Esther

by Jim Cox

  Sunset came and then faded into darkness as the kidnapper’s raft floated northward toward Paducah. Later in the night, the barge passed by the twinkling lights of the city without being noticed and then entered onto the Ohio River heading west toward the mighty Mississippi. They’d be there a couple hours before sunrise.

  Behind them, the Owens’s boat had just made the turn north on the Cherokee and wouldn’t be in Paducah until daybreak.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “We’ll be docking in Paducah within thirty minutes,” Doyle said standing in the center of the barge. After you’ve collected your belongings, I’d suggest you go to the Hanover Hotel, which is a block north of the landing, and check in for two nights since the next leg of your trip won’t be leaving for two days. Charles and I will be leaving ya’ here and heading back home, but you’ll have new barge operators taking you onto the Mississippi River crossing at Birds Point where you can catch a river steamer going north to St. Louis or south to New Orleans. In case you’re hungry and want to get a bite to eat, the hotel’s café serves a great breakfast and should be opened by now…I like their hotcakes and sausage.

  After docking, the Connors’ and the young couple gave Mark their condolences concerning his ma and sister and then said their goodbyes before leaving for the Hanover with bags in hand. Mark led Blue onto the landing where he stood bewildered, wondering what to do next. Doyle gathered his things and stood at the craft’s edge in a perplexed mood as he eyed the boy, wondering what was to become of him. He knew Mark would chase after his ma and sister, but he also knew his chances of finding them or getting them away from their abductors were slim to none.

  Charles’s eyes were also concentrated on the boy when Doyle looked over at his brother. After getting his attention, he motioned him over. “I’m not gonna leave the boy to fend for himself, Charles. He needs help, and I intend to give it.”

  “I agree, Doyle. What are ya’ thinkin’?”

  “You go on home, Charles, and get started on the new barge. I’ll help the boy get his folks back if I can. Take my horse to the livery and tell the smithy I’ll be back to get him in a week or two.”

  “Think you’ll be gone that long, Doyle?”

  “I’m not sure,” his brother answered. And then after a long pause, he said, “I’ll be gone as long as it takes.”

  The brothers were wrapping up their plans when Mark walked up leading Blue and said with watery eyes, “I’d best be goin’; I’ve got to figure out what to do with Blue and how to get my ma and sister back.” Mark paused as he wiped his eyes. “I’m mighty grateful to ya’ for bringing me and my folks down the river, and don’t go blaming yourselves for their kidnapping—it ain’t your fault—you warned us.” After a long pause, Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out fifty dollars. “Here’s the fifty dollars we owe ya’—thanks again.”

  Charles shook his head and motioned for Mark to put his money away. “We need a pack animal to haul things back home, Mark. Would you be willing to sell Blue for the fifty dollars you owe us for the trip? It would be a big help to us.” The boy nodded, handed Charles the reins, and started unloading his gear from Blue.

  “Mark,” Doyle said while the boy was occupied, “I have a proposition for ya’. I feel at fault for allowing you all to travel down river with us, knowing riff raff waits along the shore to apprehend young female passengers.” Doyle paused, “We should have done a better job of protecting you.”

  “What do you have in mind, Mr. Doyle?” Mark asked with brightened eyes.

  “You need help, Mark, and I’m gonna give it to you. Charles is going back home with Blue, and I’ll be going with you to get your folks back.”

  Mark’s eyes lit up with surprise and new hope as he thanked the brothers. “Do you have a plan, Mr. Doyle? How do you figure on getting ʼem back?”

  “We’ll use a canoe and a river steamer, Mark.”

  While Doyle and Charles said their goodbyes and discussed last minute plans, Mark selected a few things from Blue’s pack he might need, including his gun and holster, and placed them into a burlap bag, knotted with a rope at the top with a shoulder loop for carrying.

  “I know you’re in a hurry to catch up with your folks, but let’s go get us a good meal before we head out, Mark. There’s a little landing café down the ways a bit that gets their food out fairly fast. It’ll be a lot quicker than fixing our own.” The boy smiled.

