is it?” Delilah asked, shoving her plate away. This time she’d get in a little target practice herself.
“No. It’s Mr. D’s rig. He’s got a rooster unloadin’ luggage. Looks ta me ta be female fixin’s.” Luellen’s voice was puzzled as she peered out the window. “Real expensive stuff.”
That was absolutely the last straw! Delilah snapped her napkin as she flung it onto the table. She stood up, letting her chair wobble as she shoved it out of her way. If that whore-master thought he was going to bring a fancy woman aboard to keep him company—just because she would not succumb to his blandishments—well, he had another think coming.
Luellen watched in startled amazement as the Missus stomped from the kitchen and headed toward the stairs at the opposite end of the boat. “Whut in tarnation got her tail-feathers all ruffled?” Then she smiled. Well, if another female could get the Missus this riled up, maybe she and Mr. D weren’t feuding the way everyone thought they were.
Clint, all bathed and dressed in a frilly white shirt and gray linen suit, jumped from the rig and helped the woman alight.
“Your eye is better, but you could’ve been badly hurt, Lightning Hand. I don’t like it that you’re crossing Big Red Riley. He’s dangerous,” his companion said.
“Not as dangerous as the woman headin’ our way,” Clint replied as he looked over her shoulder to the advancing Deelie. As the young woman turned, he said, “Way she’s stompin’, she’ll bust up the cobblestones.”
“This, I take it, is the —ancient crone,— your partner?” she asked with one black eyebrow raised.
“Evenin’, Mrs. Raymond. I want you to meet someone very dear to me.” He could see her seething and suppressed a grin in spite of Sky’s knowing look at him. He was over his head in river silt. Why was he happy that Deelie was jealous?
Delilah stopped short when the raven-haired woman turned around. Woman? The beautiful creature before her was practically a child. Why, she could be no more than seventeen or eighteen! And she was breathtakingly lovely. Her golden skin and strong, perfectly chiseled features indicated some Indian blood. The contrast with her vivid blue eyes was startling. She wore a traveling suit of deep blue silk that matched those eyes. Masses of shiny black hair were piled atop her head in a smooth heavy coil of braids. From her crown to the dainty blue slippers on her feet, she was a vision of exotic allure.
“Mr. Daniels, this is the final indignity! You, sir, are a monster, a rogue, a charlatan, a man of no principles but those of whoremaster. If you expect for a single instant that I or my uncle will allow you to debauch this lovely child—”
Clint interrupted her tirade by throwing back his head and laughing. Then he held his sides and doubled over, tempting Delilah to use one of those chops to the back of his neck that he had so ably demonstrated that morning. “Don’t you dare laugh at me, you cad, you, you cradle-robber, you snake, you pedophile—”
When Clint saw her move closer and raise her hand, he recalled what a fast learner Delilah Raymond could be. He straightened up and put out his hands, palms forward, to hold her at bay before she broke his neck. “You think Sky’s my mistress, don’t you, Deelie?”
She jerked back her head, glaring at him. “What else am I supposed to think, pray tell?” When one of the roosters started up the gangplank with a trunk, she turned and called out, “Put that down at once!”
The puzzled crewman looked from the irate Mrs. Raymond to the chuckling Mr. Daniels and had no idea whose orders to follow. Daniels was the man, after all, but the female gambler was majority owner, or so the rumor on the riverfront went. He stood still but did not drop the trunk. It might be politic to wait for this to be sorted out before he made a move either way.
Taking Delilah by one arm and motioning for Sky to follow, he walked a ways down the levee for some privacy. “Let’s talk without an audience, all right?”
Delilah jerked her hand from his grip, although she was aware that she had just made a perfect spectacle of herself in front of a goggle-eyed crew. Dozens of men aboard the Nymph had stopped working and were watching Daniels and “his women.” “All right, explain…if you can. You did intend to take this child upriver aboard our boat, did you not?” She tapped one toe on the cobblestones.
“Oh, I will take her upriver with us. Mrs. Raymond, meet my sister, Sky Eyes. Her father is a leader among the Ehank-tonwon Sioux, or Yanktons, as the whites misnamed them. She’s just completed her education here in the city and it’s time for her to return home to her father’s people.”
Delilah was speechless.
Clint was delighted.
Sky Eyes took in the exchange with a tiny smile dancing in her blue eyes. But she was careful to keep her expression impassive, waiting like the roustabout to see how this would play out. My, my, big brother, you are full of surprises.
“Your…your sister? How do you expect me to believe that?” Delilah blurted out.
“It’s not complicated,” Clint replied calmly, knowing that his time with the Sioux was very complicated indeed. But he was most certainly not going to share that information with the judgmental Mrs. Raymond. “I told you I lived upriver for some years. The Ehanktonwon are my family. Sky’s father adopted me. I’m honored to be a member of their nation.”
