“Honey, that’s what we’re put on God’s good earth for. I do like your style. Some of these so-called ladies around here cross the street when they see me comin’, and there ain’t no way I can be of help to them. But I thought if Lonetree picked you, there’s got to be a reason, and I was right. You got class, but you’re a woman just like me. Men are hard on a woman, but we can’t live without them. You take care now, honey. I reckon we won’t be seeing each other again soon.”
Molly Malone rolled off, her wide hips swinging generously beneath outdated petticoats and stiff skirts. She reminded Alicia of a battleship plowing through the waves of a harbor, her mighty keel reducing the roar of the ocean to splashes. God help any who floundered in her path.
Somewhat shaken, Alicia headed toward the river. Just what had Molly meant when she said they were both women?
Travis followed her progress as his new passenger picked her way over the rutted clay and rocks of the path down to the river. She had abandoned black for a deep navy blue, but she still wore one of her infernal bonnets with the brim pulled around her face so only someone standing directly in front of her could see more than shadow. The sensible muslin gown showed no hint of the frills or lace of last night, and concealed any hint of the creamy skin beneath. Despite all that, he smiled in delight. If she had any idea how much those fashionable little gowns revealed, he suspected she would dust off her mother’s old full skirts.
Travis climbed down from the cabin roof. At least he had had the presence of mind to wear his shirt, though he had refrained from tying it closed. True to his word, he wrapped his long hair with a bandanna instead of tying it into a queue, and returned the gold earring to his ear.
“Beautiful day, Mrs. Stanford.”
“But you would prefer rain, I take it?” Alicia asked.
His eyebrows shot up at her grasp of the situation, but he nodded. “This trip would be a good deal safer in the rain, admittedly, but to wait for it might place us too close to winter and other hazards. It might take longer than usual, but I can get us downriver without the rain.”
“Good. I’ve been told you are a competent man and assured that you get what you set out for, so I’ll not doubt your ability.”
At her ironic tone, Travis studied her expression. “And who have you been talking to that is so generous in my praise?”
“A Mrs. Malone, I believe. She left me with a most singular impression, but I don’t suppose you would care to clarify her implications?”
Travis opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, and stared at her with incredulity and disbelief before he broke out in laughter. “Molly! My God! What were you doing talking to Molly?”
Tapping her toe, Alicia waited for him to control himself. “I believe it was more a case of Molly doing the talking. I would prefer it if my name did not become a household word. Just what is everyone saying about me that she would confront me in such a manner?”
Sobering, Travis leaned back against the boat’s keel and picked up the latest stick he had been carving. Pulling out his knife, he looked up at her obliquely. “I don’t know who you’re hiding from, Mrs. Stanford, or why, but any woman traveling this river alone will start tongues wagging.”
“I am just not accustomed to being gossiped about. Now, shall we discuss the terms of our agreement?”
Travis whittled at his stick, watching the shape forming beneath his fingers. He had promised himself not to look closely at the flaws of this woman who had stepped from the water practically into his arms, but he could not avoid doubts. She was some years younger than he, but no longer a child. If it were not for her mourning and her insistence on the title “Mrs.” he would have thought her a maiden, though. Her modesty was easily offended for a woman who should have known the physical aspects of men and matrimony. Now this fear of gossip added to the mystery. Had she murdered her husband? Or just run away from him? Judging by her innate good breeding, Travis rather suspected the latter, which complicated matters.
Since he could think of no better plan than the one he had conceived, he shrugged. “The price of the boat is forty-five dollars. If I make less money on my cargo in St. Louis than I expected in New Orleans, I will expect you to make up half the difference. If I make more, I will split the profits. In either case, the boat is yours to do with as you wish when we arrive. But over and beyond that, I expect you to obey my orders. Can you shoot a rifle, Mrs. Stanford?”