  When they left the café, they started toward town instead of heading to the river, and Mark balked. “Where’re we going, Mr. Doyle? The river’s in the other direction.”

  “We’re going to the mercantile to buy us some new clothes, Mark. Yours are worn out and aren’t suited for the country we’re traveling to, and mine’s not suited either. By the time we get to the Mississippi, most men will be wearing western duds.”

  Two hours later they were making good headway down the Ohio in their canoe as the both of them made long, strong pulls on their paddles. Doyle had estimated they were traveling at nearly three times the speed of the river current which meant they’d be gaining rapidly on the kidnapper’s raft. At this rate, they could catch them in three or four days.

  As soon as the canoe landed at Birds Point a little after noon, Doyle began seeking information concerning the passing of the kidnapper’s boat, but nothing helpful was uncovered. Doyle and Mark were on the landing discussing their next move when an old man limped up. “Heard you been asking about a barge passing by with a couple of lookers on it,” the old timer said with a twinkle in his eye.

  “That’s right,” Doyle said. “Have you seen it?”

  The old man smiled, showing what was left of his tobacco stained teeth. “Cost you a mite. I ain’t had my drink today.”

  Doyle handed the man six-bits and waited.

  “I saw the barge with the women aboard a couple hours ʼfore daybreak this morning—they turned south on the big river.” The old-timer smiled as he looked at the three-quarters Doyle had handed him and put them in his pants pocket. “The river’s running mighty slow these days,” he offered, “you ought to catch ʼem in a couple days or so if you paddle hard.”

  Mark gave the old man a nod and started for the canoe, but Doyle called him back. “We’re not leaving yet, Mark.”

  “Shouldn’t we be on our way, Mr. Doyle? We don’t want the kidnappers to get too far ahead of us.”

  “We’re gonna leave the canoe here and catch the River Steamer first thing in the morning, Mark. It travels fast, and we’ll catch up to the captor’s boat within a couple of days. And besides, we can travel in luxury, sitting back on padded seat cushions and enjoying delicious meals. The boy grinned from ear-to-ear.

  ∙•∙

  Mark and Doyle rose early from their hotel beds the next morning, ate a good breakfast, and set off for the steamer. Mark felt strange wearing his new western outfit, afraid he looked like a dude, but Doyle had on similar wear, so he relaxed after a spell.

  The boy could hardly believe his eyes when he approached the steamer belching out black smoke from two large red smokestacks. The vessel was huge, painted white with colorful stripes, and had brass bells and other fixtures polished brightly that glittered in the morning sun. But what got Mark’s attention mostly was the paddle wheel at the rear of the boat—he wondered how the thing worked.

  They were at the steamer before any of the other passengers, and as the two of them walked up the boarding ramp onto the boat, it seemed to Mark all of the workers on board knew Mr. Doyle. They greeted him warmly, shook his hand like a pump handle, and welcomed him aboard with smiles and wide grins. “How do you like our new steamer, Doyle?” one of the workers asked.

  Doyle nodded with a big smile. “It’s a good bit larger than the Natchez III as I remember. What happened to her anyway?” Doyle asked.

  “She did her route for nearly ten years, and then one of the boilers blew up a few months back and did a great deal of damage, so they retired her and replaced her with this here Natc
hez IV. She runs a lot smoother and faster—can make over five miles an hour plus whatever the current provides.”

  “She looks taller and a lot fancier than the Natchez III. How long is she?” Doyle asked.

  “She’s two hundred and seventy feet long, Doyle, eighty feet longer than the one she replaced.” The worker smiled, “Wait ʼtil you come aboard. She’s something to behold.”

  After they had boarded, Doyle told Mark he had worked on the steamer until a few years back when he started his own business of providing barge service to travelers who were making connections with steamers going to New Orleans or St. Louis and many of the men on board had worked for him.

  At eight a.m. sharp, the paddle wheel started turning, the tie ropes were thrown aboard, and the craft eased out toward the river channel. No one seemed the least bit interested in the steamer’s workings and what caused the wheel to turn except for Mark—he was very curious.