“But she’s part white,” Delilah said, knowing at once how obvious and stupid the remark was. But if the Sioux woman took offense, none was apparent.
“So is her father. That’s why he wanted his daughter to have an education in the world of whites so she could return and teach his band how to survive. Talks Wise knows it’s only a matter of time until all the Indian nations will be forced to adapt to the white man’s —civilization,— whether they want to or not. It’s that or die.” His mouth was now a grim slash, his eyes gray and fathomless, cold as ice as he stared at Delilah.
Delilah remembered what the captain and Dawn Dubois had explained to her and her uncle and felt ashamed. It was clear that she had made a horrible mistake. Yes, she admitted to herself, a jealous mistake. Swallowing her gorge, she turned to the young woman. “Please accept my sincere apology, miss. I had no right to assume you were anything but what you are—a fine young lady. I hope you will forgive my impertinence.”
“Handsomely done.” He turned to Sky. “She makes wonderful apologies…but then, with that temper of hers, Deelie has lots of cause to practice.”
Now Sky did smile openly. She extended her hand to Delilah. “My brother can be a trial. Please forgive his impertinence,”
she said impishly as she clasped the beautiful green-eyed brunette’s hand. “I hope we can become friends on the voyage upriver.”
“That would be marvelous,” Delilah replied with a smile. “Please, let me show you to the cabins. They’re somewhat cramped, I fear, but you may have your choice of any you wish. Then we’ll see to having your luggage brought aboard.”
As the two women approached the gangplank, chatting animatedly, Clint rubbed his chin and watched them nervously, none too happy at the turn of events. “Whenever two females band together against a man, whatever hand he’s holdin’ isn’t worth a pair of deuces.”
Horace bowed gracefully over Sky’s hand when Delilah made introductions in their sitting room that evening. “Your brother told me his sister was a remarkable young lady, but he did not do you justice, my dear.”
“Watch out for this smooth-talking old rascal. Soon he’ll have you engaged in a game of five-card draw,” Delilah said.
Sky smiled at Horace. “Mr. Mathers, is it true that you taught Delilah such skill that she was able to win this boat from my brother? He has always been incredibly good with cards.”
And with women. Delilah fumed, remembering how he’d outsmarted her with the card trick that had cost her 49 percent of the Nymph.
Horace was nonplused that Delilah had confessed anything of her background to Clint’s foster sister. The bond between the two women was remarkable. Even if it was only for the duration of the voyage, it would be wonderful if Delilah at last had a friend besides Luellen. The kindly older cook was really more of a mother figure than a companion. After Sky left the boat …well, mayhap they would visit Clint’s Sioux family when Delilah became Mrs. Daniels. “My niece exaggerates my modest instruction. She has a natural mathematical mind.”
“What he means is she’s a calculatin’ woman,” Clint said, silhouetted in the sitting room door.
Delilah looked up at him from her perch on the settee. His tall frame filled the doorway. He still wore the expensively tailored linen suit. The ruffled shirt, so common on the riverboats, usually made men appear effeminate. On him, it merely accentuated his masculine magnetism. “If your definition of calculating means that I possess the skill to best you at poker without resorting to palming cards—and that I drivea hard bargain in business—then, yes, I am a calculating woman indeed.”
“I do believe you’ve met your match, Lightning Hand,” Sky said gleefully.
Clint tried to think of one good reason he had not stayed in his cabin and drunk himself to sleep. For the life of him, he couldn’t think of any. Except the obvious:He had to keep an eye on the two scheming females.
“Lightning Hand?” Delilah repeated, looking curiously at Clint. So much of his past remained shrouded in mystery. “Is that a name given to you by the Sioux?”
Clint tried not to snarl. “I earned it,” was the terse reply. His eyes met Sky’s with the unspoken command that she should let the rest remain buried with his past. He was relieved when she nodded slightly.
Sensing an undercurrent between Clint and his sister regarding his Indian name and his past, Horace leaped into the awkward silence to prevent Delilah from pressing their associate further about a subject he did not wish to discuss. “Clint told me earlier that your father had white blood. What of your mother, if you do not mind my asking.”
Sky smiled. “Many people, red and white, notice my eyes. That’s how I received my name. My mother was Swedish, an immigrant to this country, en route to Oregon on a wagon train when the Pawnee attacked. She was rescued by a hunting party led by my father. In time, they fell in love and married. She had golden hair, so took the name Sunrise. As a child I learned Swedish from her and English from my father, even though I considered myself wholly Sioux. When I was twelve, she died in a cholera epidemic. My father still mourns her loss.”
“I am so sorry if I raised painful memories, child,” Horace said as Delilah patted Sky’s hand.
Sky shook her head. “No, I take joy in the years we shared. She was a remarkable woman. If I can be half the blessing to our people that she was, I will be grateful. Few men and women ever share the kind of bond my parentshad.” As she spoke, Sky glanced from Delilah to Clint, then back to Horace.