Alicia swallowed her relief at the price. To pay for the entire boat was outrageous, but she was in no position to haggle. Under the circumstances, forty-five dollars was reasonable, but the other conditions might not be. “A rifle, Mr. Travis? I have never even held one.”
He snorted and shoved upright. “I figured that. We’ll have to give you some lessons, Mrs. Stanford. At times, every hand is needed, and yours will be no exception. Hampered by those fool skirts of yours, you will more likely be a nuisance than anything, but putting breeches on you certainly won’t solve the problem. ’Tis a pity you’re not a squaw. They at least know how to dress sensibly.”
Seething, Alicia fought the urge to retaliate. Her upbringing did not permit vulgar quarrels. Perhaps her condition rendered her emotionally unstable. If so, she had all the more reason to resist telling this insufferable man what she thought of him.
“Mr. Travis,” she replied icily, then catching herself, she inquired, “Is it Travis Lonetree or Lonetree Travis? It is most difficult addressing you without a proper introduction.”
“Neither. Just call me one or the other, preferably without the ‘Mister.’ I’ll answer to just about anything. You had something else you wished to say?”
Alicia jutted her chin. “I only wished to say, Mr. Travis, that I am quite capable of wearing breeches or deerskin or blankets, if necessary, should it get us to St. Louis faster. Just inform me of the approved garb, and I will acquire it.”
It took him a minute to formulate a reply. She feared he would recommend breechclouts and turkey feathers as his mother had probably worn, but he apparently decided against testing his luck.
He nodded in approval at her practicality. “I trust your judgment in not wearing anything to inflame my men any more than necessary. Other than that, I recommend anything that allows you to walk with comfort without entangling itself on every briar. Normally, it would not matter, but we may see a lot of walking this trip. Moccasins would be more comfortable for your feet than those dainty slippers.” He indicated the pieces of material laced about her ankles.
Alicia blushed at the realization that his sharp eyes had not missed any detail of her garments. “Can you recommend a place where I might purchase some moccasins, then? And tell me what date we will be leaving so I can have my luggage delivered in time.”
“I’ll take care of the moccasins for you. One of my men will have the wagon at the tavern at daybreak. I’m ready to go as soon as you are, Mrs. Stanford.”
Startled, but relieved that this unendurable voyage would begin soon, Alicia nodded her acceptance. She did not know how she would survive countless days in the company of this unnerving savage, but she would run barefoot through the woods to escape what she had left behind.
“I will be ready at dawn, Mr. Travis. Thank you.” Averting her eyes from that penetrating black stare of his, she turned toward town.
Since she scarcely slept, Alicia was up and ready when the ancient wagon halted outside the tavern at dawn. She checked the black kerchief wrapped over her gray muslin bodice, and straightened her gray bonnet to hide her hair. She knew from experience that heavy tendrils would escape before day’s end, but she would start this journey with proper decorum. She looked the part of a Quaker lady, she surmised, and wished she had the white apron to confirm it.
The knock on the door startled her, though she had been expecting it. With one last nervous knotting of her bonnet strings, Alicia unfastened the latch.
To her surprise Travis stood there, his shirt properly tied and topped by a buckskin jacket with
fringes along the arms and yoke, his hair cropped to an almost respectable length about his sun-browned throat. She must have been staring, for he gestured at her trunks, distracting her gaze.
She hurried to gather her pelisse and purse and the smaller carpet bag. Travis effortlessly lifted the largest trunk and carried it into the hall, gesturing with his head to another man to go after the last. They marched through the silent tavern without exchanging a word. Not until they reached the street did they even encounter another human being.
A lone couple strolled arm in arm through the dusty, half-lit street. They appeared to be respectable. At the sight of the small procession loading baggage into the wagon, the woman whispered into the man’s ear. The man in turn stared at Travis helping Alicia into the seat.
Without a word of provocation he spat in the dust at Travis’s feet, muttered, “Damned, no-good injuns,” and steered his companion across the street.