  Mark’s attention focused on people who were milling around in formal clothing, the likes of which he’d never seen. Most of the folks were from Chicago or St. Louis on their way to New Orleans and wore the latest in clothing styles. The men in dark suits, white shirts with stiff, tight collars, and fluffed-out, wide colorful ties with tie studs. Gold chains crossed their chest, looping through button holes and going into small pockets where pocket watches were kept. Most of the men were clean-shaven, except for mustaches, had slicked-down hair of various colors, and wore tall stove-pipe hats. A good share of the men was thick around their middle. Some of the men were dressed in clothing like he and Mr. Doyle wore, but not many.

  If anything, the women were dressed more elaborately than the men. Long flowing dresses with matching capes, hair piled high on their heads with bonnet coverings that matched their capes, and sparkling jewelry which Mark imagined cost a fortune. Mark was impressed, but he expected both the men and women were probably a bit on the uppity side.

  Slowly, the thick, red velvet cushioned seats were taken and conversations began as waiters in formal attire started serving pastries and beverages. Mr. Doyle, who had been detained by some of his old male cronies, rejoined Mark in time for coffee and to assist the boy in ordering. As they sat eating their pastries and drinking coffee, Doyle asked. “It may not be any of my business, Mark, but how come your pa isn’t with you? Is he still alive?”

  “He ain’t dead, Mr. Doyle. The last time I saw him was in a little town in Virginia several days before we came to your place.”

  “Is there a reason he didn’t come along on the trip with you and your family, Mark? He could have been a big help to your ma on this trip.”

  “My pa doesn’t know where we are, Mr. Doyle…we ran away from him.” Mark paused, not knowing whether to share the bad things about his pa with Mr. Doyle, but he continued, “He took to drinking and gambling real bad and got into trouble with the law for robbing stores at gunpoint; he even stole a horse all decked-out with an expensive saddle and bridle.”

  “Maybe he can get cleared of the law if he returns the horse and gives back what he stole, Mark. I’ve known men before who have repented after doing wrong and have gone on to live a good life. We need to give people a second chance. Don’t you agree?”

  Mark sat holding his coffee with his head drooped as he eyed the floor. Finally, he looked up and answered, “Not in Pa’s case, Mr. Doyle.”

  “Why not, Mark?”

  “I could go along with what you said, Mr. Doyle, except for Pa’s…” Mark stopped short.

  “Except for what, Mark—what were you about to say?” pressed Doyle.

  “Pa got to coming home drunk, and extra mean every night. Many times he’d hit Ma over and over, leaving her all bruised-up with swollen eyes and bad cuts on her face. A few times he even kicked her in the ribs after he’d knocked her down.” Mark paused as he wiped his eyes with his knuckle. “I ain’t ever gonna forgive Pa for hitting Ma.”

  Doyle sat in shock taking in Mark’s words. Finally, he responded, “I can’t say I blame you for feeling the way you do about your pa, Mark, and I don’t mean to be talking bad about your pa, but any man who’d hit a woman is not much of a man…a man worth his salt won’t hit a woman under any circumstance.”

  “I’d like to believe you, sir, but I ain’t so sure about it. I’ve seen several men who don’t treat their women very nice, especially in the bars I’ve gone to get Pa from.”

  “Mark, that was back east. The land you’re entering into has a new code concerning women. It’s an unwritten law, but it’s a law above all other laws the men west of the Mississippi take seriously. If a girl or woman is mistreated or handled badly under any circumstance or for any reason whatsoever, the perpetrator will be chased down and hung without trial before nightfall.”

  »»•««

  Tennessee and Arkansas tree covered flat lands slid by quickly on each side of the boat. The river was occasionally joined by a small tributary causing the current to change and the river to widen. The sun shone brightly all day and now hung low in the western sky, casting red and pink reflections on the river from the scattered pillow-like clouds overhead.