“Sky, you’ll have your pick of men in Montana Territory, red or white. One will be right for you, just as Talks Wise was right for Sunrise,” Clint said, diverting his matchmaking sister from further speculation about him and Delilah. Still, he couldn’t resist taking a seat on the chair nearest Deelie. She smoothed her skirt and lifted it away, as if to avoid contamination. The woman had been skittish ever since the incident with the buttons. Damn his nimble fingers for unlooping a virtual Pandora’s box that night!
As the conversation moved to other topics, Delilah grew increasingly aware of the man sitting so close to her. She could smell the faint scent of shaving soap, starched linen and male musk. Why did he have to be so infuriatingly attractive? Even the swelling around his eye had almost vanished. How did the devil manage that? Before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out. “Your eye’s almost healed, but you had quite a shiner this morning. You should share the remedy with the rest of the crew.”
He winked at Sky. “Ehanktonwon magic. The two of you can share medicine-woman information.” Lord help me, I know you’ll share enough else to drive me to perdition before this trip’s over.
Chapter Nine
Clint had difficulty falling asleep. It was his first night aboard the Nymph. As soon as the last of the cargo was loaded, they would embark. But it was not excitement about the trip that kept him tossing and turning. It was the picture of Deelie and Sky conspiring together in that sitting room earlier. Sky had given her new friend several remedies from her Sioux people for everything from reducing swelling and healing bruises to setting broken bones.
If his little sister had been so inclined, she would have made a wonderful physician. But what their band really needed was someone well versed in the white man’s ways. That had been why she had willingly left her home and family to spend the past seven years receiving the finest education his business enterprises enabled him to provide.
After being tutored by professors from Washington University in math, literature, geography and history, Sky had read law for the past two years with one of the finest attorneys in St. Louis. When the time came for the Ehanktonwon people to give up their land—and his foster father knew it would not be long—Sky could negotiate the best possible terms for them. The tribal leaders, for a change, would know what they were signing.
He chuckled, remembering when she’d browbeaten him into taking her to old Gemmer, who now owned Jake Hawken’s gun shop. The craftsman had customized a Winchester Yellow Boy for her. And the brat became a crack rifle shot. Now she was a woman of considerable academic and practical knowledge.
His little sister’s education was not what was keeping him tossing and turning tonight. It was her acumen at reading people, something her medicine-woman grandmother Little Foot had schooled her well in doing. She seemed to imagine Deelie was the woman he should marry. Even if he ever did marry again—and he had no intentions of taking that risk—he would certainly choose a more pliant wife than Delilah Raymond. Horace had glossed over her relationship with her first husband, only saying they had been young and his family had refused to take her in when she was widowed.
“Maybe they got to know her and decided she was too much of a shrew,” he muttered to himself as he swung his long legs off the narrow bed and sat up, cradling his head in his hands. Damn beds were made for midgets. His feet hung over the end. As he started to pull on his breeches, he wondered idly how Horace slept; they were the same height. No use lying there staring at the ceiling. Maybe he should return to the Bud and wake up Eva.
Somehow the idea held little appeal. They had parted coolly this morning. She knew he had to return Sky upriver and had accepted that—until Delilah entered the picture. He’d kept the Nymph when he first won it to show off for his
little sister. He’d planned to give her a ride home in high style on Red Riley’s floating bordello—after redecorating to make it respectable, of course.
He’d never realized the cabins were so cramped, though. He felt claustrophobic in the small space. Perhaps some fresh night air would tire him sufficiently so he could sleep without having nightmares about what deviltry Deelie and Sky were cooking up. Or was it the pull of the past that tugged at him…the wild, unfettered life he had left behind when he’d brought Sky downriver for her education? A wave of darkness swept over him whenever he thought of living Sioux and what it had cost him. No. Never again.
Clint slipped on an old shirt and slid his gold cigar case into his pocket. He opened the door to let the cool, pungent air of the Mississippi fill his nostrils. Stepping onto the deck, he walked toward the stern to better see the night sky. He fired up an expensive cigar and took a deep, fragrant draw. Then, as he exhaled, he looked at the heavens. Even the Bud had turned out its lights by now. There was nothing to impede a full view of the myriad of stars filling the inky void.
“Not as many stars as we’ll see upriver, but still splendid.”
Sky’s voice cut into his reverie. He turned and looked at her. She was dressed in a demure cotton wrapper that covered her modestly from throat to slippered feet. She looked the perfect lady…just as Deelie did. “You’re up late. That pretty little head too busy cooking up schemes for you to sleep?”
A slow smile lit her face. “Why, Lightning Hand, why would you accuse me of such a thing?” Before he could remonstrate, she added, “I will never use your Ehanktonwon name in front of your white friends….”
“Thank you.”
“But you will have to explain it some day—to the woman you call Deelie. She hates the nickname, but then you know that. I suppose that’s why you use it. To provoke her. Do you ever ask yourself why?”