The River Nymph

by Shirl Henke

  “By the time those two females are through, we’ll be steaming safely upriver, cargo intact. Lord help a man faced with beauty and good cooking,” Clint said.

  Horace nodded. “I must confess that Mrs. Colter gave my niece the idea of diverting them with the pies she’d just taken from the oven. After filling their bellies, they dare not let the lieutenant know they wasted so much time that they could not complete their assignment with the thoroughness he doubtless expects.”

  “He doesn’t strike me as the understanding sort,” Clint said dryly.

  An hour later Delilah and the smitten young Astor emerged from the dining room. Sure enough, his men reported that the cargo was all legal and everything shipshape. Luellen Colter, empty pie plate in hand, had already returned to her kitchen. Clint and Horace watched the lieutenant click his heels and kiss Delilah’s hand again before strutting down the gangplank.

  As she waved farewell to Astor, Clint walked over to her and said quietly, “If we run into any river pirates, you be sure to invite them in for tea. You’d have ole Bluebeard himself eatin’ right out of your hand.”

  “My, now your accent has returned. You are a chameleon, Mr. Daniels, as changeable as Missouri weather.”

  “And you, Mrs. Raymond, are more changeable than Mis-sourah weather, from cold-as-ice gamblin’ lady to vaporing belle. Ever consider a career on the stage?”

  “All the world’s a stage, Mr. Daniels. I do what I must to survive. You would do well to remember that.”

  “You didn’t finish the quote.” Clint appeared to consider a moment, then recited, “ —All the world—s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.’ As You Like It, Act Two. Jacques goes on to say, —One man in his time plays many parts.— You’d do well to remember that.”

  Puzzled and surprised, Delilah looked up into his pale blue eyes. “Quoting Shakespeare as well as my uncle. Since you possess such erudition, I assume your family was wealthy before the war.”

  Clint laughed without humor. “Hardly. My mother died when I was just a tadpole and my father was the town drunk. We weren’t rich slaveholders.”

  “Then why did you fight for the secessionists?”

  “When we first met, you were certain I never fought for any cause,” he said, evading her question. “Have I risen in your esteem, Deelie?”

  “Not esteem. I’m simply curious about a man of mystery,” she replied, recalling Sky’s words about his noble virtues.

  He leaned closer to her, inhaling the fragrance of her hair as he placed both hands on the railing, trapping her between his arms. “Beware curiosity, Cat Eyes.” Then before either of them could say more, the whistle sounded from the wheelhouse and the engines thrummed to life.

  The sudden vibration caused Delilah to lose her balance and pitch against the hard wall of his chest. She felt his heartbeat and knew her own matched it when he smiled down at her, then chivalrously steadied her with his hands before stepping back. He sketched a slight bow and ambled away.

  Delilah stifled the urge to stamp her foot, then realized that he’d never detect it over the vibration of the steam engine. No, I’ll not allow him to make me lose my temper…ever again. Even as her mind formed the words, she knew she was lying to herself. Clint Daniels could make St. Peter swear.

  The monotony of upriver travel continued as Nebraska and Iowa yielded mostly flat, desolate prairie and occasional homesteads interspersed with rolling hills and steep bluffs. In Nebraska City, Omaha and Council Bluffs they dropped off cargo and took on passengers bound for the gold fields. The current was swift, causing them to burn wood at a furious pace, but in spite of it, the captain guided the Nymph skillfully past clumps of driftwood and treacherous sawyers, hugetree trunks with one end tangled on the river bottom while the other bobbed up and down in the water as if waiting to rip the bottom out of an unwary boat.

  About a day’s journey below Sioux City, they made a wood stop in the area Horace had told Delilah about, where wildflowers grew in rolling meadows surrounded by birch and oak trees. “I understand there’s a perfect spot for a picnic beyond that stand of timber,” he said to his niece as the roosters headed ashore to load fuel from the woodhawk with whom Mr. Iversen had already struck a deal.

  “We don’t have time to waste picnicking,” she replied, looking up from the constantly changing inventory lists.

  When she rubbed her head and returned doggedly to the columns of figures, he remonstrated, “You need a bit of recreation. Those numbers will add up more easily—not to mention more accurately—when you’re rested.”