Alicia stared after the couple, too stunned to react. Then the tension of these last minutes broke, and she chuckled. Travis shouldered the last of the trunks into the wagon and climbed up beside her. At her outburst he raised a quizzical brow.
“That’s what Molly said they did when she came to town. Are you a whore, Mr. Travis?” As she had never said such an improper thing in her life, she covered her mouth with her fingers and looked surprised, but the dignified man beside her did not seem in the least disturbed.
“No, Mrs. Stanford. Are you?”
The casualness of his question shocked Alicia into further giggles, until she could not control the hysterical laughter. Until now she had kept tight rein on her emotions, but today she felt free. The burden of a thousand travesties lifted from her shoulders, and fell by the wayside as the wagon rumbled down silent streets to the river below. Home and family lay far behind, and the great, wide West loomed before her. She wanted to shout “Hallelujah!” and dance a jig, but she did not know how. Instead she laughed until the men in the wagon with her began to grin.
“Mrs. Stanford, if you can laugh that way at every insult you are given, you are destined to lead a long and merry life,” Travis predicted.
“That sounds as if you expect me to be insulted frequently, Mr. Travis,” she giggled as the wagon came to a halt by the river.
Travis swung down from the seat and with a lazy, muscular grace grasped her by the waist and lifted her to the ground. Black eyes twinkled as he held her longer than necessary.
“If it keeps you laughing like that, I’ll make it a habit to insult you daily.”
Growing aware of the crew of keelboatmen leaning over the bow and lounging against the cabin watching this scene with interest and jests, Alicia disentangled herself.
“You grow too bold, Mr. Travis. I thank you to keep your hands to yourself.”
Hands on hips, he laughed. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you, Mrs. Stanford? We Indians respect no one but the moon and sun. Children of nature, some poor poet called us. Creatures of impulse is the usual epithet. Beware, Mrs. Stanford, or I’ll scalp that dreadful bonnet right off your pretty locks.”
With a roar of laughter at her expression, he shouldered the first of her trunks and headed for the boat, leaving Alicia to follow in his path.
It was pure madness even to contemplate this trip, but as she climbed in and discovered the wooden partition in the back of the cabin obviously installed just for her privacy, she smiled in delight. This Travis/Lonetree might be a rude, arrogant, presumptuous Indian, but he was the closest thing to a gentleman she had encountered west of the Alleghenies. And with satisfaction she set her bags down at the foot of the crude bed constructed just for her.
For the first time since leaving Philadelphia, she felt confident. She just wished she could have seen Teddy’s face when he pulled up to the Stanford mansion and found the windows boarded and a “for sale” placard on the door. He wanted the house so badly, let him buy it. Only this way, she wouldn’t come with it.
Chapter 5
By nightfall, weariness masked whatever pleasure she’d felt earlier.
The reverberations of shotgun blasts still echoed in Alicia’s ears, and her hands and gown stank of sulfur from the day’s lessons in loading and priming. The lesson would have been simple enough if Travis had not insisted on holding her hands to guide each step. His proximity had made her so nervous she became all thumbs and the lessons took twice as long, much to the appreciation of the grinning crew.
Grimly she contemplated the warm bucket of water some thoughtful person had provided for her to wash in. What she wanted was an enormous bath to rid herself of the memories that still made her skin crawl with disgust. The presence of so many overtly masculine, half-dressed men did nothing to alleviate her distress.
Remembering the small pistol neatly tucked beneath her pillow, Alicia gave herself permission to relax. She would not be caught unawares the next time. Now that she knew what could be expected of men, she could prepare herself. For that reason she had endured this day’s lesson. Now she knew how the weapon operated.
Unbuttoning her high-necked gown and lowering the bodice and chemise, Alicia washed in hot water. After the first part of her trip, this keelboat with Travis was a decided luxury. He was obviously worth the money if the remainder of the journey met today’s standards.