  Even though the sunlight was more than sufficient outside, the boat was becoming dim inside, so the attendants lit lamps hugging the side walls. It was at this time Doyle told Mark he was going to the card tables in the next room for a game or two of poker, but he couldn’t come along because youngsters weren’t allowed. “They’ll be serving sandwiches and other things to eat ʼfore long,” Doyle said as he was leaving, “don’t be bashful about helping yourself.” He hadn’t taken more than a step or two when he turned back to the boy with a wide grin. “Mark, the young lady over there has had her eyes on you all day. If I was you, I’d amble over to her and get acquainted.” Mark returned the grin.

  A bit later, Mark got up the nerve and rose from the thick, red velvet cushion seat. “Howdy,” Mark said with a pleasant smile, “My name is John Mark Taylor…what’s yours?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “You two go easy on that bottle; we gotta keep clear minds while we watch those women.” the boss called out from the back of the barge between swigs from his own bottle. “And make sure you keep us in the river channel, I ain’t able to see a thing from back here. It’s pitch black.”

  Black clouds blanketed the sky and a slight breeze from the west pushed the barge toward the east bank causing the men to make occasional corrections with their poles. However, the current was strong enough to keep the bow of the boat on a forward path through the water, occasionally turning east or west with the river for a stretch, and sometimes even back around to a northerly direction before turning toward its typical southerly course.

  Even though the darkness was restrictive to one’s sight, Esther, who was sitting in the middle of the raft with Joan, could faintly see the boss’s silhouette and saw his head bobbing from time-to-time. She could also hear the murmurs of the two men in front who were passing the bottle back and forth.

  Esther leaned close to her daughter and whispered softly into her ear, “I’m gonna try to keep the men’s attention by sweet talking to ʼem and taking a turn with the bottle when it’s passed.”

  “You ain’t gonna get drunk are ya’, Ma?” Joan whispered.

  “No, Joan; I’ll not swallow a drop—I’ll only pretend to be drinking.” Joan smiled as her mother continued in a whisper, “Hopefully, I can get them to drink enough to pass out, and if that happens we’ll let the barge drift into shallow water at the river’s edge and climb out. We have to be very quick without making noise, Joan; we don’t want to wake the Boss. As soon as I give the signal, you slip over the edge and hurry into the woods—don’t stop and wait for me, I’ll find you.” Joan’s eyes bugged a little as she whispered her understanding.

  Esther rose and walked to the front of the barge where she kneeled beside the men. “You boys ain’t very sociable, not sharing your bottle with a woman who wants to join the party and needs a little manly attention.”

 
The grins were hard to see in the dark, but both men were grinning from ear-to-ear. “You sit right here, pretty woman, and join our party,” one of the men said as he patted the floor beside him. “If you need some manly attention, we’re here to provide it—have a drink.” Esther took the bottle and put it to her lips for several seconds, pretending to drink.

  “That’s good stuff,” she said with a nod as she wiped her lips with the back of her hand and handed the bottle off.

  “Come to me, honey,” a man said as he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him.

  Esther obliged with a pretend giggle but quickly called for the bottle and handed it to the man holding her. “Have another drink,” Esther said with enthusiasm, “We don’t want the party to get bogged down. As the man let the brown liquid slide down, the other man pulled Esther to his side and tried to kiss her, but she turned her head and said, “You need a drink—here, have one,” as she reached for the bottle.

  Esther’s teasing went on and on with the men gobbling up everything she said and did. She had led them on a mental chase causing them to believe they were making seductive progress with this pretty woman who sat beside them. Esther smiled inwardly at the ease with which she had seduced these men into thinking she desired their company and attention.

  They had stopped guiding the barge sometime back and stayed pressed up to Esther’s side with bottle in hand. A few times she had to quiet them when their laughter and folly got too loud, warning them not to wake the boss and spoil the fun.

  Time passed and with it came the effect of the liquor. The men’s words became slurry and meaningless—their actions sluggish. It was obvious to Esther the men were close to passing out or falling to sleep, so she took the opportunity to help matters along by resting one man’s head on her shoulder and placing the other man’s head on her thigh. Within minutes, a snore came from the man who had his head lying on Esther’s shoulder, and as she was laying him down, the other man curled up with long, deep breaths. She gently pulled her leg from under his head.