  “I can rest in my bed tonight,” she said stubbornly, scratching out a figure with her pen and starting over again.

  “Captain Dubois has already given the crew several hours off after the wood is loaded. It seems the engineers have to make some minor repairs to one of the boilers. We’ve made excellent time thus far, my dear. In fact, I’ve already taken the liberty of having Mrs. Colter prepare a repast for us.”

  “I suppose Mr. Daniels will be joining us,” she said, knowing he would, if for no other reason than to annoy her.

  “So will your delightful companion, Miss Sky, and the captain and his officers, once their duties are fulfilled. Mrs. Colter will serve as your chaperone,” he added with a twinkle in his eyes.

  Tossing down her pen, she capitulated. Soon the jolly cook, Sky and Delilah were climbing the gentle rise from the river, walking in fields of flowers. Sky was like a child, eager to tell Delilah the names of every variety. “I’ve not seen a spring like this in seven years! Look, that’s purple bull thistle. And the bright red is Cardinal flower! Over there—yellow sweet clover.”

  “What are the ones with gold-tipped petals and bright rust-colored centers?” Delilah asked.

  “Blanket flowers,” Sky answered. She turned in a circle, arms open wide, a look of radiant joy on her face.

  “I must admit, short of horticultural conservatories back East, I’ve never seen such brilliant and varied flowers—and to think they just grow wild here.” She could see that even Todd and second pilot Zeke Hagadorn, who carried the heavy picnic baskets for the women, were awed by the display.

  The day was unusually warm for early May in Nebraska and the young women had both dressed accordingly in light colors of cotton, although Luellen held to a sensible gray blouse and black skirt. Sky looked radiant in bright yellow, and Delilah had chosen a pale lavender that turned her eyes a lighter shade of green.

  “You gals match the wildflowers,” Luellen said as Sky bent to snip a bunch of lavender chicory for the bouquet she planned to set on their picnic blanket.

  “Mmm, that baked ham smells heavenly. Do we have to share with the men?” Sky asked as Delilah laughed.

  “Uncle Horace, for all his thinness, can eat his weight. Best not to deprive him. I imagine your brother will want his share as well.” Delilah paused to wipe a thin sheen of perspiration from her forehead with a lacy square of white linen.

  “All the menfolk’ve worked right hard. That’s why we can take time for this here party,” Luellen said. “Why, my Todd’s a skinny ’un, too, but, lordy, can that boy eat!”

  “I don’t see how you can keep up with all the cooking for such a large, hungry group of men with only Beth and Sadie to help you,” Sky said as she inspected her bright array of flowers. “And the kitchen fires are almost as hot as the boiler room.”

  Luellen shrugged her plump shoulders. “Heat never bothered me. Where are them girls? I tole ’em to git up here pronto ’n help me set out the food.”

  The two sturdy young women appeared as if summoned, dashing through the wildflower meadow, giggling like children. Todd called to Sadie, “Lookee up yonder. On the crest ’o the hill. A level place in the shade ’o thet oak.” Then remembering that it was his aunt who was in charge, not the pretty little Irish cook’s helper, he turned to Luellen. “It’s perfect fer a picnic, ain’t it?” She trundled toward him, leaving Delilah and Sky to their flower-gathering.
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br />   “Coming from Pennsylvania, I’m afraid this river humidity bothers me,” Delilah confessed as she dabbed at her neck and forehead again.

  “I remember this place. On our journey to St. Louis we camped here,” Sky said. “Behind that stand of birch trees, there’s a hidden pool of spring-fed water.” She pointed to a hill in the distance. “We camped there for a couple of nights while my brother hunted antelope to resupply our larder. I remember swimming in cool, clear water. Wouldn’t that be fun? Oh, I still forget after all my years in school—ladies don’t learn to swim, do they?”

  “I’m no lady, remember?” Delilah said, this time lightheartedly. Suddenly life seemed filled with possibilities as limitless as the vast blue sky overhead. “I did learn to swim, and a dip in a clear, cool pool sounds heavenly! Baths using muddy river water have not been exactly satisfactory. Oh, but we’ll need someone to serve as lookout while we’re in the water. There’ll be men all around, and we wouldn’t want them spying on us.”