The lavender soap erased all traces of gunpowder, and, feeling refreshed, Alicia fastened her clothing again and prepared to join the others over the evening meal. Travis had declared this part of the river safe enough to land and hunt fresh meat, and she could smell the results of the hunt cooking over a fire now.
Remembering the Indian’s warning, she pinned a cotton kerchief over her neckline. She would not be accused of enticement. On her way out, she grabbed a shawl as extra precaution.
Travis hid his grimace as his passenger stepped from the boat wrapped to the neck in dreary gray and black like some ancient spinster. He meant to have no trouble with his men over this woman, but she had taken his words too far. He had already made his claim on her, and there wasn’t a man aboard who didn’t understand that he would skin them alive if they attempted to steal his property. But he wasn’t about to explain that pertinent piece of information to the lady.
He ignored her as she found a secluded spot on a log just out of the fire light. He had never seen a woman shy so from his attentions, but he attributed it to her fear of his race. This all must seem strange to her, so he would not push too hard, too fast. She learned quickly, and without the prejudices of most people.
Travis sat back on his haunches and sipped at the bitter brew in his cup while studying the woman across the glade. It was a good thing she had been married before. Untried maidens could be a bit hysterical.
The restlessness this thought stirred in his loins made Travis smile. Once she grew accustomed to the idea, he would teach her the pleasures her first husband obviously had not. It had been a long time since he had bedded a real lady, one who smelled of soap and perfume instead of horse lather and sweat. He remembered the smooth softness of skin untouched by sun, the feel of satin sheets, the taste of sweet wine upon his lips. Where in hell would he find wine and satin sheets out here?
Standing up, irritated by the path of his thoughts, Travis slipped into the trees to work his way around to the lone figure at the clearing’s edge. To his surprise, when he arrived at the log, she was gone.
Alicia followed the faint trail she had found into the woods. The need to relieve herself so frequently could become a nuisance under these circumstances. She detested being forced to go out in the open like a creature of nature, but she feared returning to the boat alone even more. When Travis was there, she felt protected. But she did not know or trust the barbarians he called a crew.
Accomplishing her objective, she adjusted her skirts and petticoats and glanced about. She could see stars through the canopy of leaves and knew this night would not bring rain. The stirrings in the underbrush made her uneasy, and she lingered no longer. Perhaps the others we
re ready to return to the boat by now.
As she stepped out onto the path again, a wild screech tore through the air behind her, and a cacophony of beating drums erupted. With a scream of terror Alicia ran for the safety of the fire.
And collided directly with the tall, unyielding frame of the half-breed. Lonetree’s arms circled her, cradling Alicia against his linen-covered chest as she babbled incoherently of savages and wild beasts. His lack of fear calmed her. His muscular strength shielded her from the unknown, and the soothing stroke of his capable hand down her spine brought her to her senses.
Instantly alert, Alicia pushed his chest, trying to distance herself from the very masculine body pressing into her. Travis yielded a short distance, but did not free her completely as he stared like a cat through the darkness.
“What is it, Alicia? Did you see something?”
She sensed the tension in his voice, but her fears of this man overwhelmed the fears of a moment ago. She squirmed to be free of his hold, not even noticing the familiarity of his address.
“No. I heard a noise . . .” She wriggled from his hands and breathed easier. “A horrible noise. Like I’d imagine a banshee.”
She could almost feel his grin in the dark. “That screech owl a moment ago? If that’s all, you’re safer with him than with me.”
With that inane remark he held his hands to his mouth and emitted a screech that could have deafened a devil. Alicia covered her ears and stared with incredulity.
“Whatever on earth possessed you to do that? One in a night is quite sufficient.”
Travis caught her shoulder and turned her back the way she had come. “I’m going to teach you the stupidity of wandering off by yourself.”
A shadowy figure emerged from a copse of trees. Even in the darkness Alicia could discern the near-nakedness of the red man not three yards from where they stood. If it had not been for Travis’s arm holding her in place, she would have turned and fled.
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