  Sky nodded, the nibble of an idea beginning to form in her mind. “I think Luellen would be happy to oblige. And what man would dare to cross her? After all, she could threaten to feed them fried rocks.”

  “A real threat, considering how excellent a cook she is,” Delilah replied. Then an unsettling thought occurred to her. “Do you think your brother remembers the pool?” She would not put it past the lout to spy on her in the privacy of her bathtub, much less out in the open. He was slippery enough to find a way past Luellen, too. After all, he’d livedwith the Indians for years. Maybe the swim was not such a good idea after all.

  “I doubt he’d remember. He was too busy hunting. Anyway, he would never spy on me—or you either,” she quickly added. Delilah could not see her fingers crossed behind her back as she uttered the words.

  Under Luellen’s watchful eye, Todd and Zeke laid out the blankets, and then Beth and Sadie unpacked the feast of baked ham, sweet and sour potato salad, bread fresh from the oven with butter and peach preserves, home-cured dill pickles and an array of layer cakes, including chocolate and spice, all slathered with rich creamy icing.

  Delilah sat beside her uncle and cut a slice of fork-tender ham, trying not to watch Clint as he stood talking to Captain Dubois about the next leg of their journey and the dangers they might encounter along the way. Daniels towered over the diminutive pilot and looked utterly at ease as he leaned against the trunk of the big oak tree, a plate in one hand, a fork in the other. He threw back his head and laughed at some bon mot from Dubois, allowing a shock of straight, straw-colored hair to fall across his forehead.

  The other men had Todd barber their hair, but it seemed the farther upriver they went, the more Daniels let go of the trappings of civilization. His hair was growing longer with the passing of every week, now reaching his broad shoulders. He wore buckskin breeches with fringe down the side seams. His open shirt of coarse blue cotton had the sleeves rolled up. Most of his chest was visible, and she remembered the feel of that crisp gold hair against her hands and bosom. Don’t think about that!

  She lowered her lashes and took another bite of the meat, but her appetite had fled, damn the man. To complete his savage ensemble, Delilah could see he’d given up his scuffed work boots in favor of moccasins. So much better to sneak up on you, my dear. In spite of the irritating thought, she could barely tear her gaze away from the soft tan leather molded tohis long legs. All he needed was some war paint and earrings and he’d be Lightning Hand, Ehanktonwon warrior, again.

  “He looks different, I must confess,” Horace said, as if intuiting her thoughts. “But the clothing is practical, since he’s taken on the responsibility of hunting wild game for our table. The venison we had last evening was quite tasty, if I do say so myself.”

  “This from a man who’s vowed never to shoot an animal in his life,” Delilah replied, trying for a light tone in spite of her irritation.

  “I have never turned my hand against a pig or cow, yet I’ve always had passing fondness for pork and beef,” he replied. “The idea of wild meat never appealed…until now, do you not agree?”

  Delilah almost dropped her plate. Of course her erudite and genteel uncle would never use bawdy double entendres in her presence! What was she thinking? What was that man across the way making her think? It was all his fault, not her dear uncle’s.

  Somehow Delilah managed to eat most of what was on her plate, although she declined the rich cake that everyone else exclaimed over. Even sitting in the shade, she was burning up as the midday temperature climbed. Dare she and Sky go to that pool? It was insanely risky. Why, some wild Indians could come along and kidnap them! No, all the natives this far downriver had already been killed or herded onto reservations far to the north and west. It was perfectly safe as long as they had someone trustworthy to stand watch while they bathed.

  After everyone was finished with the repast, the captain and his officers excused themselves to return to the Nymph. The boiler repair was important if they were to continue safely on their way upriver and not lose a significant amount of time rebuilding the troublesome machinery. Horace decided to return to his cabin for an afternoon nap. When Clint said he wanted to discuss something with the first mate back at the boat, that left only the women and Todd.

  “Now we can go for that swim,” Sky whispered to Delilah.

  Before she could reply, Luellen gave some instructions to her nephew and the girls about packing up the baskets, then walked over to where Delilah and Sky were sitting. “I reckon it would be right fun to set a spell more, but we got us a whole passel ’o work for tonight’s dinner, makin’ a venison stew. Yew young ’uns stay and talk some girl talk. Cap’n says it’s safe ’nough hereabouts.”

  Delilah sighed as she herded Todd and the maids down the hill. “So much for our chaperone and lookout.”

  “We don’t need anyone to watch over us. She’s right—no one’s around for miles except for the men on the boat, and they’re all going to be busy. Besides, who’ll know if we slip away and cool off in the water?”

  “You should’ve been named Lilith instead of Sky Eyes,” Delilah said with a grin. “All right, let’s do it!”

  They waited until everyone was out of sight. Then Sky led the way through the birch trees and around a blackberry thicket. “A pity it’s too early for the berries,” she said as they passed by and neared the pool. “I’d love a big hunk of blackberry pie right now.”

  “How do you stay so slender and eat the way you do? You had two pieces of cake.”

  “And you didn’t have any,” Sky replied as she kicked off her soft slippers, peeled down her hose and started to unfasten the buttons on her dress. “Last one in has to sit next to my brother tonight for dinner!” she dared Delilah.

  Her friend quickly began stripping off her clothing. Did everyone aboard the boat know how she tried to avoid Clint Daniels? She stopped shedding garments when she reached her chemise and pantalets. Sky was stripping completely, innocent as a baby in her nakedness.

  “No fair! You have to take everything off,” she cried as Delilah beat her to the water by a second, then jerked her foot back when it touched the icy cold.

  “Just plunge in and it’ll feel much better. That’s the waymy people do it. See, over there is the deep end. You can dive from that rock. I did and the water wasn’t as high as it is now. I dare you!”

  “Just because I’m an Easterner doesn’t mean I’m afraid of catching a chill!” Delilah let out a shriek of laughter, feeling like a twelve-year-old girl again as she dashed to the rock and leaped. The cold took her breath away for an instant, but then she shook her head and began to swim across the pool. The warm sunlight filtering through the trees combined with vigorous exercise made her forget the chill. “This is fabulous. I wish I’d brought soap to wash my hair. I could probably lose a pound of river mud.”

  “Too bad we didn’t think of it,” Sky said as she jumped after Delilah. They bathed, splashing and swimming like a pair of sleek young otters.
Then suddenly, Sky cried out and swam quickly to the shallows, where she sat down.

  “What’s wrong?” Delilah asked.

  “Just a cramp. I ate too much cake. This always happens. I should’ve known better, but Luellen’s cakes are hard to resist.”

  “We should go back—”

  “No! That is, I’ll be fine. This has happened to me ever since I was a little girl. All I need to do is walk for a bit and it’ll go away. You stay and finish your swim. I’ll take my time, then return to the boat.”

  Delilah climbed out of the water, her undergarments dripping water. “I insist on seeing you safely back.”

  “You should’ve done as I did and taken off everything. If you try to put on your dress now, it’ll be soaked. Everyone will know you were swimming. Stay and dry off in the sun.” Sky quickly wrung out her heavy mane of straight black hair and skillfully plaited it into a long braid, then slipped into her clothing. “By the time I get to the boat, no one will know I was ever wet.”

  With her naturally curly hair untamable while wet, Delilah knew Sky was right. “Are you certain you’ll be safe to walk that far?”

  “A lot safer than strolling some of the streets in St. Louis,” she replied, and started off at a slow pace. As soon as she was out of Delilah’s sight, she picked up her skirt and began to dash down the hill.

  Chapter Twelve

  Clint was playing an idle hand of cards with Sam Belson, the first engineer, when Sky reached the boat. She sauntered casually by the table with a sly expression on her face. “You should be ashamed of yourself, taking honest men’s money.” She turned her attention to the engineer. “Do you know, Mr. Belson, that he’s a professional gambler who owns a saloon back in St. Louis?”

  She was certain Belson, who hailed from St. Genevieve, had never heard of the Blasted Bud or its owner before he signed on with Captain Dubois the preceding year. He gave a snort and pulled a ragged red handkerchief from his back pocket to blow his nose.